This blog is for those who have watched the seventh episode of series two of The Last Kingdom. Please try to avoid posting book spoilers in the comments.
For all the mayhem and bloodshed, The Last Kingdom is often at its best in the quieter moments when diplomacy rears its compromised head, deals are struck and lives betrayed. That was certainly the case this week, in a tense penultimate episode that asked whether there is such a thing as too great a sacrifice in the name of a fledgling kingdom. Gratifyingly, there were no easy answers: not for Alfred, forced to choose agonisingly between his dream of England and his favoured daughter, nor for Æthelflæd who learned diplomacy at her father’s knee and understands the problems of being a pawn in the hands of Wessex’s enemies. Not even for Uhtred, who found himself brought once again to the brink of breaking his oath, thanks to a girl whose life he once saved and with whom he shares a kinship far greater than that oath he was forced into taking by her father.
‘Should the ransom be too great, then should she not be encouraged to take her own life for the good of the kingdom?’
By far the evening’s most conflicted player, however, was poor Odda, the last of the old king’s regime and a man who has lost almost everything in supporting Alfred’s vision. It was Odda who in the last series sacrificed his son when he became a threat to the notion of a nation of England, and thus only Odda who could say the unthinkable to Alfred: when does a beloved daughter become a liability, and once she has, what action should the true king take? Odda’s bleak solution was entirely in keeping both with his character and his understanding of what was at stake. He was right that thousands of people had already died for Alfred’s England and right too that Æthelflæd’s life was not worth a lengthy war and the loss of that kingdom. Yet it was possible to understand that counsel while rejecting it, and for all that Odda insists Alfred is a king before he is a father, the truth was written devastatingly across both Alfred’s face and that of his pragmatic wife Ælswith.
‘It is best for me and it is best for Wessex. I can say this to no one but you, I can ask no one but you: will you help us escape?’
While her father fretted and her mother silently suffered, Æthelflæd herself was busy adapting to life as a Viking hostage, a situation that was considerably better than she might have expected thanks to a growing tendresse with Erik, the more sane and less bloodthirsty of the two brothers. I was in two minds about this piece of plot development: Æthelflæd’s situation meant that their relationship was unbalanced from the off, and while both Millie Brady and Christian Hillborg sold the idea of two very different people finding a tentative understanding in unlikely soil, I feel, like Uhtred, this partnership has “doomed” written all over it. As our hero pointed out: if Sigefrid doesn’t kill them for deserting, then the Mercians will certainly give it their best shot (which admittedly might not be very good given what we know of the Mercians). What made Erik and Æthelflæd’s blossoming relationship particularly interesting, however, was Æthelflæd’s clear-eyed assessment of her situation: she responded to Erik in part because he talked to her as a human being, listening to and valuing her opinion, but she recognised too that leaving with him, effectively removing herself from the chessboard, would help her father. Æthelflæd learned lessons in game-playing and strategy early and she learned them well: both Sigefrid and the Mercians should take note.
‘She’s not his favourite – why else would he have allowed her to marry the pig’s arse standing behind me?’
Talking of the Mercians, my favourite weaselly duo continued their inept scheming with Aldhelm giving his best impersonation of the biblical serpent, dripping sweet poison into Æthelflæd’s ear to paint a picture of an English paradise where Mercia, not Wessex, reigned. Unfortunately, the recipient of all this scheming wasn’t in much of a state to benefit from it as the arrogant young lord of Mercia found himself branded a pig’s arse, tormented with fart jokes, punched in the face, stripped naked and dumped in a sty, and finally forced to break bread with Sigefrid while clad in little more than a blanket. I could say his humiliation was undeserved but I’d be lying.
Additional notes
• Thank goodness Thyra survived: I don’t think I would have coped if the wonderful Father Beocca had been plunged into mourning.
• I was pleased that Æthelflæd was dealing effectively with her would-be rapist before Erik arrived; it made a change from the growing tendency for cameras to linger long on helpless female bodies before salvation belatedly arrives (if at all).
• Eliza Butterworth and David Dawson were both excellent this week, making us see the cost of Æthelflæd’s loss to Ælswith and Alfred, even as their words were denying their pain.
• The relationship between Alfred and Uhtred is one of the best things about this show; even with the briefest scenes there’s a whole story in the pauses in conversation and a world of hurt in what each man refuses to say.
• Simon Kunz really made you feel for Odda, a man who has given up everything only to discover that the man he made that sacrifice for may not be capable of the same.
• I’m quite a fan of Uhtred’s negotiating techniques: perhaps we should all just cut to the chase and get the insults out in the open …
• I was impressed by both Aldhelm’s cunning attempt to suggest there had been a battle for Lunden and also by Æthelwold’s snarky dismissal of that attempt.
• Actually, I often feel as though Æthelwold is appearing in his own entirely different show about a snarky underemployed millennial trying to make it in his uncle’s company. This is not a criticism: I would absolutely watch that.
Violence count
One camp full of slaughtered Saxons, one would-be rapist seen off first by a bucket and knife and then by a fist, and the prolonged and worryingly enjoyable humiliation of Æthelred, Lord of Merica; never has a man been more deserving of an uncalled for punch to the jaw.
Quote of the week
“You are as useless as you are arrogant. You have put at risk the entire kingdom, all kingdoms. You are a toad, a fool, an idiot with ambitions far above your capability,” Odda the Elder tells Æthelred what he really thinks of him. Don’t hold back Odda, we all agree.
So what did you think? Can those crazy kids Æthelflæd and Erik really escape to happiness? Why does Sihtric always get the most dangerous jobs? And how many times can Uhtred break his bond to Alfred before the king finally says enough is enough? As ever, all speculation and no spoilers are welcome below …
