Read Online Pit of Vipers (Sons of Kings Book 2) by Millie Thom - Free Book Online
Authors: Millie Thom
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samples, but I have–’
‘The “master”, as you called him, so happens to be King Aelle himself,’ the growling guard interrupted. And right now, he’s better things to do than deal with someone hawking cloth.’
‘Queen Idona may be interested, though,’ the crook-nosed man put in, jerking a thumb at the palace door. ‘My wife’s one of her attendants in there, and she says Idona thinks of little other than fine clothes.’ He grinned at his surly comrade, displaying crooked teeth to match his nose. ‘I reckon it’d do no harm for this pedlar to take his silks to the women, Sigward. Provided he hands that knife over first,’ he added, staring pointedly at the dagger through Eadwulf’s belt.
‘Let’s just see what his cloths look like first, Earic,’ Sigward said, still scowling as he reached for Eadwulf’s bag. ‘If the quality isn’t what you say, pedlar, you’re on your way.’
Suitably impressed by the superiority of the fabrics, Sigward disappeared into the palace, soon to re-emerge, the scowl still fixed on his ruddy features. ‘The queen’s agreed to view your wares, but just you remember, there’s armed guards in there.’ He thrust a warning finger in front of Eadwulf’s nose before flicking the same finger in the direction of a squat, stone building guarded by more armed men some fifty yards away. ‘The king may be over yonder with the prisoner, but he never leaves the queen unguarded, so don’t even think about trying anything funny.’
Feeling vulnerable without the comforting presence of Leif’s dagger, Eadwulf hoicked up his bag and headed into the palace. At least he’d learned of Ragnar’s whereabouts.
As he’d imagined, the main hall was impressively large, partitioned off from smaller, more private areas in places. And, Roman though the original building may have been, its layout was little different to other halls Eadwulf had seen in Saxon or Danish lands. The shuttered windows were open, allowing the late afternoon sun to stream in, adding to the glow of the central fire. Slaves hurried about their work as slaves did anywhere, and armed men stood around the room.
At the far end of the hall, a small group of women were engaged in their needlework and on seeing Eadwulf, one of them rose from her seat. ‘You may approach, pedlar,’ she said, beckoning him in accordance with her words. ‘The queen will allow you audience directly.’
Placing his bag on a trestle close to the women, Eadwulf unrolled a little of each of the two shiny fabrics and waited for a response from the woman he’d decided was most likely to be Queen Idona. From what he’d deduced from the guard outside the gate, Aelle was approaching old age, which implied that the queen was of similar age. A few wisps of fading hair had strayed from the woman’s head veil and when she glanced up, a multitude of fine lines about her mouth and eyes were evident. But she merely returned Eadwulf’s appraisal with an air of indifference before bowing her head to resume her work.
Eadwulf knew the rudeness to be intentional. A menial must exhibit patience when permitted to approach royalty. But eventually, as though at some preset signal, the women laid down their embroidery and stared at him. Disconcerted, he focused on the older woman, waiting for her to speak.
‘So, you thought to bring your goods directly to me, did you, pedlar?’ A pretty young woman rose and approached him, her face full of merriment at his surprised expression. Her youthfulness had confused him and he tried not to gape at her face, or her supple body, garbed fetchingly in a gown of pale green trimmed with darker green, appliquéd leaves. ‘Highly irregular, of course,’ she continued, her voice holding a cadence that Eadwulf tried to place, ‘the usual procedure surely being to set up your stall at the market and wait for customers to come to you?’
Eadwulf opened his mouth to reply but Idona waved a small white hand to forestall
‘The “master”, as you called him, so happens to be King Aelle himself,’ the growling guard interrupted. And right now, he’s better things to do than deal with someone hawking cloth.’
‘Queen Idona may be interested, though,’ the crook-nosed man put in, jerking a thumb at the palace door. ‘My wife’s one of her attendants in there, and she says Idona thinks of little other than fine clothes.’ He grinned at his surly comrade, displaying crooked teeth to match his nose. ‘I reckon it’d do no harm for this pedlar to take his silks to the women, Sigward. Provided he hands that knife over first,’ he added, staring pointedly at the dagger through Eadwulf’s belt.
‘Let’s just see what his cloths look like first, Earic,’ Sigward said, still scowling as he reached for Eadwulf’s bag. ‘If the quality isn’t what you say, pedlar, you’re on your way.’
Suitably impressed by the superiority of the fabrics, Sigward disappeared into the palace, soon to re-emerge, the scowl still fixed on his ruddy features. ‘The queen’s agreed to view your wares, but just you remember, there’s armed guards in there.’ He thrust a warning finger in front of Eadwulf’s nose before flicking the same finger in the direction of a squat, stone building guarded by more armed men some fifty yards away. ‘The king may be over yonder with the prisoner, but he never leaves the queen unguarded, so don’t even think about trying anything funny.’
Feeling vulnerable without the comforting presence of Leif’s dagger, Eadwulf hoicked up his bag and headed into the palace. At least he’d learned of Ragnar’s whereabouts.
As he’d imagined, the main hall was impressively large, partitioned off from smaller, more private areas in places. And, Roman though the original building may have been, its layout was little different to other halls Eadwulf had seen in Saxon or Danish lands. The shuttered windows were open, allowing the late afternoon sun to stream in, adding to the glow of the central fire. Slaves hurried about their work as slaves did anywhere, and armed men stood around the room.
At the far end of the hall, a small group of women were engaged in their needlework and on seeing Eadwulf, one of them rose from her seat. ‘You may approach, pedlar,’ she said, beckoning him in accordance with her words. ‘The queen will allow you audience directly.’
Placing his bag on a trestle close to the women, Eadwulf unrolled a little of each of the two shiny fabrics and waited for a response from the woman he’d decided was most likely to be Queen Idona. From what he’d deduced from the guard outside the gate, Aelle was approaching old age, which implied that the queen was of similar age. A few wisps of fading hair had strayed from the woman’s head veil and when she glanced up, a multitude of fine lines about her mouth and eyes were evident. But she merely returned Eadwulf’s appraisal with an air of indifference before bowing her head to resume her work.
Eadwulf knew the rudeness to be intentional. A menial must exhibit patience when permitted to approach royalty. But eventually, as though at some preset signal, the women laid down their embroidery and stared at him. Disconcerted, he focused on the older woman, waiting for her to speak.
‘So, you thought to bring your goods directly to me, did you, pedlar?’ A pretty young woman rose and approached him, her face full of merriment at his surprised expression. Her youthfulness had confused him and he tried not to gape at her face, or her supple body, garbed fetchingly in a gown of pale green trimmed with darker green, appliquéd leaves. ‘Highly irregular, of course,’ she continued, her voice holding a cadence that Eadwulf tried to place, ‘the usual procedure surely being to set up your stall at the market and wait for customers to come to you?’
Eadwulf opened his mouth to reply but Idona waved a small white hand to forestall
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