HIGH on the bluff overlooking the northern Wessex shore, a north wind streamed its way through Aelswith’s hair. The falling sun illuminated her face with its bright orange hue as she read from her brother’s letter, his journals and prayed the prayers he had once written on the very place she now stood. She held the pages down as a gust of wind tried to turn them. She could hear his voice in her head as she read the words over and over again. She felt that this was the closest she could get to him this side of Heaven. But she would have to leave soon.
She heard a horse ride up behind her. It was her father.
“Aethelhelm said you had come here,” the king said.
“Yes, Father,” she replied with a bright smile. “I was just reading his journal.”
The king dismounted his horse and walked up beside her. They looked out at the ocean. “Your brother was a wise man. He had much insight.”
She dropped her head. “He would have made a great king.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “Yes, he would have.”
“Why, Father?” she asked, turning her head to look at his face. “Why did he do it?”
“He loved you, Aelswith, like no other. He was convinced that one day you would be queen, and,” the king paused to look down, “and that your child would need a mother.” He turned back to see her reaction, which at the very least was one of amazement.
“But…how…how did he…?” she stammered.
“I did not believe him at first, but the evening of the naval battle off of Southampton he had a dream. In that dream, a man or an angel, he did not know, appeared to him and told him that you had conceived. He told him that you would be queen and that your child would be king after you. He told him to fear not, and when the proper time came he would receive the courage to make a great sacrifice. And so he did.”
Aelswith sat there staring down at her hands. She shook her head and then looked up at the sky. She imagined herself standing before God seated on the Great Throne. She squinted her eyes, and as she did, a tear fell upon her cheek. It softly streamed its way down to her chin. She whispered, “Why?” She dropped her head and quietly cried. She was tired of crying, but she could not help it. Such grace she had never experienced before. The king extended his arm and she leaned over to place her head on his shoulder. She pictured her brother in her mind. “Remember me,” he said with a soft smile. She was determined to do that.
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