The Flame Bearer (The Last Kingdom Series, Book 10) by Bernard Cornwell

him from Bebbanburg, sent him scurrying away! Or perhaps the wretched man is dead? I’ll know soon enough. Einar had fewer than two hundred men and I sent over four hundred.’

    ‘He also had the ramparts of Bebbanburg,’ I pointed out.
    ‘Of course he didn’t,’ Constantin said scornfully, ‘your cousin wouldn’t let a pack of Norsemen through his gates! He knows they’d never leave. If he had let Einar’s men into the fortress he’d have invited a knife in his back. No, Einar’s men were quartered in the village, and the palisade they were building outside the fort was unfinished. They’ll be gone by now.’
    ‘Thank you,’ I said sarcastically.
    ‘For doing your work?’ he asked, smiling, then came to the table and at last sat down and helped himself to some ale and food. ‘Indeed I did do your work,’ he went on. ‘You can’t besiege Bebbanburg till Einar is defeated, and now he is! He was hired to keep you away from the fortress and to supply your cousin with food. Now, I hope, he’s dead, or at least running for his miserable life.’
    ‘So thank you,’ I said again.
    ‘But his men have been replaced by my men,’ Constantin said in an even tone. ‘My men are occupying the steadings now, just as they are occupying the village at Bebbanburg. As of this morning, Lord Uhtred, my men have taken all of Bebbanburg’s land.’
    I looked into his very blue eyes. ‘I thought you’d come to make peace.’
    ‘I have!’
    ‘With seven, eight hundred warriors?’
    ‘Oh, more,’ he said airily, ‘many more! And you have how many? Two hundred men here? And another thirty-five in Dunholm?’
    ‘Thirty-seven,’ I said, just to annoy him.
    ‘And led by a woman!’
    ‘Eadith is fiercer than most men,’ I said. Eadith was my wife and I had left her in charge of the small garrison that guarded Dunholm. I had also left Sihtric there in case she forgot which end of a sword did the damage.
    ‘I think you’ll find she’s not fiercer than my men,’ Constantin said, smiling. ‘Peace would be a very good idea for you.’
    ‘I have a son-in-law,’ I pointed out.

    ‘Ah, the formidable Sigtryggr, who can put five, six hundred men into the field? Maybe a thousand if the southern jarls support him, which I doubt! And Sigtryggr must keep men on that southern frontier to keep the jarls on his side. If indeed they are on his side. Who knows?’
    I said nothing. Constantin was right, of course. Sigtryggr might be king in Eoferwic and call himself King of Northumbria, but many of the most powerful Danes on the Mercian frontier had yet to swear him loyalty. They claimed he had surrendered too much land to make peace with Æthelflaed, though I suspected they were willing to surrender themselves rather than fight in a losing war to preserve Sigtryggr’s kingdom.
    ‘And it’s not just the jarls,’ Constantin went on, rubbing salt into the wound. ‘I hear the West Saxons are making rude noises there.’
    ‘Sigtryggr’s at peace with the Saxons,’ I said.
    Constantin smiled. That smile was beginning to infuriate me. ‘One result of being a Christian, Lord Uhtred, is that I feel a sympathy, even a fondness, for my fellow Christian kings. We are the Lord’s anointed, His humble servants, whose duty it is to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ across all lands. King Edward of Wessex would love to be remembered as the man who brought the pagan kingdom of Northumbria under the shelter of Christian Wessex! And your son-in-law’s peace treaty is with Mercia, not with Wessex. And many West Saxons say the treaty should never have been concluded! They say it’s time Northumbria was brought into the Christian community. Did you not know that?’
    ‘Some West Saxons want war,’ I conceded, ‘but not King Edward. Not yet.’
    ‘Your friend Ealdorman Æthelhelm seeks to persuade him otherwise.’
    ‘Æthelhelm,’ I said vengefully, ‘is a stinking turd.’
    ‘But he’s a Christian stinking turd,’ Constantin