text: It was difficult to turn around in the cramped tunnel, but Cynehelm scrabbled against the tiles and managed to do it. He began to crawl as quickly as he could, ignoring his shaking and sweat and trying not to think about whoever was carrying the torch. He could hear them breathing in the still, heavy air and doubled his pace.
  
  The passageway twisted and turned, and Cynehelm could just barely make out the way from the faint light behind him. His cloak dragged against the tiles, catching on their edges, and in desperation he flung it off and left it, wriggling forward with in blind panic. He went faster after that, putting a bit of distance between himself and his pursuer, but he knew it was a long way back to Leofwine's room.
  
  Cynehelm glanced back. The light was steady, not coming any closer, and he kept crawling. Perhaps they had given up, he hoped wildly, or were afraid of him.
  
  "Stop, I am your friend!" a voice called out, and Cynehelm was shocked to realize it was a woman. She certainly sounded friendly, but Cynehelm did not obey. He had seen too much death in the past few days to trust this voice in the darkness and scrambled over the tiles, praying that she would not follow.
  
  But she did. Cynehelm heard her breath and her hands and feet on the ground. Sound travelled easily down here where there were no sounds, and he could feel her getting closer and closer. He coughed, trying to catch his breath and keep going, but he was exhausted. It was all too much, and when he felt her hand at his heel, he only gave a weak kick and then collapsed, his face against the dirty tiles. He lay there for a while, expecting a dagger, but the woman did not come any closer.
  
  At last she spoke, her voice soft and sweet. "I am your friend, I swear it. You have nothing to fear from me."
  
  It took a great deal of effort, but Cynehelm forced himself to sit up and face her. She was dark-haired and beautiful in the torchlight, and she smiled. She did have a knife, but it hung at her side. "See? I wish you no harm."
  
  "Who are you?" he said, his voice cracking.
  
  "My name is Saewara. You do not need to tell me yours, though. It is enough to know that you are one of us. I know that you mean me no harm."
  
  Cynehelm stared at her. "One of you?"
  
  Her smile grew wider, and she held up a little book. It took Cynehelm a moment to realize it was the Latin book Wulf had found in the merchant's house, the Proslogion. This must be the man's wife. "A true follower of Christ," she said.
  
  "I...yes, I am one of you," he said quietly. He swallowed and took a few more deep breaths while Saewara watched him, her eyes gleaming. "What are you doing in this tunnel?" he asked.
  
  Her smile vanished. "I was going to Father Leofwine's room. We should have done it sooner, really, but Merwal thought they might have men there right after his murder. But then we learned of the other killing, and a guard searched our house and stole our copy of the Proslogion and...well, Merwal thought we needed to flee, that they'd come for us next, but I knew I had to go to Leofwine's room."
  
  She looked at Cynehelm and bit her lip, and he realized she was trying to fight back tears. "It's silly I know, but he had books, true and good books that the heretics at court would only burn. They've probably burned them already, just like they cut Leofwine's throat." Then she started crying, just a few quiet tears. "He would want us to have them," she managed to say. "I didn't realize anyone else at the castle followed the true path."
  
  Cynehelm reached for her hand in the flickering torchlight. "I...Father Leofwine only taught me about the true religion a few days before his death, but I managed to save his books. They're safe in my chambers." He wanted to say more, to say anything that might stop her from crying, but any word might reveal his ignorance of her beliefs, and he could not risk that. So he squeezed her hand and smiled, and she blinked away the tears and wiped her eyes on her arm. She really was lovely, even with her eyes red from crying.
  
  "But you must come with us!" she said suddenly, squeezing his hand tight. "Merwal is gathering the others, and then we'll flee Winchester. It's not safe, not now that the guard took our Proslogion. They'll catch us, and then they'll catch the other brothers and sisters and kill us all, just as they killed Paulinus and Father Leofwine!"
  
  Cynehelm felt stupid, his brain moving slowly in the dim light far below the earth. "Who killed Leofwine?"
  
  "They did!" she said passionately. "The so-called Christians, the ones who persecute us as the Pharisees persecuted Christ himself!" Saewara's eyes shone as brightly as her torch, a little wild, and her voice became more confident. "They hold to the evil doctrine of original sin and a dozen other heresies, and they seek to stamp out the true church of the apostles, the faith that Paulinus defended in this book and that Leofwine taught you and me. They serve their father, the Devil himself!"
  
  He tried to think through it all. Leofwine was a heretic, and the merchant and his wife were heretics too, and they believed the old priest had been killed for his heresy. Saewara clutched at his hand and interrupted his frantic thoughts. "You must come with us," she said again, and Cynehelm let her pull him down the passageway, away from the castle and towards her house.
  
  She chattered as they crawled, mostly about the other members of her little sect in the city. "There are others across Wessex," Saewara assured him, "some in London and others in Bath. Leofwine knew of them, and we will have to find some. We will be on the run from both our own people and the heathens, but God will protect us."
  
  The tunnel did not seem nearly as terrifying with her leading the way, and soon they emerged, blinking in the brighter light, into the cellar of her house, full of boxes and barrels. She handed the Proslogion back to Cynehelm and he quickly stashed it away, grateful she had not recognized it as her own. Then they climbed the ladder to the main floor, where they found a small cluster of people, all talking quietly. One of them, a tall, clean-shaven man, rushed to Saewara's side and embraced her.
  
  Then he looked at Cynehelm, covered in dirt. "Who are you?"
  
  His wife answered quickly. "He's one of us, Merwal. I found him in the tunnel with a copy of Paulinus's book." At the name of the ancient heretic, the merchant nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to the others.
  
  "Well, we're all here, at least all of us who are brave enough to risk everything for the faith. We have to flee the city, but all is not lost. We will go to our brothers and sisters in London. But the first trouble will be making it out of Winchester. The guards have the gates all locked, and they're patrolling everywhere looking for the cook. There is even a rumor that another man has been killed, another one of the king's councilors. See how God punishes the heretics! With Father Leofwine dead, it falls to me to lead us, and I have decided we should make for the south gate. It is less heavily-guarded than the others, and we may be able to bribe the guards or else break through to freedom."
  
  Merwal's voice was confident, but Cynehelm could see doubt on most of his followers' faces. Of course, it hardly mattered whether this band of heretics succeeding in fleeing the city. He didn't give a damn about any of them, except perhaps for the beautiful Saewara, but he was stuck with them for the time being. A failed escape plan might get him killed alongside the rest of them. Then again, he could always make up an excuse and leave. Surely they had bigger things to worry about than him.
  
  > suggest a different plan
  Cynehelm cleared his throat. "I can get you through the main gate. I am one of King Alfred's trusted councilors, and the guards will let you leave the city if I order it."
  
  "God is good!" Saewara cried. "See how he answers our prayers and sends us a deliverer!"
  
  Merwal examined his face for a few seconds and then nodded. "God is good. Very well, you will lead us to the main gate and order the guards to let us leave Winchester. Father Leofwine was wise to convert you to the truth."
  
  The group gathered their things. Most seemed to be merchants, though a few were peasants, and when they went outside, Cynehelm saw that they had four horses and two donkeys, all laden with supplies. They walked through the streets, passing men-at-arms still searching for the fat cook, and came eventually to the main city gate. A cluster of guards stood beside the gatehouse, and nearby were a group of monks and a handful of others. All looked annoyed and impatient.
  
  Cynehelm strode straight to the gatehouse and addressed the leader of the guards, his voice as imperious as he could make it. "You will let these people through, do you understand?"
  
  The man glanced at the little party of heretics and then back to Cynehelm. "We were told, sir, not to let anyone out until we got further orders."
  
  "These are your further orders. I am among the king's chief councilors, and I command you to step aside." The guard still looked a skeptical, but he bowed and ordered his men to open the gate. Merwal led the rest out, and Cynehelm followed.
  
  "We are free, but we are not out of danger," the merchant said. "We will all have to be on our guard until we reach London and safety."
  
  Cynehelm shook his head. "I must stay in Winchester, at least for the time being. I cannot let Leofwine's killer go unpunished. But I wish you luck, and I know that God will protect you on the road."
  
  Merwal nodded and thanked him, and the others did the same. Saewara took his hand as the rest began to walk off, their horses and donkeys meandering beside them. "You will be safe here?" she asked quietly.
  
  Cynehelm looked back at the city walls and the castle on the hill that rose beyond them. "I do not know," he admitted, "but I have to try to get some justice for Leofwine."
  
  "You are a brave man," Saewara murmured. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but then she glanced over and saw how far her fellows had traveled. She leaned in close, gave him a light kiss on his cheek, and departed, her dark hair flowing behind her, lovely in the wind.
  
  Cynehelm watched them until they were out of sight, covered by a bend in the road. Then he went back to the gate. Merwal's house might still have some secrets, and it was for Merwal's house that he set off, his mind wandering between images of Wulf, chained in the dungeon, and the beautiful heretic.
  
  > In a cell beneath the castle
  Wulf knew he had not been there long but sitting in the cell had already grown intolerable. He was not the kind of man who liked to stay cooped up in one place. He sat on the rough stones, his back against the wall, and remembered riding through the vast hills and dales of the north. He had enjoyed that part of the country, but circumstances had sent him away, just as they had sent him away from every other home he had found. In a way it was a blessing. It was pure luck that he had been near Winchester and had heard the news about Leofwine, pure luck that gave him the chance to avenge his old friend.
  
  Of course, his luck had run a little dry at the moment. Alfred had been true to his word, and the weedy little jailor even claimed that this was the most comfortable cell in the dungeon, but that was not saying much. It was damp and cold and dark, full of cockroaches, and, though they had exchanged a few words when he first arrived, the jailor was not disposed to chatting with his prisoners. Wulf knew there were others in the cells nearby, but they hadn't spoken, either.
  
  When he first heard the voice, he assumed it was a torturer. "Good evening," the man said, his tone polite enough but cold. "We're going to have a conversation."
  
  Wulf peered through the near-darkness, just barely making out the outline of someone standing beyond the bars of his cell. He did not speak, and after a moment the stranger unlocked the door. It opened with a thin whine, and he stepped inside. Still, Wulf did not speak.
  
  "Did you kill Lord Ecgbald?"
  
  Wulf looked up at the man, and, now that he was closer, he realized he was quite young. "No," he said softly. The man didn't look strong enough to be a torturer, but, then again, brains were more important than brawn in that occupation.
  
  "I am Lord Aldric. I trust you have heard of me?" Wulf nodded. "Very good. Leofwine's death left the king without his chief councilor, and Grimbold and Ecgbald have only compounded the problem. Cynehelm and Osfrid are competent men, but neither one is a warrior, and war is coming."
  
  When Wulf kept silent, Aldric continued. "Alfred is a good king, but no man can rule alone. He requires advisors, but now half are dead, and he cannot fully trust the living."
  
  "He should not have trusted them even before Leofwine was murdered," Wulf said. "A king cannot afford to be so naïve."
  
  Aldric smiled, his white teeth visible even in the gloom. "We think alike, but do not mistake Alfred's trust for naivety. He is strong, and he will punish whoever killed those three men with unrelenting justice. That is where you enter the picture."
  
  "I did not kill Ecgbald."
  
  "You will forgive me if I do not take your word for it. You were beside the body while it was still warm, and the guards have not found anyone else who is the slightest bit suspicious. I supervised their search myself."
  
  Wulf sighed. He had not thought they would catch the killer, since they hadn't caught either of the others, but it was still an annoyance. "What sort of assassin waits by the corpse until he's caught?"
  
  "Perhaps one who wished to deflect suspicion. Or perhaps you had just finished killing Ecgbald. Or perhaps you truly are innocent and were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. We can play these games for as long as you wish, but I'd rather discuss other things."
  
  Wulf stayed quiet, and the young ealdorman continued. "I believe you told the jailor you were trying to catch Leofwine's killer? As it happens, I have been trying to do the same. Have you uncovered anything interesting?"
  
  > tell Aldric
  Wulf nodded slowly. "There is a tunnel, a hidden passageway that connects to Leofwine's room. His guards are long gone, but, if they were telling the truth that they saw no one enter his chambers, then the murderer must have come underground."
  
  "And where does the tunnel lead?"
  
  "A merchant's house...I didn't learn the man's name."
  
  Aldric clasped his hands together. "I see. You are right that Leofwine's guards are gone. I tried to question them myself, and I will, assuming they return from scouting alive. But let us discuss Grimbold. Did you learn anything about his murderer?"
  
  Wulf stared up at the young ealdorman. His voice was still cold and polite, but there was a hint of something else there. He couldn't place the tone precisely. "Not really," he said. "I spoke with the cook that probably killed him, but that was a happenstance and anyway, it was before Grimbold died. I have no idea where he might be hiding."
  
  "No one does," Aldric said. "The man was fat, but he's managed to elude all the guards in this city. Is that all you've discovered?"
  
  There was the strange tone again, more obvious this time. Wulf could not tell, but Aldric's eyes were shining very brightly, and he had to try quite hard to keep his voice cold. Wulf thought about the little heretical book and everything else he had seen and done over the past few days. "That's everything important."
  
  "Very well. You're a clever man, you know. Cynehelm was right to rely on you. It's funny, between Osfrid's cook and Cynehelm's clerk, the servants in Winchester are proving quite unreliable."
  
  Wulf scratched his arm. He was sure one of the many bugs in the cell had bitten him, but something about what the young man had just said caught his attention. "Cynehelm's clerk?"
  
  Aldric swallowed, and Wulf realized it was the first time he had been at a loss for words. "The man steals from his master," he said quickly. "It's an open secret in the castle, known to everyone but your employer."
  
  "My associate," Wulf corrected, his eyes fixed on Aldric.
  
  The ealdorman had taken a step back, and then he opened the door again and locked it behind him. "This has been most interesting," he said, his voice once again completely cold and flat. "Thank you for an excellent conversation." Wulf bowed his head a little as he left, but his mind was focused solely on Cynehelm's clerk.
  
  It was hard to tell how much later the jailor and the three guards came to his cell. Wulf had run through his conversation with Aldric so many times and had tried to remember every detail of what he had observed during his search for the murderer, but he kept remembering new details. What was important, he wondered? Which books had Father Leofwine had in his room, were there any obvious weapons in the heretic's house, had the cook said anything suspicious?
  
  The jailor interrupted these musings. "Come on. Don't keep the king waiting." Wulf stood slowly, rubbing his legs, and the weedy man barked again. "I said hurry up. It's bad manners to make the king wait to execute you." He gave an ugly leer and unlocked the door.
  
  The guards made to grab Wulf's arms and drag him out, but he stepped forward willingly. "Execute me?"
  
  The jailor chuckled, but the lead guard shook his head. "Beorn's a little bloodthirsty. King Alfred and his council have assembled to interrogate you. Apparently, you have important information about the murders." Wulf nodded, not entirely reassured, and followed the guards through the dismal dungeon.
  
  They soon left the dimly-lit corridor behind and ascended a narrow staircase to the castle's main floor. "I already spoke to Lord Aldric," he told the lead guard.
  
  "I don't know any more than what I've already said," the man replied, "but the king himself has summoned you. I suppose he probably wants to hear your testimony himself. Of course..."
  
  His voice trailed off, and Wulf stopped to look at him. The guard coughed and continued awkwardly. "Of course, if you are the murderer, then maybe Beorn was right, and Alfred is planning to sentence you to death."
  
  The possibility was alarming, and it drove all thoughts of his conversation with Aldric from Wulf's mind. There would be no way to escape execution, not once he arrived at Alfred's council chambers. He glanced at the guards beside him. Their eyes were facing forwards, and their weapons hung at their sides.
  
  They kept walking, and suddenly Wulf realized that he knew this part of the castle. It was very near the abandoned room with the chimney, the one he had used to sneak into the castle before. The room was in the next corridor, he was sure of it, which meant his best chance to escape was as close as it was going to get. The guards weren't paying much attention, and Wulf was fairly certain he could at least break free and make it to the room.
  
  > Stay
  No, he was outnumbered, and the chimney was tall. He might be able to climb it, but he might be caught or pulled down, and that would hardly help his chances when speaking with the king. There was no guarantee that Alfred even suspected him, and he had always heard that the king was a just man.
  
  They walked in silence for a few more minutes. The castle was emptier than it had been before, and Wulf realized when they passed a window that it was nighttime. There were several guards outside the council chamber, and one of them went inside to inform Alfred that they had arrived. "Don't lie to the king," the lead guard said kindly.
  
  Wulf nodded, and a moment later the other guard reappeared. "I'll take him in."
  
  The room was nondescript. In the middle sat a long table lined with chairs, occupied by Bishop Osfrid, Aldric, and an old scribe, his fingers stained dark with ink and a scroll and quill sitting before him. The king sat at the head of the table, and behind him stood Queen Ealhswith. They all stared as Wulf walked uncertainly inside. He bowed, and the guard led him to a chair a few feet from the table. It had manacles, and the man began to bind him.
  
  "There's no need for that," Alfred said. The guard stopped immediately, but the queen touched her husband's shoulder, a worried look now on her face. "Bring in a few more guards," he instructed, "but I do not believe this man will try to harm us or escape."
  
  The other guards stood on either side of Wulf's chair, and the third took his place near the king. No one spoke for a while, and the queen and councilors alternated between gazing at Wulf and at Alfred. Wulf looked at the king, too, and wondered whether the man's reputation for justice and wisdom was well-earned.
  
  Finally, Alfred spoke, though his words were for the scribe. "Be mindful that you transcribe everything precisely." The man nodded, and then the king turned to Wulf. "I have summoned you here to give testimony about the three murders which have been committed in Winchester. You are a stranger to this city and to me but know this- if you are innocent of evil, then no evil will be done to you. But if you are guilty, or if you conceal the guilt of another, then your punishment will be swift and just. Do not lie, do not tell half-truths, do not evade our questions."
  
  He sighed, and Wulf noticed again how old the king looked. "Now, do I have your word that everything you say tonight will be the truth?"
  
  "I swear," Wulf said quietly, and Alfred nodded. He gestured to Aldric, who stood from the table and paced towards Wulf, his fingers stroking the stubble on his young face.
  
  When he spoke, his voice was as cold and courteous as it had been in the dungeon. "You had a conversation with Bishop Osfrid's cook Siggar at the Bull Tavern, is that correct?"
  
  Wulf nodded. "Cynehelm and I were looking for Leofwine's murderer. I had hoped that the cook might know something about the killing, but he passed out drunk before we could speak about more than trifles. That was the night before Grimbold was poisoned, but the cook didn't mention anything about that."
  
  "My lord," Aldric said to the king, "the innkeeper reported seeing this man speaking with the cook that night, though neither he nor anyone else could remember the details of their conversation."
  
  "I just told you, I was trying to learn about Leofwine's murder, but the fat fool fell asleep..."
  
  "Quiet," the young ealdorman interrupted. "You, like all those interrogated in Wessex, will have a chance to speak freely later. Alfred's law gives you that right. For now, just answer my questions." He paused to collect his thoughts. "So you spoke with the bishop's cook the night before Grimbold was poisoned at the bishop's table."
  
  Osfrid swallowed audibly. "My lord, I..."
  
  "You are not under suspicion," Alfred said. "Please, Aldric, continue." He looked sad, his eyes fixed on Wulf as though trying to divine what was in his mind.
  
  "Gladly, my lord. Earlier today, you were found at Ecgbald's side just moments after he must have been stabbed. Is this true?"
  
  "We came upon his corpse, yes, but I did not kill him!" Wulf said, his temper rising. "We had just spoken..."
  
  "In Cynehelm's office. I am aware. Now, you have admitted to me that you used a secret passageway that connects to this castle. Where does it begin and end?"
  
  Wulf grit his teeth. "It connects Father Leofwine's room with a merchant named Merwal's house. I found it while searching Leofwine's room for clues about his murder, and..."
  
  "I have already told you to refrain from offering explanations," Aldric said. Then he turned to the king. "My lord, the prisoner has admitted to connections to each of the murders. He was found beside Ecgbald, talked with Grimbold's killer hours before the poisoning, and knew of the secret tunnel that almost certainly allowed Leofwine's murderer to enter his chambers. The evidence is circumstantial, but it does suggest a pattern."
  
  Alfred nodded slowly. "The coincidences do require an explanation. I assume you have one to offer?"
  
  "I do, my lord. But first I must ask you- where is Lord Cynehelm?"
  
  The king sighed. "Cynehelm was not in his office or his chambers, and none of my guards or messengers could find him in the castle. I have not seen him since I ordered this man be taken to the dungeon. I would appreciate his counsel in this matter."
  
  "His absence tells as much as his words would, my lord. Cynehelm is missing, and Cynehelm's man has a connection to each murder. My explanation is simple. He ordered the killings, using this stranger as his intermediary. Once he was arrested, Cynehelm fled, hoping to let him take the fall for his crimes. I suppose he hoped to rise in your favor by eliminating his rivals on the council, but now I expect he is defecting to the Danes."
  
  Wulf leapt to his feet. "All lies!" The guard grabbed him at once and forced him back to the chair, where he struggled to rise again. "You ordered Cynehelm to find the traitor, and I worked alongside him!"
  
  "Yes, my lord, you ordered him to find the murderer," Aldric cut in, "but apparently his search was fruitless, and apparently he put his trust in this total stranger, a man who is completely unknown to anyone in Winchester." He stopped and walked back to his seat. "That is all."
  
  Alfred rubbed his forehead, his eyes shut. He opened them when Aldric had finished. "I did task Cynehelm with finding the killer, but he had no success. Your accusations, Aldric, are hard to believe, but I fear that I have been too trusting in the past. I did not believe one of my own councilors could have murdered another, but that was foolishness, and now two more councilors are dead."
  
  "There is great wickedness in the human heart," Queen Ealhswith said, her voice only just audible.
  
  The king nodded. "I cannot discount this explanation, especially as Cynehelm is not here to clear his name. But you," he said, turning to Wulf, "will now have your chance to speak. Tell me the truth, and I promise I will treat you with justice and mercy. Is Aldric right? Did Cynehelm order you to kill Leofwine and Ecgbald and to have the cook kill Grimbold? Or is he innocent? If someone else killed them, I expect you would have found some evidence of the traitor by now."
  
  Every eye in the council chamber fixed on Wulf. He did have an idea of who might have killed the councilors, but it was far from a coherent explanation. Alfred's promise of mercy had begun to sound rather appealing. As grating as a false confession would be in the moment, perhaps it was the best chance to save his life. Surely Cynehelm was the one they really wanted, not his accomplice. He tried to think through the possibilities and weigh what to do, but there was not enough time. He had to speak.
  
  > confess falsely
  When Wulf finally spoke, he was even quieter than usual. "Aldric...has the right of it, my lord. I did not know Cynehelm, not before a few days ago. I have travelled in many lands, however, and have some skill with intrigue and the blade. Cynehelm hired me, first to kill the priest. Then, once that foul deed was done, he had me arrange Grimbold's murder with the cook, thinking to pin the blame on the bishop. I am not from Wessex, my lord, and I did not know any of your councilors before I...before I killed them. He paid me well, and that was all I cared about."
  
  The king leaned in closer. "And Ecgbald?"
  
  "He came to Cynehelm's office, as I said, and spoke with the ealdorman. I suppose Cynehelm thought Ecgbald was on to him, so, as soon as he had left, he sent me to kill him. He tagged along himself to keep me from abandoning him, as by this time I knew he would be caught."
  
  "You knew?" Alfred asked.
  
  Wulf took a deep breath. "He was sloppy, my lord. A moment's conversation with the man showed his guilt, though he thought himself very clever. I guess he thought he was being clever when he fled the city and left me rotting in the dungeon." He paused, looking down. "I can only beg my lord for mercy on me, a poor sinner caught in evil deeds."
  
  The king looked about to speak, but then Ealhswith leaned down to whisper something in his ear. She had gone completely white, and Wulf could see her fingers twitching, despite her attempts to hold them still.
  
  Alfred nodded at her words, then stood up with a sigh. "I thank you for your honesty. You have asked for mercy, and my lady wife has argued that you should not receive it. She was very close to Leofwine, and your brutal murder of the old priest has hurt her, too. She has been wracked by convulsions and fits, unable to eat or sleep since you killed him."
  
  The queen stared at Wulf, her eyes wild, and he realized she was praying. Alfred continued, and his voice grew colder and colder as his wife's quiet, desperate words filled the air. "You are not the ultimate cause of my three councilors' deaths, but you have admitted to killing them all the same. Wherever he has fled, Cynehelm will not escape justice, either: my own and God's. I will, however, give you the small mercy of a quick execution. Therefore, it is my judgement that you be taken from this place and hanged by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul."
  
  Wulf leapt from his chair at once, but the two guards grabbed hold of his immediately and the third ran forward to help. They forced him back to the door, where half a dozen more joined in their attempts to restrain him. It could not end like this; Wulf was sure of that. He had survived too much to be killed for crimes he did not commit at the whispering insistence of a woman. "Lies!" he shouted, over and over again as he struggled, but no one in the council chamber paid him much attention. He saw the scribe writing frantically, and Aldric and Alfred looked at him as they dragged him away, the former with a perfectly calm, expressionless face and the latter just looking tired.
  
  He made such a fuss that one of the guards eventually beat him over the head with the pommel of his sword, knocking him out. Then they carried him through the castle and to a little copse of trees that stood beside it. Sometimes the king and queen walked in the woods together. It was a peaceful spot, especially in the dead of night.
  
  There was no pomp or fanfare for this execution, only a plain rope and a sturdy branch. Wulf regained his senses just as they slipped the noose over his head, and he fought wildly as the team of guards pulled the rope. It was no use, however, and they lifted him slowly into the air, first only an inch, his feet still grazing the grass, and then higher. There was a priest, thought Wulf did not notice him, who said something in a officious tone and then walked very quickly away as his strangled cries echoed over the city. He kicked and writhed, but he could not stop the awful process, and within two minutes he was dead. They let him hang for a while longer, his tattered black cloak waving slowly in the wind.