influence.
The archbishop introduced them to several others before, looking over Twilight’s shoulder, his face hardened.
‘My dear archbishop,’ said an oily, deep voice.
‘Good evening, Earl Godwine,’ Robert Jumieges replied stiffly. ‘These must be the two wizards I’ve heard so much about.’
Twilight turned to look into a pair of hazel eyes glinting with malice above a large hooked nose.
The archbishop made the introductions tersely. Godwine was accompanied by his other two sons, Harold and Beorn, both having the hazel eyes and hooked nose of what was obviously Godwine family facial characteristics. They made no attempt to hide their enmity toward Jumieges, the three pairs of hazel eyes making it obvious that there was no love lost between the Godwines and the archbishop, who quickly made his excuses and moved away.
When he was out of earshot Godwine leaned in close to Twilight and muttered in his deep, oily voice.
‘I bear no grudge against you for sending my son Swein into exile. He is a deranged fanatic whose behaviour deserved nothing less. Indeed, had you decided to kill him I would not have been surprised and would have accepted it as just punishment for his kidnapping of the abbess.’
By his side Harold and Beorn nodded vigorously, demonstrating that family opinion on this matter of the behaviour of the younger brother was unified. Or, to put it another way, whatever Godwine said, his sons had better agree with.
Twilight nodded in a tacit appreciation of their understanding. As he did so he took a look inside Godwine’s head. Edgiva, the abbess, was to the fore as was all sorts of treachery. The sons’ minds were smaller versions of the father. They had arranged Edgiva’s escape and passage to Denmark. Even more disturbing, they were actively involved in an attempt to usurp the king. Soldiers and arms were being prepared secretly at several places around England, and the attacks were imminent, a fact that Godwine lost no time in bringing to Twilight’s attention.
‘I wonder,’ Godwine said, grasping his elbow and speaking close to the old wizard’s face again, ‘if you would be interested in joining my sons and I in a little, shall we say, intrigue against the monarchy?’ He nodded toward a group of people clustered around Edward. ‘We could certainly make good use of your skills in getting rid of those that would oppose us.’
Feigning surprise Twilight affected a neutral shrug. This nasty, oily old man and his sons were the last people on this turning earth he would join. No wonder Robert Jumieges did not like them.
Tara, engaged in conversation by Beorn, looked at him.
No wonder Swein is what he is. The whole family are like it. They look like ideal goat material to me . . . permanently.
Say nothing of any consequence, Twilight replied. They don’t know what they don’t know, so let’s keep it that way.
‘Perhaps we could meet after the dinner, somewhere discreet?’ The oily voice was speaking close to his ear again.
‘Perhaps,’ Twilight replied.
A red and gold liveried herald called them to the large, U-shaped table groaning with food, and they took their places. With the king on his left and Tara his right, Twilight looked around the long table to see where the Godwines were. The oily old earl was quite close, just three people down on the other side facing them, his hooked nose already buried in a pewter goblet of wine. Both his sons were further down. As soon as they were seated and the archbishop had said grace, Edward the Confessor engaged Twilight in conversation. He wanted to know everything Twilight could tell him, starting with Merlin and King Arthur to the present day, and paid particular attention to the period with King Alfred and the Viking. After listening avidly throughout the meal, to the complete detriment of his wife on his other side, to Twilight’s low-voiced account of the many events he’d shared with King Alfred, now known as Alfred the Great
The archbishop introduced them to several others before, looking over Twilight’s shoulder, his face hardened.
‘My dear archbishop,’ said an oily, deep voice.
‘Good evening, Earl Godwine,’ Robert Jumieges replied stiffly. ‘These must be the two wizards I’ve heard so much about.’
Twilight turned to look into a pair of hazel eyes glinting with malice above a large hooked nose.
The archbishop made the introductions tersely. Godwine was accompanied by his other two sons, Harold and Beorn, both having the hazel eyes and hooked nose of what was obviously Godwine family facial characteristics. They made no attempt to hide their enmity toward Jumieges, the three pairs of hazel eyes making it obvious that there was no love lost between the Godwines and the archbishop, who quickly made his excuses and moved away.
When he was out of earshot Godwine leaned in close to Twilight and muttered in his deep, oily voice.
‘I bear no grudge against you for sending my son Swein into exile. He is a deranged fanatic whose behaviour deserved nothing less. Indeed, had you decided to kill him I would not have been surprised and would have accepted it as just punishment for his kidnapping of the abbess.’
By his side Harold and Beorn nodded vigorously, demonstrating that family opinion on this matter of the behaviour of the younger brother was unified. Or, to put it another way, whatever Godwine said, his sons had better agree with.
Twilight nodded in a tacit appreciation of their understanding. As he did so he took a look inside Godwine’s head. Edgiva, the abbess, was to the fore as was all sorts of treachery. The sons’ minds were smaller versions of the father. They had arranged Edgiva’s escape and passage to Denmark. Even more disturbing, they were actively involved in an attempt to usurp the king. Soldiers and arms were being prepared secretly at several places around England, and the attacks were imminent, a fact that Godwine lost no time in bringing to Twilight’s attention.
‘I wonder,’ Godwine said, grasping his elbow and speaking close to the old wizard’s face again, ‘if you would be interested in joining my sons and I in a little, shall we say, intrigue against the monarchy?’ He nodded toward a group of people clustered around Edward. ‘We could certainly make good use of your skills in getting rid of those that would oppose us.’
Feigning surprise Twilight affected a neutral shrug. This nasty, oily old man and his sons were the last people on this turning earth he would join. No wonder Robert Jumieges did not like them.
Tara, engaged in conversation by Beorn, looked at him.
No wonder Swein is what he is. The whole family are like it. They look like ideal goat material to me . . . permanently.
Say nothing of any consequence, Twilight replied. They don’t know what they don’t know, so let’s keep it that way.
‘Perhaps we could meet after the dinner, somewhere discreet?’ The oily voice was speaking close to his ear again.
‘Perhaps,’ Twilight replied.
A red and gold liveried herald called them to the large, U-shaped table groaning with food, and they took their places. With the king on his left and Tara his right, Twilight looked around the long table to see where the Godwines were. The oily old earl was quite close, just three people down on the other side facing them, his hooked nose already buried in a pewter goblet of wine. Both his sons were further down. As soon as they were seated and the archbishop had said grace, Edward the Confessor engaged Twilight in conversation. He wanted to know everything Twilight could tell him, starting with Merlin and King Arthur to the present day, and paid particular attention to the period with King Alfred and the Viking. After listening avidly throughout the meal, to the complete detriment of his wife on his other side, to Twilight’s low-voiced account of the many events he’d shared with King Alfred, now known as Alfred the Great
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