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Sinric comes into the sheltered courtyard, seeking somewhere to sit and think a while. It has been a strange few days. He meant to come quietly into to city, make a place for himself at one of the taverns singing for his supper and board.

But drawn in by the intellectual debate of the young men and the flourishing palace school, he’s caught out by his old tutor who recognises him - Alcuin, the new emperor’s favourite.

And now he finds himself lodging at the palace school, the centre of attention he never wanted here.

But the courtyard is cool and quiet and he sits down, letting himself have a moment to rest. Not noticing the young boy at first.

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"They let me read as much as I want", he says enthusiastically, "at the time for study. I'm Athelstan."

"I am called Aureus." He's careful not to use the name older Athelstan will know him by. "And I understand. It is a wonderful library here. It's what drew me to the palace, almost against my will."

"You didn't want to come and see the palace?"

Sinric shrugs. "I'd hoped to find a quiet place, maybe make my way singing. Not bring myself to the attention of those in power."

"There's lots of people here", the child points out. "Maybe you still won't get their attention."

Sinric drops his voice confidingly. "I think it might be too late for that. If Alcuin has his way of it. He's very stubborn."

"And what of you, young Athelstan? What do you hope to do here?"

"What does he want?" He shrugs slightly in answer to the question. "To learn all I can."

"He has not say I suspect he wishes me to advice the Emperor." Sinric sighs tiredly. "I have served three before him. One in Byzantium and two in the far east, beyond the Silk Road. But I am tired of such intrigues. I would be glad to live a simple life and sing for my supper."

"You could disappear into the city", he suggests. "It wouldn't be easy to find you again."

Sinric smiles warmly. "I may yet do that." He leans back a little, breathing the warm air and the scent of the river. "It was good to speak with my old praeceptor but I don't wish to be bound to another court."

He smiles softly to the boy. "Would you cover my retreat if I went?"

{ooc: last one of the night for me. Lovely to thread with you again!}

He looks uncertain.

"I would. If you helped me to know how."

"Not yet, little one." Sinric offers Athelstan his hand, squeezing gently. "When the time comes, I will slip away into the city and go my own way. Perhaps you can tell them you saw me go the other way?"

"I will. If they ask me."

People don't always ask him things.

"Thank you, sweet Athelstan." Sinric smiles. "I think I shall have to talk with this Charles the Great before I slip away. What shall we do to pass the time till I'm sent for? Shall I teach you a song?"

"Yes, please!" he says brightly. "What sort of songs do you sing?"

"Many kinds of song. From hymns to bawdy tavern songs. From the very far east to England and many places between." Sinric gestures expansively.

"Teach me one from the east?"

He doesn't think the brothers would like him learning bawdy tavern songs, even if he already knows one or two.

Sinric things for a moment before selecting a children's song, the song of the crane wife. An easy, repeating song with hand gestures as the woodsman finds the crane in a snare and frees her, but plucks a feather from her wing and so bids her to him.

After a little while, hesitantly, the boy joins in.

He repeats the song with an encouraging nod, shifting his pitch to compliment Athelstan's voice best.

His voice is still child-high, and absolutely pure.

Sinric smiles warmly and nods, encouraging him. They sing the song through together.

"Well done. You have a beautiful voice." He praises genuinely.

He beams, not having quite internalised modesty yet.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to try another?"

"Yes, please."