It’s a grand affair, this marriage. The King’s Hall heaves with chiefs and their ladies. We sit at a table above them, so everyone can see the Bretwalda. King Oswy is in the center with his heir, Alhfrith, to his right. Alhfrith’s wife, Cyneburg, sits next to him, filling his cup. Queen Enfleda sits to her husband’s left, then my husband, Egfrid, next to her—and I next to my new husband.
I look at Egfrid through the corner of my eye. He’s a comely lad. I hear he sent away his common wife. I pour wine into his cup and lower my eyes as scops begin their songs of the king’s past deeds. The chiefs pay homage to the royal family with their toasts. Egfrid enthusiastically drinks up.
Eventually, after we consume honey cakes, Queen Enfleda rises and leads the ladies out of the hall.
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