Read Online The First Lost Tale of Mercia: Golde the Mother by Jayden Woods - Free Book Online Page B

was too
unwilling to admit the extent of his failure. “King Ethelred wanted
our fleet to catch them by surprise. He thought we would corner
them in a port and take the advantage. An advantage over the
Vikings!” He cackled. “Foolishness. King Ethelred is a fool, just
as the monks foretold at his coronation.”
    “Alfric!” Her heart fluttered. In truth she
agreed with him, but she had never heard a man of his station
insult the king so openly. Of course, this man was Alfric: a man
that the king had already exiled once for treachery, but afterwards
forgiven. Surely enough, Ethelred was a fool.
    Her discomfort only seemed to encourage him.
“An idiot,” he snarled, “who would have led us all to our deaths. I
was not going to let it happen, Golde. I knew we would not win over
the Vikings, but I was not going to let myself be a lamb led to the
slaughter.”
    She gripped the hot bowl beneath her, her
blood already boiling. “What did you do?”
    “I did what I had to do. I escaped.” His
knuckles turned white as he gripped his empty goblet. “More ale,
woman.”
    Her hands trembled as she poured more into
his cup. Then the door swung open and Hunwald stepped in, kicking
water from his boots.
    He was an older man, weathered and tainted as
if by a permanent layer of filth from the nature of his trade.
Nevertheless he had gentle blue eyes, and his face was unassuming
even as he looked upon their suspicious visitor. He nodded humbly.
“My lord, I am Hunwald, a swineherd,” he said. “What … event …
should I thank … for the honor of your ... presence?” Golde winced
at the swineherd’s awkwardness.
    Alfric looked from Hunwald, to Golde, and
back again. “Are you two man and wife?” he asked.
    Hunwald opened his mouth to reply, but Golde
interrupted him. “That is none of your concern.”
    Alfric stared at her in horror a moment, then
burst into laughter. “God help you, Hunwald! This wench is spoiled
goods. I hope you know that!”
    Despite herself, Golde flushed with shame and
embarrassment. Normally, she was not embarrassed by such things.
Long ago, she had surrendered the sanctity of her body to obtain
security for herself in the protection of such men as
Alfric—whatever his protection may be worth. For a long time she
had possessed no wealth nor station: to warm a rich man’s bed at
night was a means of gaining food and shelter. But when she bore
her son Eadric, she nearly died in the process. For this reason she
had stayed from Hunwald’s bed despite all of his kindness, despite
his good heart and selflessness. God knew he deserved any pleasures
her body could give him more than the nobleman sitting on their
stool, yet she had withheld them. That Alfric would bring it up
this way filled her with a sensation more vile than any she had
felt before.
    Unable to stop herself, she reached out and
slapped Alfric across the face.
    His head hung sideways a moment, suspended as
a red wave spread up his cheek. His mouth remained opened, gaping,
as at last his eyes twisted to look at her. They gleamed like the
points of two blades.
    He stood up. She stepped back, but he reached
out and gripped her wrist, tightly enough to leave a bruise.
    He had never been a particularly violent man,
preferring to avoid conflict whenever possible. But he sometimes
behaved differently around the few people he perceived as weaker
than himself. Without a doubt, that was how he saw Golde. She
peered up at him, narrowing her own pale eyes, challenging him.
    “Why did you come here, Alfric?” she
hissed.
    “For food and drink, and anything else I may
want.” His hot fingers tightened on the bones of her forearms, and
she winced.
    Despite all she knew of Alfric, there was a
danger in his gaze now that she did not recognize, like a starving
wolf spotting the only lamb in a flock that was weak enough to
catch. Even so, she did not know what he would have done next, and
perhaps never would; for at that moment, Eadric stepped