Immediately after dinner, the king absented himself from the table to consider certain unwelcome information that had arrived that day from the eastern marches. The heathen were proving stubborn. They refused to accept the inevitable and remove themselves and their kinfolk and animals to either Jorvik (Eboracum that was) or to the area governed by Guthrum. This was an annoyance to the king. Somebody would have to be sent to oversee the process of ejecting the heathen scum who polluted the realm.

Of graver importance, however, was the fact that the treaty with Guthrum himself had not yet been finalized in solemn convocation with the bishops and other churchmen sitting in concert with the king and the Witan. Alfred had just received word that Guthrum finally had returned to this side of the water. It was time to formalize their arrangements.

The king began to pace as he dictated the letter to Guthrum. The scrivener looked up, "Sire, I did not hear what you said." The king stared at him. "Begging your pardon, I'm sure, but--"

"You did not hear because I mumbled. I don't know how to call the man! I refuse to honor him as 'king'--it cheapens the title. Guthrum is no more than a jumped up pirate. A raptor who's built a nest too solid to be dislodged from the eyrie."

The clerk looked down at his parchment. It was no problem of his how to style the leader of the Danes.

"Sire, I have a suggestion." The king looked to the newly arrived confessor. "How would it be if you call Guthrum your 'dearly beloved brother in Christ'?"

"It's somewhat apt," the king replied slowly. "But it smacks of the church. And technically I'm Guthrum's father in Christ not his brother."

Father David nodded and assumed the humble mien kings and rulers prefer to see in their councilors. "Yes, sire, and there is the beauty of it. By eschewing the title 'father,' you recognize Guthrum as your 'brother'--which could mean your peer--but it could also merely signify that as Christ is the savior of you both, then the leader of the Danes is indeed your brother in Christ. You afford no insult, but you do not call him 'king.' And you also thereby remind him that one of the conditions of his tenure in this land is that he must foster the growth and prosperity of the Church amongst his folk." The priest paused for a moment. "It may be that Guthrum will read more into the greeting than you intend. But that hardly is your fault, sire. Say rather it is Guthrum's his own lack of learning that may confuse him."

The king laughed. "It shall be as you advise, my friend. The Archbishop has sent me sound counsel through you. I shall remember to thank him for it."

Father David looked modestly at the floor and made no comment.

After dictating the letter to Guthrum, the king perused it, signed it and applied his seal. "Send this off by fast courier. And have the man wait for a reply. We are still in Eastertide. As good a time for a feast and solemn meeting as any other. Let us hope Guthrum will join us here in Winchester within the month. The sooner the better!"

"The problem of the towns and marches remains to be settled." The king signaled to his seneschal. "Let Cuthbert join us now." When the thane entered the chamber, the king turned to Aethelred of Mercia. "My son of Mercia, I entrust to you the work of clearing the heathen out of the areas we have just retaken from the Danes. In particular, the lands to the east of London are of concern. Push Guthrum's folk to join him--unless you're certain their adherence to the Church is genuine and they've fully accepted Christ as their savior." He smiled at the thane. "I give you Cuthbert as your strong right arm! Those who will not yield or leave can be left to his tender ministrations."

The men laughed at the king's euphemism and fell to discussing their plans. When the war council concluded, the king sent for mead. It had been a satisfying session.