I hesitated, then decided it was best to let him believe whatever he chose. “Of course not, lord Prince.”

“I have suffered from malicious gossip my whole life,” he said angrily, beckoning me onward, “and I detest it. I have known women raised in the faith, pious women, women full of good works, who are less saintly than Sunngifu! She is a good woman, an inspiration to us all! And she deserves a heavenly reward for what she has achieved here. She tends the wounded, and comforts the afflicted.”

I almost asked how she administered that comfort, but managed to bite my tongue. There was no way to argue with Æthelstan’s piety, and I had watched him grow ever more pious over the years. I had done my best to convince him that the older gods were better, but I had failed, and now he was becoming more and more like his grandfather, King Alfred. He had inherited Alfred’s intelligence and his love of the church, but to those he added the skills of a warrior. He was, in short, formidable, and I had the sudden realization that if I had just met him for the first time, instead of having known him since he was a child, I would probably dislike him. And if this young man became king, I thought, then Alfred’s dream of one Saxon country under the rule of one Christian king could well come true, indeed was likely to come true, which meant that this young man, whom I thought of as a son, was the enemy of Northumbria. My enemy. “Why do I always end up fighting for the wrong side?” I asked.

Æthelstan laughed, then surprised me by clapping my shoulder, maybe regretting the angry tone he had used just a moment before. “Because at heart you’re a Saxon,” he said, “and because, as we’ve already agreed, you’re a fool. But you’re a fool who’ll never be my enemy.”

“I won’t?” I asked threateningly.

“Not by my choice!” He strode ahead, making for the arena’s entrance, where a dozen of my men stood close to the great fire that burned in the archway. “Is Cynlæf still inside?” he called out.

Berg was the closest of the sentries, and he glanced at me as if wondering whether he should answer. I nodded. “No one’s left the arena, lord,” Berg said.

“Are we sure Cynlæf’s here?” I asked.

“We saw him two days ago,” Æthelstan said. He smiled at Berg. “I fear you’re suffering a cold night.”

“I’m Norse, lord, the cold doesn’t worry me.”

Æthelstan laughed at that. “Nevertheless I’ll send men to relieve you. And tomorrow?” He paused, distracted by Berg, who was gazing past him.

“Tomorrow we kill them, lord?” Berg asked, still staring northward over Æthelstan’s shoulder.

“Oh, we kill them,” Æthelstan said softly, “we certainly kill them.” Then he turned to see what had attracted Berg’s attention. “And perhaps we begin the killing now,” he added in a sharp tone.