Tame Weorth, 720 AD
The delicate nature of his mission and weak position left the visitor anxious before the intimidating figure of the king. At last, he mustered the courage to begin, “Sire, my brother, Ealdorman Mensige, is sick and could not survive the journey from Ledecestre. Alas, his heart betrays him, not for the first time.”
The cold grey-blue eyes of Æthelbald appraised the stand-in and were not impressed. One swat of his arm and the fellow would fly across the hall. What did this nonentity want of him?
“Mensige has a daughter of great beauty, Saeflaed, whom he has hidden away these six years. Now, in his ill health, he has decided she ought to wed. Hence, I stand here before you, my king.”
“What have I to do with this decision?”
“As I said, sire, the allure of my niece is e
