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“Oh, I doubt that, my king. But of course. Anything, my king,” Werfer? responded, still beaming.

?lfred led him into his private writing room that held a small desk and a functional stool opposite a kneeler and lectern. They discussed Gregory and Latin, and Werfer? studied?lfred’s work until bells were heard in the distance.

“Ah,” remarked?lfred, “that is for nones-I had a heart to attend today. You may stay if you like. Would you excuse me?”

“Hmm?” Werfer? answered, caught up in one of his king’s paragraphs.

?lfred stepped out of the room and started down the hall.

He strode across the courtyard, pressing a hand to his belly. He was feeling his chastisement sharper than usual today. Once again, as he did every day, he considered asking the Lord to remove it and give him another, but he only took a deep breath and set his jaw. This was for his sanctification.

He was muttering under his breath, “Ut nemo moveatur in tribulationibus istis. . when he caught sight of a man in a red robe standing near one of the stone doorways.

Frowning, he changed his path and met the man at the edge of the courtyard.

“Ealdstan. What brings you to Wintanceastre?”

“No greeting, my king?”

“You are welcome, of course, but you have only ever appeared when you have need of something I can provide.”

“And you find this a peculiar position for a king to be in?”

?lfred turned his grimace into a grin. “There are few who have the ability-and even fewer the imagination-to extract so much as you.”

Ealdstan turned his face to the ground. “Few have the ability to comprehend the true nature of the world.”

?lfred sighed. “I was just about to go to prayers-will you accompany me?”

“Of course. It would be a joy,” Ealdstan said, although he stood the whole time at the back of the church.

When the short daytime office ended, they emerged and started walking aimlessly along the outer paths of the burh.?lfred said, “I am meeting with my councillors when I return. Would you speak of your desires with them?”

“I would not. I have need of stonemasons.”

“Stonemasons? What do you need stonemasons for now?”

Ealdstan told him.

“How many?”

“A great many. As many as you can muster, for a very long time.”

“How long?”

“You would never see them again.”

?lfred shook his head. “We need to continue to build England’s defenses. Even a modest stone fortress is preferable to the strongest one of wood, especially in the outlier burhs.”

“There is peace with the Vikings, King?lfred. They are cowed from their defeats and submissive since institution of the treaty. They have lands now; they are sated.”

“They never wanted our land, Ealdstan. Gu?rum died this winter; did you know that? God’s truth, I miss him more as a brother than a leader, but more men than I may feel the loss of his kingship in the days to come. While he lived, the Norsemen were pleased to look on the northern settlements as their own and overlook the settlements there. But with him gone. .? I wist we have not long to wait before another war band arrives. Meotodes Meahte,” he said quietly. “Where do they get their energy from? They crash upon us as inexhaustibly as waves on the beach. In the name of heaven, what do they eat up there?”

“This talk is not for now,” Ealdstan said with a flit of his hand. “These are maybe-fights and perhaps-battles. I look forward to the inevitable battle that will decide the outcome of eternity.”

“That battle is already won,”?lfred said.

“But it has yet to be fought!” Ealdstan insisted, banging his staff upon a rock. “We have discussed this at length, and I felt you had been made to understand me.”

“It is a thought I continually turn over in my head and discuss with the Almighty much in my prayers. I’ve received no conviction in the spirit that my present course is incorrect. My bishops support me in this.”

“They support your indecision, is what you say. I care not for the grumblings of bishops and abbots, nor those of a king who trusts more to pens and pendulums than to swords and fire. I was ancient when your father was young. I taught Bede his letters; I watched the boats of the L?denware depart from this island. Of these isles I was the first disciple of the new faith. Do not presume to school me on spiritual matters, young?lfred.”

The colour rose in?lfred’s cheeks. “Watch yourself, wizard. I am not so old that my writing hand has forgotten how to grip a blade. The Lord gave this earth to mortals.”

“Great king,” Ealdstan purred in a low voice, “after so much already done, do you still question? So much persuading and convincing by me, and of all the work that we have already done-of the warriors already laid to rest, and provisions already made-why would you not ensure the protection of these costs and lend me enough stonemasons to hew a stronghold underground, a secret place of safety for the hidden ones, to ensure they are able to return at the right time?”

?lfred rubbed his chin and then crossed his arms. “You may take from the land all whom you can persuade to your cause. But this is the last debt to you that I will honour. Consider yourself paid in full.”

Ealdstan nodded and without any more words between them, he departed, never to be seen by?lfred again. Some months later the first reports of stoneworkers gone missing came to him. Some vanished along with their families, others not, and?lfred assured those asking after them that they were completing vital work for the safety of the kingdom, for there was little else that could be done. Soon, stonemasons could not be found for love or money, proving that Ealdstan had done his persuading very well.

II

Freya’s eyes snapped open and her head jerked back. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes as she tried to remember where she was and what she was doing. The Langtorr, her mission, Aunt Vivienne, and the device gradually rolled back to her, like waves of the tide.

She yawned. She felt like she’d just woken from a very deep and satisfying sleep. Ealdstan and King?lfred-had she really seen them as they were? That had to be the most vivid dream she’d ever had in her life if she hadn’t. It felt like she’d remembered real voices, real conversations. Like she could close her eyes and see the burh, like she could close her eyes and see the vague image of a room she had just left.

She looked up at Vivienne, who was coiling the leather strap around the top again.

“How long was I in a. .?” Freya searched her mind for the right word. “Trance?”

“Oh, several hours, at least.”

“Hours?” Freya moved her tongue around her mouth. It was fairly dry and tasted stale. “I saw Ealdstan, and King?lfred. They were talking about-”

“I know, you wrote it all down,” Vivienne said.

“I did?” Freya looked at the table and saw that she had a large notebook in front of her that contained her handwriting on about ten pages. She flipped back through them and read some of what she wrote. It was all there-everything she’d seen.

“Ready to go again?” Vivienne asked.

“What? No. Let me-”

Vivienne pulled the strap, and the room melted.

III

Winchester

1019 AD

The messenger thanked her and departed. She lay in bed and savoured the warmth for a long moment and then rose just as three of her maids entered and started bustling about her. It was late-some hours already past vespers-but not only candles were lit, the fire in the hearth stirred and fed back into life. She pointed into the open wardrobe.

“That one, there. The green.”

The servant drew it from the wardrobe and held it out to her handmaid. Between them, they held it open so she could step into it.