The new year brought mounting tension between Bishop Cuthbert and King Ecgfrith. The king was a headstrong character and after fifteen years on the throne, very confident and assertive of his rights. To the north of his kingdom lived a savage race of tribesmen known as the Picts. The Northern Picts were rebellious tribesmen, who Ecgfrith, with the aid of the Southern Picts had defeated some years before at the Battle of Two Rivers. All this, I learnt from my friend, Cuthbert. He also told me that the king was exasperated by sieges of his northerly outposts. The latest, now three years ago, had gone unpunished.
“Aella, I believe I’m losing my powers of rhetoric,” Cuthbert said, following this utterance with a heavy sigh.
“What is the matter, Your Grace?”
“My eloquence has deserted me whe
