want to cross his wife again so soon.
‘He goes to Lindisfarne,’ he said placatingly, and left the room.
Queen Eanfleda sat down on the chair Wilfrid solicitously brought forward for her. Her legs felt weak.
‘Wilfrid,’ she said sadly. ‘You are young and much that is sorrowful and hard has already happened to you. But it is nothing to what may still happen. If I let you be my lord’s shield bearer you will have nothing in your life but killing and being killed. If you go to Lindisfarne, what you will learn there will be of more lasting value than putting Penda’s head on a stake. You will learn ways of changing the hearts of men so that they can live together without this perpetual violence and hatred. You will learn how men can trust one another so that they will not have to take a woman’s child from her to hold as hostage.’ Her eyes were dry now, but there was still a touch of bitterness in her expression.
He was silent. He liked the idea of being a scholar and confounding them all with his knowledge, but he was not sure that he would take to the bare, uncomfortable life of the brothers at Lindisfarne. He came of noble family and was used to being rich and comfortable.
‘Leave me now,’ she said, ‘but send Romanus my priest to me. I need to pray and have not the strength to do it alone.’
Penda’s queen, Cynewise, stared at the angry red-faced child and sighed. Another hostage. Her household was already complicated enough.
‘It is obvious he needs feeding,’ she said coldly to the thegn who held the child. ‘Take him to the kitchens. When he is fed and cleaned, bring him back to me.’
Chapter 7
Hilda AD 647
In the autumn the house of Anna had a visit from Hilda, a princess of the royal Deiran house, a kinswoman of King Oswin. She was on her way to France, to the monastery of Chelles near Paris, to lead the holy life like her sister Hereswith, widow of Anna’s brother Egric. King Anna, sensing the restlessness in Etheldreda and fearing it, asked Hilda to winter with them.
She was a handsome woman of thirty-two who had had many suitors but found none to her taste, and had succeeded in keeping a fierce, proud independence, while running a well appointed household in Deira, the focus of travellers and scholars, priests and princes.
‘What makes you head for France?’ King Anna asked his guest after an evening of lively talk around the fire. ‘Deira will be the poorer without you.’
She laughed.
‘I will be the poorer if I stay in Deira,’ she said. ‘I seek my fortune in France, riches without price.’
‘I heard you gave your land away, your house and all its contents,’ King Anna said. ‘Was that wise?’
‘Very wise,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘The land was not mine, but God’s, and what do I want with a house made of wood that can be burned by fire, and robes that the moth can gnaw. I am looking for more permanent possessions and I expect to find them.’
Etheldreda’s eyes shone at the older woman’s brave words, and Anna, seeing it, wondered if Hilda would exert quite the influence he wanted over his daughter.
‘You are lucky you have no responsibilities,’ he said pointedly. ‘Some of us have people dependent upon us.’
‘One must serve God in the best way one can,’ Hilda said. ‘Of course it is not right for everyone to leave for a monastery, but only those who are called.’
‘How were you called?’ Etheldreda asked curiously.
Hilda sighed and shook her head. ‘It is almost impossible to explain,’ she said.
‘Did you have a vision?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘A dream?’
Hilda hesitated. ‘No,’ she answered at last. ‘It was more like… more like “knowing” than anything else. I cannot explain it better than that.’
Etheldreda sighed. She had a ‘knowing’ too, but it was not consistent. Sometimes she had doubts. Sometimes she thought of King Oswin of Deira and prayed to God that her ‘calling’ would be to be his wife. At other
‘He goes to Lindisfarne,’ he said placatingly, and left the room.
Queen Eanfleda sat down on the chair Wilfrid solicitously brought forward for her. Her legs felt weak.
‘Wilfrid,’ she said sadly. ‘You are young and much that is sorrowful and hard has already happened to you. But it is nothing to what may still happen. If I let you be my lord’s shield bearer you will have nothing in your life but killing and being killed. If you go to Lindisfarne, what you will learn there will be of more lasting value than putting Penda’s head on a stake. You will learn ways of changing the hearts of men so that they can live together without this perpetual violence and hatred. You will learn how men can trust one another so that they will not have to take a woman’s child from her to hold as hostage.’ Her eyes were dry now, but there was still a touch of bitterness in her expression.
He was silent. He liked the idea of being a scholar and confounding them all with his knowledge, but he was not sure that he would take to the bare, uncomfortable life of the brothers at Lindisfarne. He came of noble family and was used to being rich and comfortable.
‘Leave me now,’ she said, ‘but send Romanus my priest to me. I need to pray and have not the strength to do it alone.’
Penda’s queen, Cynewise, stared at the angry red-faced child and sighed. Another hostage. Her household was already complicated enough.
‘It is obvious he needs feeding,’ she said coldly to the thegn who held the child. ‘Take him to the kitchens. When he is fed and cleaned, bring him back to me.’
Chapter 7
Hilda AD 647
In the autumn the house of Anna had a visit from Hilda, a princess of the royal Deiran house, a kinswoman of King Oswin. She was on her way to France, to the monastery of Chelles near Paris, to lead the holy life like her sister Hereswith, widow of Anna’s brother Egric. King Anna, sensing the restlessness in Etheldreda and fearing it, asked Hilda to winter with them.
She was a handsome woman of thirty-two who had had many suitors but found none to her taste, and had succeeded in keeping a fierce, proud independence, while running a well appointed household in Deira, the focus of travellers and scholars, priests and princes.
‘What makes you head for France?’ King Anna asked his guest after an evening of lively talk around the fire. ‘Deira will be the poorer without you.’
She laughed.
‘I will be the poorer if I stay in Deira,’ she said. ‘I seek my fortune in France, riches without price.’
‘I heard you gave your land away, your house and all its contents,’ King Anna said. ‘Was that wise?’
‘Very wise,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘The land was not mine, but God’s, and what do I want with a house made of wood that can be burned by fire, and robes that the moth can gnaw. I am looking for more permanent possessions and I expect to find them.’
Etheldreda’s eyes shone at the older woman’s brave words, and Anna, seeing it, wondered if Hilda would exert quite the influence he wanted over his daughter.
‘You are lucky you have no responsibilities,’ he said pointedly. ‘Some of us have people dependent upon us.’
‘One must serve God in the best way one can,’ Hilda said. ‘Of course it is not right for everyone to leave for a monastery, but only those who are called.’
‘How were you called?’ Etheldreda asked curiously.
Hilda sighed and shook her head. ‘It is almost impossible to explain,’ she said.
‘Did you have a vision?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘A dream?’
Hilda hesitated. ‘No,’ she answered at last. ‘It was more like… more like “knowing” than anything else. I cannot explain it better than that.’
Etheldreda sighed. She had a ‘knowing’ too, but it was not consistent. Sometimes she had doubts. Sometimes she thought of King Oswin of Deira and prayed to God that her ‘calling’ would be to be his wife. At other
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