'The knife, Osric,' Alwunn said, nodding at the thing in my hand. 'It's important.'
'Doesn't look important,' I replied, running a thumb across the dull blade. 'You would struggle to skin a hare with this.' Ealhstan snatched the knife from me and held the hilt up close to my face. I took it back and examined the hilt. Two serpents writhed in the white bone, each beast appearing to swallow its own curling tail. 'It's skilled work,' I admitted. 'And pagan.' Ealhstan grunted. I shrugged. 'I don't understand. Why are you showing this to me?'
'I was there when they found you, Osric,' Alwunn said almost guiltily.
'So?' I said. I knew the story. I had been found amongst the old people's burial mounds south-east of Abbotsend. No one knew where I had come from and I had been unconscious. When I woke, my mind was empty as a mead barrel at a wedding feast.
'Your head was bleeding and they thought you must be dead,' Alwunn continued, 'but when they rolled you over, your eyes were open. When Wulfweard saw . . .' she hesitated and pointed at my blood-eye, 'he cursed and said you had been touched by Satan.' She made the sign of the cross then, scared by her own words.
'I was lucky old Ealhstan needed an extra pair of hands more than he needed Wulfweard's fart-stinking sermons,' I said, smiling at the old carpenter, who grunted again. Alwunn looked horrified at what I had said and took a moment to check that we were still alone. The two dogs, perhaps seeing a hare, suddenly ran off into the night, barking wildly.
Alwunn winced. 'Ealhstan found that knife round your neck,' she said. 'He took it before Wulfweard or the others saw it.' She looked at Ealhstan. 'He feared what they would do. It is pagan, Osric,' she said, emphasizing the word, 'and what with your eye . . .' She shrugged and looked embarrassed again, as though she was ashamed of how the folk of Abbotsend treated me, but at the same time understood their reasons.
'As I said, the old man needed an apprentice,' I said, studying the knife intently now.
'Are you sure you don't remember anything about how you got here?' Alwunn asked, fighting with her unruly hair again.
I shook my head. 'I woke up in Ealhstan's house, Alwunn. There's nothing before that.' I held up the knife. 'You've always known about this?' She nodded. 'Does anyone else know?'
'Why, Osric? Do you think they could treat you any worse?' she asked with a wry smile. I frowned at her. 'No one else knows,' she said. She looked at Ealhstan. 'I should go. If Mother knew I was out here . . .'
Ealhstan nodded and touched her shoulder in thanks. Alwunn shot me a parting look and ran off into the night, lifting the hem of her nightdress off the muddy earth.
'Why are you telling me now, old man?' I asked, tying the knife to my belt. Alwunn was right. What could they do to me now? For two years they had hated me but let me alone because I was Ealhstan's apprentice. I would not hide behind the old man any more.
Ealhstan stared at the knife on my belt but did not move to take it back. He gave a slight shake of his head and made the sign of the cross over his chest.
'I don't know what this all means, Ealhstan,' I said, putting an arm on his shoulder, 'but thank you.' The goose honked loudly and I turned to see a dark figure striding towards us.
'Is that one of Bertwald's birds?' Wulfweard asked, making the sign of the cross when he noticed me. He wore his priest's armour: the white woollen tunic reaching to his ankles and the strip of green silk which went round his neck and fell to his shins. 'I've told him he needs to put another foot on his pen. Given a bit of a fright and a little gust of wind, a goose can take to the sky for two hundred paces. I've seen it!' We looked at the goose and it flapped its wings angrily. 'Is that devil Jarl Sigurd still in there dreaming up more ways to offend our Lord and Father?' he asked Ealhstan, turning his back on me.
The carpenter nodded.
'About earlier, Ealhstan, by Cearl's place,' Wulfweard said. 'As luck would have it – though we must surely believe good luck to be nothing less than God's rewarding the righteous . . .' He pointed a fat finger, and I did not need to see his face to know the arrogant smile on it. 'Well, Ealhstan, I came across a clump of burdock hiding amongst the nettles and docks. I expect you're familiar with burdock's . . . loosening properties,' he rubbed his lower belly, 'and the relief the juice of its leaves gives to flea bites, snake bites and such like. But did you know that the oil from its roots, when rubbed into the scalp, is most soothing – not to mention restorative to hair?' Ealhstan grunted and Wulfweard squeezed his shoulder. 'Peace be upon you, friend.' Then the priest turned to me, his grimace animal-like in the darkness. 'Out of my way, boy. I go to witness the Lord God's work.' With that he pushed open the old hall's door, shot Ealhstan a wicked grin and went inside.