Read Online Pit of Vipers (Sons of Kings Book 2) by Millie Thom - Free Book Online Page B

‘And I have had the good fortune of capturing him.’
    ‘Is that so, my lord?’ Olaf replied in complimentary tone. ‘Then your prowess will be spoken of for many a year.’
    ‘His name is Ragnar something or other,’ the Northumbrian king added with a flick of his hand at the name’s irrelevance.
    Olaf’s voice was soft and even. ‘If the man is who I think he is, his name is Ragnar Lodbrok, my lord, which means Ragnar Hairy Breeks.’
    The king and queen chortled as Olaf related the story of those famous breeches. ‘You mean to say the breeches actually protected him from snake bites?’ Aelle guffawed and slapped his palm on the trestle. ‘That’s simply too ironic . . .
    ‘They say many songs are sung about this “Hairy Breeks” in the halls of his homeland,’ he continued, unaware of Eadwulf and Olaf’s shared glance. ‘But even great heroes can find their profitable little jaunts abruptly curtailed. And tomorrow, this particular hero dies.’
    Becoming bored with this conversation, Idona pecked her husband’s cheek and behind his back, fluttered her eyelashes at Eadwulf before wandering off to admire her new silks.
    ‘You know, I’m not sure whether I’ve seen this Ragnar, my lord,’ Olaf ventured. Eadwulf stayed quiet, knowing where his bald friend was heading. ‘Word was that the great man himself was in Birka when I was trading there some years back, and I believe I may have seen him in an ale house. Couldn’t get close enough to find out though – the place was packed and, to be honest, at the time I was more interested in my ale. Pity, I’d’ve liked to have spoken to such a fearsome man.’
    ‘Then meet him now, if you wish,’ Aelle offered cheerfully. ‘Any man who can bring my wife such pleasure has earned my thanks and the least I can do is to satisfy your curiosity about this man. Mind you,’ he warned, his round face affecting a serious expression, ‘he doesn’t look so fearsome now. He’s been incarcerated for a few weeks and I’m told he’s been refusing to eat. He’d likely be dead soon if we weren’t putting an end to his miserable existence tomorrow. We’ll share another mug, then Earic can escort you to our little prison. I’ll instruct the guards to allow you inside so you can speak to the Dane. Though, of course, I can’t guarantee he’ll respond to you.’
    Earic led them to the small building, two of the guards standing sentry-like at either side of the door. ‘Can’t imagine what you’ll say to this rogue,’ he said, rubbing his misshapen nose once he’d explained to the sentries that the two traders were to be permitted inside. ‘You’ll probably be out as soon as you’ve had a good look at him. Collect your cart when you’re done,’ he added, heading back to the palace.
    The sentry unlocked the heavy door with a large key and pushed it open. ‘Two men here to see you, Dane,’ he yelled, ‘so you can speak to them – or not – but they’re coming in anyway.’ He paused, and Eadwulf thought he heard a grunt. ‘You may know one of them; he’s a Norseman, like yourself. The other’s a tall redhead.’
    They were ushered inside and the door closed behind them. High in the far wall a missing stone served as the only window through which sunlight streamed onto the cell’s sole occupant huddled on the straw-strewn floor. The features that met them were unmistakably Ragnar’s, though the weakened body bore little semblance to its former robust form. His ragged clothes hung loose, encrusted with food and dried mud, and stone-grey hair and beard clung greasily to his face, spiked with musty straw.
    Ragnar dragged himself to his feet, the jangling wall-chains attached to his ankles preventing him from moving forwards. But his eyesight had not yet failed him.
    ‘You , ’ he snarled. ‘That guard said . . . For one glorious moment I thought Bjorn had come for me. But it’s you, the runaway thrall!’ He shot a gobbet of spittle at Eadwulf’s