'Would Ealdred have paid Glum good silver for you and Weohstan?' I asked as we walked through gorse and bracken, a thin rain falling to wash the blood from my mail. I knew that I risked her tears by mentioning Weohstan, but I needed to know something about the ealdorman I would soon have to face again. I still walked with the spear taking much of my weight so as not to twist and risk tearing open what Cynethryth had sewn.
She shrugged but said nothing, so I breathed in the air which smelled of rain, and pushed deeper. 'Glum thought if he gave you to Ealdred, the Mercians would pay to get you back. I suppose he was right. I'd wager Ealdred would not turn his back on the chance of having something the Mercians want. There were whispers flying around the fires that you were King Coenwulf's daughter,' I said, watching her face for signs of the truth. 'You don't look like a princess to me.'
'And you have known many princesses, have you?' she said. I shrugged. Cynethryth pursed her lips and bent to snatch a slender hazel branch from the forest floor. 'Coenwulf might give a fur or two to have me back at his hall, Raven,' she said, 'if he still had a hall. But not for the reasons you think.'
'So you're not his daughter, but you are nobly born,' I said, 'that much I know.' She raised one eyebrow. 'I was teasing before,' I said. 'Your clothes, your bearing. Your father is a rich man, whoever he is. He must be known throughout Mercia.'
'Shhh, Raven.' She turned to face me, pressing a finger against my lips. 'I am no Mercian. Do I sound like one?' She shook her head. 'You are a strange heathen boy.'
I leant on my spear and held out a hand, inviting her to explain, and she shook her head as though wondering how I could be so stupid.
'I'm Ealdorman Ealdred's daughter.'
'His daughter?' The news struck me between the eyes. 'Then what were you doing in Coenwulf's fortress?'
A shadow of pain skated across her wet face. 'I was to marry King Coenwulf's kinsman,' she said, 'to help heal the wounds between Wessex and Mercia. I was to be a peace-weaver, Raven. Father says the treaty is falling apart. My marriage was meant to bring the kingdoms together and put an end to the fighting.' She frowned. 'But I know my father and I know what I am worth to him.' She spat those last words as though they were poison. 'He would give me to Mercia to buy the time he needs to build his army for the day King Egbert marches against Coenwulf. Ealdred is land-greedy, Raven, and I am the price he would pay for war on his own terms.'
Peace-weavers. I had heard them called peace-cows also and powerful men have always used their daughters for such ends, but I had never considered that those daughters, women born to privilege, might not embrace their destinies. I thought of how I had helped the Norns pull free and sever the thread from my life that would have seen me take old Ealhstan's place at the pole lathe, amongst the sweet-smelling wood dust.
'Peace-weavers pay a heavy price too, Raven,' Cynethryth said. 'They trade themselves for trinkets and fine linen and they live in the cold, empty space between two families who can never bury their hatred. They have two lives and none at all.'
I understood Cynethryth then, for like a peace-weaver I was not whole. I was without a past and so neither English nor Norse. Cynethryth palmed the rain from her face and pushed her wet hair behind her ears. I could have looked at her for ever. 'I would have been married the day after Weohstan and I found you in Coenwulf's church,' she said, whipping the hazel branch through the air.
'So Weohstan is King Coenwulf's kinsman,' I said, thinking I understood.
'Almighty Christ and all his saints!' she exclaimed. 'A child's wooden sword is sharper than you, Raven.' She threw the hazel stick away. 'The man I was to marry was called Ordlaf. I suppose he might be dead. He rode off with the king because the Northumbrians were raiding the borderlands.' I said nothing. 'Anyway, I don't like him. He's a Christian,' she said, as though this made it better, 'but he's even more of a beast than you.'
'I don't believe it,' I said with a grin. 'Does he stink as bad as me?'
'No one could stink that bad,' she said, almost smiling, 'but you'd think he was a heathen. You would like him, I don't doubt. Maybe you should marry him if he is alive.' Her eyes shone with mischief then. 'And Mauger? Did you not notice that he was always close by me? From the moment you and your godless friends took us hostage?'
'I thought that ox wanted to have his pleasure with you,' I said, a flush of blood warming my cheeks. 'I don't trust him. He's a bastard.'
Cynethryth giggled. 'Old Mauger has known me my whole life,' she boasted. 'My father sent him with Jarl Sigurd to bring me back to Wessex. Perhaps he decided that it was too late to save the treaty. Too late even for a peace-weaver. He's no fool. He'd use me, but not for no gain. Not if he doubted the outcome. There are other kings with other cousins. There are other bargains, other trades to be made.' She began to walk on and I kept up with her.