The Prisoner -- The Last Kingdom

Chapter 11

The lord and lady of Mercia rode to Lichfield with the spring, passing from the cold grey fields in the south to warmth and budding trees in the north. Aethelflaed left Aelfwynn near Worchester, in the care of nuns. She had long been a patroness of their convent and they were more than happy to care for the child in her absence, bringing in a wet-nurse from the nearby town. Aethelflaed struggled to leave her behind, though she did not want Aelfwynn anywhere near the battle. Being away from Aelfwynn was a new kind of grief, unlike any other she had known. While losing Erik was a dull ache, leaving Aelfwynn was a sharp pain, emphasized by her sore breasts, full of milk. She prayed the pain – at least the physical pain – would pass before the battle, so she could focus properly. She prayed she would see her daughter soon. But she kept her suffering to herself, knowing that Aethelred would see it as a reason to leave her behind. She even scolded Wulfric for casting her long, sympathetic looks that brought her to tears.

Their army had been growing as they travelled north. In each town, Aethelflaed sought out the healers, knowing they would know best the suffering wrought by Oddvar's warriors. These healers, competent and direct, told her stories of burns from scalding water and deep wounds from jagged-tipped arrows. It was clear that Oddvar had found inventive ways to kill and maim. The Mercians would have to be resourceful to survive him, let alone defeat him.

A healer outside Tettenhall recognized Aethelflaed's pain and treated her breasts with cabbage leaves. While Aethelflaed lay patiently with the leaves placed on her breasts, she began to feel a little ridiculous.

"Ne'er thought I'd be serving cabbage to the Lady of Mercia," the healer said and offered a leaf for Aethelflaed to munch on. Aethelflaed laughed and accepted, crunching on the vegetable while she waited, hoping Aldhelm would not come looking for her too soon.

Erik and Sigefrid waited in Lichfield, though their army still waited in the east. In the days that followed, Erik and Aethelflaed avoided each other with equal resolve. It wasn't difficult: there was so much to prepare. They were only together during strategy sessions and soon Aethelflaed avoided even these. She could not handle Aethelred's uneasy moods, not with everything else, and she knew Wulfric would tell her everything that passed in these rooms. Besides, Aldhelm had been seeking her out more and more, consulting her on different decisions and problems. She knew he brought her thoughts to the meetings with the brothers and passed them off as his own, but she didn't mind so long as he listened to her. She was beginning to grudgingly respect her husband's advisor, but also fear for him. Other men who undermined Aethelred had paid with their lives. Aldhelm was too valuable a warrior and leader to lose now, this close to the battle.

Finally, it was time. The brothers left two days ahead, circling around to meet Oddvar's army from the east. The brothers would begin the assault from the trees and, once the battle was underway, the Mercians would ride down a nearby hill and attack from the other side. Aethelred had insisted on this: that there was an advantage to waiting until Oddvar's warriors were fully engaged, so the Mercian approach would take them off-guard. Wulfric doubted that Oddvar could be surprised in this way.

The night before, Aldhelm found Aethelflaed where she sat with the women of the camp, ensuring they were prepared to care and feed the wounded. He drew her aside, into the darkness.

"You must not fight on foot tomorrow, lady. You are not trained well enough. Stay on your mount and be sure you have men close to you."

"Am I not expected to stay at the rear?"

Aldhelm shook his head. "You will take my horse, Sussurus, and you will ride near the front. I have already spoken to Wulfric. He has instructions to lead you out of the fighting if it becomes too thick. Sussurus is the best-trained horse, she will steer you through anything."