Alfred smiled. ‘Isn’t cynicism a sin, priest?’

‘I’ll have to ask my bishop.’

Saberht blurted, ‘Lord. Everybody asks why you deal with the Danes at all. You had the Danes on the run at Ethandune. Why give them half the country? Why not just push them back into the sea?’

Cynewulf made to apologise, but Alfred held up his hand. ‘You are fiery for one of the cloth, aren’t you, boy? Your tonsure is a little ragged too, you ought to take more care over that. The truth is, and hard though it is even for my thegns to accept it, we did not defeat the Danes at Ethandune. We defeated the remnant of one army. If I had pursued the Danes to Eoforwic I would have won myself some glory, but at the risk of losing everything when the next assault came. Instead I have spent my energies in making England impregnable.’

‘Not England,’ Saberht said, despite Cynewulf’s glares. ‘Half of England, dominated by Wessex. And what about the rest?’

‘I have sons,’ said Alfred. ‘I need to leave them something to do. And in the meantime I have my books to write.’

Alfred, whose life had been dominated by the war with the Danes, had always had larger goals. He was designing a written code of law, assembled from the wisdom of the old English kingdoms - a programme inspired by the example of the east Roman emperor Justinian. And to make his country literate again he was having books translated, from the Latin to the English. He had begun with his favourite Boethius, and with histories, including Bede’s famous work.

‘I intend to leave an England rebuilt on surer foundations,’ he said. ‘An England united under God and a just law. An England where the King’s writ extends into every shire, every hundred, every man’s home. An England which maintains a fyrd, properly organised and equipped, ready to be called at any time to deter any aggressor. An England where a free man may read the word of God in his own tongue ... One must take a long view.’

‘And none,’ Cynewulf said, ‘takes a longer view than you, lord.’

Alfred warned, ‘Like all kings I am a fool, but not one who responds to flattery.’

‘It was meant sincerely.’

‘But what of you, Cynewulf? Still a priest, at your time of life? Didn’t I offer you a bishopric?’

‘You did, and I was honoured. But it wasn’t for me. After Ethandune I had had enough of history. I concluded I could best serve God’s will by remaining a humble priest.’

‘And by binding souls to Christ.’ Alfred nodded. ‘You see, we are alike, you and I. Always thinking of the longer term. What of your companion, the girl who knew the Menologium?’