The king was in a towering rage. It was deplorable, but totally understandable. On the one hand he was faced with an Archbishop who clearly was out of control. On the other, his own man was placing him in an intolerable position.

Alfred turned his ice blue gaze upon the hapless servant who had run from the gate with the news that Cuthbert and his men were riding to Canterbury to avenge the king's honor.

"Get Eanfrith for me at once!"

"Yes, my lord." The man rushed to do the king's bidding. But it was well over a quarter hour before the thane could be found and brought to Alfred's presence.

Eanfrith bowed before the king. "What do you need of me? This one says it is urgent." The thane nodded toward the panting servant.

"You might say it's urgent. That hot-head Cuthbert Arnhand is off to Canterbury to murder the Archbishop."

"My lord, that can't be. Even he would not jeopardize the peace of the realm by such an act."

Alfred's eyes flashed. "It IS so I tell you. Asser is bent on a course that I cannot entirely approve. But if one of my men kills him, even in the heat of passion, the Pope will do all in his power to unseat me."

Eanfrith nodded. All knew the effect caused when Pope John VIII had criticized Burhred of Mercia for failing to stamp out immorality in general. Worse, Burhred had not prevented his men from entering into marriage with nuns and women dedicated to God. Under pressure from the Danish invader and under threat of punitive measures from Rome, Burhred had despaired and fled his own kingdom.

"Get a troop of men together and ride hard to Canterbury. Halt Cuthbert before he can damage us. If you fail, then take what measures you must."

The king's eyes were hard and Eanfrith did not pretend to misunderstand. "Aye, my lord. I will not fail you."