But it wasn’t the Athelney that I remembered, with its orderliness and quiet scholarly atmosphere. All around me was the bustle of moving a whole Royal household, including the various offices and clergy, everything was going. Rows of wagons with their patient heavy horses stood waiting to be filled. While along the road to Aller, before it turned toward the east, we could see the dust of a departing train that was on the move to Winchester.
‘I remember entering a town once before and ordering you not to speak.’ chuckled Edmund. ‘It would not be wise for you to be discovered yet. Not until I’ve managed to speak with the King.’
‘Well I don’t need the gag this time, but I’ll take the ring off anyway. My, but it’s good to see these old walls. I suppose the monastery and library is moving as well?’ I asked.
Edmund nodded and we began to thread our way through the traffic of labourers and tradesmen. ‘I just hope Alfred hasn’t already left.’
But as it turned out he had, but only that morning. The King and his retinue had decided to take advantage of the fair weather and had set out earlier than planned for the new palace and to join the Queen. She was already there, supervising the move and organising the new furnishings for their private apartments.
I strolled around the familiar old buildings, everything seemed somehow smaller now. Even the old walled garden where I had worked with master Styg seemed to have shrunk. I sat in the garden to rest and let my mind drift over all the events of my life here.
‘Thought I’d find you here.’ said Edmund. ‘I’ve been advised to take you to the new abbey, they’re calling it Muchelney because of the big island that it sits on, you’ll be able to stay there safely. I’ll ride on to join the King’s party and try to get an audience when they stop this evening.’ Edmund added with very obvious embarrassment.
‘So, I’m still undesirable company, eh.’ I said, my anger rising again.
‘Spirits are still high after our victory and the people may not stop to question. And we don’t want to start another riot. It’s best this way.’ Edmund answered quickly. ‘Come on, I‘ve called for our horses.’
‘If you say so. I suppose it will give me chance to work on the chronicle.’ I said.
The road to Muchelney was anything but straight and terminated at a small timber jetty where a ferryman carried people and goods to the hump of land that stood out of the mosquito filled, brackish marsh.
‘We’ll be building a road across to it later. Timbers on top of bundles of willow withies, in the meantime this old fisherman can’t believe his luck. He’s making a fortune.’ Edmund laughed. But the eyes in his tired face gave the lie to the happy sound.
The new abbey of Muchelney was little more than a wooden church and a collection of huts. The outline and foundations of what would be the main building were still being laid out and several masons were busy dressing stone. I was handed into the care of a monk and led to a circle of huts at the edge of the site. They were grouped to the side of the broken walls of what appeared to be an old garden. Inside the enclosure, several hooded figures were bent over tools and busy clearing the ground and tending neat rows of optimistically late vegetables. I asked my guide several questions but, greeted with silence and a sheepish smile, realised that these monks must be of a silent order.
‘So that’s why it’s so very safe.’ I muttered, ‘A ferryman that’s been paid to keep me here and you couldn’t tell anyone anything anyway.’ I added aloud angrily.
To cool my temper and frustration at being so wronged, I strode out of the hut. In my hard won battle to get back to British shores, I had forgotten the Spanish trader’s warning. But the memory flooded back now. Could I be sure that I wasn’t, even now, going to be the victim of mob anger. My weary body gratuitously fed to the people to appease their post battle bloodlust. A germ of pragmatism awoke within my thoughts and I decided that if I couldn’t do anything about my future, then I would concentrate on the present. I would have to place my trust and hopes in Edmund. The only person that I could rely on. The only person that I’d ever been able to totally rely on, if it came to that.
My feet, unguided by a distracted mind, unconsciously followed a narrow pathway that had been worn through the turf by the worker’s feet. I went up to the top of the softly rounded hill to look at the foundations for the new church. It was to be the focal point of both the monastery and the adjacent convent.
I struck up an easy conversation with one of the masons and had a look at some of the design drawings. The tradesman was only too pleased to boast of their work and show off the plans for the project. It would, I thought, probably be his life’s work. It was to be small, but none the less grand with buttressed, thick stone walls and a tall tower, that would command an impressive view across to the sea and around the surrounding marshes.
It was while I was thinking of this that I caught the briefest of glimpses of a woman disappearing beyond the high wall of the garden. It was something in her mannerism or movement as she walked unhurriedly along the path that snagged a chord in my memory.
Rudely cutting across his flow of words, I bid the stonemason a hasty farewell and hurried off towards the low archway through which she had just disappeared.
A sweat, cold in the late afternoon, broke out on my body and I shivered. I hurried to the open doorway, quickly dodging to one side as the few silent monks came out. I slipped through the archway with a muttered apology. And my feet stopped dead. The figure before me was slim, but well built and the setting sun made her flowing cascade of hair gleam with sparks of purest copper. I shook my head, as if to clear a dream.
‘Hild.’ I called, my voice quivering with uncertainty.
In the tiny fraction of time that might be occupied by the flicker of a candle flame, a torrent of doubts and memories streamed through my mind. I remembered the first time we had met at the town of Westburg, the last dreamlike evening on the rocky shore of Steepholme and my many, many dreams and thoughts of her since. She was far prettier than my memory gave her credit and the sight of her face as she turned caught at my breath.
Would she want to speak to someone responsible for her brother’s death? The thought raced through my mind and I was about to hurry away.
‘They told me you were coming.’ she said softly, retracing her steps and holding her arms out to toward me. ‘I couldn’t believe the reports that you’d been lost at sea. I knew you’d come back.’
I blotted out the memory of the dreadful visit to the village of Silva and my angrily fulfilled vow. Instead I caught the hands held out to me and delighted in the thrilling ripple the touch sent through my body. We stood, held in each other’s arms for a long while.
‘How...how do you come to be here?’ I stammered.
‘Later.’ she said huskily and put an arm through mine. ‘Come, I will make you a hot drink and you must tell your story first.’
I sat in a carved chair by a smoky peat fire with Hild sitting on a stool and resting her head against my knee. I told my story from the beginning to the end. Missing nothing out. Her hands gripped mine and her head had bowed for a moment as I described the nightmare of the visit to Silves with its outcome. I told her of my dreams of her and my doubts during those long cold nights. As I described my escape from the remaining captors and their marooning on the tiniest of islands, she looked at me with a wry smile and slowly shook her head,
‘Good. Serves them right.’ she said, as her hand, like a fluttering bird, traced the Stations of the Cross on her breast. ‘God forgive me.’ she said, quietly.
It was fully dark outside when I had finished and Hild lit a bright lamp to supplement the poor light from the fire and the solitary candle that had flickered its friendly glow across us.
In the yellow brightness of the light I looked up at her face, hope and doubt rolled together through my mind.
‘Do you...Can you forgive me?’ I asked quietly.
She gently pulled me to her and, holding me in her arms, kissed me with a tenderness that was startling.
‘Does that answer your question.’ she murmured. ‘Of course I forgive you. I’m just so very glad that you are home safely, at last.’
‘Now, it’s your turn.’ I said, putting my arms about her waist. ‘How do you come to be here? And in this very spot above all others?’
A soft movement behind me started my sword hand toward grasping the familiar handle.
‘Stay...stay.’ said Hild, pushing gently past me. ‘You’ve no enemies here.’
‘There is danger lurking everywhere.’ I answered, peering into the shadows.
‘Well, not here there isn’t.’ she said sharply.
Hild came out of the shadows with a tightly wrapped bundle in her arms and sat on the stool beside the fire.
‘Before we go any farther. And I will understand if you want nothing more to do with us.’ Hild’s voice was soft. ‘Ranulf, meet your daughter.’
I was stuck for words. I reached out and took the gurgling bundle from her and stared at the little face with its bright eyes widening in the lamp-light. When Hild had cleaned and changed the tiny body she sat back to feed her and began her tale.
Some while after our night of consoling passion she had discovered that she was pregnant and rather than risk the doubtful mercy and understanding of her father, she had fled the island. The usual penalty for her actions was a public performance of the ‘bloody eagle’, in which her ribs would have been hacked from the back bone and spread forward like the fingered wings of the bird. A barbaric act but usually, she told me, it resulted in a speedy death.
She told me how she had wandered the hills and eventually, very much the worse for wear, stumbled upon the small settlement of Cheddar. The ladies there had helped her and when they knew of her plight, had taken her to Edmund, who had recently been made their Aeldorman. Around that time, the name of Ranulf had become synonymous with all that was threatening the British, a terrible slander that was being encouraged from the highest of the land’s ruling councils. Hild was not wholly aware of the situation and had innocently set out to correct the popular view. This was immediately recognised as dangerous to the King’s campaign and she had been summoned to give her account to his highness, the King himself. Then she had been sent here, to this religious house. A message had been sent to her just this morning, telling her of my successful escape and that I would be lodged, or held, in the same place.
‘I hadn’t expected you so soon though.’ she said shyly peering at me from under her thick eyelashes.
‘Who sent you the message?’ I asked.
‘Oh, that was Edmund. He has been so kind to both of us, he’s made sure that we don’t want for anything.’ she answered.
‘Well, if he’s done all of that on his own initiative, it may be seen as forcing the King’s hand. It may not go well for him.’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘It could be some time before we hear from anyone.’ I added, watching Hild settle the baby back into its tiny cot.
‘What’s her name?’ I asked, pulling Hild onto my knee. ‘And where was she born.’
‘She was brought into the world here, in this very room. I thought we could name her together. It’s your tradition that the father chooses the name. Where I come from, it’s the mother’s job.’ she smiled at me, her arms draped around my brown neck.
‘A good idea, we’ll have to make a list and then choose the favourites.’ I said. ‘But before that, we have other things to sort out. And that depends on whether you’ll have me? A man despised by many and, to say the least, the very least, with an uncertain future.’
‘There’s nothing I want more.’ she said.
That night passed in a tumbling release of our passions. We spoke quietly and planned a future for the three of us.
On the following day, a visit to one of the silent monks produced a wedding of sorts. It was presided over by the Abbot, who allowed himself the luxury of speech for the occasion. It was a quiet service and we celebrated with a cup of their best wine afterwards.
The days rolled by and the weeks began to weave their way into a cold winter. The first frosts came early and on Christmas Eve it snowed.
When I had surmised that news may take some while to return to us from the court I had been right, but I hadn’t been prepared for such a long wait. I found idleness difficult and spent much of the time working at my chronicle and helping with some of the building work. It was while I was with the friendly Mason that I had the idea of a small chapel in remembrance of my father. I set about some designs, and with the help of the craftsman produced a passable drawing.
‘I shall have it built at Lilstock, where I remember standing with him to watch the arrival of Viking ships.’ I said. ‘And, in father’s honour we’ll dedicate it to Saint Andrew, because he was a sailor too.’
‘Aye, a grand scheme.’ said Hild with enthusiasm. ‘All we have to do is find the money.’
I shrugged and, through the dark months, happily carried on with my self-imposed work with the Mason and making a fair copy of the journal and pilot notes.
It wasn’t until the bright faces of spring’s primroses looked at us from the hedgerows that we heard again from Edmund. The King was set to make a proclamation of my innocence that would be carried to the corners of the land, and he would be sending for me very soon. The Court, he said, had recognised that the folk’s euphoria over the battle at Eddington had waned and they needed a new hero on which to focus themselves. The message ended with his personal congratulations on our recent marriage and with the advice that I should be ready to travel in about a week’s time.
‘What on earth does all that mean?’ I asked Hild thoughtfully.
The next few days passed very slowly. Hild put the finishing touches to some new clothes that she had made for us all and I worked feverishly at finishing the copy of my journal. I had been requested to bring it with me and I cursed myself for not getting on with it earlier.
A week went by and another was building when, without warning, an escort arrived bearing a sealed summons from the King. We were to leave that day. Our daughter was taken to a friend who had volunteered her services as nurse, and our few items of baggage were loaded onto some pack-ponies. Hild disdainfully refused the offer of a litter or a carriage and climbed onto the broad back of a kindly mannered horse. She rode beside me, a proud smile on her glowing face. Beneath her heavy woollen dress Hild had pulled on some stout breeches and with the hem of her skirt draped just so, she looked quite graceful. I couldn’t imagine why more ladies didn’t take it up. Perhaps they will.
We rode quickly and had just two overnight stops on our way to Winchester, the last was a comfortable inn at Salisbury where we attended a service at the great church that was being built in the centre of the town. The methods of construction interested me and Hild had to physically pull me away from a group of masons, so as not to miss our supper.
We left Salisbury quite late the following morning and followed the course of an old Roman road to Winchester, arriving there as the evening’s dusk spread its shadows around doorways and old Roman arches. It was purposely timed, with most people at their evening meal not too many would see us passing. The Bishop’s palace was still only half finished, but the windows of the completed areas shone with the bright light of expensive white candles. A rumbling babble of voices came from within hinting at a grand dinner party. Hild and I, with the armed escort clattered by, our horse’s hoofs’ striking sparks from some of the new, but uneven cobbles.
At the King’s residence we drew up and were shown to a pleasant guest apartment which was separate from the main halls. Hild and I sat facing each other across the blaze of the hearth, tired, nervous and a bit awed by the grandeur that we had seen in our passing. In contrast to the Bishop’s house, King Alfred’s palace was orderly and stately in its quietness.
‘Perhaps they are all out, visiting at the Bishop’s.’ whispered Hild.
‘Maybe.’ I answered, in a hushed voice. ‘But I’d have thought that Edmund would have come to see us.
‘Oh, don’t be so impatient. We’ve only just arrived, I don’t expect he even knows that we’re here.’
‘You’re probably right, my dearest. But, why’re we whispering.’ I laughed.
We spent a comfortable night and slept well, despite our apprehensions and nervousness. A helpful maid brought us porridge and a hot drink at sun rise. In case we wanted to attend the chapel, she’d said.
Eventually, after all the formalities of a new day in the Royal household, a chamberlain called on us to bid me to be ready immediately after the midday meal. But the day dragged along and a summons didn’t reach us until much later in the afternoon. Dusk was gathering in the corners of the sky as I followed the messenger outside and up the hill to the main council chamber.
‘Ranulf of Stowey Your Majesty.’ boomed the overloud voice of the major-domo as I was ushered through the chamber and into a smaller, inner hall. Everywhere smelled new, the walls were hung with magnificent tapestries, their colours seemed to move in the flickering light from dozens of best white candles. At the far end of the room was a hearth which had been let into the wall, in the modern way, to allow the smoke to rise and escape through an opening. To one side of this crackling fire place was a tall screen and in front of it, a polished table with two chairs, one at each side. I stood inside the doorway and looked around, I seemed to be alone and started to relax, the perfume from the floor’s scattering of rushes and the season’s meadsweet was quite heady.
‘Come in young man. I’ll be with you in just a moment.’ came a voice that I recognised instantly as the King’s, from behind the screen.
I took a few paces forward, even in the centre of the room I could feel the warmth from the log fire. I heard the sound of running water and the King appeared from the side of the screen striding forward to meet me.
‘Your Highness.’ I said, bowing deeply.
‘Yes, yes. Come here my boy, let me look at you.’ he said impatiently.
Alfred held me at arm’s length by the shoulders. His eyes looked deeply into mine, then he drew me forward toward the dancing light of the fire.
‘You look well Ranulf. I can see that you’ve not been too badly treated. A little harder in your eyes perhaps, and about twice as broad in your shoulders.’ he chuckled.
In my turn, I cast a quick glance over the man with whom I’d acted as a minstrel within the jaws of the enemy. The eyes were tired and the face creased by troubles and long hours. The King held himself stiffly too, as though he were in some pain, an old wound or damp, draughty castles, I didn’t know which. The clothes were of fine-spun wool and his shirt glowed with the lustre of silk, an ocean of difference to the practical tunic and breeches that he had used at Athelney.
‘Come now.’ Alfred led me to a chair. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have too long, Edmund’s already told me most of your story, but I would like to hear it from you. Ah, I see you’ve brought along the journal that everybody’s talking about.’
We pulled the two chairs closer to the fire, the King called for wine and I began my tale once again. The wine warmed my empty stomach and loosened my tension, leaving me talking to Alfred as an old friend rather than as my liege Lord.
At one point a footman came silently into the room and whispered in the King’s ear.
‘Tell them to wait...No, tell them I’ll see them tomorrow, at breakfast.’ he waved away the pale faced steward. ‘Go on, go on. I’ve not heard a yarn like this for years.’
For the latter part of my story, the King settled back in his chair and closed his eyes, his face visibly relaxing as would warmed wax. Thinking that the great man was asleep, I hesitated.
‘Go on. I am listening. You will have to forgive us. While we didn’t encourage the people’s fervour in their condemnation of you, we didn’t do anything to quench it either.’ he sighed. ‘You’ve done well indeed, now finish the story. You were telling me about your escape from Sark.’
At length, my long story wound itself to an end with my timely rescue from the mob at the Cove Inn. The King stood up and, lifting the back of his robe, warmed his bottom and legs at the fire.
‘Has it really been that long since you returned? I’m afraid we’ve been so busy.’ Alfred shook his head thoughtfully. ‘Come, another glass of wine perhaps, while I tell you what I’ve in mind.’
The greyness of dawn had begun to touch the sky as I walked through the estate to our quarters. Hild woke with a start and jumped up from her chair before a darkened hearth. My body trembled as she wrapped her arms about me.
‘Poor old soul.’ she said. ‘You look very pale. Was it not good news.’
She pressed me into a tall seat and coaxed some cheerful flames from the fire with some fresh wood.
‘Oh the news is good enough, I suppose.’ I said. ‘I am to be rewarded. But it all seems so damned false!’ I struck the arm of the chair with a fist.
‘Apparently the council deems it appropriate, or some such double-talk rubbish full of weasely words. It would be easier to lay a grip on a running trout than gather the true meaning of any proclamation from that toadying council of snivelling old men.’
‘Oh dear, I’ve never seen you so angry. What was said? Have you not seen Alfred?’ Hild twisted her apron between her fingers.
I sighed resignedly. ‘Yes, I saw him. He had been with the council all day, which is why he couldn’t see me earlier.’ he pulled his wife onto his lap. ‘You, my dear, are to be known as Lady Hild and we are to have the old house at Athelney.’
Hild’s face lit up. ‘Why that’s marvellous news. And no more than you deserve of course.’ she looked about the room. ‘You’ve not brought the journal back. Did he like it?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes, he thought it should prove very useful. But it won’t be included in Bishop Asser’s Chronicle, because then they would have to explain how the name of traitor was used and abused, when all the while they knew the truth.’ the anger slowly drained from me. ‘In the morning, ah...this morning, we are to be called to the Council’s Court for the knighting ceremony.’
‘Right then, off to bed with you now.’ said Hild, pulling me to my feet. ‘You can get at least a couple of hours sleep. And while you’re out of my way, I’ll get our best clothes ready and find a servant to fetch some hot water for a bath.’
I suddenly felt very tired and I fell asleep almost as soon as my head touched the feather pillow. I slept soundly in a world peopled with drifting figures that I could never quite see or catch. It seemed that only an instant had passed, when a gentle hand on my shoulder returned me, unwillingly, to consciousness.
‘The sun’s well up, and a steaming tub awaits my lord’s pleasure.’ giggled Hild excitedly.
I slid into the luxury of hot water and Hild scrubbed at me until my skin glowed. In case of accidents, I put on a light robe while we ate breakfast and had just finished dressing in my new finery when there was a firm knocking at the stout door to the apartment. Hild went to answer it and I could hear, from her delighted squeal, that a friend had called.
‘Good morning to you young Ranulf m’lad.’ said Edmund peering around the open doorway into the room. His gaze took in my new clothes and carefully combed hair that had been tied neatly into a queue at the back of my head, in the modern manner of the sailors.
‘Good morning to you.’ I answered dully. ‘Are you come to attend this morning’s charade?’ I asked.
‘I am.’ Edmund answered sternly. ‘I have the honour to be your sponsor.’
‘Ah, yes. We are to be brothers of sorts I believe. Tell me, does this council of old men inform us when we may sneeze or may we still use some initiative.’ I replied.
‘Gracious, you have put on a cynical head this morning.’ Edmund turned to Hild. ‘Do you think that you could find us some wine? I’ve a word or two to say to this young blade.’ he turned back to me. ‘Sit down, shut up and listen.’
Hild brought two goblets of our fine red wine and pulled up a stool to sit beside me, holding my hand.
‘The council, of old men as you describe them, are composed entirely of people who have earned their right to be there. Men who command the troops of their Burgh and lords, all of them, in their own right. They are there to try to influence the King’s decision, not to intimidate or dictate. And they do this by voicing the feelings and thoughts of the people that they represent.’
Edmund stopped to sip his wine, from above the rim his eyes probed his erstwhile ward to see if what he had said was provoking any positive thought.
‘I have been short-sighted and perhaps a little self-centred. I’m sorry.’ I said, as the silence stretched uneasily.
‘Good. It is the King’s way of trying to ensure fairness and understanding. It’s not foolproof by any means. But our King Alfred is no fool.’
‘But it was uncomfortable to be made use of. My family’s name was abused and debased.’ I muttered, in a half-hearted defence.
‘You are about to be honoured, surely that signifies to your leaden brain that the mistake has been recognised. What do you want for Christ's sake, the King to go on his knees and beg forgiveness.’ his heavy fist thumped the chair in his exasperation. ‘I beg your pardon Hild my dear, I’d not meant to swear before you.’
Hild squeezed my hand.
‘No offence taken, dear Edmund. But, from Ranulf’s position, it seems that nobody tries to see things from his point of view. He’s been a slave, a lowlife for a year. Suddenly he’s escaped, even his deserved freedom comes as a shock and it will take a while to get used to it again.’ she reached across and took one of Edmunds large hands in her free one. ‘He’s still the same smiling young man inside, you’ll see.’
‘She’s right, you know.’ said Edmund after a thoughtful silence. ‘Let’s get this job out of the way this morning, the King has an important announcement that is burning a hole, then we’ll see about getting you away for a nice long a break.’
‘Now you’re talking.’ I said more cheerfully. ‘Maybe some hunting. These past months, I’ve often dreamed about riding across the moors and forest trails.’
‘Yes of course.’ Edmund stood up. ‘I’d meant to meet you yesterday when you arrived, but the King sent me off on an errand. When we got back, late last night, we were sent away and told to come back at breakfast time.’
‘Ah, so it was you. I was with him at the time.’ I said. ‘I noticed that he visibly relaxed after your message. But you said, We?’
‘Yes, I’ve a surprise visitor for you both, she’ll be here any moment.’ said Edmund going to the window. ‘Ah...Yes here she comes. I’ll go now and leave you to it. A carriage will come to collect you all quite soon.’
I stood and grasped Edmund by the arms. ‘Thanks my friend...For everything.’
As Edmund left, our visitor arrived. I was completely speechless to see maman step stiffly from an open carriage. Older than I remembered and just a little greyer. After the first tears and some belated introductions between the two ladies, my story had to be told yet again. But this time I left out the tactics and the battle detail and I told them how I had felt, those deep despairs and consuming fears, the triumphs and my dreams. I felt relieved at the end, as though a weight had finally been taken from me.
The carriage, drawn by two glossy black mares, had silk cushions for the ladies and a woollen rug for their knees. The wheels were of the modern spoked design and the body timber had been ornately carved with interlaced patterns and figures. The driver took us on a route through the town before returning to the Royal residence. I was amazed to see all the folk that lined the streets to see us pass. Hild pushed me up and held my hand so that I could stand and wave to a group of children that a monk had brought to the market square. The cheers started tears to my eyes.
‘Good news travels fast my hero.’ called Hild above the shouts and calls of good luck wishes.
We arrived at the main hall in due course to be greeted by Edmund and a steward. The ladies were shown to a private pew at the side of the aisle, Edmund led me to the front of the assembled Lords of the council and court. Not all of them were smiling or seemed to wish me well.
‘Looks like my opinion travelled ahead of me.’ I muttered to Edmund, with a smile as we took our places.
‘Don’t worry about them. They’re about to have a few feathers ruffled. And they know it.’ he answered in a whisper.
The proceedings began with the usual protracted service sombrely led by the sober looking Bishop Asser himself. The great man ascended the steps to the pulpit to deliver his sermon. The hourglass was turned and the voice droned along for the fully allotted span. My mind was too crowded to listen and I noticed that most others didn’t listen either, but they had baser reasons.
Eventually the King stood from his carved throne and nodded to Edmund who gently ushered me into position, kneeling before the dais. I could hear the ripple of comment behind me. Alfred put up a hand to silence them. A footman appeared with the Royal Sword that the King drew from its scabbard.
Prompted by Edmund, I recited the prayer and oath of allegiance and bowed my head. Firmly the King touched me on each shoulder with the ancient blade.
‘Arise, Sir Ranulf of Athelney.’ he said in a loud voice and a cheer went up from the folk that crowded the doorway and the courtyard beyond.
Again the King quietened the voices with a sweep of his hand. ‘We understand that you would not favour a position in our council.’
The King looked hard at me. I remained silent, dropping my gaze to the floor and beneath my still dark tan, I blushed.
‘I thought as much.’ He said quietly. ‘No matter, I have some special work for you.’ Alfred, hands on hips, strode across to the front ranks of the council.
‘You have all been persuaded that battles are to be fought on land...On the one hand, you are of course correct. But I am of the opinion that we need a mobile, sea-borne service that can take the fighting away from us and carry it to the shores of any would-be invader. It is the only way! We are an island.’
A rumble of protest came from a few of the bolder veterans of the Witan. Alfred rounded on them quickly.
‘Hear me! We will progress to win this thing. To this end I have made a pact with our brothers in Freesia, they will provide us with the knowledge of shipbuilding and send some experienced crewmen to train our people.’
The King paused to glower at a group of noisy dissenters.
‘Sir Ranulf, who stands before you now, will command these forces and he will see to it that they follow our orders.’
The protesting rumble began to grow again.
‘I will have my way!’ shouted the King, silencing the outburst. ‘And Sir Ranulf will have all the help that he requires. By offering hindrance, you will do so on pain of death.’ he turned from them. ‘To the Feasting Hall ladies and gentlemen, we will celebrate our new brother.’
Dear Reader,
If you have enjoyed this story, look out for the next episode in the “Warrior” series when our Ranulf goes to sea for the King in the very first engagement of what will soon become the
Royal Navy.