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The creases on Taber’s brow had yet to fully disappear, but he nodded obediently. “Aye, mistress.”

Somehow, Aisley managed a smile. Fresh news would come. It had to if King Alfred wished for his support to grow. Until then, she could do nothing but feign patience and pray that the name she most wished to hear would be mentioned by the next messenger.

CHAPTER 19

BRECC STOOD AT THE WATER’S edge, watching and listening. The sun had set, and the marshland creatures were in full song. Bullfrogs croaked, their voices low against the lapwings’ distinctive peewit calls. Overhead, a hawk cried, and the gentle plop of the wader birds’ feet in the shallow water turned to a chorus of flapping wings as they took to the air in unison. Had it simply been the hawk’s presence that had disturbed them? Setting his hand on the handle of his dagger, Brecc strained to see through the rapidly fading light.

The sound of murmured voices reached him first, and then he heard the distinctive sucking of a pole being drawn from the mud. He whistled. An echoing whistle floated back, and the fingers on his dagger relaxed. It was Rheged, and he had the king with him on one of the punts they’d acquired from Hocca’s brother.

As the flat-bottomed boat appeared, Brecc knelt on the damp grass, waiting for the punt’s squared end to reach him. The wood grazed the turf, and Brecc seized it.

“I have the punt, Sire.”

The small craft swayed violently, and the king stepped onto the ground beside him. “I thank you, Brecc.”

Rheged stepped off after him and then turned to help Brecc drag the punt out of the water. They pulled it under a nearby tree, and Rheged set the pole against the trunk.

“I trust your time at the church was uninterrupted,” Brecc said.

“Not another soul in sight,” Rheged said. It was a good thing, but Brecc received the distinct impression that keeping watch outside while the king communed with God inside the small church was not one of Rheged’s most highly rated activities.

“It was a most fulfilling experience.” King Alfred was already walking toward the woodland where the stone cottage that now served as the monarch’s safe haven and the gathering spot for his most loyal men was located. “Come,” he called. “You both must hear what I have to say.”

Offering Rheged an inquiring look, Brecc started after the king.

Rheged quickly joined him. “Before you ask,” he said, “I know nothing more than you do.” He cocked his head to one side as though contemplating something deep. “Well, that is not entirely true. Having stood outside the Aller church for going on three hours, I can now unequivocally tell you that there are twenty-three paving stones leading up to the church’s door, the current molehill count on the east side of the building is fifteen, and on the left side, it is twelve. Oh, and there is a very aggressive magpie who takes exception to anyone standing within its sphere of influence for that length of time.”

Brecc chuckled. “You obviously used your time at Aller most productively.”

“I hope you can say the same for your afternoon at Athelney.”

“Enough wood cut to fuel our fire for a week, and three moorhens caught and prepared for supper.”

Rheged grinned. “I approve. Although, before you think too highly of yourself and your accomplishments, I would remind you that with only three moorhens under your belt, I counted far higher than you did this day.”

Chopping wood had helped release some of Brecc’s frustration over the continued lack of information reaching Athelney—whether it be regarding the king’s missing thegns, the Vikings’ whereabouts, or Aisley’s well-being. But Rheged’s humor had already done far more. It had lifted his spirits. With a laugh, he placed his hand on Rheged’s shoulder. “I am glad you are here, even if you are only truly good for punting and counting.”

The fire was blazing inside the king’s temporary abode. He and the queen were already seated on rustic stools. The eleven thegns who had arrived in ones and twos during the days and weeks following Rheged’s arrival with the queen sat on the floor around the fire.

Rheged and the queen had taken a longer route to reach Athelney than the one the king and Brecc had chosen. Brecc had used the time to clear the vacant building of refuse and make some basic repairs to one shutter and a corner of the roof. While the king had hunted for game and sequestered himself in prayer, Brecc had cut firewood and gathered sufficient fir tree boughs to create makeshift pallets. When he’d delivered the promised venison to Edris the fisherman and Hocca the swineherd’s wife, he’d also managed to acquire their first punt. At the time, he’d not known how many people would come or how often the king would wish to visit the church at Aller, but it was obvious that they could not be wholly dependent upon Edris for transportation to and from the island.

Thankfully, Rheged had used his circuitous route to pass along word of the king’s place of refuge to as many of the king’s surviving thegns as he could contact. Those who had relocated to Athelney were a small group, but they were devoted to the king and to Wessex. They were the warriors King Alfred most needed.

“Sit, gentlemen,” the king demanded.

Brecc and Rheged took their places between the king’s stool and Ealdorman Odda. Odda gave them both an acknowledging nod and passed them a basket of bread. Hocca had obviously made her weekly delivery.

“As you all know,” the king began, “ever since my arrival at Athelney, I have repeatedly petitioned God to provide me with a way forward, a way to take Wessex back from a Godless leader, and to ease the suffering of my people.” He cleared his throat. “Today, at the Aller church, I believe He finally made His will known to me.”

Brecc lowered the piece of bread in his hand from his mouth, his attention fully on the king.

“Whilst I was in prayer, a passage of scripture shared with me by Saint Neot came forcibly to my mind,” the king continued. “It is from the book of Hebrews and says: For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.” He gazed around the room. “Do you understand? It is not my place to despise the chastening I have received. Instead, I must rejoice in having been received by the Lord. I must learn from my mistakes and use this humbling experience for good.”

Brecc pondered the king’s insight. It was a rare thing to be led by a monarch so willing to learn and to teach. Indeed, had King Alfred not been born to the crown, Brecc thought it likely that he would have become a priest, for there was no denying the strength he drew from studying God’s word or his burning desire to share that enlightenment with others.

Odda was the first to speak. “Have you ascertained the direction the Lord wishes you to take, Sire?”

“I have.”