Queen Maud sat on the edge of her bed.

Queen Maud sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for one of the servants to come and help her dress that she might receive the Earl. 

She was tired of doing this. 

She liked Cenwulf, but she had no interest in corn or pigs or oxen. She could not care if the river was high, or the church roof had a leak, or the blacksmith had broken his arm. She had tried to tell Cenwulf to deal with these things himself, but he had gravely replied that Sigefrith had charged him to keep her informed, and so every day he came with the news.

She couldn’t understand how Matilda seemed to find such fascination in it. Every day Maud could see her riding up and down the roads and fields, with that Egelric Wodehead riding alongside. Sometimes she would even see little Dunstan perched on the saddle before him. Matilda almost never came to the castle these days, and if she did she would spend her time talking about the work she was doing here – or how it would be once the Aetheling had come into his crown and they all returned to Wessex.

Maud had never even been to Wessex. This country of hills and lakes and valleys was her home. And yet she had to hope that Sigefrith would take her there someday, for if he did not, it would mean that Morcar had lost – and Sigefrith had been killed in battle, or executed as an outlaw.

She hadn’t seen her husband in two months. She had had no news since he had sailed for Ely. She might never see him again, and then…?

“Enter,” she called to the servant at the door.

'Enter,' she called.