Pit of Vipers (Sons of Kings Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

would be a pity to get here too late on every occasion.’

Two
    Elston, Northern Mercia: July 864
    The small boy squatted on the rushes of Ealdorman Wigstan’s hall, playing happily with the wooden animals strewn across a woollen blanket, closely watched by his pretty young nurse, Odella. The child’s mother sat amidst her women on a nearby bench, diligently pushing a fine iron needle through the linen fabric, determined to finish her husband’s new tunic by the end of the week.
    Leoflaed’s nimble fingers took a well earned rest as she watched her beaming two-year-old. Her eyes shone with pride as, with more than a little help from Odella, he sorted the animals into two groups. To one side he placed those with legs, and on the other, all the legless creatures.
    The ealdorman’s daughter smiled, thinking as she always did when looking at her son, how much like his father he was. Aethelred’s thick red hair curled about his neck and the expression in his emerald eyes could change from merriment to irritation within moments.
    Pulling himself up on his sturdy little legs, Aethelred toddled over to her, grasping her saffron-coloured over-gown and yawning widely. Leoflaed placed her needlework on the table behind her and hoisted him onto her lap, stroking his head as he snuggled into her breast. ‘I’m not surprised you’re tired, Aethelred, you’ve done so much today. Why, you’ve just organised your little animals, and this morning you walked all the way across the meadow with Odella to pick those lovely red flowers.’
    ‘Poppies,’ he corrected flatly, twisting to point a chubby finger at a large storage chest at the side of the hall, upon which sat a hefty earthen jar, full of the red flowers.
    Leoflaed grinned and gave him a cuddle. ‘Indeed they are poppies, and it’s very clever of you to remember the name. They look quite beautiful over there – so bright and cheerful.’
    The child momentarily beamed at the praise, before his young face creased into a frown. ‘No Papa.’
    ‘Aethelred was more concerned with scanning the horizons for Lord Eadwulf than picking wild flowers, my lady,’ Odella explained, coming to perch her petite frame beside them. ‘He does miss his father.’
    ‘I know he does – as do we all, Odella. But I think my husband will be back within a few days.’ Leoflaed hoped the uncertainty in her own prediction would not be written on her face. ‘He said he’d be away for three weeks at the most, and three weeks will be up in four days’ time.
    ‘Now,’ she whispered over the head of her already sleeping son, ‘if you’d take Aethelred for his afternoon nap, Odella, I must get on with this shirt. Eadwulf is in dire need of it, although he wouldn’t say so himself. He pays little heed to his appearance and still prefers to wear his old tunics and breeches.’ She smiled as her husband’s handsome face filled her thoughts. ‘Yet he insists on keeping his face hairless; not a trace of beard since the day after he arrived here.’
    Manoeuvring the solidly built child into the arms of his nurse, Leoflaed swept her braids behind her shoulders and settled back to her needlework, her thoughts drifting to the past . . .
    It was four years ago when Eadwulf had first arrived at her father’s hall. It was one of those hazy days of midsummer when Leoflaed had first seen him, riding in as though he’d always belonged here. The first thing she’d noticed as he dismounted was how tall he was – much taller than her father – before taking in the rest of his appearance. His long hair was a vibrant red, much more fiery than her own deep auburn, and held in tight braids, whilst his equally red beard and moustaches straggled freely down his throat. His tunic and cloak were old and grubby, and he had a leather bag, of sorts, slung across his back. He seemed neither lord nor simple cottar, for though his tattered clothing implied the latter, his whole bearing belied it. His unconventional