Shadow of the Raven: Sons of Kings: Book One by Millie Thom

requested in order to ply him with niceties. Ivar thrust a piece of parchment into his hand, a lengthy poem written on it.
    ‘Read that to us, Mercian. We need to hear it again to fully appreciate it.’
    ‘I can’t,’ Eadwulf lied, looking into Ivar’s dark eyes. If he spoke the words of the vulgar poem he knew it would be reported to Aslanga. ‘I can’t yet read well enough.’
    ‘So what has that sour-faced scribe been teaching you these past weeks? Could it be that you’ve such limited intelligence the words don’t penetrate your thick head?’
    The group of children tittered but Eadwulf was surprised to hear the boys’ sister speak up. ‘Let him be, Ivar,’ Freydis said, frowning. ‘He’s probably telling the truth. Thralls aren’t given the time for learning.’
    But Halfdan seemed intent on prolonging their fun. ‘How could anyone as thick as pig shit ever learn anything, other than how to grunt and wallow in the mud?’
    A particularly loud thud as Cendred swung his axe into a log behind them made the children jump.
    ‘Move away from here, you filthy Saxon,’ Ivar yelled. ‘No one in his right mind chops wood this close to the hall!’
    ‘Another one thick as muck,’ Halfdan joined in. ‘Go back to your pig swill, Saxon!’ The big man’s fists balled and his eyes narrowed, but Halfdan was enjoying himself. ‘See how the ugly hog snorts and stamps his trotters,’ he sniggered. ‘And have you ever seen such piggy little eyes? We really must pen him up with that fat old sow Burghild, and see if they produce some plump piglets for our pot.’
    By now Cendred was seething, his every breath like that of a tormented boar, his eyes focused on Halfdan. He advanced on the shrieking children with a roar, his axe still in his hands – just as Ragnar stepped from the hall with a group of his men. With a hiss of drawn swords Cendred was surrounded and overpowered. The children scattered like mice with a cat in their midst, only Ivar remaining, unable to move away unaided. Eadwulf hardly dared move. Cendred was pinned to the ground, swords at his throat.
    ‘I want him alive,’ Ragnar seethed, before the over-zealous guards could finish Cendred off. ‘Instant death is much too good for a thrall who dares to threaten a jarl’s children. Throw him in the pit. I’ll deal with him when he’s had time to reflect on the folly of his actions.’
    Ragnar stood statue-still, the enraged expression set into his stone-like features as Cendred was dragged away. ‘By Odin, Scribe, I should never have listened to your words!’ he threw at Sigehelm, hovering in the doorway. ‘The Saxon dog had trouble written all over his face – and I knew it! Be very grateful I value your work as tutor to my sons. If I did not, then you’d now be in the same place as him.’
    Sigehelm’s face blanched and his eyes grew wide, but Ragnar said no more to him. His glacial stare fixed on his son, still hunched against the hall. ‘Have your servants bring you inside, Ivar.’ His tone was soft and ominous as he stepped through the doorway. ‘You and your brother have a lotof explaining to do about what went on here.’
    * * *
    Over a week had passed and Eadwulf still didn’t know what had transpired following Ivar and Halfdan’s audience with their father, or how Cendred fared. Ragnar’s men ensured that no one neared the pit and Cendred could have been dead for all anyone knew.
    ‘What will they do to him?’ he asked Sigehelm as they set out the trestles for the morning meal.
    Sigehelm held Eadwulf in his steady gaze, releasing his breath as a weary sigh. ‘I know you blame yourself for causing Cendred to behave as he did, child, but he’s entirely responsible for his own actions. Ragnar is right to believe the man isn’t safe to let loose. No sane person would advance upon children with an axe. But I did overhear the jarl issuing orders to have him moved into one of the huts by the end of the week. At least that will