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

and he knew Aslanga would not believe anything he said.
    ‘Let’s start again. Explain, if you will, why you attempted to push my son into the river. Yes, you may well shake in your boots. Your actions will not go unpunished.’
    ‘But I didn’t–’
    ‘Didn’t what, exactly? Didn’t expect to be seen? Didn’t expect to fail? Perhaps you did expect to push Halfdan into the river and run off before he could see you?’
    ‘Mistress, it was I who was pushed into the river.’
    ‘You’ve certainly been in the river!’ she snapped, eyeing Eadwulf’s sodden clothing with contempt. ‘And I know just how you came to bein there. Halfdan avoided your intended push by darting aside, after which youslipped on the wet bank and landed yourself in the water, precisely where you’d meant my son to go.’ Aslanga shook with outrage and indignation. ‘From the moment I set eyes on you, I could tell you’d not make an agreeable thrall.’
    Eadwulf could barely contain his own indignation at the sheer injustice of this. He’d done nothing but obey Aslanga’s orders. And he’d tried very hard to be amenable. That wretched boy, Halfdan!
    ‘Nothing you say can lessen your guilt,’ she ranted on, giving him no opportunity to defend himself. ‘You stand there, feigning innocence, whilst the son of a jarl has suffered your disrespect and plots against his person. Did you believe it would be a great jest to see Halfdan soaked and bedraggled?’
    Eadwulf shook his head, more by way of reaction to Aslanga’s imbalanced condemnation than as answer to the question.
    ‘Your disrespect is intolerable! I knew as soon as I saw the red hair that would be the case; the brash colouring comes with insolence ingrained at birth. It’s a pity my husband failed to see that fact years ago.’
    Eadwulf gaped, confused by this sudden line of thought.
    ‘You are unfit to share our food, or our roof. For the next week you’ll sleep outside and if we save you scraps from our table, you will also eat those outside.’
    ‘Mistress, I swear I’ve done nothing.’ Eadwulf could not believe such harsh punishment could be inflicted so unjustly. All evidence was based on malicious lies.
    ‘Ulrik,’ Aslanga shouted to one of Ragnar’s men. ‘Take the lying thrall outside. Use your belt and beat him soundly.’
    * * *
    Eadwulf spent seven nights banned from the hall. Oddly enough, he found it no great hardship. The nights had not yet turned bitter, nor had rainclouds released more than a fleeting shower, and after a long day’s work he was able to sleep almost anywhere. Mindful to avoid the vicinity of Cendred’s new prison, guarded by successions of Ragnar’s ever-vigilant men, he’d found a nook between one of the storage sheds and a sturdy wicker fence, and piled fallen leaves under an old sackcloth to make a soft bed. Other rags afforded him some cover. For the first three days the pain of the thrashing made finding a suitable sleeping position difficult, but curled on his side was his preferred position anyway. Once asleep, he rarely roused before the cockerel heralded daybreak. Nor was he starved. The ‘scraps’ Aslanga sent out were not much worse than the usual leftovers given to the thralls. And on most days, Sigehelm sneaked him out a little extra.
    Eadwulf was beginning to see a strength and selflessness in his quiet, god-fearing tutor that he’d overlooked before. Sigehelm had risked great punishment by these actions, but in Eadwulf’s interest he’d simply ignored that possibility. Since arriving in this land, he couldn’t remember a single time when Sigehelm had voiced concern for his own well being: his concern was always for Eadwulf. It had just taken Eadwulf a long time to realise it.

Nine
    Fallen leaves crunched beneath Eadwulf’s feet as he collected twigs and branches for winter tinder in the small patch of woodland on the elevated ground behind the village. Accompanied by Toke, Aslanga’s ageing Norse thrall whose