The Edge of Light Read Free Page B

white-looking.
    But Ethelwulf was not angry. “Your brother has ever reminded me of my own father,” he said in reply, looking not at his sons but at the golden mead in the gold-engraved cup he held. “He looks like my father, and he is like him in character as well. He was a hard man, Egbert of Wessex, and ruthless. But none can deny that he was a great king,”
    Alfred could not understand. “But, Father … if Ethelbald is bad, how can he be like Grandfather, who was a great king?”
    “I have never said Ethelbald is bad, Alfred,” Ethelwulf answered. “He is ambitious. So was my father. So was Cerdic, the first king of our line, and Ceawlin, and Ine … all the great kings of Wessex.” He looked from Alfred to Ethelbert and then to Ethelred. “Ethelbald is perhaps not the king I would choose if we were at peace. Peace demands virtues he does not possess. But we are not at peace, and I think he is the man to deal with the Danes. He fought with me at Aclea, remember. I have seen Ethelbald in battle, and there can be no doubt that he is a warrior.”
    Ethelbert made a movement as if he would protest, but the king held up his hand. “I do this for the kingdom,” Ethelwulf said. “Remember that, my sons, if ever you come to rule. A true king is one who ever sets the good of the kingdom above his own personal ambition.”
    “Ethelbald will never do that,” said Ethelred bitterly.
    Alfred took a step closer to Ethelred and looked, wide-eyed, into his brother’s face.
    “Perhaps not,” Ethelwulf answered his son. “But I am yet the sworn and consecrated king, and that is what I intend to do. I will not have this country torn apart by civil war.”
    “There will be no war, Father.” Ethelbert dropped to his knees and clutched his father’s arm in his passion. We will drive him out, him and all his west-country followers!” The blue eyes he raised to Ethelwulf were fiercely bright.
    “No, Ethelbert.” Alfred had never heard his father speak in such a voice. He took another step closer to Ethelred.
    “I am determined,” the old king continued slowly and with emphasis. “I shall resign the kingdom to Ethelbald. But I have also made an agreement with him that when I die, you are to reign after me in Kent. And if he should die and leave no son old enough to take up the rule, the whole of the kingdom will pass to you. So rest assured, Ethelbert, that I have protected your interests in this matter. Your interests and those of your brothers. The rule of Wessex in this time of peril! must never be given into the keeping of a child.” Now the king looked from one face to the other, making certain he had their absolute attention. “You are to succeed each other, should the necessity arise,” he said. “That I will ask all of you to swear.”
    Ethelbert slowly straightened to his feet and Alfred saw that his expression had altered. Why, Alfred thought, suddenly enlightened, Ethelbert is afraid for his own inheritance! That is why he is so opposed to giving Ethelbald the rule.
    “I see that I cannot dissuade you,” Ethelbert said.
    “You cannot, my son.”
    A small silence fell. Alfred lowered his eyes and stared at the brown wool of his tunic. Ethelred placed a warm, reassuring hand upon his shoulder and he heard his father say, “All will be well, my sons. I promise you, all will be well.”

    The council of West Saxon nobles, the witan, met the following morning at the request of the king. The kings of Wessex had never been autocrats and had always ruled with the guidance of the witan. Yet, as all men knew, some kings were more dominant than others. Ethelwulf had ever been a man willing to submit his plans to the council of ealdormen and thanes and bishops of the West Saxon nobility.
    But this day it was Ethelwulf who prevailed.
    The reasons were two-fold, as Ethelred tried to explain to Alfred after the meeting of the witan, the witenagemot, had broken up. First, Ethelbald was the prince who was most