He had shaken his head. “I’m offering you what you want, lord. Æthelhelm has tried to kill both of us, so let’s be allies in his death.”

“I thought you Christians prefer to settle your arguments without killing.”

That had made him frown. “Do you think I pursue his death lightly? So long as he lives there cannot be peace in Wessex. If I succeed to the throne he will rebel against me. He wants his nephew on the throne, and he will stop at nothing to achieve that.”

“Or he wants the throne for himself,” I said.

“There are some who believe that, yes,” he had answered guardedly.

“And by killing him,” I said, “I make you king.”

He had bridled at that, suspecting I was accusing him of an unworthy ambition. “Do you think I haven’t prayed about that fate?” he asked sternly. “That I haven’t struggled with my conscience? That I haven’t spoken with Archbishop Athelm?” And that was interesting, I had thought. It suggested that the new Archbishop of Contwaraburg was opposed to Æthelhelm, or was at least a supporter of Æthelstan. “Kingship is a burden,” Æthelstan had continued, and I had seen he was entirely serious, “and I am convinced I am best capable of bearing that burden. God burdens me! You may not believe it, lord, but I constantly pray Christ’s prayer from Gethsemane; to let the cup pass from me! But Christ has not seen fit to spare me, so I must drain the cup, however bitter.”

“When your grandfather was dying,” I said, “he told me the crown of Wessex was a crown of thorns.”

“If it’s worth anything,” Æthelstan had said forcibly, “it must be a crown of thorns.”

“You’d be a good king,” I said grudgingly.

“And I will be a king who will not fight against you.”

I might not trust Edward, but I trusted Æthelstan. He was like his grandfather, King Alfred, a man of his word. If he said he would not fight against me, he would not. “Do we tell anyone of this pact?” I had asked.

“I think it best if we keep it between ourselves, lord,” he had said, “and perhaps our closest advisers.” He had hesitated. “Can I ask what Eadgifu wanted of you?”

“My support.”

He had shuddered. “She’s ambitious,” he made it sound unpleasant, “and of course she has the king’s ear.”

“More than his ear.”

“And you told her what, lord?”

“I told her nothing. I just looked at her tits and listened to her.”

He had grimaced at that. “Nothing?”

“She was too clever to ask me for anything because she knew what I’d say. That whole conversation was merely a show to convince Æthelhelm that I was her ally.”

“She’s a clever woman,” he said quietly.

“But her eldest son is too young to become king,” I said.

“But half the West Saxons claim I’m a bastard,” he said, “and the other half knows that Ælfweard is unfit to be a ruler, so perhaps her infant son would be a safer choice.” He glanced at the wooden cross. “Maybe he’s the right choice?”