Guthrum watched as his grandson moved to the far end of the longhouse and began conversation with a young Dane who had entered. He took a father's pleasure in his grandson and smiled internally.

Ragnar had inherited his grandfather's impetuous nature, and Guthrum did not consider this to be a bad thing by any means. Was it not impulse that had wrested this land from the Angli and the Seaxa? Was it not impulse that made the Danes feared throughout the World? Was there any corner of the known World that did not tremble at the very sight of their ships?

When he reflected upon it, and he reflected more upon the subject as the winters grew colder and the lines on his face deepened, Guthrum wondered why his own son, Erik, seemed lacking in this regard. Erik was by nature cautious and conservative, Guthrum would not venture further than that. In sooth, there was some wisdom in exercising care, but only to the extent that such care promoted conquest. At times, Guthrum feared that Erik eschewed conquest and was utterly content to hold that which he had.

While this quality might be admirable in a farmer, Guthrum considered it fatal for a King. Still, Erik was his son and heir. Better to develop those qualities Erik lacked while there was still time.

"Einarr, tell me of this message from Alfred." Guthrum finally said.

"He invites you to his capital for the purpose of formalizing a treaty defining the new borders." Einarr said.

Guthrum laughed bittrely. "Yes, I am sure Alfred wishes to memorialize our loss of London during my absence. How does he address me?"

"As his brother in Christ."

Guthrum roared with laughter. "It chafes him so, does it not? How he yearns to be King of all he surveys before he is food for worms. Here, Einarr, let us dictate a proper response to this King of monks."

Guthrum dictated as two scribes wrote feverishly.