In the shadows of the bell tower corridor stood two women and a man. The Ladies Ethelfrith and Saethryd were talking in whispers with the assassin, Eumer, when the sound of footsteps was heard

"There's someone approaching, Eumer. Hide yourself, quickly. Saethryd, kiss me full on the mouth, and make it a very passionate kiss." Ethelfrith said as she clasped Saethryd.

Two men approached, and the taller of them, Swein, spoke first, his voice soft and gentle. He motioned to Gyrth to move to position himself behind Ethelfrith while he looked into the face of Saethryd.

"I see you are sharing intimacy once more, ladies," Swein said sarcastically, noticing how the women looked, their faked surprised looks plainly obvious as they gazed back at their unexpected visitors.

"You take care to see we are alone often, Swein. Gyrth, you look pensive. Pray, what is with you this lamentable night?" Ethelfrith replied. Her gaze held a confused look; she wondered if the brothers wished to use them for their sexual gratification, and she was willing to appease their desires.

Gyrth was hesitant about the work that he was soon to see completed. He knew it had to be done, and his personal feelings for this sickening business were now to be put aside.

"Your lord and master must pay you well; does he not?" Gyrth asked. His tone had become rough, sharp and low-pitched. He felt his heart thumping, and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. The killing of these two women was to be now or never.

"He does, my lord?" Saethryd replied looking perplexed at the question.

The brothers stepped forward, each toward their chosen female. Swein walked around to Ethelfrith's back, placing one hand on her shoulder. She turned around, and the two women were now back to back, each looking at the man before her.

"Your master will, no doubt, be mindful of your loss to him," Gyrth said coldly, as his razor-sharp scramseax sliced into the gut of Saethryd.

Simultaneously, Swein pushed his blade into Ethelfrith. Both of the females' faces looked in shock and horror into the eyes of their dispatchers, as they collapsed, their lifeblood streaming from under their clothing and spilling to the floor. The gushing sound of blood pumping and flooding the corridor mingled with the last choking moans of two contemptible spies. No more would they take the coin of William, Duke of Normandy.

Something caught Swein's eyes-- in the moonlight, the glint of a blade's movement triggered an instant reaction. His arm reached out to pull a shadowy figirre from behind a pillar, and with one swift and decisive action, a man dropped to the floor gurgling and coughing. Swein's scramsax had severed the throat of the assassin. Firmer.

The man shuddered violently, then fell still, his blood no longer pumping its life-giving qualities to a man so deserving of death.

Gyrth stood looking on; stunned by what he'd just witnessed; his chin dropped. He turned to look at his brother, and stuttered.

"Mm... my God... he was going to kill you!"

Swein bent down to look at the face of the man whose life he'd just taken. He seemed to recognize the face, but from where, he couldn't recall.

"I know this man, Swein. His name was Eumer, and he was with Tostig's entourage."

Swein once more bent down to take a closer look at the face. The moonlight gave him a clear look at the man. He then noticed the man's hose and feet were bloodstained, too. Swein stood upright and took a kick at the face of the corpse. Alive or dead, he didn't much care.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Swein? For the love of Mary, the man is dead!"

Swein swung himself aroimd to face his brother, the anger dearly showing upon his face.

"This is the bastard who mirrdered Osfrid. What's more, he's the man who tried to kill Harold." Swein pointed to the congealed blood on Eumer's hose and feet.

Gyrth bent down, looked closely, and saw clearly that the blood was, indeed, as Swein had said. It was copious, congealed and was old, but no more than a few hours.

"Gyrth, take their gold and jewelry, and then we'll throw them in the river. This killing must look as if it were by robbers. Nothing of theirs must be found on our persons. We must wash our blades, too."

Gyrth shook his head and held tightly onto Swein's arm.

"No, Swein! I have a better idea. That bastard over there has solved all our problems for us. He killed the women-- we killed him after we caught him robbing them. It's much simpler that way. What's more, we've found Osfrid's killer, too. We'd better see that Harold is informed as to what has occirrred here. Leave the details to me."

Swein nodded his agreement and smiled. "You've a good head upon you, Gyrth. I think that it's safe to assume that we can have the guards come and take this meat away. I'm sure that Harold will temper his sadness with the knowledge that we have the killer of Osfrid, and his own attempted assassin, too. Come on; we've work to do.

Swein turned around and held his brother's arm. "We had to do what we had to do, and that's the end of it, Gyrth-- don't forget that."

"Yes, I know, but I really have to be ready to kill. In battle, you're in a frame of mind to do such things. I pray I never have to do such a thing again."

"Sometimes, there's no other way or course of action. To take the lives of others in such a way as we've done this morning is not to my liking, either. These women would have seen our land overrun with a foreign lord and our people put to slavery. They had no qualms about our feelings, beloved brother. Their end was justified, of that I have no doubt. As for that bastard lying down there, well, some lessons have been learned from our actions. He was coming back for another try. He must have been paid very well." Swein bent down and collected the jeweled belongings of the females, then placed them inside Eumer's jerkin.

"Once more, you've shown great courage and justification, Swein. I'll always be mindful that your heart and love for your country are uppermost. What you've done is out of love for all Saxons of this nation. A mirrderer is not what you are. You're a good man. You can sleep peacefully in your bed, knowing that your actions are that of a loyal servant of England."

As they entered the quarters of the palace guards, Swein gave orders that the three bodies be brought down from the tower. The body of Eumer was to be brought to the stables, ready for Harold to see and for Fredrick to identify.

"Gyrth, like you, I need to rest a while. Later on this morning we've to attend Edward's funeral. I shall first go to see Brithnoth and inform him of our discovery. Sleep well, my brother."

"You, too, Swein." The brothers moved off in opposite directions, Gyrth to sleep, and Swein to inform the aged warrior, Brithnoth, of their adventure.

Wulfnoth stood beside Harold. For a moment, he hesitated. I have to find out, " he thought.

"Are you going to allow Tostig to stay? Wulfnoth asked with a puzzled look.

"If Tostig can demonstrate to me that he can behave himself, I will reconsider. Look, Wulfnoth, Tostig is foolish beyond belief. He can't keep his private parts inside his leggings. He upsets everyone he deals with and never listens to reason. You saw how he reacted while he was in the king's bedchamber."

"Oh, I see." Wulfnoth said.

Harold noticed his brother's disappointment. His eyes narrowed, as he gripped, tightly, his little brother's arm. "So, if you behave like Tostig, you may find yourself in exile, too. You're a good boy, well educated. You have a fresh mind, and values of which our father would be proud. Now, if you don't mind, Wulfnoth, I'm off to my bed. I'll see you in the morning. Oh, I almost forgot, you'd better, at first light, go with the guards, and let Tostig out. After the coronation, I want him to be escorted to Dover. Is that clear, Wulfnoth? Don't you dare cross me, or you'll join him. For now, I need to sleep, and it's been an exhausting night."

"Yes, Harold, I understand. A good night's sleep to you," replied Wulfnoth sheepishly. Harold was feeling jaded, and retired to his bedchamber.

Edith Swanneck, dressed in her heavily embroidered nightgown, had been listening to the meeting from a location hidden from view. As she heard Harold approach, she slid back into bed and awaited him. Harold entered the bedchamber to find Edith looking longingly at him.

"You will be king tomorrow." She said resignedly. "Tell me; how do you feel, my beloved?"

"I understand that you've been listening in to the Witan's Gemot, Edith," he said, with a mild tone of irritation in his voice. He sat on the side of the bed and stroked her hair, admiring its sheen in the candlelight.

Edith rose from the bed and closed the shutters in the leaded glass window niche.

"Yes, of course, what woman wouldn't when she senses her man is about to become king?" She moved to the bed and dropped her gown, unveiling her beautiful breasts and lithe body. She stood still for a moment, eager for his look, and then slipped into bed, fanning her hair on the pillow provocatively.

Harold undressed, and sliding between the covers, felt the warmth of Edith's nakedness against his own, snuggled his body against hers, and felt her lips gently kissing his cheek.

"Your pleasure, my king?" Edith's finger glided gently over her man's muscular body.

"You know, I should tan your hide for your insolence, woman." Tired as he was, he could never resist the temptation of Edith's passionate embrace and lovemaking, until at last they both fell, exhausted, into a deep sleep.

The monks struck the bells of London's Westminster Abbey to signal the hour of three. By the light of candles and torches, four men began to take up the stones under the high altar. They were watched over by the abbey's monks, as they worked through the cold night.

"I don't like this one bit, Edmund, I really don't. It's not natural. I mean, our old king is dead, and Earl Harold wants to be crowned the same day as we put Edward into God's earth. It's just not right; I tell you." Giso said as he readjusted his linen tunic and pulled his woolen scarf a little tighter to help keep out the night's chilly air.

"Just get on with your job, Giso. We just do as we're told. The new king can do what he likes. In any case, the archbishop ordered this job done now. Why? It's so that in the afternoon you can have a new king. Don't ask me why this should be the case, but they must have their reasons, and it's not for men like us to ask. You tell him, Guthorn. You're the one with the brains around here."

Guthorn scratched the back of his head. "Well, I was told-- and this information goes no further, mark you. There is to be a war with the bastard, Duke William. Now, I don't know the truth of it, but if you ask me, we'll just wait and see. If it's true, then I suggest we all collect our families and clear off to Ireland. A good living is to be made there; they tell me." He leaned on his pick and wiped his brow.

"Ireland! It's full of Danes. No law-abiding citizen can walk the street without being robbed of what little he has, Guthorn. That's what I heard. What have you to say to that, Edmund?"

Edmund dug deeper, trying to keep out of the discussion. He hated being asked for his opinion. He never really had one, just his own thoughts on what he heard others say. He looked above him and saw his companions chatting away, leaning idly against digging implements. He was feeling rather annoyed at his co-workers inactivity, but felt it better to say nothing.

"War or no war, I still say it's not right. In any case, I don't like Earl Harold. He's too quick to jump into the old king's shoes. I think Queen Edith should rule over us; she's a good woman," Giso said with a smug look upon his face.

"Anyway, as much as that, I say we just keep digging until we get this grave deep enough for the old king's corpse; otherwise, we will be in big trouble with Stigand; do you hear?" Guthorn said as he noticed the glare in Edmund's eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with Harold as our new king; he's been good to the shires. He saw to it that Edward had Earl Tostig exiled, and he was his own brother, too. Many would have let Tostig carry on his wicked ways without a care. Harold never overtaxed us; he was always fair about that. No, Harold will make a fine king; I'm sure of that." Giso looked at Guthorn, then raising his hand and with his finger pointing menacingly, he growled the words he'd never thought he would ever utter aloud to his comrades.

"I don't like this talk of running away to Ireland, Guthorn; it smells of cowardice, if you ask me. If that bastard, William, comes here, we'll stand with our brothers and fight with our king, no matter. We'll do it for our king and our country, and succeed or die together, like men. If the new king is prepared to stand and fight, then so should we. It's as simple as that. It's not our king who will pick a fight, but it's the bloody foreigners. This is our land, and it has nothing to do with Normandy."

"Well, if you two have finished, I want to complete this task and get some bloody sleep. So if you don't mind giving me a moment of your time." The men nodded toward each other and set to work, feeling sheepish at being admonished by Edmund's curt remark.