“I reminded him that you were not from these lands and so he should not hate you. Now tell me, why have you come here?” His smile vanished and his unblinking gaze took on a malevolent air. I struggled not to shudder at the sudden change in his demeanour.

“We came seeking the truth,” I said, uttering the first thing I could think of.

“Indeed? You have come so far to speak to me that I might enlighten you?”

“We have,” said Leofstan. “Word of your exploits and fame reached us as far away as Northumbria.”

Ljósberari frowned now.

“Exploits?” he said, pronouncing the word as if it tasted of poison. “Exploits! I do not do these things for my own gain!” He slammed his fist into the table, shaking the cups. His face was crimson, his ire coming with such force and savagery that I slid back on the bench to distance myself from his madness. “I bring the truth of the light, and you speak of fame and exploits as though I am engaged in a mere dispute over land. I am no warlord. I bring freedom and light.”

“Forgive us,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “We do not understand. We have studied much. The Scriptures, Primasius, Jerome, Cassiodorus and Beda. But nowhere have we been satisfied that we have found the truth.”

“And yet this man wears the tonsure.” Ljósberari’s voice was flat.

“I do,” admitted Leofstan, self-consciously rubbing his hand over the stubble on his shaved scalp. “But I see much in the world that I cannot reconcile with the word of God. I…” He hesitated, seeming to choke on his emotion. Whether feigned or real, I could not tell. “I have lost my faith,” he went on, “and I wish to learn the truth. We heard you were the Ljósberari, the bringer of light. I want to see that light.”

Ljósberari stared at Leofstan for several heartbeats. His sudden fury had abated and after a time, he nodded slowly, and reached for his wine.

“Perhaps you have more light within you than you know,” he said, sipping from his cup. “Perhaps…” His voice trailed off. “Perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?” I asked, scared to interrupt his thoughts, but unable not to ask, such was the power of his character and the pull of my curiosity.

“They call me Ljósberari,” he said, ignoring my question. “But it is not true. I do not bring the light. Each man and woman has the light within them. They have darkness too. So much darkness. And the two battle within their souls, vying for victory over the other, just as God is constantly battling against the Devil, fighting for triumph over this earth.”

“So why do they call you Ljósberari?”

He shifted his gaze to me and fixed me with his unflinching stare. I felt like a mouse looking into the eyes of a serpent.