That year, Easter fell in the middle of April.

Harold, with his pregnant bride, returned to Lunden, and held his Easter court at Westmynster. He took this first opportunity to display his power and status. There was a cycle of feasting, worship, receptions, and meetings to deal with royal business. He welcomed bishops, earls and thegns, and embassies from Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and the continent.

Sihtric and Godgifu took lodging in a house close to Westmynster that had belonged to a thegn of Tostig.

It was an uneasy time for Sihtric, for even now his overdue comet did not appear. Restless, agitated, he decided to deal with his ‘rival’ prophet, the monk Aethelmaer. Leaning on the authority of the bishops at the court, he summoned Aethelmaer from his monastery in Wessex.

Aethelmaer, crippled, had to be carted across the country on the back of a wagon, and then in Lunden two hefty young monks carried him everywhere on a litter.

On his arrival, Sihtric, Godgifu and Orm were shown into Aethelmaer’s presence in Westmynster abbey. He was a fat man of about fifty lying stiffly on a couch, animated only from the waist up, his useless legs withered. There was a stink of rot in the room, only partially masked by wood smoke and a sharper tang of unguents.

At Aethelmaer’s side was a low table covered in manuscripts and notes. Sihtric said, ‘Despite your handicap, you have remained busy. God would be pleased.’

Aethelmaer, evidently an earthy man, snorted at that. ‘But it was God who put me in my litter in the first place - God, and a handful of feathers, and the hardness of the earth ... These sketches are just that, you know, scribbles on paper. It is only when you realise the machines, with wood and rope, canvas and cloth, metal and feathers, that you start to see what works and what doesn’t - and how much you don’t understand. And if God had chosen to leave me my legs I could have got a lot further by now. Eh, eh?’

‘Machines?’ That sparked Orm’s curiosity, and he walked over to see the sketches for himself. Filled with complex diagrams they were grimy with handling and covered by spidery notes.

Sihtric said, ‘Word of your prophecies have reached the court. They say that you have forecast the coming of a comet.’

‘A comet? Oh, yes.’ Aethelmaer reached painfully to tap the heap of papers. ‘It’s all in here. The comet will come, and England will fall - but it will rise again, changed.’ He slumped back, face twisted with pain. ‘But it’s not the comet that matters, you know. It’s all this.’

Orm said, ‘These look like machines of war. Are they siege engines?’