The next evening Father Anthony once again continued the inquisition of Brother Paul, looking for more stories.
"So, Paul... did you live as a traveller, a beggar, all those years since Prince Alfred's rebellion was crushed... until you came here?
"No, I did not. I began to work as a tutor in Wigorn during the 40's. Lord Leofwine hired me from there, and I spent some time in Mercia, until Earl Tostig hired me to tudor his son. Tostig'sson was a good pupil, and we got along famously. I spent many years working for Earl Tostig, right up until Stamford Bridge. In 1066, it all came to a crashing end, like everything else in the land."
"Tostig'sson was Godwine's grandson."
"Wasn't he killed at Stamford Bridge?"
"Yes. So was his father."
"You weren't there were you?"
"Yes. I was."
"What was Earl Tostig doing there? I thought he was in exile?"
"Yes, he had been in exile. We all had."
Old Paul wrung his hands and saw it all in his mind's eye once again. "You young fellows won't know this yet, but you middle-aged ones know that twenty years ago was like last week. It just wasn't a long time ago at all. To me, it was yesterday. It all happened yesterday."
"So, tell us about it, Paul."
"Well, it all started during Advent, at the end of 1065... I wasn't there, but my son, Edmund, told me about it...
"Yes. Edmund was eleven years old at the time. I had gotten him a job in Earl Harold's kitchen..."
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