Chapter 9.44 1040 – Gwynedd – Bishopric of Bangor Fawr
Chapter 9.44
1040 – Gwynedd – Bishopric of Bangor Fawr
June
The recently ascended Duchess of Gwynedd blessed herself as she finished her prayer. She rose from kneeling before the undersized and rather plain sarcophagus. Once erect she reached down and straightened her skirt. She then placed a loving palm on the smooth stone top. She removed her hand, turned, and exited the mausoleum.
In the sunlight, a middle-aged man greeted Ælfthryth. Eyes filled with concern, he watched her and bowed.
Still trying to control her tears and emotions, the duchess glanced at him. “Swithelm Eadricsson, what brings you to this gloomy place?”
He smiled to appear cheerful, “You do, Duchess.”
She raised an eyebrow, “I do?”
With the same smile he replied, “Am I not your Court Chaplin? Is not my duty to comfort you when your spirit and heart are troubled as they are now?”
Angry with her advisor, Ælfthryth sensed he was demeaning her. But, one look at the counselor Ælfthryth could see his concern was genuine. Her mood softened.
“It is difficult to come to terms when someone so young is taken from us.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “He had only seen eleven summers. A life too short.”
Swithelm reached out and cupped her hands within his, “Our Lord’s plan is impossible to understand in particular when he calls a child to his kingdom.”
Her voice cracking, Ælfthryth replied, “Thurcytel had not begun to live. Jarl at three and half weeks after being birthed deprived him of his childhood. Then the same flu that took our father stole the life out of my brother.”
To comfort her, Swithelm said, “He is at peace now.”
With force she removed her hands from his hands shocking Swithelm. Ælfthryth glared at her court chaplain, “Peace. What do you know of peace? What do any of us know of peace? All he knew for his eleven years was civil war.”
Swithelm recovered from his shock, “I speak of eternal tranquility. The love and warmth he will find in the arms of Our Lord.”
She realized the possibility she insulted Swithelm and regretted such Ælfthryth forced down her anger. “I apologize, I appreciate you only offer comfort to me.”
Swithelm smiled, “No offense taken, milady. These are trying days.”
Ælfthryth chuckled, “Dark times, indeed, with civil war for the last eleven years. All the fault of that bitch Countess Mildrith of Gloucester. May her soul rot in Hell for all eternity.”
Swithelm remained silent. There was nothing he could say as his duchess spoke the truth as far in his eyes.
She continued, “What underhanded deal did my uncle Hlothere make with her? The lands and titles grandfather left to him do not satisfy his thirst for power.”
Swithelm tried to protest, “Milady, the Count of Shrewsbury has never acknowledged Mildrith acted in his name.”
Annoyed, Ælfthryth replied, “In public he may not acknowledge it, but I tell you in private he plots with his treacherous wife, the Countess Katarina of Hereford, to steal the Jarldom of Gwynedd from its rightful rulers.”
Still trying to allay Ælfthryth’s fears, Swithelm responded, “He has often spoken against the war.”
Ælfthryth shook her head, “Yet he has taken no action to end the conflict.”
Swithelm knew further arguments were futile and did not respond. Instead, he averted his eyes from the duchess’ gaze.
Ælfthryth finished her rant, “If Hlothere becomes Jarl of Gwynedd upon his demise, his, and Herford’s son, Snorri will become Jarl of Gwynedd and Count of Hereford.”
At the gate of the graveyard she gestured and looked back at the plain, unornate mausoleum and shook her head, “We cannot even bury him properly since the Rebels hold our home, Abberfraw.” She swung about and pointed at the bishop’s manor and said, “We now call this home.” She sighed, “Our pitiful levies of two hundred and fifty men can do nothing to change our lot. Our gold is all but gone. We need a miracle to survive.”
At the manor gate, another counselor met them. Ælfthryth stopped and glared at him.
“Why is my Chancellor waiting for me? Am I not permitted to mourn my brother without intrusion?”
The official looked wounded and embarrassed, “I beg your forgiveness, milady.”
Ælfthryth shook her head in disgust, “Well, out with it, Tewdwr. What is so damned important it could not wait?”
Tewdwr swallowed hard. He had underestimated the duchess’ reaction to him bringing her news. Close to losing his nerve, he replied, “Your grandfather sends his condolences and apologizes for not being able to attend the funeral. Matters of state and the health of your grandmother prevented him from leaving Prefeddwlad.”
Ælfthryth closed her eyes, struggling to hold her anger. “By any chance did the illustrious Jarl Ealdmund of Powys offer any gold or troops to aid his favorite granddaughter?”
Tewdwr looked down, “No, milady.”
Ælfthryth pushed past Tewdwr saying, “Perhaps good sir you should go return to being just the Mayor of Caernarfon.”
Tewdwr tried to save face, “Milady, I understand not.”
Ælfthryth stopped in her tracks and spun around to confront Tewdwr, “Do not waste my time.”
Tewdwr stepped back in fear, “I – I—”
Ælfthryth glared at him, “You did not come here to tell me of an insignificant message from my grandfather.”
Tewdwr meekly shook his head.
She was finding it hard to control her annoyance at Tewdwr. Deep down Ælfthryth believed Council was the principal reason for the civil war going against her late brother and now herself. She took steps to correct the problem and removed the former regent Beorhthelm Cuthrædsson from his council position of Spymaster and replaced him with Wulfgar Leofhelmsson who she planned to meet later this day. She hoped her new spymaster would give her the justification to remove the fool who stood before her from the Council.
“Well?”
Sweat appeared on the Chancellor’s forehead, “A message arrived from Jorvik, milady.”
Ælfthryth’s mood darkened. The last she wished to hear from was the Regency Council. “The news?”
In fear of a backlash with caution, Tewdwr replied, “Arngrimr speaking for King Ofeig requires your appearance before the king and council to swear your oaths and pledge your fidelity.”
Ælfthryth closed her eyes and was silent for several moments, so long Tewdwr thought she had not heard him. He was about to repeat the message when her eyes opened slowly. Her face became red, and she clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. She exhaled deliberately.
“They dare order me to Jorvik now. My brother’s body is not cold in his tomb.” She glared at Tewdwr, directing her anger at him since she could not direct it at the Council. “We fight a fruitless war and they offer no help, nor do they take steps to end it despite our pleas. Our jarldom is awash in blood and fire and those fools sit on high feasting and celebrating their victories.”
Shocked and confused by her outburst, Tewdwr stood wide eyed looking at the duchess. She scoffed, turned and left Tewdwr and Swithelm standing in the courtyard.
Tewdwr turned to Swithelm, “If she refuses, there will be trouble.”
Swithelm nodded, “She needs time.”
Desperate Tewdwr replied, “We have no time. The Council, the Regent will not wait. They will label her a traitor.”
Swithelm smirked, “They may call her names, but they will not take action.”
Tewdwr sighed, “But what of the Church?”
Swithelm looked at Tewdwr, “What of the Church?”
Frustrated and scared, Tewdwr answered, “Not swearing her oaths will gain disfavor with the Church. There could be repercussions.”
Swithelm chuckled, “Excommunication?”
Tewdwr nodded.
Swithelm shook his head, “For whom are you afraid? The duchess, the jarldom, yourself?”
“Excommunication would harm us all,” replied Tewdwr.
Swithelm put his hand upon Tewdwr’s shoulder. “I do not believe the Church will follow such a course.” He smiled and walked away. Tewdwr stood watching him leave.
*****
After the evening meal, Ælfthryth sat with Wulfgar in her chambers. She offered the spymaster wine, which he accepted. They sat across from one another.
Ælfthryth looked at Wulfgar, “Have you found cause so I may rid myself of that fool Tewdwr?”
Wulfgar shook his head, “No, I have not been so fortunate.”
Ælfthryth drank her wine, “I wish you would make haste.”
Wulfgar nodded, “I heard about today and I will do my part.” He smiled menacingly, “Not everything must be true. It only needs to be believed.”
Ælfthryth raised an eyebrow and grinned. She acknowledged her approval.
Wulfgar sipped his wine and said, “I recognize the distaste, but you must swear your oaths to the king.”
Sipping more wine, Ælfthryth replied, “I know.”
Wulfgar smirked, “Do such to buy time.”
Ælfthryth looked at Wulfgar, “Events move as we hoped.”
Wulfgar nodded, “Yes, milady. They may even be further along than we expected.”
Ælfthryth smiled, “That is good.”
Wulfgar returned the smile, “The moment for a meeting is upon us.”
Ælfthryth nodded, “I take you are correct. When?”
With a devilish grin Wulfgar replied, “On your way home from Jorvik.”
Surprised, Ælfthryth asked, “Jorvik?”
Wulfgar chuckled, “Yes, after you swear your oaths. You could undertake a return trip through Appleby.”
Understanding, Ælfthryth smiled, “I expect you are right.”
Wulfgar snickered, “I shall see to the arrangements.”
September – Westmoreland - Appleby
Ælfthryth with her Steward Bishop Oswine of Bangor Fawr partook in the wine, breads, and cheeses as they waited in the solar. After a few minutes Bishop Ealdwine of Cartmel entered the room. The bishop greeted them and joined them in the drinking and eating.
Between sips and bites Ealdwine said, “Unusual for a liege lord to travel with their steward and not their chancellor.”
Ælfthryth looked at Oswine and grinned. Ealdwine had come first to test them. Ælfthryth took a measured sip and smiled at Ealdwine.
“A liege lord travels with those she trusts. Many times, in delicate situations she needs someone who will not act emotionally and knows discretion.”
Ealdwine grinned, “Yes, a trusted traveling companion who thinks as his liege does is valuable.” He chewed a piece of cheese and asked, “How did you find Jorvik?”
Ælfthryth smirked, “Not to my liking. I felt I was in a pit of vipers.”
Ealdwine chuckled, “A very appropriate appraisal of current life in the capital.”
Oswine then spoke, “I took notice that neither yourself nor your countess were present.”
Ealdwine nodded, “Yes, we do not have the constitution to withstand the king’s court these days. As Ofeig comes nearer to the age where the regency council will disband and those on council jostle for favor and influence while maintaining their own interest. It is as your duchess described a pit of vipers.”
Ælfthryth scoffed, “They play their games and plot their plots while we suffer.”
Ealdwine nodded to her, “Some more than others. Pity council achieved nothing in the king's name to end the languishing civil war that has afflicted your jarldom for over a decade.”
Ealdwine could see the resentment in Ælfthryth’s eyes as she responded, “I as many others from Gwynedd have pleaded for an end. I was told everything was being done that could be done and sent on my way like a child whose parents were lying to them about finding a lost toy.”
The voracity of the rage in the sixteen-year-old duchess surprised Ealdwine.
“It is improper, the contempt the king’s vassals are subject to from those in power.”
Ælfthryth nodded, “Disrespect from the crown to my family goes back to King Eadweard and his treatment of my grandfather and his uncle, Jarl Hlothere Eilifsson.”
Countess Wulfwynn chose this moment to arrive.
“Many in this room have been disrespected by the crown.”
She stopped before Oswine and smiled, “Is that not true Oswine Leofwealdsson?”
Oswine looked at Wulfwynn and replied, “Yes, milady. Some more than others.”
Wulfwynn took the goblet offered by Ealdwine and drank the wine. Keeping her gaze on Oswine she said, “If it had not been for King Rædwald you would today be Jarl of Northumberland.”
Oswine nodded but remained silent as Wulfwynn continued, “Deposing your father, Leofweald, was no way to treat the son of the legendary Jarl Ælfweald of Northumberland.”
Oswine cringed and responded, “There is no fault in your words.”
Wulfwynn sipped her wine and smiled as she turned to face Ælfthryth, “I see no love is lost for Arngrimr, the Council or King Ofeig by those in this room.”
Ælfthryth nodded, “Again you speak true. Words are meaningless without action to make them strong.”
Wulfwynn said, “You were correct, Ealdwine, the Duchess of Gwynedd is young and lacks the patience that comes with age.”
Ælfthryth glared at Ealdwine, “I did not come here to be insulted.”
Wulfwynn held her hand as a gesture of calm, “We mean no insult. The future has taken many years to plant and nurture and will need a little more time to bear fruit.”
Still annoyed and feeling she was being toyed with, Ælfthryth replied, “Unlike others, time is a luxury I may not have.”
Wulfwynn nodded, “I understand and with your levies we are very close to achieving our goal.”
Ælfthryth’s mood softened, “I apologize. I am impatient, but I have my reasons. To wait too long will only bring further ruin to Gwynedd. We are close to spent.”
Wulfwynn smiled motherly at Ælfthryth, “I am aware of your predicament. Your grandfather, Ealdmund, went to great lengths explaining it to us. His confidence in you has gained you this meeting and opportunity.”
Unsure, Ælfthryth asked, “What opportunity?”
Wulfwynn beamed, “Why to depose the House of Hvitserk.”
Ælfthryth took a breath as for the first time since her brother’s death she felt they had found a solution to end her misery and the suffering of her people.
She grinned back at Wulfwynn, “Long live King Swæfræd.”
1040 – Gwynedd – Bishopric of Bangor Fawr
June
The recently ascended Duchess of Gwynedd blessed herself as she finished her prayer. She rose from kneeling before the undersized and rather plain sarcophagus. Once erect she reached down and straightened her skirt. She then placed a loving palm on the smooth stone top. She removed her hand, turned, and exited the mausoleum.
In the sunlight, a middle-aged man greeted Ælfthryth. Eyes filled with concern, he watched her and bowed.
Still trying to control her tears and emotions, the duchess glanced at him. “Swithelm Eadricsson, what brings you to this gloomy place?”
He smiled to appear cheerful, “You do, Duchess.”
She raised an eyebrow, “I do?”
With the same smile he replied, “Am I not your Court Chaplin? Is not my duty to comfort you when your spirit and heart are troubled as they are now?”
Angry with her advisor, Ælfthryth sensed he was demeaning her. But, one look at the counselor Ælfthryth could see his concern was genuine. Her mood softened.
“It is difficult to come to terms when someone so young is taken from us.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “He had only seen eleven summers. A life too short.”
Swithelm reached out and cupped her hands within his, “Our Lord’s plan is impossible to understand in particular when he calls a child to his kingdom.”
Her voice cracking, Ælfthryth replied, “Thurcytel had not begun to live. Jarl at three and half weeks after being birthed deprived him of his childhood. Then the same flu that took our father stole the life out of my brother.”
To comfort her, Swithelm said, “He is at peace now.”
With force she removed her hands from his hands shocking Swithelm. Ælfthryth glared at her court chaplain, “Peace. What do you know of peace? What do any of us know of peace? All he knew for his eleven years was civil war.”
Swithelm recovered from his shock, “I speak of eternal tranquility. The love and warmth he will find in the arms of Our Lord.”
She realized the possibility she insulted Swithelm and regretted such Ælfthryth forced down her anger. “I apologize, I appreciate you only offer comfort to me.”
Swithelm smiled, “No offense taken, milady. These are trying days.”
Ælfthryth chuckled, “Dark times, indeed, with civil war for the last eleven years. All the fault of that bitch Countess Mildrith of Gloucester. May her soul rot in Hell for all eternity.”
Swithelm remained silent. There was nothing he could say as his duchess spoke the truth as far in his eyes.
She continued, “What underhanded deal did my uncle Hlothere make with her? The lands and titles grandfather left to him do not satisfy his thirst for power.”
Swithelm tried to protest, “Milady, the Count of Shrewsbury has never acknowledged Mildrith acted in his name.”
Annoyed, Ælfthryth replied, “In public he may not acknowledge it, but I tell you in private he plots with his treacherous wife, the Countess Katarina of Hereford, to steal the Jarldom of Gwynedd from its rightful rulers.”
Still trying to allay Ælfthryth’s fears, Swithelm responded, “He has often spoken against the war.”
Ælfthryth shook her head, “Yet he has taken no action to end the conflict.”
Swithelm knew further arguments were futile and did not respond. Instead, he averted his eyes from the duchess’ gaze.
Ælfthryth finished her rant, “If Hlothere becomes Jarl of Gwynedd upon his demise, his, and Herford’s son, Snorri will become Jarl of Gwynedd and Count of Hereford.”
At the gate of the graveyard she gestured and looked back at the plain, unornate mausoleum and shook her head, “We cannot even bury him properly since the Rebels hold our home, Abberfraw.” She swung about and pointed at the bishop’s manor and said, “We now call this home.” She sighed, “Our pitiful levies of two hundred and fifty men can do nothing to change our lot. Our gold is all but gone. We need a miracle to survive.”
At the manor gate, another counselor met them. Ælfthryth stopped and glared at him.
“Why is my Chancellor waiting for me? Am I not permitted to mourn my brother without intrusion?”
The official looked wounded and embarrassed, “I beg your forgiveness, milady.”
Ælfthryth shook her head in disgust, “Well, out with it, Tewdwr. What is so damned important it could not wait?”
Tewdwr swallowed hard. He had underestimated the duchess’ reaction to him bringing her news. Close to losing his nerve, he replied, “Your grandfather sends his condolences and apologizes for not being able to attend the funeral. Matters of state and the health of your grandmother prevented him from leaving Prefeddwlad.”
Ælfthryth closed her eyes, struggling to hold her anger. “By any chance did the illustrious Jarl Ealdmund of Powys offer any gold or troops to aid his favorite granddaughter?”
Tewdwr looked down, “No, milady.”
Ælfthryth pushed past Tewdwr saying, “Perhaps good sir you should go return to being just the Mayor of Caernarfon.”
Tewdwr tried to save face, “Milady, I understand not.”
Ælfthryth stopped in her tracks and spun around to confront Tewdwr, “Do not waste my time.”
Tewdwr stepped back in fear, “I – I—”
Ælfthryth glared at him, “You did not come here to tell me of an insignificant message from my grandfather.”
Tewdwr meekly shook his head.
She was finding it hard to control her annoyance at Tewdwr. Deep down Ælfthryth believed Council was the principal reason for the civil war going against her late brother and now herself. She took steps to correct the problem and removed the former regent Beorhthelm Cuthrædsson from his council position of Spymaster and replaced him with Wulfgar Leofhelmsson who she planned to meet later this day. She hoped her new spymaster would give her the justification to remove the fool who stood before her from the Council.
“Well?”
Sweat appeared on the Chancellor’s forehead, “A message arrived from Jorvik, milady.”
Ælfthryth’s mood darkened. The last she wished to hear from was the Regency Council. “The news?”
In fear of a backlash with caution, Tewdwr replied, “Arngrimr speaking for King Ofeig requires your appearance before the king and council to swear your oaths and pledge your fidelity.”
Ælfthryth closed her eyes and was silent for several moments, so long Tewdwr thought she had not heard him. He was about to repeat the message when her eyes opened slowly. Her face became red, and she clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. She exhaled deliberately.
“They dare order me to Jorvik now. My brother’s body is not cold in his tomb.” She glared at Tewdwr, directing her anger at him since she could not direct it at the Council. “We fight a fruitless war and they offer no help, nor do they take steps to end it despite our pleas. Our jarldom is awash in blood and fire and those fools sit on high feasting and celebrating their victories.”
Shocked and confused by her outburst, Tewdwr stood wide eyed looking at the duchess. She scoffed, turned and left Tewdwr and Swithelm standing in the courtyard.
Tewdwr turned to Swithelm, “If she refuses, there will be trouble.”
Swithelm nodded, “She needs time.”
Desperate Tewdwr replied, “We have no time. The Council, the Regent will not wait. They will label her a traitor.”
Swithelm smirked, “They may call her names, but they will not take action.”
Tewdwr sighed, “But what of the Church?”
Swithelm looked at Tewdwr, “What of the Church?”
Frustrated and scared, Tewdwr answered, “Not swearing her oaths will gain disfavor with the Church. There could be repercussions.”
Swithelm chuckled, “Excommunication?”
Tewdwr nodded.
Swithelm shook his head, “For whom are you afraid? The duchess, the jarldom, yourself?”
“Excommunication would harm us all,” replied Tewdwr.
Swithelm put his hand upon Tewdwr’s shoulder. “I do not believe the Church will follow such a course.” He smiled and walked away. Tewdwr stood watching him leave.
*****
After the evening meal, Ælfthryth sat with Wulfgar in her chambers. She offered the spymaster wine, which he accepted. They sat across from one another.
Ælfthryth looked at Wulfgar, “Have you found cause so I may rid myself of that fool Tewdwr?”
Wulfgar shook his head, “No, I have not been so fortunate.”
Ælfthryth drank her wine, “I wish you would make haste.”
Wulfgar nodded, “I heard about today and I will do my part.” He smiled menacingly, “Not everything must be true. It only needs to be believed.”
Ælfthryth raised an eyebrow and grinned. She acknowledged her approval.
Wulfgar sipped his wine and said, “I recognize the distaste, but you must swear your oaths to the king.”
Sipping more wine, Ælfthryth replied, “I know.”
Wulfgar smirked, “Do such to buy time.”
Ælfthryth looked at Wulfgar, “Events move as we hoped.”
Wulfgar nodded, “Yes, milady. They may even be further along than we expected.”
Ælfthryth smiled, “That is good.”
Wulfgar returned the smile, “The moment for a meeting is upon us.”
Ælfthryth nodded, “I take you are correct. When?”
With a devilish grin Wulfgar replied, “On your way home from Jorvik.”
Surprised, Ælfthryth asked, “Jorvik?”
Wulfgar chuckled, “Yes, after you swear your oaths. You could undertake a return trip through Appleby.”
Understanding, Ælfthryth smiled, “I expect you are right.”
Wulfgar snickered, “I shall see to the arrangements.”
September – Westmoreland - Appleby
Ælfthryth with her Steward Bishop Oswine of Bangor Fawr partook in the wine, breads, and cheeses as they waited in the solar. After a few minutes Bishop Ealdwine of Cartmel entered the room. The bishop greeted them and joined them in the drinking and eating.
Between sips and bites Ealdwine said, “Unusual for a liege lord to travel with their steward and not their chancellor.”
Ælfthryth looked at Oswine and grinned. Ealdwine had come first to test them. Ælfthryth took a measured sip and smiled at Ealdwine.
“A liege lord travels with those she trusts. Many times, in delicate situations she needs someone who will not act emotionally and knows discretion.”
Ealdwine grinned, “Yes, a trusted traveling companion who thinks as his liege does is valuable.” He chewed a piece of cheese and asked, “How did you find Jorvik?”
Ælfthryth smirked, “Not to my liking. I felt I was in a pit of vipers.”
Ealdwine chuckled, “A very appropriate appraisal of current life in the capital.”
Oswine then spoke, “I took notice that neither yourself nor your countess were present.”
Ealdwine nodded, “Yes, we do not have the constitution to withstand the king’s court these days. As Ofeig comes nearer to the age where the regency council will disband and those on council jostle for favor and influence while maintaining their own interest. It is as your duchess described a pit of vipers.”
Ælfthryth scoffed, “They play their games and plot their plots while we suffer.”
Ealdwine nodded to her, “Some more than others. Pity council achieved nothing in the king's name to end the languishing civil war that has afflicted your jarldom for over a decade.”
Ealdwine could see the resentment in Ælfthryth’s eyes as she responded, “I as many others from Gwynedd have pleaded for an end. I was told everything was being done that could be done and sent on my way like a child whose parents were lying to them about finding a lost toy.”
The voracity of the rage in the sixteen-year-old duchess surprised Ealdwine.
“It is improper, the contempt the king’s vassals are subject to from those in power.”
Ælfthryth nodded, “Disrespect from the crown to my family goes back to King Eadweard and his treatment of my grandfather and his uncle, Jarl Hlothere Eilifsson.”
Countess Wulfwynn chose this moment to arrive.
“Many in this room have been disrespected by the crown.”
She stopped before Oswine and smiled, “Is that not true Oswine Leofwealdsson?”
Oswine looked at Wulfwynn and replied, “Yes, milady. Some more than others.”
Wulfwynn took the goblet offered by Ealdwine and drank the wine. Keeping her gaze on Oswine she said, “If it had not been for King Rædwald you would today be Jarl of Northumberland.”
Oswine nodded but remained silent as Wulfwynn continued, “Deposing your father, Leofweald, was no way to treat the son of the legendary Jarl Ælfweald of Northumberland.”
Oswine cringed and responded, “There is no fault in your words.”
Wulfwynn sipped her wine and smiled as she turned to face Ælfthryth, “I see no love is lost for Arngrimr, the Council or King Ofeig by those in this room.”
Ælfthryth nodded, “Again you speak true. Words are meaningless without action to make them strong.”
Wulfwynn said, “You were correct, Ealdwine, the Duchess of Gwynedd is young and lacks the patience that comes with age.”
Ælfthryth glared at Ealdwine, “I did not come here to be insulted.”
Wulfwynn held her hand as a gesture of calm, “We mean no insult. The future has taken many years to plant and nurture and will need a little more time to bear fruit.”
Still annoyed and feeling she was being toyed with, Ælfthryth replied, “Unlike others, time is a luxury I may not have.”
Wulfwynn nodded, “I understand and with your levies we are very close to achieving our goal.”
Ælfthryth’s mood softened, “I apologize. I am impatient, but I have my reasons. To wait too long will only bring further ruin to Gwynedd. We are close to spent.”
Wulfwynn smiled motherly at Ælfthryth, “I am aware of your predicament. Your grandfather, Ealdmund, went to great lengths explaining it to us. His confidence in you has gained you this meeting and opportunity.”
Unsure, Ælfthryth asked, “What opportunity?”
Wulfwynn beamed, “Why to depose the House of Hvitserk.”
Ælfthryth took a breath as for the first time since her brother’s death she felt they had found a solution to end her misery and the suffering of her people.
She grinned back at Wulfwynn, “Long live King Swæfræd.”
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