*That is the only explanation for your presence here,' Erkenwald said, then looked at the archbishop, *sicut canis qui revertitur ad vomitum suum.'

*Sic inprudens qui iterat stultitiam suam,' the archbishop intoned.

I thought for a moment they were cursing me, but little Bishop Asser could not resist demonstrating his learning by providing me with a translation. *As the dog returns to its vomit, so the fool returns to his filth.'

*The words of God,' Erkenwald said.

*And we must decide what to do with you,' Plegmund said, and at those words Godric's men moved closer. I was aware of their spears behind me. A log cracked in the fire, shooting sparks onto the rushes that began to smoke. Normally a servant, or one of the soldiers, would have rushed forward to stamp out the tiny fire, but no one moved. They wanted me dead. *It has been demonstrated to us,' Plegmund broke the silence, *that you have been consorting with our king's enemies, that you have conspired with them, that you have eaten their bread and taken their salt. Worse, you have admitted to slaying the holy Abbot Deorlaf and two of his brethren and...'

*The holy Abbot Deorlaf,' I interrupted him, *was in league with the witch aelfadell, and the holy Abbot Deorlaf wished to kill me. What was I supposed to do? Turn the other cheek?'

*You will be silent!' Plegmund said.

I took two steps forward and ground out the burning rushes with my boot. One of Godric's soldiers, thinking I was about to attack the clergymen, had drawn back his spear and I turned and looked at him. Just looked. He reddened and, very slowly, the spear went down. *I have fought your king's enemies,' I said, still gazing at the spearman, but then turning towards Plegmund, *as Bishop Erkenwald well knows. While other men cowered behind burh walls I was leading your king's army. I stood in the shield wall. I cut down foemen, I reddened the soil with the blood of your enemies, I burned ships, I took the fort at Beamfleot.'

*And you wear the hammer!' Asser's voice was shrill. He was pointing at my amulet with a shaking finger, *it is the symbol of our enemies, the very sign of those who would torture Christ again, and you wear it even in the court of our king!'

*What did your mother do?' I asked. *Fart like a mare? And there you were?'

*Enough,' Plegmund said tiredly.

It was not hard to guess who had dripped poison in their ears; my cousin aethelred. He was the titular Lord of Mercia, the closest thing that country had to a king, yet every man knew that he was a puppy on a West Saxon leash. He wanted that leash cut, and when Alfred died he would doubtless look for a crown. And for a new wife, the old being aethelflaed who had added horns to his leash. A leashed and horned puppy who wanted revenge, and wanted me dead because he knew there were too many men in Mercia who would follow me rather than him.

*It is our duty to decide your fate,' Plegmund said.

*The Norns do that,' I said, *at Yggdrasil's root.'

*Heathen,' Asser hissed.

*The kingdom must be protected,' the archbishop went on, ignoring both of us, *it must have the shield of faith and the sword of righteousness, and there is no place in God's kingdom for a man of no faith, a man who could turn against us at any moment. Uhtred of Bebbanburg, I must tell you...'

But whatever he was about to tell me went untold because the door at the hall's end creaked open. *The king wants to see him,' a familiar voice said.

I turned to see Steapa standing there. Good Steapa, commander of Alfred's household troops, a peasant slave who had risen to become a great warrior, a man daft as a barrel of loam and strong as an ox, a friend, a man as true as any I have known. *The king,' he said in his stolid voice.

*But...' Plegmund began.

*The king wants me, you snaggle-toothed bastard,' I told him, then looked at the spearman who had threatened me. *If you ever point a blade at me again,' I promised him, *I'll rip your belly open and feed your entrails to my dogs.'

The Norns were probably laughing, and I went to see the king.

PART TWO.

Death of a King.

Six.

Alfred lay swathed in woollen blankets and propped against a great cushion. Osferth sat on the bed, his hand held by his father. The king's other hand lay on a bejewelled book, I assumed a gospel book. Just outside the room, in a long passageway, Brother John and four members of his choir were singing a doleful chant. The room stank, despite the herbs scattered on the floor and the great candles that burned in tall wooden sticks. Some of them were Alfred's prized candle clocks, their bands marking the hours as the king's life leaked away. Two priests stood against one wall of Alfred's chamber, while opposite them was a great panel of leather on which the crucifixion was painted.

Steapa pushed me into the room and shut the door on me.

Alfred looked dead already. Indeed, I might have thought him a corpse if he had not pulled his hand away from Osferth, who was in tears. The king's long face was pale as fleece, with sunken eyes, sunken cheeks and dark shadows. His hair had thinned and gone white. His gums had pulled back from his remaining teeth, his unshaven chin was stained with spittle, while the hand on the book was mere skin-covered bones on which a great ruby shone, the ring too big now for his skeletal finger. His breath was shallow, though his voice was remarkably strong. *Behold the sword of the Saxons,' he greeted me.

*I see your son has a loose tongue, lord King,' I said. I went onto one knee until he feebly gestured for me to stand.

He looked at me from his pillow and I looked at him and the monks chanted beyond the door and a candle guttered to spew a thick twist of smoke. *I'm dying, Lord Uhtred,' Alfred said.

*Yes, lord.'

*And you look healthy as a bullock,' he said with a grimace that was meant to be a smile. *You always had the capacity to irritate me, didn't you? It isn't tactful to look healthy in front of a dying king, but I rejoice for you.' His left hand stroked the gospel book. *Tell me what will happen when I'm dead,' he commanded me.

*Your son Edward will rule, lord.'

He gazed at me and I saw the intelligence in those sunken eyes. *Don't tell me what you think I want to hear,' he said with a touch of his old asperity, *but what you believe.'

*Your son Edward will rule, lord,' I repeated.

He nodded slowly, believing me. *He's a good son,' Alfred said, almost as if he were trying to persuade himself of that.

*He fought well at Beamfleot. You would have been proud of him, lord.'

Alfred nodded tiredly. *So much is expected of a king,' he said. *He must be brave in battle, wise in council, just in judgement.'

*You have been all those things, lord,' I said, not flattering him, but telling the truth.

*I tried,' he said, *God knows I did try.' He closed his eyes and was silent for so long that I wondered if he had fallen asleep and whether I should leave, but then his eyes opened and he gazed at the smoke-darkened ceiling. Somewhere deep in the palace a hound barked shrilly, then suddenly stopped. Alfred frowned in thought, then turned his head to look at me. *You spent time with Edward last summer,' he said.

*I did, lord.'

*Is he wise?'

*He's clever, lord,' I said.

*Many folk are clever, Lord Uhtred, but very few are wise.'

*Men learn wisdom through experience, lord,' I said.

*Some do,' Alfred said tartly, *but will Edward learn?' I shrugged because it was not a question I could answer. *I worry,' Alfred said, *that his passions will rule him.'

I glanced at Osferth. *As yours ruled you, lord, once.'

*Omnes enim peccaverunt,' Alfred said softly.

*All have sinned,' Osferth translated and received a smile from his father.

*I worry that he is headstrong,' Alfred said, talking of Edward again. I was surprised that he talked so openly of his heir, but of course it was the one thing that preyed on his mind in those last days. Alfred had dedicated his life to the preservation of Wessex, and he desperately wanted reassurance that all his achievements would not be thrown away by his successor, and so deep was that worry that he could not let the subject alone. He wanted that reassurance so badly.

*You leave him with good counsel, lord,' I said, not because I believed it, but because he wanted to hear it. Many men of the Witan were indeed good counsellors, but there were too many churchmen like Plegmund, whose advice I would never trust.

*And a king can reject all counsel,' Alfred said, *because in the end it is always the king's decision, it is the king's responsibility, it is the king who is wise or foolish. And if the king is foolish, what will happen to the kingdom?'

*You worry, lord,' I said, *because Edward did what all young men do.'

*He is not like other young men,' Alfred said sternly, *but born to privilege and duty.'

*And a girl's smile,' I said, *can erode duty faster than flame melts frost.'

He stared at me. *So you know?' he said, after a long while.

*Yes, lord, I know.'

Alfred sighed. *He said it was passion, that it was love. Kings don't marry for love, Lord Uhtred, they marry to make their kingdom safe. And she wasn't right,' he said firmly, *she was brazen! She was shameless!'

*Then I wish I'd known her, lord,' I said, and Alfred laughed, though the effort hurt him and the laugh turned to a groan. Osferth had no idea what we talked about and I gave him the slightest shake of my head to show that he should not ask, and then I thought of the words that would give Alfred the reassurance he wanted. *At Beamfleot, lord,' I said, *I stood beside Edward in a shield wall and a man cannot hide his character in a shield wall, and I learned that your son is a good man. I promise you, he is a man to be proud of,' I hesitated, then nodded at Osferth, *as are all your sons.'

I saw the king's hand tighten on Osferth's fingers. *Osferth is a good man,' Alfred said, *and I am proud of him.' Alfred patted his bastard son's hand and looked back to me. *And what else will happen?' he asked.

*aethelwold will make an attempt to take the throne,' I said.

*He swears not.'

*He swears easily, lord. You should have cut his throat twenty years ago.'

*People said the same about you, Lord Uhtred.'

*Maybe you should have taken their advice, lord?'

His mouth showed the ghost of a smile. *aethelwold is a sorry creature,' he said, *without discipline or sense. He's not a danger, just a reminder of our fallibility.'

*He's talked to Sigurd,' I said, *and he has disaffected allies in both Cent and Mercia. That's why I came to Wintanceaster, lord, to warn you of this.'

Alfred gazed at me for a long time, then sighed. *He's always dreamed of being king,' he said.

*Time to kill him and his dream, lord,' I said firmly. *Give me the word and I'll rid you of him.'

Alfred shook his head. *He's my brother's son,' Alfred said, *and a weak man. I don't want my family's blood on my hands when I stand before God at the judgement seat.'

*So you let him live?'

*He's too weak to be dangerous. No one in Wessex will support him.'

*Very few will, lord,' I said, *so he'll go back to Sigurd and Cnut. They will invade Mercia and then Wessex. There will be battles.' I hesitated. *And in those battles, lord, Cnut, Sigurd and aethelwold will die, but Edward and Wessex will be safe.'

He considered that glib statement for a moment, then sighed. *And Mercia? Not every man in Mercia loves Wessex.'

*The Mercian lords must choose sides, lord,' I said. *Those who support Wessex will be on the winning side, the others will be dead. Mercia will be ruled by Edward.'

I had told him what he wanted to hear, but also what I believed. Strange, that. I had been left confused by aelfadell's predictions, yet when I was asked to foretell the future I had no hesitation.

*How can you be so sure?' Alfred asked. *Did the witch aelfadell tell you all that?'

*No, lord. She told me the very opposite, but she was only telling me what Jarl Cnut wanted her to say.'

*The gift of prophecy,' Alfred said sternly, *would not be given to a pagan.'

*Yet you ask me to tell the future, lord?' I asked mischievously, and was rewarded by another grimace that was intended as a smile.

*So how can you be sure?' Alfred asked.

*We've learned how to fight the Northmen, lord,' I said, *but they haven't learned how to fight us. When you have burhs, then the defender has all the advantages. They will attack, we will defend, they will lose, we shall win.'

*You make it sound simple,' Alfred said.

*Battle is simple, lord, maybe that's why I'm good at it.'

*I have been wrong about you, Lord Uhtred.'

*No, lord.'

*No?'

*I love the Danes, lord.'

*But you are the sword of the Saxons?'

*Wyrd bi ful raed, lord,' I said.

He closed his eyes momentarily. He lay so still that for a few heartbeats I feared he was dying, but then he opened his eyes again and frowned towards the smoke-blackened rafters. He tried to suppress a moan, but it escaped anyway and I saw the pain pass across his face. *That is so hard,' he said.

*There are potions that help with pain, lord,' I said helplessly.

He shook his head slowly. *Not pain, Lord Uhtred. We are born to pain. No, fate is difficult. Is all ordained? Foreknowledge is not fate, and we may choose our paths, yet fate says we may not choose them. So if fate is real, do we have choice?' I said nothing, letting him puzzle that unanswerable question for himself. He looked at me. *What would you have your fate be?' he asked.

*I would recapture Bebbanburg, lord, and when I find myself on my deathbed I want it to be in Bebbanburg's high hall with the sound of her sea filling my ears.'

*And I have Brother John filling my ears,' Alfred said, amused. *He tells them they must open their mouths like hungry little birds, and they do.' He put his right hand back on Osferth's hand. *They want me to be a hungry little bird. They feed me thin gruel, Lord Uhtred, and insist that I eat, but I don't want to eat.' He sighed. *My son,' he meant Osferth, *tells me you are a poor man. Why? Did you not capture a fortune at Dunholm?'

*I did, lord.'