Read Online Avelynn by Marissa Campbell - Free Book Online Page B

assistance.
    I tried to coax the fire to light and ran the jagged steel edge of the fire starter across my finger. “Damn.” I pulled my hand back, dropping the flint as the sting hissed and the blood swelled. I staunched the flow with the hem of my dress and squeezed, my eyes filling as I stared at the unlit tinder. I brushed the moisture away irritably and slumped into a heap on the rush-covered floor.
    â€œWhy is this happening to me?” I yelled at the Goddess. I had long ago thrown out any notions that my vision at Avalon had been positive. Instead, I fortified myself for impending doom. I flung the steel fire starter toward my bed. “Why are you angry with me? Have I offended you in some way?” I looked up at the thatch, tarnished gray and black from years of smoky fires. “Do you even see me? Do you even know I’m here? I’ve sent prayers, and pleas, but nothing has changed. Why aren’t you listening?”
    Nothing stirred in the stagnant air around me. I sank my head into my hands. Nothing I did worked. I was still miserable—my father still adamant.
    I missed my mother. I sniffed hard and stood up. I brushed the rushes from the folds of my kirtle, found the well-worn groove in the floor, and commenced pacing back and forth. The vernal equinox was fast approaching. Perhaps the Goddess was angry that I had only given her a cursory thought during the winter solstice. Traveling with my father’s thegns to Winchester at Christmastide, my opportunities for worship had been limited. But my mother had always found a way to honor the sacred days. I would make it up to the Goddess this month. I wouldn’t let my responsibilities slide further.
    There was a soft knock on the door.
    â€œCome in.”
    Bertram entered, carrying a folded piece of parchment. “Good morning, Avelynn. How are you feeling today?”
    â€œFine.”
    He lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Good, then you should be overjoyed to hear this news.” He placed the parchment on a bench, walked over to the hearth, and knelt down, taking up my efforts to rouse the fire.
    Very few people in Wessex, other than a handful of priests who acted as scribes for kings and noblemen, were gifted with literacy. Bertram was an accomplished scholar, and as his avid student, I took in everything he offered. I could read and write Latin, English, and Ogham letters and was fluent in Gaelic, Latin, French, Norse, and English. The advantage this afforded was not lost to me. Knowledge was power. And as a woman, possession of that knowledge provided me with a tremendous advantage over most of the noblemen in England. Even the king of Wessex was still trying to learn Latin himself.
    I picked up the note. It was a royal decree from King Aethelred, ordering my father to gather men and travel to Rome to pay the church’s tribute—a godly sum of gold and silver. Nothing like paying the pope to earn God’s clemency.
    â€œI don’t understand. Why now?” Tribute was to be paid every year, and the king’s most trusted thegns took turns transporting the precious cargo. But it had been several years since anyone had made that arduous journey.
    â€œThe Vikings have been silent. And fearing for his soul, Aethelred will delay the trip no longer.” He gave a final flick of his wrist and a spark flew, landing on the tinder nest. The kindling caught. Tentative flames licked the air and Bertram blew softly until the fire surged. Satisfied, he placed a large log on the hearth and raked the burning kindling toward it. “I thought you might like to know that Demas, with his intimate knowledge of the Eternal City, will be joining your father’s party. They plan to leave in two days’ time.”
    The twitch of the first genuine smile to cross my lips in months lifted the corners of my mouth. Their journey would last well into the fall. Which meant there was not going to be a wedding, at least not until