And Willibald showed me the magic fish.

A delegation waited at my hall. Sixteen men had come from Alfred’s capital at Wintanceaster and among them were no less than five priests. Two, like Willibald, came from Wessex, and the other pair were Mercians who had apparently settled in East Anglia. I knew them both, though I had not recognised them at first. They were twins, Ceolnoth and Ceolberht who, some thirty years before, had been hostages with me in Mercia. We had been children captured by the Danes, a fate I had welcomed and the twins had hated. They were close to forty years old now, two identical priests with stocky builds, round faces and greying beards. ‘We have watched your progress,’ one of them said.

‘With admiration,’ the other finished. I had not been able to tell them apart when they were children, and still could not. They finished each other’s sentences.

‘Reluctant,’ one said.

‘Admiration,’ his twin said.

‘Reluctant?’ I asked in an unfriendly tone.

‘It is known that Alfred is disappointed,’

‘That you eschew the true faith, but…’

‘We pray for you daily!’

The remaining pair of priests, both West Saxons, were Alfred’s men. They had helped compile his code of laws and it appeared they had come to advise me. The remaining eleven men were warriors, five from East Anglia and six from Wessex, who had guarded the priests on their travels.

And they had brought the magic fish.

‘King Eohric,’ Ceolnoth or Ceolberht said.

‘Wishes an alliance with Wessex,’ the other twin finished.

‘And with Mercia!’

‘The Christian kingdoms, you understand.’