My son burst into the hall, his face alight with excitement,
“Father, Uncle Eadwine is coming!”
“Eadwine!”
I hadn’t seen him for many months because of his sheriff duties and missed him. I glanced at the door,
“Where is he, then?”
“I encountered him on the northern road but his horse was blown. He’s riding slowly. I rode on ahead as I wished to tell you of his arrival.”
I frowned and thought about this.
“If Eadwine has driven his steed so hard, he must come from afar and on urgent business. Aella, fetch a flagon and beakers. He will have a thirst, the old dog!”
I hurried out into the yard, to the gate and peered down the road, anxious to greet my dearest comrade. His work as shire reeve had kept us apart of recent years, for after unlikely beginnings, he had gained a reputation for
