Shaftesbury, November 1035“The King is ill, Lord. Make haste for he calls for you!”
I left Winchester with some regret. I had been there but four days since returning from Cumtun. But the strong mettle of Knut was such that this summons, so uncharacteristic, perturbed me. I suspected the worst. With all speed, I rode to the abbey of Shaftesbury, where a priest surrounded by nuns met me at the gates.
“Abbess Alfrida awaits you, Earl Godwine, if you will follow me.”
The Abbess, a kindly woman of striking, dignified countenance, greeted me with a grave expression that left little hope in my heart, although I knew nought of Knut"s ailment.
“The King is not long for this world, my Lord,” she said, confirming my impression.
“What ails him, Lady? He was in rude health but three moons past wh
