"Alfred the king to his cousin Ranald Vemundsson, greeting. Odda the ealdorman of Devon, and one Godred, have spoken to me of yourself--one telling of help given freely and without question of reward or bargain made, and the other of certain plain words spoken this morning. Now I would fain see you, and since the said Godred seems to doubt if you will come to me, I ask it under my own hand thus. For I have thanks to give both to you and your men, and also would ask you somewhat which it is my hope that you will not refuse me. Therefore, my cousin, I would ask you to come with our ealdorman tomorrow and hear all I would say." Then Neot said, "That is all. I think you will not refuse so kindly an invitation. The writing is the king's own, and here is his name at the end." So he showed it me. The letter was better written than the name, as it seemed to me. "I will take your word for it," I said, laughing as I looked; "but it is a kindly letter, and I will surely come." "Ay; he has written to you as to an equal," Odda said. "That is so. Now I would have the good king know that I am not that; I am but a sea king. Maybe he thinks that I shall be a good ally, and makes more of my power than should be. I told Godred the thane as plainly as I could what I was, this morning." "Why, then," said Neot, smiling, "Godred has told the king, no doubt." "I hope he has," I answered, "but I doubt it. Nevertheless it is easy to tell the king myself when I see him." After that we talked about other matters, and it became plain that this Neot was a wonderfully wise man, and, as I thought, a holy one in truth, as they called him. There is that about such an one that cannot be mistaken. Harek sang for us, and pleased all, and into his song came, as one might suppose, a good deal about the Asir. And then Neot began to ask me a good deal about the old gods, as he called them. I told him what I knew, which was little enough maybe, and so said that Harek knew all about them, and that he should rather ask him. He did not care to do that, but asked me plainly if I were a Christian. "How should I be?" I said. "Odda is the first Christian man I have spoken with, to my knowledge. So, if I were likely to leave my own faith, I have not so much as heard of another." "So you are no hater of Christians?" he said. "Surely not. Why should I be? I never thought of the matter." Then he said: "Herein you Norsemen are not like the Danes, who hate our faith, and slay our priests because of their hatred." "More likely because Christian means Saxon to them, or else because you have slain them as heathens. Northmen do not trouble about another nation's faith so long as their own is not interfered with. Why should they? Each country has its own ways in this as in other matters."