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

be somewhat better for him than remaining in that dreadful pit, open to all weathers – particularly if he is to be incarcerated for very much longer.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I fear that whatever punishment Ragnar dictates for the Saxon, it will not be pleasant.’
    * * *
    Eadwulf rubbed his sleepy eyes and squatted on the river bank to fill his first pails for the day. The late September weather still held warm and dry and the sun had risen to greet an almost cloudless sky. Trees were turning golden, the grain was in and the threshing done. Preparations for winter would now begin in earnest and Eadwulf anticipated a hard day ahead.
    Drawing the pail through the clear water he spotted a kingfisher perched on a willow branch that trailed down to the silvery surface. He couldn’t believe his luck. It was only the second one he’d seen at Aros and he was fascinated by the colouring of this tiny bird: the shiny, metallic blue-green of its back, wings and head, the little white parts around its neck and chin and the amazingly bright orangey-red breast. The dazzling mass of vibrant colour dived so fast Eadwulf wasn’t sure he actually saw it move at all until the tiny thing flew back to its branch, a small, wriggling fish in its dark beak.
    ‘Is this what you call work, thrall?’ Halfdan’s voice caused Eadwulf to lose hold of the pail and he struggled to retrieve it before the current could take it. ‘Does Aslanga know of your fascination with our feathered friends and how long you spend staring at the damned things?’
    Eadwulf did not respond to the taunts. What would be the point?
    ‘Kingfishers are excellent divers, I’m told,’ Halfdan said. ‘They seem to know everything that goes on below the glassy surface that we see: all those fish and things. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to see what they see–?’
    Halfdan’s move was so fast that Eadwulf was sinking in the cold water before he realised anything had happened. The river deepened rapidly only inches from the bank but he surfaced quickly, gasping for breath.
    ‘That’s for getting us into trouble with Ragnar,’ Halfdan sneered. ‘Enjoy your swim. I’m sure Aslanga will be eagerly awaiting your return.’
    Halfdan sped off and Eadwulf dragged himself onto the bank, dripping and shivering. The water was very cold and the early morning sun yielded little warmth. He cursed Halfdan. The wretched boy must have been watching, waiting to follow him.
    Having no alternative, he trudged back to the hall in his sodden state. Aslanga would be waiting for the water.
    * * *
    Aslanga’s fury seemed to flow from her in waves. Her dark eyes blazed, fixing resolutely on Eadwulf as he crept into the hall and placed the full pails by the door. Servants moved out of her way and two of Ragnar’s men put their dicing game on hold. Sigehelm’s quill hung motionless over his parchment and beside him, Ivar and Halfdan smirked.
    Dripping wet and shivering, Eadwulf waited for the unwarranted tirade to begin. His mistress remained by the hearth, breathing fast, the floury whiteness of her face contrasting sharply with the black hair straying from beneath her head covering. Her choice of clothing was equally severe: a long-sleeved brown dress, fastened round her thin neck with a drawstring. Her plain white over-tunic was held at the shoulders by two simple round brooches, and from a chain around her neck hung a knife, scissors and keys: symbols of her complete control in the hall.
    ‘Come here.’
    A shudder of dread shot down Eadwulf’s spine. Burghild’s anxious gaze fixed on him as he stepped slowly forward. Without doubt, Halfdan had spun some highly incriminating yarn.
    ‘What have you to say in your defence?’
    ‘My defence of what, Mistress?’
    Aslanga’s sharp slap sent him reeling. ‘Don’t dare give meyour insolence! I’ll have you flogged for using that tone with me. Get up. Now.’
    Not trusting himself to speak, Eadwulf obeyed. His face stung