Read Online The Lost Tales of Mercia by Jayden Woods - Free Book Online

something on the floor. She
gasped aloud. It was blackened with soot, but it did not look very
damaged. It was the Lady Aethelfleda.
    She reached to grab it, then dropped it very
quickly, for it was still hot. Even so, she grinned from ear to ear
as she looked up at Hastings. “What ... how ... ?”
    “It simply would not burn, my lady.” But his
eyes twinkled with mischief as he smiled.
    “Oh―oh―oh thank you, Hastings!” Before she
could restrain herself, she got up, opened her arms wide, and flung
herself against the hearth companion. She hugged him tight, her
face smashed against his tunic just beneath his chest, the musky
scent of his wools and sweat and leather filling her nose.
    She realized after a moment how still he
was, and quickly pulled away. This must be very unseemly. She
turned around and felt her cheeks burning with a blush. Surely it
was not normal for a male hearth companion to be alone with a woman
in her chamber, but then again, many of today’s circumstances were
not normal. She was only eleven years old, of course; but if she
remembered correctly, so was the Lady Emma of Normandy, who would
soon be marrying her father. If not eleven, Emma was only a year or
two older. Officially, Aydith was of a marrying age, herself. She
had already begun her monthly cycle.
    Feeling a bit shy and confused, she picked
up the wooden figure from the floor―it was cool enough now to
touch―and clutched it close to her. She cleared some of the soot
from the wood, and as she revealed the woman underneath, she felt
as if Aethelfleda looked different to her now than she had
before.
    “I ... I know little of history,” said
Hastings from the shadows. “Would you tell me about the Lady
Aethelfleda?”
    Aydith took a deep breath, her heart
fluttering. It took no effort to tell the story of Aethelfleda; she
did not even have to search her memory. “She was born over a
hundred years ago, the daughter of the great King Alfred,” she
began. “Her husband was named Aethelred, like my father. Their
marriage helped bring the Angles and Saxons of Engla-lond together,
and united the kingdom against the Vikings. But he died. After his
death she ruled in his place, and the people called her the Lady of
Mercia, serving her almost like a queen. She built burgs and walls
all around the cities and boundaries of Mercia. She was a brilliant
strategist. She led armies against the Danes, and took back the
cities of Leicester and Derby. She even fought and recruited the
Welsh. She ruled for almost eight years before she died.”
    She looked down at the toy in her hands.
Suddenly, it had gone from being scorching hot to numbingly cold,
and it looked ugly under its mask of black soot.
    “And then her daughter, Aelfwynn, tried to
rule in her mother’s place. But Aethelstan was right. She was
weak.”
    She walked back to the brazier and opened
the lid.
    “My lady?” Hastings took a step towards her,
then stopped. “What are you doing?”
    “Aethelstan’s right. I shouldn’t keep such
toys.”
    Her hand trembled as she lifted the figurine
over the fire’s glow. She realized the fire was burning even higher
than she had anticipated. How had the figurine not burned before?
Had Hastings removed it from the fire right away? He must have, so
she tried to get mad at him for it, seeking anger to give her
strength. He had deceived his own lord, an aetheling! Perhaps he
was not trustworthy at all.
    She felt a twinge of pain in her heart, then
she dropped the figurine into the flames. Before she could change
her mind, she threw down the lid.
    She looked at Hastings, and he was scowling.
His normally kind eyes were narrowed, stinging her like alcohol
splashed on an open wound.
    “Oh,” she cried suddenly. “I wish you would
go away!”
    He bowed his head, though his fists were
clenched at his sides. Ethelred had told him not to let Aydith
leave his sight, and he stayed true to this as he backed away, ever
so slowly, moving further and