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Prologue

All Hallows' Eve, 1529

With almost ludicrous care the old man carried the pitcher of beer across the sunlit room toward the still older man who reclined propped up in a bed by theA smear of dried mud was caked on the foot of the bed

'Here you are, Sire,' he said, pouring the black liquid into the earthenware cup which the old king had picked up from the table beside the bed

The king raised the cup to his lips and sniffed it 'Ah,' he breathed 'A potent batch this ti'

The otherto one side a rusty lance head that had lain next to the cup 'It's a few ounces short,' he confessed 'He sneaked down here Easter evening and stole a cupful'

The king took a sip, and closed his eyes rapturously 'Ah, that is good beer' He opened his eyes and glanced at the other old e his considered, that we can honestly grudge him it

Book One

'No familiar shapes

Rees of trees,

Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;

But huge and hty forms, that do not live

Like living h the mind

By day, and were a trouble to my dreams'

William Wordsworth