When Asculf rode over to Hernhill, he met someone who left an indelible mark on him. His trip was to discover as much as possible about apple-growing in the kingdom. The delicious fruit he had tasted at Canterbury market came from the land around the small settlement. A remarkable, snowy-haired head, the ceorl’s frame frail with age, contained a lively and erudite mind. In truth, he wasn’t a ceorl, nor was he the thegn that his title suggested, as he proudly recounted to the ealdorman.
“Everyone around here knows me as Thegn Osward, Ealdorman, and it is better this way, for I am in the winter of my life and wish to pass the time remaining to me in serenity. What they do not know, or even suspect, is that I am of royal blood. Osward is a name I assumed. My father, whom I never knew, was ex
