‘Yes,’ I finally admitted. It was unthinkable that Sigtryggr and Stiorra had not known, and I could only presume they had not wanted to send me any warning. Perhaps my daughter now wanted a pagan Britain, but if that was the case, why had Sigtryggr not joined the invasion?
‘And your son-in-law sent you no warning?’ Æthelflaed asked.
‘Perhaps he did,’ I said, ‘but the Irish Sea is treacherous. Perhaps his messenger drowned.’
That feeble explanation was greeted with a snort of derision from Father Ceolnoth. ‘Perhaps your daughter preferred—’ he began, but Æthelflaed cut him short before he could say more.
‘We mostly rely on the church for our news from Ireland,’ she said acidly. ‘Have you stopped corresponding with the clerics and monasteries of that land?’
I watched as she listened to the churchmen’s limping excuses. She was King Alfred’s eldest daughter, the brightest of his large brood, and as a child she had been quick, happy, and full of laughter. She had grown to be a beauty with pale gold hair and bright eyes, but marriage to Æthelred, Lord of Mercia, had etched harsh lines on her face. His death had taken away much of her unhappiness, but she was now the ruler of Mercia, and the care of that kingdom had added streaks of grey to her hair. She was handsome rather than beautiful now, stern-faced and thin, ever watchful. Watchful because there were still men who believed no woman should rule, though most men in Mercia loved her and followed her willingly. She had her father’s intelligence as well as his piety. I knew her to be passionate, but as she aged she had become ever more dependent on priests for the reassurance that the Christians’ nailed god was on her side. And perhaps he was, for her rule had been successful. We had been pushing the Danes back, taking from them the ancient lands they had stolen from Mercia, but now Ragnall had arrived to threaten all she had achieved.
‘It’s no accident,’ Father Ceolnoth insisted, ‘that he has come at Easter!’
I did not see the significance and nor, apparently, did Æthelflaed. ‘Why Easter, father?’ she asked.
‘We reconquer land,’ Ceolnoth explained, ‘and we build burhs to protect the land, and we rely on warriors to keep the burhs safe,’ that last statement was accompanied by a quick and spiteful glance in my direction, ‘but the land is not truly safe until the church has placed God’s guardian hand over the new pastures! The psalmist said as much! God is my shepherd and I shall lack for nothing.’
‘Baaaaa,’ I said, and was rewarded by a savage look from Æthelflaed.
‘So you think,’ she said, pointedly ignoring me, ‘that Ragnall wants to stop the consecration?’
‘It is why he has come now,’ Ceolnoth said, ‘and why we must thwart his evil intent by enthroning Leofstan!’
‘You believe he will attack Ceaster?’ Æthelflaed asked.
‘Why else is he here?’ Ceolnoth said heatedly. ‘He has brought over a thousand pagans to destroy us.’
‘Two thousand by now,’ I corrected him, ‘and some Christians too.’
‘Christians?’ Æthelflaed asked sharply.
‘He has Irish in his army,’ I reminded her.
‘Two thousand pagans?’ Cynlæf spoke for the first time.
I ignored him. If he wanted me to respond then he needed to use more courtesy, but he had asked a sensible question, and Æthelflaed also wanted the answer. ‘Two thousand? You’re certain he has that many?’ she demanded of me.
I stood and walked around the table so that I was at the front of the dais. ‘Ragnall brought over a thousand warriors,’ I said, ‘and he used those to occupy Eads Byrig. At least another thousand have joined him since, coming either by sea or on the roads south through Northumbria. He grows strong! But despite his strength he has not sent a single man southwards. Not one cow has been stolen from Mercia, not one child taken as a slave. He hasn’t even burned a village church! He hasn’t sent scouts to look at Ceaster, he’s ignored us.’
‘Two thousand?’ Æthelflaed again echoed Cynlæf’s question.
‘Instead,’ I said, ‘he’s made a bridge across the Mærse and his men have been going north. What lies to the north?’ I let the question hang in the smoky hall.
‘Northumbria,’ someone said helpfully.
‘Men!’ I said. ‘Danes! Northmen! Men who hold land and fear that we’ll take it from them. Men who have no king unless you count that weakling in Eoferwic. Men, my lady, who are looking for a leader who will make them safe. He’s recruiting men from Northumbria, so yes, his army grows every day.’
‘All at Eads Byrig?’ Æthelflaed asked.
‘Maybe three, four hundred men there,’ I said. ‘There isn’t enough water for more, but the rest are camped by the Mærse where Ragnall’s made a bridge of boats. I think that’s where he’s gathering his army, and by next week he’ll have three thousand men.’
The priests crossed themselves. ‘How in God’s name,’ Ceolberht asked quietly, ‘do we fight a horde like that?’
‘Ragnall,’ I went on remorselessly, talking directly to Æthelflaed now, ‘leads the largest enemy army to be seen in Britain since the days of your father. And every day that army gets bigger.’
‘We shall trust in the Lord our God!’ Father Leofstan spoke for the first time, ‘and in the Lord Uhtred too!’ he added slyly. The bishop-elect had been invited to join Æthelflaed on the high dais, but had preferred to sit at one of the lower tables. He beamed his smile at me then wagged a disapproving finger. ‘You’re trying to frighten us, Lord Uhtred!’
‘Jarl Ragnall,’ I said, ‘is a frightening man.’
‘But we have you! And you smite the heathen!’
‘I am a heathen!’
He chuckled at that. ‘The Lord will provide!’
‘Then perhaps someone can tell me,’ I turned back to the high table, ‘how the Lord will provide for us to defeat Ragnall?’
‘What has been done so far?’ Æthelflaed asked.
‘I’ve summoned the fyrd,’ I said, ‘and sent all the folk who wanted refuge to the burhs. We’ve deepened the ditch here, we’ve sharpened the stakes in the ditch, we’ve stacked missiles on the walls, and we’ve filled the storerooms. And we have a scout in the woods now, exploring the new camp as well as Eads Byrig.’
‘So now is the time to smite Ragnall!’ Father Ceolnoth said enthusiastically.
I spat towards him. ‘Will someone please tell that drivelling idiot why we cannot fight Ragnall.’
The silence was finally broken by Sihtric. ‘Because he’s protected by the walls of Eads Byrig.’
‘Not the men by the river!’ Ceolnoth pointed out. ‘They’re not protected!’
‘We don’t know that,’ I said, ‘which is why my scout is in the woods. But even if they don’t have a
