The king isn’t present. He’s not jostling with the thanes. He’s not directing the woodsmen where to place the Yule log. He’s nowhere near his hall. I know he isn’t with the queen. In fact, since she told him of her child, he avoids her. The king’s absence is like a palpable, living thing—an abandoned heart ripped from its body.
I sense this is the time. He is ready to turn to God.
I make my way around men and animals to the king’s chamber. The entry stands open. I peer in to see King Edwin staring into the central fire. He sits on a bench, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He looks small and unsettled.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.