This scene occurs at the heart of the novel. Guthrum of Kopen-Haagen, King of the Danes, has just received a startling proposal from England's scholar-king, Alfred the Great. Alfred has offered terms of peace that are contingent upon Guthrum's conversion to Christianity. Surprised by the proposition and skeptical regarding the Englishman's faith, Guthrum is nevertheless willing to consider what Alfred's priest has to say.

        The great room had grown quiet. Ruby rays from the recumbent sun streamed through tall windows on the western side of the hall, etching a delicate pattern upon the room's interior. A grid work of shadows - interspersed with jagged, diamantine shards of light - slid like quicksilver across the robe and face of the man who slowly rose to speak.
        "I will tell you a story;" he said, "it is a story unlike any other. It is a tale filled with power...true power...power for good, not for evil. It holds the power of truth, and the might to change lives."
        The cloaked and hooded man who stood before them was speaking at Guthrum's request. He spoke carefully, addressing the gathering in perfect, uninflected Royal Danish.
        The King of the Danes had agreed to hear the Christian proposition in detail, but had not, by any means, agreed to become a Christian. He was not certain of what a conversion entailed, but was curious to hear the man out. This ought to be good, he reflected grimly as the monk continued to speak.
        "The beauty and order of the heavens above us, and of the earth beneath our feet, show a level of craftsmanship that far exceeds the finest work of the most talented human artisan. All humanity combined could not cobble a mouse together, much less the earth, sky, and sea."
        The holy man paused and gazed around the room, his face half hidden in the heavy folds of the hood. He was a square jawed, muscular man. He's not the wizardly type, Guthrum thought, but he looks like he'd be handy with a sword.
        "In their hunger to understand creation, and in an attempt to influence the power that made the universe, our fathers created stories, inventing the gods of the northern nations. In doing this they gave these gods traits such as they themselves may have shared, and gave them epic stories of struggle and strife, creating a heroic literature in song: the songs of the gods of the North.
        "In the ancient kingdoms of Greece and Rome, the people also invented such gods. In these nations, for political reasons, the gods and stories of the different cities were combined into pantheons. In this manner the leaders tried to unite the nation spiritually, accommodating the local gods by giving them a place in a national family of gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines.
        "In the sacred literature of these nations, their gods behaved much as if we would, if we had been given god-like power. In short, they tended to behave badly."
        Julian burst out laughing, but stifled himself instantly as heads turned his way. How true, he mused, smiling at the monk apologetically, give mortals the power of gods, and we would pollute the heavens. Surprisingly, the monk smiled back at him brightly, then turned away.
        "As the nations established their political pantheons, one people stood separate from the rest. From the ancient times unto today, the divine stories of that nation have been unlike those found anywhere else on earth. That nation is called Israel.
        "Israel, alone among all of the nations of the earth, was chosen by the great Creator of the universe as a distinct people separated unto himself. He did this not by permission of men, but by his own choice, and for his own good reasons.
        "By means of holy prophets and seers, men and women who were renowned for their wisdom in the ancient days, the Creator of all was directly involved with the people of the tribes of Israel. By mighty signs and fearful wonders the Mighty God revealed his power unto his people, proving to them beyond a doubt that the Maker of the universe was dealing with them. His prophets told the nation that one day another prophet would come, a Deliverer who would save the people from the enemies. This Savior would rule the nation forever."
        "You speak of signs and wonders that were shown to these people," asked Guthrum, "what were these signs, and how do we know that these things are true?"
        "The signs and wonders were spectacular and awe inspiring. When the nation of Israel was enslaved by the Egyptians, the most powerful nation on earth, God sent a man named Moses to save his people Israel. When the pharaoh of Egypt denied freedom to the people of Israel, Moses declared plagues upon them. During each plague Pharaoh pledged to release the Israelites, and after each plague ended he changed his mind.
        "The final plague was that God's spirit messenger would kill all firstborn sons in Egypt. The Israelites were told by Moses to kill a lamb and to place the blood above their doors and on their door posts. After the Israelites applied the blood, the firstborn sons of the Egyptians were all slain, but Israel was spared: not a male died among them, for the spirit messenger that was sent to kill the firstborn of every household saw the blood of the lamb, and passed over the Israelites' houses.
        "As for your other question: whether this story is true is for each man to judge in his own heart. I know, however, that if anyone asks God in prayer whether this story is true, God Himself will show that person. For this I have learned of the God of Israel: He is good.
        "Many promises were made to Israel that they would be saved from their enemies, and from death itself. These promises are found in the holy scrolls of the God of Israel, of the law and the prophets, which have been preserved for millennia.
        "All of the promises to Israel were to be fulfilled by God's chosen Deliverer, called the Messiah, the Anointed One. Jesus of Nazareth was, and is, that man. He is the Christ, the Savior of Israel and of the world, and for his sake we bear the name "Christian."
        "You say that this Jesus was a man. What kind of man was he?" Guthrum asked.
        "He was a carpenter."
        "A carpenter?"
        "Yes, O king. God, having all things and knowing all things, did not need to clothe himself in earthly splendor. The invisible God was manifest on earth in the person of Christ, a lowly carpenter. Though he owned all things, he took on the form of a servant. In so doing, he showed that the highest calling is not to rule men, but to serve God.
        "In Christ, God gave his all to save all who believe in Him. In such a manner has the great God in his kindness always blessed us, the just and unjust alike, giving us rain and sun and causing the grain to grow. But now God, wanting to save all of humanity, has commanded that all men hear his Son. Jesus has been ordained as the only door into heaven, and the only Way unto eternal life."
        "Eternal life?"
        "Yes, eternal life."
        "How could a man expect to gain such a thing?"
        "By the power and goodness of God, O king. When men were gathered together without a cause against the Christ, God allowed them to murder his Son by nailing Him to a cross, even though He was totally innocent of all wrongdoing. But death could not hold the Prince of Life. Jesus rose from the dead and visited his followers, showing His unlimited power and keeping the promise that he would rise again on the third day. The murder of God's Son was allowed to occur because, wrapped up in it's resolution, was God's solution to the problem of justice, and the very key to eternal life.
        "You know yourself, O King, how difficult it is to administer justice: to give to justice to a murdered man's wife, the king must make a widow of the murderer's wife, doubling the misery of the innocent. But in Christ Jesus is the perfect solution revealed; in Him God's mercy and justice are reconciled. For out of a pure and guileless love, Jesus willingly took on the judgment of all who will believe in Him, delivering them forever from the power of death. He is the true Lamb of God, and when His blood is applied to the doors of our hearts, the angels of judgment pass over, and spare us. And, as he was resurrected, so will his believers be when he returns. For he is returning at the end of this present age: to judge the world, and to gather his own unto himself."
        "Look. I am a practical man, but I am no fool," Guthrum replied thoughtfully, "I know that this makes sense, metaphysically speaking... if God is just, he must punish the unjust... yet, if he is totally, perfectly good, who would not be unjust when compared to him? This qualifies us all for punishment... and for exile from his company. And it's logical that a kind and merciful God would provide a way for us to avoid this type of just punishment... a way that would satisfy the need for justice while showing us mercy.
        "But I need more than that. I need some proof...that's all I say. And I'm willing to pray for this proof. In fact, while you were speaking I prayed to this Jesus, this Son of God that you speak of, and I asked him for a sign. I asked him, if he could hear me, to show me the truth about these things. If he is truly the Son of God, he heard my prayer, and will give me what I asked for."
        The holy man smiled at his words. For a moment he almost looked youthful, showing a spontaneous happiness that belied his years.
        "God is very kind, King Guthrum," the man answered, "He heard your prayer when you asked him to show you the truth. In fact, he had prepared a powerful sign for you before you ever came to this island." The robed man paused and looked around the room, which was now lit by a multitude of candles, and by the fire roaring in the massive fireplace.
        "Do you remember a young man who once lived in the royal city of Denmark? A man named Tagin?" The king was taken aback. How does he know about Tagin? He cleared his throat and leaned forward.
        "Yes, of course I remember him. I was a young boy when he lived in my city: younger than him by several years. Tagin was mad: terribly, pitifully mad. He was the teenage son of a minor Lord, and one day he simply went berserk. Tagin the Lost we called him.
        "What do you remember about him?"
        "Oh, I recall him quite clearly," Guthrum answered, surprised by the mention of Tagin but intrigued by the sudden introduction of such a curious subject. "He used to walk the streets late at night with a dead look in his eyes, accompanied by his great mastiff...his hair askew; he couldn't speak clearly...I was very young then, and I was a clever sneak. I often was out late at night. My friends and I crept about, hoping not to encounter Tagin because of the late hour and our dread of his piteous madness.
        "I don't know where you heard about him, but I must admit that he made quite an impression on me. The other children mocked him, but I pitied him. I would even talk with him sometimes during the day as he sat by the fish gate, hanging his head in woe and mumbling incomprehensible things. He seemed desperately glad to have someone to talk to, but his words made no sense...his mind was totally gone...it was quite pathetic.
        "He lived like that among us for years, and then one day, suddenly, he was gone. Nobody knew where he had gone, or how he had managed to leave us. We knew that he couldn't have sailed away...it was well known that he had difficulties navigating any course other than a shaky circle." King Guthrum stopped talking, surprised that he had spoken so freely to this man that he had only just met, here at a gathering that carried such portent, and not just to these gathered men, but to their armies and nations.
        The monk drew closer to the King. He was a handsome man of over fifty years who wore his hood loosely over his head. White hair showed from under the hood, and a look of quick compassion and intelligence flashed in his clear brown eyes.
        "Look closely at me," he said quietly. He drew back the hood and leaned towards him. "God has certainly given you a sign," he continued, "don't you recognize me...the poor, sick young nobleman who talked to the little boy beside the gate...don't you remember me...Guthrum?"
        The King of all Denmark turned as white as a sheet. His mouth dropped open spontaneously, and he let out a long, audible sigh. In the silent room, the fire was a roar in his ears.
        "No, it can't be!" he cried, "you're him! You're Tagin! But you're not him...you've changed...it can't be," he added wonderingly.
        The Lords and Captains of Denmark were taken aback. They gazed at one another in disbelief, not knowing what to think.
        "This is indeed a sign..." Guthrum sputtered, pausing for several seconds, "...far beyond my expectations," he added, looking at his men, and then back at the man who stood before him. "If I hadn't seen you....you, of all people...like you are now, as a totally different man...as a man of learning, and one so eminently sane...if I hadn't seen you like this...and here, of all places, right here before my very eyes... I never would have believed it!"