The Last Kingdom Series Books 4-6: Sword Song, The Burning Land, Death of Kings. Bernard Cornwell

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СКАЧАТЬ you, yes,’ she said, and for a moment I thought she was crying.

      I stroked her hair. ‘What is it?’

      ‘I like her, that is all.’

      ‘Æthelflaed?’

      ‘She has spirit and he has none.’ She tilted her face to look at me and in the darkness I could just see the glint of her eyes. ‘You never told me,’ she said reprovingly, ‘that the Two Cranes is a brothel.’

      ‘There are not many beds in Wintanceaster,’ I said, ‘and not nearly enough for all the invited guests, so we were very lucky to find this room.’

      ‘And they know you very well here, Uhtred,’ she said accusingly.

      ‘It’s a tavern as well,’ I said defensively.

      She laughed, then reached out a long thin arm and pushed a shutter open to find the heavens were bright with stars.

      The sky was still clear next morning when I went to the palace, surrendered my two swords and was ushered by a young and very serious priest to Alfred’s room. I had met him so often in that small, bare chamber that was cluttered with parchments. He was waiting there, dressed in the brown robe that made him look like a monk, and with him was Æthelred who wore his swords because, as Ealdorman of Mercia, he had been granted that privilege within the palace. A third man was in the room, Asser the Welsh monk, who glared at me with undisguised loathing. He was a slight, short man with a very pale face that was scrupulously clean-shaven. He had good cause to hate me. I had met him in Cornwalum where I had led a slaughter of the kingdom where he was an emissary and I had tried to kill Asser too, a failure I have regretted all my life. He scowled at me and I rewarded him with a cheerful grin that I knew would annoy him.

      Alfred did not look up from his work, but gestured at me with his quill. The gesture was evidently a welcome. He was standing at the upright desk he used for writing and for a moment all I could hear was the quill spluttering scratchily on the skin. Æthelred smirked, looking pleased with himself, but then he always did.

      ‘De consolatione philosophiae,’ Alfred said without looking up from his work.

      ‘Feels as if rain is coming, though,’ I said, ‘there’s a haze in the west, lord, and the wind is brisk.’

      He gave me an exasperated look. ‘What is preferable,’ he asked, ‘and sweeter in this life than to serve and to be near to the king?’

      ‘Nothing!’ Æthelred said enthusiastically.

      I made no answer because I was so astonished. Alfred liked the formalities of good manners, but he rarely wanted obsequiousness, yet the question suggested that he wished me to express some doltish adoration of him. Alfred saw my surprise and sighed. ‘It is a question,’ he explained, ‘posed in the work I am copying.’

      ‘I look forward to reading it,’ Æthelred said. Asser said nothing, just watched me with his dark Welsh eyes. He was a clever man, and about as trustworthy as a spavined weasel.

      Alfred laid down the quill. ‘The king, in this context, Lord Uhtred, might be thought of as the representative of Almighty God, and the question suggests, does it not, the comfort to be gained from a nearness to God? Yet I fear you find no consolation in either philosophy or religion.’ He shook his head, then tried to wipe the ink from his hands with a damp cloth.

      ‘He had better find consolation from God, lord King,’ Asser spoke for the first time, ‘if his soul is not to burn in the eternal fire.’

      ‘Amen,’ Æthelred said.

      Alfred looked ruefully at his hands that were now smeared with ink. ‘Lundene,’ he said, curtly changing the subject.

      ‘Garrisoned by brigands,’ I said, ‘who are killing trade.’

      ‘That much I know,’ he said icily. ‘The man Sigefrid.’

      ‘One-thumbed Sigefrid,’ I said, ‘thanks to Father Pyrlig.’

      ‘That I also know,’ the king said, ‘but I would dearly like to know what you were doing in Sigefrid’s company?’

      ‘Spying on them, lord,’ I said brightly, ‘just as you spied on Guthrum so many years ago.’ I referred to a winter night when, like a fool, Alfred had disguised himself as a musician and gone to Cippanhamm when it was occupied by Guthrum in the days when he was an enemy of Wessex. Alfred’s bravery had gone badly wrong, and if I had not been there then I dare say Guthrum would have become King of Wessex. I smiled at Alfred, and he knew I was reminding him that I had saved his life, but instead of showing gratitude he just looked disgusted.

      ‘It is not what we heard,’ Brother Asser went onto the attack.

      ‘And what did you hear, brother?’ I asked him.

      He held up one long slender finger. ‘That you arrived in Lundene with the pirate Haesten,’ a second finger joined the first, ‘that you were welcomed by Sigefrid and his brother, Erik,’ he paused, his dark eyes malevolent, and raised a third finger, ‘and that the pagans addressed you as King of Mercia.’ He folded the three fingers slowly, as though his accusations were irrefutable.

      I shook my head in feigned wonderment. ‘I have known Haesten since I saved his life many years ago,’ I said, ‘and I used the acquaintance to be invited into Lundene. And whose fault is it if Sigefrid gives me a title I neither want nor possess?’ Asser did not answer, Æthelred stirred behind me while Alfred just stared at me. ‘If you don’t believe me,’ I said, ‘ask Father Pyrlig.’

      ‘He has been sent back to East Anglia,’ Asser said brusquely, ‘to continue his mission. But we will ask him. You may be sure of that.’

      ‘I already have asked,’ Alfred said, making a calming gesture towards Asser, ‘and Father Pyrlig vouched for you,’ he added those last words cautiously.

      ‘And why,’ I asked, ‘has Guthrum not taken revenge for the insults to his envoys?’

      ‘King Æthelstan,’ Alfred said, using Guthrum’s Christian name, ‘has abandoned any claims to Lundene. It belongs to Mercia. His troops will not trespass there. But I have promised to send him Sigefrid and Erik as captives. That is your job.’ I nodded, but said nothing. ‘So tell me how you plan to capture Lundene?’ Alfred demanded.

      I paused. ‘You attempted to ransom the city, lord?’ I asked.

      Alfred looked irritated at the question, then nodded abruptly. ‘I offered silver,’ he said stiffly.

      ‘Offer more,’ I suggested.

      He gave me a very sour look. ‘More?’

      ‘The city will be difficult to take, lord,’ I said. ‘Sigefrid and Erik have hundreds of men. Haesten will join them as soon as he hears that we have marched. We would have to assault stone walls, lord, and men die like flies in such attacks.’

      Æthelred again stirred behind me. I knew he wanted to dismiss my fears as cowardice, but he had just enough sense to keep silent.

      Alfred shook his head. ‘I offered them silver,’ he said bitterly, ‘more silver than a man can dream of. I offered them gold. СКАЧАТЬ