text: [Themes: mystery / thriller]
  
  Wulf listened to the cook's snores and finished his own cup. It was unlikely that this man knew anything that couldn't wait until morning, and who could say if his drunken ramblings would even be true? It was better to let him sleep. Then, if he needed him again, the cook would remember him fondly. In the morning, he decided, he would find Leofwine's guards, the ones who had sworn no one had entered the priest's room.
  
  But the night was still young, and Wulf felt energized as he left the tavern. The castle sat on the hill above the rest of the city, and he walked slowly towards it. Several guards stood at its gate, torches blazing beside them, and Wulf skirted their light and followed the rough wooden walls of the castle. He stopped after a few minutes, examining the wood, and though there seemed to be nothing special about this spot, he knew it was the right place. He climbed easily, and in a moment, he crouched on the roof and surveyed the tops of the large complex of buildings that made up Alfred's castle.
  
  There was little chance of being spotted, but Wulf took no chances. He crawled slowly across the roof, visualizing what was in each room beneath him. He had only had about an hour to explore before he spoke with Cynehelm, but that was enough time to get the lay of the place. Eventually Wulf reached a chimney and lowered himself down. When he emerged from the fireplace, he smiled, knowing that he had been right. The room was empty, inhabited at one time by an ealdorman or priest, perhaps, but now only gathering dust and giving an easy way inside. It was hardly surprising that Leofwine had been killed, he thought, with a castle as ill-guarded as this one. Of course, there were not, in Wulf's experience, many men like himself, so perhaps it was surprising.
  
  He crept from the empty room and into a corridor. Everything was dark and cold, and the halls were deserted as Wulf walked through the castle. It was mostly wooden, sometimes whitewashed, but he knew that the structure was a patchwork. Alfred and his ancestors had built their newer Saxon sections right onto the remains of the old Roman fort, still with its faded mosaics, and when he stopped by a door it was in one of these Roman areas. The door was plain like all the others, but he was sure it was the right one. It was locked, of course, but he picked his way in in a matter of seconds.
  
  Father Leofwine's room was large but not luxurious. Moonlight streamed through his window and fell on the small bed that sat in one corner and the desk that sat in another. The desk was still piled with the old priest's books and a map of Wessex. There was a table, too, still with a jug of wine and a few glasses. Wulf poured himself a little and sipped as he glanced through the books. Theology and history mostly, and a treatise on Roman law, though most were in Latin and therefore unintelligible. The priest's mind never rested. Wulf could picture him very easily, hunched over in his chair with half a dozen of these books open, his thoughts jumping from the war with the Danes to the problem of free will without any trouble. He would have enjoyed living where the Romans once did, would have enjoyed thinking of the legionaries or administrators that had once shared this room.
  
  A simple gray blanket lay on the bed, and Wulf realized that it was stained in Leofwine's blood. He clenched his fists at the sight and sighed. He was not sure what he had hoped to find, but so far there was nothing unusual in the room, nothing that shed any light on its occupant's murder. The window, which might have explained everything, was far too small for an assassin to fit through. Perhaps he could get something out of the guards in the morning. If not, there were still plenty of leads to pursue. Cynehelm seemed a nervous man, but maybe he would have learned something from one of the king's other councilors.
  
  A yawn escaped Wulf's mouth. It was growing late, and he had had little sleep during his journey to Winchester. The second wind that had come when he left the tavern was gone. Truth be told, he had not had a good night's rest in several months, and though he would never have admitted it, he could tell his weariness was impacting his skills. There might be something here, something important, that he just wasn't noticing because of how tired he felt. But sleep brought its own risks, of course. The killer might come back tomorrow to cover his tracks, and then Wulf would never find the clues he needed. There wasn't any guarantee that there wereclues in Leofwine's room, though, and he doubted he'd find them in this state.
  
  > leave and sleep
  It was better to be sure of his own abilities than to stumble around half-asleep, and so Wulf left Leofwine's room. It was easy enough to retrace his steps back to the empty room with the fireplace, but he found that it was much easier to descend the chimney than to climb back again. Earlier he had left through the main gate, but of course that was impossible during the night.
  
  He considered his options. There were surely other ways out of the castle, but it would take time to find them, and searching ran the risk of encountering someone else, perhaps even a guard. He could try leaving though the main gate again- the guards there might not stop him if he could think of a good story, but nothing that came to mind seemed likely to convince them. No, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed that staying in the empty room was the best option. From the looks of it, no one had been inside in years, and there was even a broken-down bed, though it was full of spiders. His chances here were better than anywhere else in the castle, so Wulf shrugged and settled down to sleep.
  
  It was the girl's giggle that woke him. Wulf was normally a light sleeper, but he was quite tired, and so he slept right through the door swinging open and the man creeping in, the red-haired girl at his arm. They kissed for a while, and the man even whispered, "Keep quiet or my wife will hear," but Wulf heard none of it. It was only when he grabbed her and squeezed, and she giggled, that he suddenly jolted awake.
  
  It took him a moment to remember where he was, and in that moment the man picked up his companion and tossed her playfully into the bed. This meant, of course, that he tossed her directly onto Wulf, who instinctively held on to her arms, her hand tangled in his own. Then she screamed and squirmed away, and the man bellowed too when he saw Wulf, who rose and drew his short sword.
  
  "Stand aside," he said quietly. The girl leapt away from him, and the man obeyed as well, and Wulf watched them as he inched towards the door. "You will tell no one you saw me, do you understand?" They nodded, but he knew that their promises meant nothing, not with the whole court wondering who had killed Leofwine. "Actually, come here," he said to the girl.
  
  Trembling, she obeyed, while the man's eyes darted from her to Wulf. He raised his sword and, before she could react, struck her on the head, just enough to knock her out. "Now you," he said to the man, but it was too late. With a sudden yell he threw himself at Wulf, who had not expected anything like this. The man was stronger than he looked, and with a luck hit managed to knock the sword away. They tumbled across the room, throwing punches and kicking, with Wulf thinking all the while what a fool he was.
  
  "You killed the old priest," the man shouted, "didn't you! And you killed Brida, and I'm going to kill you too!"
  
  Wulf's hand found the sword, but just as he grasped it, the man's hands came down over his throat. He squeezed tight, and though Wulf kicked and flailed he did not let go. He tried to raise his sword, but he could not find the strength. The man's eyes burned like he was possessed. In a minute it was over, and Wulf lay dead on the ground, face blue. The man slumped back, panting. When he realized that the girl Brida was still alive, he wondered for a second if he had been wrong to kill this stranger, but he decided he had been right. No doubt this man in black had killed the king's old priest or was at least some kind of criminal. He carried Brida gently to the bed and then set off to find and tell someone what a hero he had just become.