“He’s too young. Besides, you’re the eldest son. The throne should be yours.”

He nodded. “I feel unworthy,” he said softly, “but my prayers have convinced me that I would be a better king than Ælfweard.” He made the sign of the cross. “May God forgive my pride in saying that.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I said harshly.

“Ælfweard must not inherit the throne,” he said, still speaking softly. “He is rotten with corruption!”

“Men say that of me too, lord Prince,” I said, “they call me priest-killer, pagan, and worse, but you still want my oath.”

He had been silent for a moment, with his eyes lowered and his hands clasped almost as if in prayer, then he had looked at me. “I trust you, lord. The Lady Æthelflaed, before she died, told me to trust you, to put my faith in you as she had done. So yes, lord, if I am to fulfill my God’s commands then I want your oath, and you may swear it on any god you please.”

So I gave it to him. I knelt, took the oath, and he knelt and gave me his oath, and I thought that by giving him a promise and in turn receiving his promise that we had shaped the future together. And though it is true that we have both kept the promises we made that night, the future still made itself. Wyrd bið ful āræd.

“What I don’t understand,” Sigtryggr asked as we rode home, “is why they went to all that trouble? Why not simply invade now?”

“Because they’re squabbling like stoats in a sack,” I said. “Edward wants to invade, but he needs the support of Æthelhelm. If he doesn’t have Æthelhelm’s troops, then his army is cut in half.”

“Why doesn’t Æthelhelm support him?”

“Because Æthelhelm wants to lead the invasion himself,” I guessed, “and end up owning most of Northumbria. Edward doesn’t want that. He wants Northumbria for himself.”

“Why doesn’t he just kill the bastard?”

“Because Æthelhelm is powerful. Attacking Æthelhelm means civil war. And Æthelhelm won’t support Edward till Edward declares Ælfweard as the next king.”

Sigtryggr snorted. “Easy then, just make the declaration!”

“But anyone of sense in Wessex and Mercia knows that Ælfweard is a piece of shit. If Edward names Ælfweard as his heir then he could provoke another rebellion. The Mercians want Æthelstan, probably. The sensible West Saxons want anyone except Ælfweard, but not Æthelstan. They might side with Eadgifu, I don’t know.”

“Why not just support Æthelstan? He’s the eldest son!”

“Because their goddamned priests preach that Æthelstan is a bastard. And he’s spent most of his life in Mercia, which means that most West Saxons don’t know him and don’t know if they’ll prosper under his rule. The fervent Christians support him, of course, at least those who don’t believe he’s a bastard, but most of the bishops and abbots are in Æthelhelm’s pay, so they want Ælfweard. Eadgifu doesn’t want either, because she thinks her son ought to be king, and I don’t doubt she’s recruiting followers by spreading her legs. It’s a royal mess.”