Better than Gold by Theresa Tomlinson Read Free Book Online

uncomfortably upright on his carved gold-painted throne.
    Egfrid was dismayed that his father did not even appear to have noticed him. But his mother had seen him. Eanfleda rushed towards him, tears pouring down her cheeks.
    â€˜My son, my son!’ she cried. Egfrid found himself enveloped in a loving, though rather damp embrace—at least somebody had missed him.
    â€˜It’s all right, Mother,’ he whispered. ‘I’m safe.’
    â€˜Dear boy, dear boy,’ she cried. ‘Have they made you take part in their wicked pagan ceremonies?’
    â€˜No, Mother. Chad is always at my side. I am allowed my faith.’
    â€˜King Oswy Iding welcomes the great King Penda to Deira,’ a herald announced.
    Penda’s throne was lowered to the ground and he struggled painfully to his feet. ‘Oswin Yffi should be the one to welcome us,’ he said.
    Young King Oswin hurried forward, eager to make amends.
    Penda gripped the younger man’s hand warmly and only then turned to Oswy, nodding curtly. Cynewise hurried to her husband’s side, anxious to smooth things over.
    The herald announced, ‘Queen Cyneburgh, widow of the late and great King Oswald Whiteblade.’
    A curtained litter was carried forwards and Cynewise took a few nervous steps towards it, her expression strained. The curtains opened and Whiteblade’s widow stepped out to greet the older sister she hadn’t seen since she was a child. Everyone gasped as the two women, so alike and yet so different, kissed, then hugged each other tightly.
    Cynewise gave a fierce smile ‘I named my first daughter in your honour,’ she said.
    The tension that had surrounded the men lifted a little and there followed a light ripple of applause. What further was said between the two sisters could not be heard, but Cynewise led her sister to Penda, and the old man bowed over the widowed queen’s hand and kissed it.
    â€˜Your husband was a true warrior, lady,’ he said. ‘I regret his death.’
    Cyneburgh lifted her chin a little. ‘I am a Christian. I forgive,’ she said.
    â€˜You forgive your husband’s killer?’ Penda said, surprised.
    â€˜ I do,’ she said firmly.
    Penda bowed to her again.
    Egfrid suddenly saw his poor aunt in a new, courageous light.
    There was another awkward pause and then Oswy led Alchfled forward. ‘My daughter the peace-weaver bride,’ he announced.
    Even Egfrid was impressed, Alchfled had never looked so fine, her long fair hair brushed loose and falling about her shoulders. She was dressed in red trimmed with gold braiding, and carried a mead-horn that she proffered to the grizzled old Mercian. He took a sip and handed it back to her, then landed a smacking kiss on her cheek that startled her.
    â€˜My daughter is also a peace-weaver bride, named after her aunt,’ he said, and the younger Cyneburgh emerged from amongst her waiting women, also beautifully dressed and escorted by an eager, smiling Prince Beorn.
    Both couples who were to marry bowed and curtsied to each other, then dutifully kissed. Egfrid was glad he wasn’t old enough to be ordered to marry an enemy bride for the sake of peace. What must they really be feeling?
    More drinks were proffered and accepted and Oswin the Good invited them to a feast.
    â€˜Should not Oswy Iding greet my foster-son first?’ Penda asked.
    Oswy turned pale and glanced about him, clearly discomforted. Egfrid’s mother led him forward to his father, who quickly recovered and kissed him on both cheeks.
    â€˜You’ve grown,’ he said. ‘I…almost didn’t know you.’
    Egfrid bowed. ‘I am well, Father,’ he said curtly.
    â€˜We are training him in courage,’ Penda said pointedly.
    Anger blazed for a moment in Oswy’s blue eyes but was swiftly suppressed. ‘Come, the feast is prepared,’ was all he said.
    Egfrid saw that every word that passed between