She seemed startled by the sudden question, then looked indignant. “It was just last week!” she said and, for the first time since I had greeted her, she showed some animation. “I had no warning! They came to the convent, summoned me from prayers, took me to Lundene, gave me clothes, and hurried me north.” She told me more of that week, and I half listened and half tried to comprehend why Edward had been in such haste. “They never asked whether it was what I wanted,” Eadgyth finished bitterly.

“You’re a woman,” I said drily, “why would they ask you?”

She gave me a look that might have stunned an ox, then gave a mirthless laugh. “You would have asked, wouldn’t you?”

“Probably, but I’ve never known how to handle women,” I answered her, still drily. “Did your father say why he wanted you to marry King Sigtryggr?”

“To make peace,” she said bleakly.

“And there will be peace,” I said, “of sorts. Sigtryggr will not break the treaty, he won’t attack south, but the Saxons will come north.”

“King Edward will not break his word,” Father Amandus said sternly, and again remembered to add, “lord.”

“Maybe not,” I said, “but do you think his successor will be bound by the treaty?” Neither had an answer to that. “The ambition of Wessex, my lady, is to make one kingdom of all the folk who speak English.”

“Amen,” Father Eadsig said. I ignored him.

“And you, my lady, are now queen of the last country that speaks English and is not ruled by your father.”

“Then why marry me to Sigtryggr?”

“To lull us, to make us feel safe. You fatten the goose before you kill it.”

The Danish priest growled at that, but had the sense to say nothing, and just then Rorik rode up from the rear of our long column, bringing Beadwulf and Wynflæd with him. I had told him to fetch the squirrel, but Brother Beadwulf had evidently decided to come too. I stretched back and caught hold of Wynflæd’s bridle and drew her mare up between me and Eadgyth. “This, my lady, is Wynflæd. She is a Christian, a Saxon, and I would urge you to take her into your service. She’s a good girl.”

Eadgyth half smiled at the squirrel. “Of course.”

I let go of Wynflæd’s horse so that she fell behind again. “Thank you, my lady,” I said to Eadgyth. “You’re going to discover, my lady, that Eoferwic is mostly a Christian city.”

“Mostly,” Father Amandus said snidely.

Eadgyth nodded. “Archbishop Hrothweard told me the same. He seems a good man.”

“A very good man,” I said, “and so is your husband. He looks formidable, I know, but he’s a kind man.”

“I pray so, Lord Uhtred.”

“Kindness,” Father Amandus said, “is no substitute for godliness. King Sigtryggr must learn to love the faith.” A pause. “Lord.”

“King Sigtryggr,” I told him sternly, “has no time to learn anything. He’s going to war.”