Warriors of Ethandun by N. M. Browne Page B

She did not know if they had enough for themselves so she nodded her thanks. The crowd seemed pleased.
    She then waved in the direction of the clothes so that one by one the garments were lifted in the air, displayed and then dropped back, discarded, on to the pallet. ‘This women’s stuff is fine enough but not big enough,’ she said bluntly. ‘I would have instead war gear and men’s clothes more suited to my size.’ She did not think a goddess would say please. The leader made a hand signal that sent a man scurrying back to camp.
    â€˜We have need of your wisdom,’ the warrior said. Ursula nodded, unsurprised. She waited.
    â€˜We seek a man – an important man. He was once known as King here, before he was deposed. We need to know if he is alive and we need to know where he is.’
    Another man emerged, dressed in elaborate robes. He did not speak the same language as the others, so that his servant had to translate. He was angry, frightened; darkemotions swarmed round him like bees.
    â€˜I don’t hold with witchcraft. The Lord will punish us if you carry on like this. We should not seek out Aelfred with witchcraft. We need not concern ourselves with him in any case. Our rightful King, Aethelwold, has all the support we need. He is, after all, the true heir. Our Lord God may punish us and take away that which we have fairly won if we consort with devils.’
    The warrior’s response was firm. ‘Bishop Aethelred, your god has not seen fit to punish us yet. I am a simple warrior but it seems to me that if he exists at all he is weaker than our Odin and Thor.’ There was a warning in his voice as he carried on. ‘Guthrum wants Aelfred found and we will use whatever means we want to do that.’
    He turned his attention back to Ursula. ‘Lady, please help us find this man.’
    â€˜You think I am a common witch, some ordinary spae-wife?’ The words came to her from the warrior’s mind. That was what he hoped, she knew. A real goddess would be troublesome and distract his men from their real task. She also knew that he thought her power too great and her presence too imposing for his hope to be fulfilled.
    â€˜No, no, Lady …’ he began earnestly, concerned that he had upset her. She wondered what he thought she might do. She could read his mind or squeeze his heart until it stopped beating, but she would not. The idea of herself as some kind of goddess was amusing. It was hard for Ursula to take the idea seriously. She laughed. Her laughter took the warrior by surprise.
    â€˜Bring me more food and clothing more suitable for a warrior and I will see …’ she said. She liked the thought of having something to find in all this vastness of multiple impressions that was there for her taking. What did a king smell like? Look like? Was there something special about his thoughts that might draw her to him? It was a crazy idea that she could find one man she had never met just through the power of her magic, but the thought intrigued her.
    She quickly became bored of waiting for the men to return and was on the point of leaving the tedious constraints of her body when the warrior leader, Gunnarr, said, ‘We slew a Saxon giant not long ago.’ His men produced a fine green tunic, a padded jacket, mail, a crested helmet with eye guards, leggings, large boots, a round shield, a spear and a sword. This was much more to Ursula’s satisfaction – they looked like they would fit and, though the fabric was not so fine, she knew that it cost this war band much more to kit her out in warrior’s gear than to give her women’s clothes they had little use for. She might not be a real goddess but she had power and she was not to be palmed off with gaudy finery. She knew without being told that the sword was a gift of great value. More than one of the warriors still assembled round her gave it an envious look.
    â€˜And how will