The raised voice of Edward reached me through the door of the King’s bedchamber. His cries alternated with periods of silence.
Inside, an acrimonious discussion was taking place. Both men were red in the face: Alfred because he had taken to his bed with a fever; Edward because he was furious.
“Are you telling me you stole away like a thief in the night to wed in secret? And you have two children? What an irresponsible fool you are, Edward!” The last words, a whisper, came uttered with great weariness.
“Athelstan is a strong little fellow. But how could you dispatch men to murder your own grandson? What kind of monster are you?”
The King’s febrile eyes flashed.
“Is that what you think of me? Your own father? How could I send men if I didn’t know of the child’s existence? Edward, you sh
