Tags:
Historical fiction,
Short-Story,
Vikings,
Anglo-Saxons,
second,
mercia,
eadric the grasper,
lost tales of mercia,
aethelred,
edward the martyr,
ethelred ii,
ethelred the king,
ethelred the unready,
king ethelred
a
king surveying his kingdom. He would join Edward and his men on the
hunt!
“Ethelred? Ethelred! What is going on?”
Ethelred’s heart sank quickly. The voice
belonged to his mother, Alfryth. She stormed from the stronghold,
her silken veil and black robes billowing in a gust of wind. Her
scraggly brown hair blew against her face, splitting her scowl like
so many cracks.
King Edward turned to face her, his men now
behind him. He hooked his thumb on his swordbelt, as if resting it
there, but Ethelred could not ignore how close his hand came to the
hilt of his sword. He said nothing, only glared at her through his
cherry lashes.
Desperately, Alfryth turned her fierce gaze
on Ethelred.“Son, where are you going?”
“I’m going hunting, mother.” Ethelred stuck
up his chin.“Hunting for whatever game we may come across.”
“No, you’re not.”
Ethelred stiffened. He looked to Edward for
help, but the young king had only eyes for Alfryth, and those eyes
were full of hatred.
“You have matters to attend to,” Alfryth
insisted to Ethelred.“Matters for Ealdorman Alfhere.”
Butterflies fluttered in Ethelred’s stomach,
and he saw Edward’s hands curl into fists. When their father,
Edgar, died a few years ago, various nobles and clergymen had
disagreed on which of Edgar’s sons should become king. Ealdorman
Alfhere had supported Ethelred’s right to the throne, as the son of
Edgar’s latest wife, but Ethelred had been only seven years old.
Naturally, most men had supported Edward instead. Though the wise
men had come to a peaceful decision, no doubt it was hard for
Edward to forget Alfhere’s opposition to him.
Alfryth smiled sweetly, seeing the fear and
doubt in her son’s eyes.“As you know, these matters are important,
my son. Much more important than a young boy’s fancy to fill his
days with hunting.”
“Young boy’s fancy!” cried King Edward. He
took a step forward, and Ethelred tensed with nervousness. Edward
was generally a nice fellow, best demonstrated by how kindly he
treated Ethelred, a boy that most would consider his rival. When he
got mad, however, he got very mad; and usually he got the maddest
about issues concerning his step-mother, Alfryth.“Hunting is man’s
work, a man’s way of practicing for battle. A woman like you
wouldn’t understand, of course. Right, Ethelred?”
Ethelred stood frozen, afraid to look at
either of them.
He did, however, glimpse his mother’s smile,
remaining firmly on her face as if everything was going according
to plan.“I suppose I would not understand. And in any case, I
wasn’t trying to discourage you from engaging in such
...‘practice,’ my lord. Some men must practice for engaging in
battle. Others must practice for leading men to battle. My
son, Ethelred, will be doing the latter, and so he does not need to
go riding about in the forest.” She held out her hand to
Ethelred.“Come on, then, son.”
But Ethelred ignored her completely. He could
not tear his eyes away from Edward, who wore such a vicious scowl
on his face that it brought to mind the horrific depictions of
bears on some of the stronghold’s tapestries.“Why ... you ...
filth-ridden ... BITCH! ”
And then he lunged forward, and Ethelred
cowered, as if expecting to be stricken by whatever tremendous blow
Edward seemed about to deliver. But after a moment, he found he was
only stricken by a fierce silence, and looked up to see that Edward
had stopped himself. He stood with one arm lifted, panting for
breath, his fingers inches from Alfryth’s throat and curled as if
already gripping it. But he restrained himself, and stared blazing
into her eyes. Though she stood unflinching, the fear in Alfryth’s
own gaze was horribly apparent.
At last Edward lowered his arm. He took a
deep breath and straightened his tunic. He looked around at his
wary soldiers and his cowering half-brother Ethelred, and a
dramatic change came over him. He forced a lilted smile on
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