Read Online Amber Treasure, The by Richard Denning - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Denning
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the grass, trapping
his own shield under him. I was over him now, ready to finish the fight. In my
moment of triumph, I looked away to see if Aidith was watching. She was and she
smiled at me and gave a little wave, so I smiled back feeling a surge of
elation. Maybe, Cuthwine was right and today my luck was in.
Then: disaster! I had wasted that
moment of chance: I had done what Hussa had done in the woods and looked to see
who was watching me and now I paid for my pride. Hussa sprang to a crouch and
at last red hot fury did show on his face as he thrust the wooden sword
violently up into my belly. I crumpled into a ball of agony and fell on the
grass.
Hussa howled out his triumph and
pointed his sword towards my parents. Beneath him, I rose to my knees and
retched. Then, I slammed my fists on the ground in frustration, staggered to my
feet and limped off the field, feeling my face burning. I was not really hurt
− but I was angry, very angry. But not at Hussa − I was fuming at
myself for the mistake I had made. If only I could go back a few moments: if
only I had just finished the fight, rather than wallowed in the glory. Then, I
would be the victor. It was a hard lesson to learn, but learn it I did. Never
again would I allow pride to trip me up.
That day, though, Hussa had won.
He swaggered up to the Prince who, oblivious of all the anger and hatred on
this field, just beamed at him.
“Well done, young man, what is
your name?”
“Hussa, Sire.”
“That was a good fight and you
deserve this sword,” he said, and then he raised his voice, “I give this sword
in honour of a great victory to Hussa, son of … erm,” with a whisper he added,
“what is your father’s name, boy?”
My parents’ faces went pale and,
close by me, I heard Cuthwine gasp. Hussa looked over at my father and smiled a
mirthless smile and for a heartbeat, I thought he would say what had happened
seventeen years before, but he just shrugged and then looked back at Aethelric.
“I have no father, Sire,” he
said, his voice bitter. “He abandoned my mother when she was with child.”
“Ah well,” Aethelric coughed, “I
give this sword to Hussa of Wicstun. Well done.”
Hussa bowed, then took the sword
and held it up so we could all see it. The Wicstun boys cheered at this and
Wallace applauded too, although I saw him looking at my parents and biting his
lip. But I said nothing and neither did I applaud. I was staring at the sword.
I wanted a sword so badly: I had wanted that sword so badly and now Hussa had
it! I could almost hear the gods laughing.
That was the end of the tournament
and it was now time to eat. I wandered over to my friends and Cuthbert patted
me on the shoulder as a consolation.
“Bad luck, come on, let’s get
some ale,” Eduard said and I nodded. Then I froze, because I had just seen a
girl go over to Hussa and examine the sword with him. Hussa said something and
she laughed. I felt hollow inside, because I had just realised the girl was
Aidith. Hussa pointed towards the barn and Aidith nodded her head and they went
in together. Jealousy raged within me and I gasped with the pain of it, as
though a mule had just kicked me in the belly. Cuthwine came over to me and
pushed me after them.
“Come on, brother, looks like you
lost the sword and the girl tonight. Never mind, there’s always ale.”
The feast that night was spectacular.
Mother had made sure the finest food and the best of our beer was served by
Caerfydd, Gwen and Aedann. There was roast beef and lamb, fresh and warm bread,
fruit preserved in jars through the winter, sweetened with honey and our most
delicious cheeses. The ale was outstanding: warming, bitter and very strong.
My mother revelled in the
evening. This was her moment, when she showed the world the wonders of her
tables and made sure that tonight was a feast no one would ever forget. She was
dressed in a startling emerald-green gown, trimmed with gold thread. Father had
bought it for
his own shield under him. I was over him now, ready to finish the fight. In my
moment of triumph, I looked away to see if Aidith was watching. She was and she
smiled at me and gave a little wave, so I smiled back feeling a surge of
elation. Maybe, Cuthwine was right and today my luck was in.
Then: disaster! I had wasted that
moment of chance: I had done what Hussa had done in the woods and looked to see
who was watching me and now I paid for my pride. Hussa sprang to a crouch and
at last red hot fury did show on his face as he thrust the wooden sword
violently up into my belly. I crumpled into a ball of agony and fell on the
grass.
Hussa howled out his triumph and
pointed his sword towards my parents. Beneath him, I rose to my knees and
retched. Then, I slammed my fists on the ground in frustration, staggered to my
feet and limped off the field, feeling my face burning. I was not really hurt
− but I was angry, very angry. But not at Hussa − I was fuming at
myself for the mistake I had made. If only I could go back a few moments: if
only I had just finished the fight, rather than wallowed in the glory. Then, I
would be the victor. It was a hard lesson to learn, but learn it I did. Never
again would I allow pride to trip me up.
That day, though, Hussa had won.
He swaggered up to the Prince who, oblivious of all the anger and hatred on
this field, just beamed at him.
“Well done, young man, what is
your name?”
“Hussa, Sire.”
“That was a good fight and you
deserve this sword,” he said, and then he raised his voice, “I give this sword
in honour of a great victory to Hussa, son of … erm,” with a whisper he added,
“what is your father’s name, boy?”
My parents’ faces went pale and,
close by me, I heard Cuthwine gasp. Hussa looked over at my father and smiled a
mirthless smile and for a heartbeat, I thought he would say what had happened
seventeen years before, but he just shrugged and then looked back at Aethelric.
“I have no father, Sire,” he
said, his voice bitter. “He abandoned my mother when she was with child.”
“Ah well,” Aethelric coughed, “I
give this sword to Hussa of Wicstun. Well done.”
Hussa bowed, then took the sword
and held it up so we could all see it. The Wicstun boys cheered at this and
Wallace applauded too, although I saw him looking at my parents and biting his
lip. But I said nothing and neither did I applaud. I was staring at the sword.
I wanted a sword so badly: I had wanted that sword so badly and now Hussa had
it! I could almost hear the gods laughing.
That was the end of the tournament
and it was now time to eat. I wandered over to my friends and Cuthbert patted
me on the shoulder as a consolation.
“Bad luck, come on, let’s get
some ale,” Eduard said and I nodded. Then I froze, because I had just seen a
girl go over to Hussa and examine the sword with him. Hussa said something and
she laughed. I felt hollow inside, because I had just realised the girl was
Aidith. Hussa pointed towards the barn and Aidith nodded her head and they went
in together. Jealousy raged within me and I gasped with the pain of it, as
though a mule had just kicked me in the belly. Cuthwine came over to me and
pushed me after them.
“Come on, brother, looks like you
lost the sword and the girl tonight. Never mind, there’s always ale.”
The feast that night was spectacular.
Mother had made sure the finest food and the best of our beer was served by
Caerfydd, Gwen and Aedann. There was roast beef and lamb, fresh and warm bread,
fruit preserved in jars through the winter, sweetened with honey and our most
delicious cheeses. The ale was outstanding: warming, bitter and very strong.
My mother revelled in the
evening. This was her moment, when she showed the world the wonders of her
tables and made sure that tonight was a feast no one would ever forget. She was
dressed in a startling emerald-green gown, trimmed with gold thread. Father had
bought it for
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