LITMIR.BIZ

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good place to pray. Burghred is a weak man, but he did his small best to alleviate Danish rule, and once he is gone then we can expect the Danes to fill his land. They will be on our frontier. They will be in Cirrenceastre.’ He looked at me. ‘Kjartan knows you’re alive.’

      ‘He does?’

      ‘Of course he does. The Danes have spies, just as we do.’ And Alfred’s spies, I realised, had to be efficient for he knew so much. ‘Does Kjartan care about your life?’ he went on. ‘If you tell the truth about Ragnar’s death, Uhtred, then he does care because you can contradict his lies and if Ragnar learns that truth from you then Kjartan will certainly fear for his life. It is in Kjartan’s interest, therefore, to kill you. I tell you this only so that you may consider whether you wish to return to Cirrenceastre where the Danes have,’ he paused, ‘influence. You will be safer in Wessex, but how long will Wessex last?’ He evidently did not expect an answer, but kept pacing. ‘Ubba has sent men to Mercia, which suggests he will follow. Have you met Ubba?’

      ‘Many times.’

      ‘Tell me of him.’

      I told him what I knew, told him that Ubba was a great warrior, though very superstitious and that intrigued Alfred who wanted to know all about Storri the sorcerer and about the runesticks, and I told him how Ubba never picked battles for the joy of fighting, but only when the runes said he could win, but that once he fought he did so with a terrible savagery. Alfred wrote it all down, then asked if I had met Halfdan, the youngest brother, and I said I had, but very briefly.

      ‘Halfdan speaks of avenging Ivar,’ Alfred said, ‘so it’s possible he will not come back to Wessex. Not soon, anyway. But even with Halfdan in Ireland there will be plenty of pagans left to attack us.’ He explained how he had anticipated an attack this year, but the Danes had been disorganised and he did not expect that to last. ‘They will come next year,’ he said, ‘and we think Ubba will lead them.’

      ‘Or Guthrum,’ I said.

      ‘I had not forgotten him. He is in East Anglia now.’ He glanced reproachfully at Brida, remembering her tales of Edmund. Brida, quite unworried, just watched him with half-closed eyes. He looked back to me. ‘What do you know of Guthrum?’

      Again I talked and again he wrote. He was intrigued about the bone in Guthrum’s hair, and shuddered when I repeated Guthrum’s insistence that every Englishman be killed. ‘A harder job than he thinks,’ Alfred said drily. He laid the pen down and began pacing again. ‘There are different kinds of men,’ he said, ‘and some are to be more feared than others. I feared Ivar the Boneless, for he was cold and thought carefully. Ubba? I don’t know, but I suspect he is dangerous. Halfdan? A brave fool, but with no thoughts in his head. Guthrum? He is the least to be feared.’

      ‘The least?’ I sounded dubious. Guthrum might be called the Unlucky, but he was a considerable chieftain and led a large force of warriors.

      ‘He thinks with his heart, Uhtred,’ Alfred said, ‘not his head. You can change a man’s heart, but not his head.’ I remember staring at Alfred then, thinking that he spouted foolishness like a horse pissing, but he was right. Or almost right because he tried to change me, but never succeeded.

      A bee drifted through the door, Nihtgenga snapped impotently at it and the bee droned out again. ‘But Guthrum will attack us?’ Alfred asked.

      ‘He wants to split you,’ I said. ‘One army by land, another by sea, and the Britons from Wales.’

      Alfred looked at me gravely. ‘How do you know that?’

      So I told him about Guthrum’s visit to Ragnar and the long conversation which I had witnessed, and Alfred’s pen scratched, little flecks of ink spattering from the quill at rough spots on the parchment. ‘What this suggests,’ he spoke as he wrote, ‘is that Ubba will come from Mercia by land and Guthrum by sea from East Anglia.’ He was wrong about that, but it seemed likely at the time. ‘How many ships can Guthrum bring?’

      I had no idea. ‘Seventy?’ I suggested, ‘a hundred?’

      ‘Far more than that,’ Alfred said severely, ‘and I cannot build even twenty ships to oppose them. Have you sailed, Uhtred?’

      ‘Many times.’

      ‘With the Danes?’ he asked pedantically.

      ‘With the Danes,’ I confirmed.

      ‘What I would like you to do,’ he said, but at that moment a bell tolled somewhere in the palace and he immediately broke off from what he was saying. ‘Prayers,’ he said, putting down his quill, ‘you will come.’ It was not a question, but a command.

      ‘I have things to do,’ I said, waited a heartbeat, ‘lord.’

      He blinked at me in surprise for he was not used to men opposing his wishes, especially when it came to saying prayers, but I kept a stubborn face and he did not force the issue. There was the slap of sandalled feet on the paved path outside his chamber and he dismissed us as he hurried to join the monks going to their service. A moment later the drone of a chant began, and Brida and I abandoned the palace, going into the town where we discovered a tavern that sold decent ale. I had been offered none by Alfred. The folk there were suspicious of us, partly because of the arm rings with their Danish runes, and partly because of our strange accents, mine from the north and Brida’s from the east, but a sliver of our silver was weighed and trusted, and the wary atmosphere subsided when Father Beocca came in, saw us, and raised his inky hands in welcome. ‘I have been searching high and low for you,’ he said, ‘Alfred wanted you.’

      ‘He wanted to pray,’ I said.

      ‘He would have you eat with him.’

      I drank some ale. ‘If I live to be a hundred, father,’ I began.

      ‘I pray you live longer than that,’ Beocca said, ‘I pray you live as long as Methuselah.’

      I wondered who that was. ‘If I live to be a hundred,’ I said again, ‘I hope never to eat with Alfred again.’

      He shook his head sadly, but agreed to sit with us and take a pot of ale. He reached over and pulled at the leather thong half hidden by my jerkin and so revealed the hammer. He tutted. ‘You lied to me, Uhtred,’ he said sadly. ‘When you ran away from Father Willibald we made enquiries. You were never a prisoner! You were treated as a son!’

      ‘I was,’ I agreed.

      ‘But why did you not come to us then? Why did you stay with the Danes?’

      I smiled. ‘What would I have learned here?’ I asked. He began to answer, but I stilled him. ‘You would have made me a scholar, father,’ I said, ‘and the Danes made me a warrior. And you will need warriors when they come back.’

      Beocca understood that, but he was still sad. He looked at Brida. ‘And you, young lady, I hope you did not lie?’

      ‘I always tell the truth, father,’ she said in a small voice, ‘always.’

      ‘That is good,’ he said, then reached over again to hide my amulet. ‘Are you a Christian, Uhtred?’ he asked.

      ‘You baptised me yourself, father,’ I said evasively.

      ‘We will not defeat the Danes unless we hold the faith,’ he said earnestly, then smiled, ‘but will you do what Alfred wants?’

      ‘I don’t know what he wants. He ran off to wear out his knees before he could tell me.’

      ‘He wants you to serve on one of the ships he’s building,’ he said. I just gaped at him. ‘We’re building ships, Uhtred,’ Beocca went on enthusiastically, ‘ships to fight the Danes, but our sailors are not fighters. They’re, well, sailors! And they’re fishermen, of course, and traders, but we need men who can teach them what the Danes do. Their ships raid our shores incessantly. Two ships come? Three ships? Sometimes more. They land, burn, kill, take slaves and vanish. But with ships we can fight them.’ He punched his withered left

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