Chapter Text
“25,” I whispered to myself. “All you need is 25.”
Like an owl settling into its nest, I curled myself into the space between the great yew tree’s limbs. Its canopy was dense, shielding me in cool shadows, despite the early autumn’s warm morning sun.
I was playing a game that had been my favourite since childhood. I would sit somewhere out in nature and become completely still. Then, once I’d managed to slow my breathing, I would count the number of distinct noises I could hear around me. My record was 24, and despite months of trying, I had yet to beat it.
I closed my eyes and slowly inhaled, smiling as the smell of sap and earth filled my lungs. Then I began to count on my fingers as the sounds filled my ears.
The morning breeze. The grass in the nearby meadow swishing in the wind. Birds- sparrows from the sound of it -in the tree canopy. Leaves rolling on the ground beneath me. A small animal, a squirrel perhaps, skittering through the forest’s brush. Yew needles falling softly to the ground below. The distant sound of the surf.
I continued in this way, listening and counting on my fingers. I had just gotten to nineteen when the crack of a twig caused my eyes to snap open. I did not move, forcing my breath to become more shallow. Feet shuffling along the ground. I was no longer alone in the forest and I did not know who else would venture this way. The footsteps were getting closer, and I debated whether to stay hidden or to make my presence known, when a voice that I would recognize anywhere called out. I could not stop the smile that sprang to my lips.
“Órlaith!”
I could see him now. His dark hair, so similar to my own, could be seen between the yew branches. It was hard to tell from this height but he seemed taller than I had remembered him being the last time we had seen each other. He was thinner too - more muscle around his shoulders. I struggled to bite back a laugh as he passed directly beneath me, stopping only a few feet away from my hiding place.
“I know you’re here somewhere, Órlaith! Osferth saw you head this way earlier. Aren’t we too old for hide and seek?” He was pretending to sound annoyed but I knew him too well. He loved this game more than I did.
With carefully practiced movements I jumped, landing on both feet mere steps from where he stood. He spun around as he heard me hit the ground, his saex already drawn. His reflexes were as quick as my own, although I would never admit that to his face. He dropped the blade, however, the second our eyes met.
“Shit, Órlaith!” Sten swore, his breath seeming to exit his body as his muscles relaxed in relief. I smiled up at him, proud of myself for having surprised him. The shock and anger on his face quickly evaporated and was replaced with a slightly embarrassed grin.
“You should have seen your face!” I crowed triumphantly, while closing the small gap between us to envelop my oldest friend in a long hug.
Sten hugged me back tightly and I was uncomfortably aware that he was much stronger than the last time I had seen him in the spring.
“What in the bloody hell were you doing up there?” he said as he pulled back to look at me.
Picking his seax up from the ground, I handed it to him. “Playing the listening game,” I answered as I turned and started to lead us out of the wood and towards home. “I’ve been trying for months to break my own record.”
Sten shook his head before giving me that smile that made his dimple appear in his left cheek. “You still play that game?”
“It was your father who taught it to me!” I answered defensively, although why his question bothered me I couldn’t quite pinpoint. We had both played it together for years before his father, Sihtric, had become Lord of Dunholm and his family had moved away. When Sten left, I lost my primary playmate, and the listening game was one of the few activities that I could play by myself.
“Oh, I know who taught it to you. And, your incredible talent for it is reason #237 why my father likes you better than he likes me!”
“Well,” I said, grinning at him mischievously as we stepped from the edge of the trees into the mid-morning light, “what’s not to like?”
Sten huffed a laugh and shook his head at me, pretending to be exasperated. However, his grin betrayed him, and I realized how much I had missed him all of these months. We typically spent most summers together. Yet, this year there had been so much kerfuffle over the Scottish raids to the north and the south that the summer had seemed to evaporate into scouting missions and talk of impending battle.
“When did you arrive?” I asked, tipping my head towards the giant fort that loomed over us across the small valley. I had called Bebbanburg home for the last 10 years, yet its size never failed to impress me, just as it did now.
“Late last night. You were already in bed, and up before I was this morning. Your mother asked me to find you so that you can help her prepare for tonight’s gathering. Aethelflaed and Aldhelm were arriving just as I left.”
I felt a pulse of excitement ripple through me at the mention of tonight’s feast. Bebbenburg was not often where the powers of Britain met, with more southerly strongholds typically making a more convenient location for most Lords and Ladies. However, the Scots were a distinct threat to Northumbria and one which threatened all of Britain - just as the Danes had once, not so long ago. Plans would be made tonight, and I was going to ensure that I heard them all.
“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting,” I said, quickening my pace before adding, “besides, you could do with a change of clothes, I am sure.”
Sten looked at me quizzically. I ensured that I was far enough ahead of him and out of striking distance before clarifying, “Well, I did just make you shit your pants - did I not?”
“That’s it. I’m going ahead and telling them to shut the gates!” he called as he ran past me. I laughed and followed him, knowing that my chances of surpassing him were slim considering his legs were a good 6 inches longer than my own. Yet, that fact did not stop me from trying.
I could not help but slow down, however, as we got closer to the gates. Villagers were bustling in and out, carrying with them foods, linens, or casks of ale. Bebbanburg hadn’t been this alive in many months and I was in awe of it.
As we ran past the southern rampart I caught sight of Aethelstan above us. He glowered at the sight of Sten and I chasing each other, but I am sure that I saw a hint of a smirk as I waved at him.
Aethelstan had never quite been a friend, being almost 10 years older than us. Yet, he had been a regular figure throughout our childhoods. Uhtred had spent years training him in the ways of the North and to be a warrior, taking the secret aetheling with him everywhere. Our own fathers, Sihtric and Finan, had also helped to train him and were father figures to him in their own right. Aethelstan had gained the respect of many of Uhtred’s men, and had even spent much of the last year running scouting missions in the farthest reaches of Northumbria. His return to Bebbanburg last night had been cause for much celebration. Uhtred and my father did not like to admit how much they worried for him, despite their faith in his skills. I was curious what role Aethelstan would play during the strategy planning sessions in the days ahead.
“There you are!” cried my mother happily as we ran into the fort’s inner yard. The sparkle in her eye and flush in her cheeks told me that she was just as excited about tonight’s feast as I was. Her copper hair, lightly streaked with silver, was pulled into a tight braid that ran down her back, which meant only one thing - her current mood was all business.
Uhtred had never married and as the wife of his right hand man, my mother had assumed most of the female duties that came with keeping Bebbanburg running. This explained why she was surrounded by trunks of linens and silverware.
“Sten, can you help carry these into the dining hall, please?”
“Of course,” Sten quickly replied, giving my mother a quick kiss on the temple that made her smile. Our mothers had always been quite close, and when Ealhswith passed from the coughing sickness 5 years ago, Eadith had readily stepped in to provide Sten with all of the motherly love and support a young man could hope for.
We both tried to suppress a laugh as we watched Sten attempt to carry two trunks at once into the hall. However, her attention quickly turned to me.
“How high did you get today?” she asked, absentmindedly picking yew needles and a stray berry from the dark hair that flowed down my back.
“Not far enough before I was interrupted.” I said, trying to sound exasperated, even though I was glad that she had sent Sten to find me.
“You will have more attempts yet,” she said, wrapping her arm around my waist. “Come! I need help rearranging the dining hall. We have more guests than we expected.”
“Add two more, my love,” called my father as he strode across the yard towards us. He gave us each a quick kiss on the forehead. He smelled of pine and sap, which told me that he must have been out chopping wood for the fires that would be needed to heat the halls that evening.
“Sigtryggr and Stiorra just arrived,” he explained, sharing a look with my mother. The Danish warlord rarely left his lands to the south, which meant that this must be a meeting of great significance indeed. The small crease in my father’s brow told me that this worried him.
“Our guests will be sitting on the floor, at this rate!” my mother said with an exasperated sigh. Something unspoken passed between her and my father; it was part of their own language, born out of years of being together, that so often infuriated me. He nodded his head and strode off to help with preparations elsewhere while my mother ushered me into the dining hall.
Nothing, however, could dampen my spirits. Tonight, Bebbanburg would be the center of England and I would be there to witness it.