Shadow of the Raven: Sons of Kings: Book One (16 page)

Resounding cheers filled the air and Athelwulf raised his hands for their attention. ‘It is now my turn to show my generosity to you
.
’

He signalled to the chosen men, each of whom now held a large sack. Positioning themselves across the breadth of the steps they began hurling out handfuls of silver coin. People jostled to catch them or retrieve them from the ground . . . until the sacks were empty and Pope Benedict stepped out to stand beside Aethelwulf, as had been arranged.

‘Return to your work now, my children,’ Benedict said in a voice that projected itself forward without being greatly raised. ‘Today you have been given a rare gift of thanks from one of the many thousands of pilgrims who visit our Holy City. But King Aethelwulf wants no other thanks than to see you return to your everyday pursuits and live the rest of your lives in peace and happiness.’

The people gradually melted away and Aethelwulf reluctantly took his leave of Pope Benedict. In the
Schola’s
stables he chortled as Osberht told him of Satan’s latest antics and they discussed preparations for horses and wagons to be ready for tomorrow’s departure. Unlike Aethelwulf, Osberht could barely wait to get home.

‘I just miss Edith, my lord,’ the groom said with a morose shrug.

Aethewulf found himself laughing, though he knew the sentiment not to be funny at all. He had no wife in Wessex to miss, and the sadness of that thought added to the sorrow he already felt on leaving this glorious city.

Twenty One

Charles the Bald was delighted to welcome Aethelwulf and his entourage back to his court and keen to hear of their experiences in the Holy City. On the evening of their arrival they dined in the large stone hall, which was sumptuously furnished with thick, colourful wall hangings, and even thicker ones on the floor instead of rushes. Alfred recalled Charles explaining on their previous visit that these were called
carpets
and had been brought all the way from Persia.

As a notable guest, Aethelwulf was seated next to the emperor at the high table, with Alfred at his side. Content to enjoy the hospitality of the Frankish court and listen to the melodies of the harpist, Alfred glanced about, smiling as he caught the eye of his new friend, Charles, seated with three other boys at a separate table who, he decided, must be Charles’s brothers. But at the high table, perched silently on the far side of the emperor, was a girl some years Alfred’s senior. He glanced at her occasionally, presuming her to be Charles’s daughter, Judith, although they’d not been introduced, nor had she dined with them last year.

Alfred thought that Judith looked a pleasant person. He liked the way her shiny dark hair flowed like waves down her back, and the colours of the swirling patterns on her embroidered gown. But Judith’s pretty face was unsmiling and she constantly gnawed her bottom lip, taking frequent, anxious peeps at Aethelwulf. Alfred thought she was probably just shy in the company of strangers.

‘It was unfortunate your stay coincided with the election of the new pope,’ Charles was saying as a serving woman heaped his plate with roast venison. ‘The selection and consecration to the papal seat is rarely a straightforward matter. I well remember the trouble over the previous pontiff, Leo the Fourth. The Romans are demanding the right to choose their own pontiff, independently of the Empire.’

‘For some weeks the situation certainly seemed precarious for Benedict,’ Aethelwulf confirmed, allowing the woman to place slabs of meat on his tastefully decorated dish. ‘But everything was resolved by October and our stay was very enjoyable from then on.’

Charles washed down a mouthful of venison with a gulp from his wine goblet. ‘You may also realise that my two brothers continue to threaten the peace of West Francia – though, having said that, Lothar passed away last November and his son, Louis, now rules in his stead. So I’m hoping we’ll have some peace from that area whilst my nephew finds his feet.’ He scowled, tapping the table with the handle of his scramseax in his agitation. ‘It’s my brother Louis causing problems right now. Bavaria’s never been enough for him; he’s greedy to get his hands on Aquitaine, despite the stipulations of the Treaty of Verdun. But I’ll fight him to the bitter end to keep Aquitaine. I swear, Aethelwulf, it niggles them all that I got the lands west of the Rhine.’

Alfred’s ears pricked when Aethelwulf murmured, ‘Too often family members create the greatest problems for a ruler, no matter how extensive the kingdom.’ Charles’s bushy eyebrows rose in anticipation of elaboration, but Aethelwulf seemed not to notice and offered some compliment regarding the tenderness of the venison, and congenial conversation continued. But the remark troubled Alfred and he wondered whether his father was talking about his own family. Determined to ask him about it later, he put it from his mind by considering the Frankish emperor.

In appearance Charles was as dark as Alfred’s father was fair, though like Aethelwulf, his thick hair and beard were well streaked with grey. He was a scrawny man with narrow shoulders and hollow cheeks, despite seeming to gulp down his food and wine with relish. His small, dark eyes and hooked nose made him look like a hawk about to swoop on its prey, but tonight, Charles played the genial host. However, Alfred wondered why he’d still not introduced his daughter, even though he occasionally spoke to her himself.

But, as servants cleared away the remnants of the meal, Charles turned and addressed Aethelwulf. ‘My lord, may I present to you my daughter, Judith? She is a gentle and obedient girl and, as you see, comely in appearance and of childbearing age.’

Alfred silently sympathised as the girl flushed crimson. Too embarrassed to catch anyone’s eye, Judith hung her head and chewed her bottom lip quite brutally.

‘Come and greet King Aethelwulf properly, daughter.’

Looking utterly mortified Judith obeyed, stepping behind her father and curtsying as Athelwulf rose to greet her. ‘I am honoured to meet you, my lord,’ she said in the Saxon tongue, with only the hint of a Frankish accent.

‘And I’m delighted to meet the daughter of such an esteemed emperor,’ Aethelwulf replied as she tentatively took his proffered hand. ‘I’m sure you are a credit to your father. Your fluent use of the Saxon tongue is truly impressive.’

‘I have an excellent tutor from your own lands, my lord – from Sussex.’

Aethelwulf smiled warmly at the girl. ‘Then, with both intelligence and beauty, no doubt one day you will make some king a very happy man.’ Judith shot a look of such panic at her father that Aethelwulf hurriedly added, ‘Of course, the prospect of marriage may not yet have been discussed, in which case, please accept my apologies, Lady Judith.’

Judith gave Alfred’s father a wan smile. ‘My lord, I have been surrounded by discussions regarding possible husbands as long as I can remember. The daughter of an emperor must marry well,’ she added, casting another glance at her father.

‘Very true, my lady. I also have a daughter, and though I cannot aspire to the status of emperor, the daughters of all kings must marry for political reasons.’

Interest sparked in Judith’s eyes. ‘Your daughter married well, my lord?’

‘Aethelswith is wedded to a neighbouring king. The match served to strengthen the unity between our two kingdoms.’

‘And Aethelswith is happy in her marriage?’

‘She is content enough.’

Alfred was taken aback by the outright lie: his father knew too well of Aethelswith’s unhappiness. Perhaps he just didn’t want to admit it to the Frankish emperor.

‘Now, Judith,’ Charles said, standing beside his daughter, ‘would you like to take Alfred to see our collection of relics?’

Without waiting for her reply, Charles turned to Alfred. ‘Your father tells me you have a passion for such things, and we have a goodly collection here. Many nobles making pilgrimage to Rome pay their respects at our court – as you, yourselves, have done,’ he added, inclining his head to Aethelwulf. ‘Many bring us gifts of unusual relics relating to the life of our Lord.’

Although surprised that he and Judith should be dismissed, Alfred couldn’t hide his excitement at the prospect of seeing these relics. ‘I would be pleased to see your collection, my lord,’ he replied, considering how short Charles appeared beside Aethelwulf. Even Judith was as tall as her father.

‘The relics are very interesting, Alfred,’ Judith assured, holding out her hand with an encouraging smile. He placed his own small, chubby hand in Judith’s slender one and allowed her to lead him towards the prized relics.

* * *

‘Not all of the relics come from Rome,’ Judith said as they sat together in a small chamber behind the main hall with box-loads of strange looking objects on the table before them. ‘Some of these were brought to us from the holy city of Jerusalem. I can see that impresses you.’ She smiled. ‘Your eyes could not open much wider, young lord.’

Alfred thought Judith was one of the nicest people he’d ever met, and felt quite at ease in her company, though he still sensed she was upset about something. ‘Are you are unhappy, Judith?’ he broached. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘You are a strange one,’ she said with an appraising look. ‘You speak as someone much older than your six years.’

‘I have been seven since before Eastertide!’ Alfred retorted, causing Judith to giggle.

‘Well, I am thirteen,’ she said, suddenly sad again. ‘Alfred, I want to tell you something, but you must promise not to tell anyone that I spoke to you of it.’

Confused, he nodded anyway. He was good at keeping secrets.

‘At this moment my father will be speaking of a certain matter with King Aethelwulf.’

‘Do you know what he’ll be speaking about?’

Judith nodded and closed her eyes, twisting a long strand of hair round her finger. Her sudden outburst took him by surprise. ‘It is all right for
you
, Alfred – you’re a
boy
! I’m just a girl, no use for anything except presenting some lord with
sons
!’ She covered her face with her hands and Alfred knew that tears were welling. He stayed silent, not knowing what to say or how to give comfort.

‘I am sorry, Alfred,’ she sniffed, taking a small, white kerchief from her sleeve to blow her nose. ‘I have had many weeks to become used to this idea, but confronted with it directly I find I am a coward.’

‘You are distressed because you are soon to be married?’

Judith stared at him for some moments before taking breath. ‘Alfred, I am to marry your father.’

Alfred gasped, stunned by the revelation, and feeling certain that his father had known nothing about it before tonight. But Judith had known, and had been fretting about it for some time. No wonder she’d been behaving so strangely. He watched her staring down at her interlocked fingers, her lower lip quivering. ‘It must be scary to face marrying someone so much older than yourself,’ he said, laying a hand on her arm.

‘It truly is, Alfred,’ she whispered. ‘I had hoped my father would choose a younger man for me – but politics must come first, I have always known that. My father believes the match will be good, politically, and is certain that King Aethelwulf will agree. Charles is a powerful emperor and – please do not take offence at this, Alfred – he believes that Aethelwulf will be more than pleased to ally Wessex to West Francia, nor would he wish to insult Charles by refusing him in this.

‘I shall miss my home and family greatly,’ Judith admitted, ‘even though our kingdom is constantly under threat of invasion by my two uncles. And to make matters worse, we have the Danes raiding our lands again. We are told the Danes are becoming a problem in the Saxon lands too,’ she continued, her eyes holding Alfred’s. ‘I know my father was impressed when he heard of King Aethelwulf’s victory over them at Aclea. The Danes cause our people such hardship, pillaging and killing, and burning the crops. And they are almost unstoppable once they gain foothold in a land. Only two weeks ago a large band, led by a man called Weland, made their base at Jeufosse, from where they can strike at Paris and our palaces along the River Oise. I fear my father will soon have no option but to do battle, or else pay tribute to be rid of them.’

Unable to think of anything useful to say, Alfred just nodded.

‘Tell me, Alfred, is your father a kind man?’ Judith suddenly asked, tilting her head to one side. ‘Perhaps I could overlook his age if he treats me kindly.’

They talked quietly about Alfred’s father and siblings for a while before moving to retire for the night. ‘Thank you for keeping me company tonight, Alfred,’ Judith said, as they left the relics behind. ‘I know we will be great friends when we are in Wessex and, although I shall be your stepmother, I will never try to take the place of the mother you loved so dearly. Sleep well, young lord.’

In bed in his chamber next to Aethewulf’s, Alfred wondered what his brothers would say when they heard about this coming marriage, particularly since they were all older than the girl soon to be their stepmother.

* * *

They arrived at Verberie three days before the wedding ceremony that would take place in the large stone church beside the palace on the first day of October. Alfred watched the scores of Frankish dignitaries and their retinues arriving to witness his father’s marriage to Judith with interest. He’d faced crowds before, and could converse with his elders without embarrassment, but since he could not speak the Frankish tongue, Aethelwulf assigned Father Felix, a Frank himself, the role of Alfred’s escort.

Verberie was one of several palaces along the Oise valley, and unlike anything Alfred could ever have imagined. Father Felix protested that such flagrant flaunting of wealth was offensive to God, but Alfred thought the palace to be absolutely splendid. The vast grounds were magnificent, with many lakes and canals surrounded by gardens bursting with trees, shrubs and plants, their autumn foliage vibrant in the sunlight. Statues lined the paths, some displaying people in minimal attire, which Felix hurried him past. The exterior of the palace itself was a sight to be seen, the walls of a smooth, pale stone, with round towers tapering to points at intervals. Inside, floors were covered with intricate mosaics, and frescoed walls told stories of ancient heroes. Servants scuttled about, making ready an enormous hall for the wedding breakfast.

Aethelwulf and Judith spent much of the three days rehearsing their vows and the order of the service with Archbishop Hincmar, who would conduct the ceremony. But today, as the sun rose to greet October, Judith was in her chamber being fussed over by her maids and female relatives and Alfred and his father donned their carefully selected attire. A little before mid-morning the ceremony would begin.

* * *

The imposing church was crammed with guests from all over West Francia, only Alfred representing Aethelwulf’s family and Wessex subjects. He stood in his place of honour beside the emperor, whose sapphire-studded crown and cloak of gold silk bore testimony to his status in the Holy Roman Empire. And garbed in his finest green tunic and cross-gartered hose, Alfred, too, felt quite regal. Waiting for the ceremony to begin, he recalled Aethelswith’s wedding day, the hatred he’d felt for the man taking her away from him. But he looked at Judith in her beautiful gown of rose-coloured silk and knew he could never dislike
her:
she was much too kind for that.

Nevertheless, Alfred dreaded arriving home to the scandal he knew the marriage would cause. And even worse, only yesterday Aethelwulf had revealed that affairs at home were in turmoil. The news had come in August, a week before they’d reached Charles’s Court: Aethelbald had rebelled, refusing to surrender his kingship of the western shires on his father’s return. Alfred frowned, recalling Aethelwulf’s words to Charles about families and problems to kingship.