The road to Aachen carried young Ælfred through scenic vistas and small towns he had only heard of in tales from visiting Cardinals, or clerics whose robes still carried the path like breadflour on the baker’s waist-apron.  His gaze rarely strayed from the windows of the coach when he was not riding atop, or mounted on horseback with the fifty or so of the Guard.  He traveled within the Royal Coach beside the King and a thegn or two when asked, which was often after his episode of fits at their departure from Cysoing.  The concerned King wanted to keep a close eye on his young prince, but he brushed off notions of poisons or spells from the Surgeon of Fruili, pressing the party to move out less than an hour after the boy had recovered and was sitting upright. 

On one particul...

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