Born of the Sun Read Free Page A

hangings that still covered the walls. The thing that had pleased Cynric most, however, had been her polished metal hand mirror. Evidently the Saxons did not have mirrors.
    Yes, it could have been much worse. They had come, and they had taken things that would be missed, but the villa was still intact, her father and brother were still alive, and it seemed she was safe. So Niniane thought as she watched Cynric’s men putting the villa’s belongings into the saddlebags of their packhorses that gray spring afternoon.
    An hour later, she was thinking that things could not have been worse. The Saxons were indeed leaving Bryn Atha, but to her horror she found that they were taking her with them. “Am I to be made a slave?” she asked Cutha incredulously when he told her of her fate.
    He had given her a reassuring smile. “Certainly not, Princess. You are far too valuable to be a slave. You will come with us as a member of the king’s own household. You may pack a saddlebag of things to bring with you. We leave tomorrow at first light for Winchester.”
    It seemed that Bryn Atha had not been lacking in loot after all. Coinmail would say she should have used the knife.
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Chapter 2
    Cynric, King of the West Saxons, sat his horse in the courtyard of Bryn Atha and watched as his war band made ready to leave. Cutha came out of the house with the little British princess they had found and took her to one of the horses they had captured from her father.
    The Britons, Cynric thought with contempt. The young boys in Winchester would fight with more skill than these farmers. Still, it would be wise to go carefully. He would need the goodwill of the Britons if he wanted to expand his territory. There were not enough Saxon ceorls to do all that must be done if Wessex were to become a power in the land. This girl they had found at Bryn Atha might prove helpful in making peace with the Atrebates. She was wellborn, a princess of her line. A useful acquisition.
    Cutha mounted and rode over to his place beside the king. The girl followed a little behind, her horse led by one of his thanes. She sat the horse well, Cynric noted. She was small and delicate-looking, but he judged her to be at least fourteen. He could see that she had breasts.
    “Ready, my king,” Cutha said, and Cynric squeezed his horse forward. The war band fell in behind him, marching four abreast. The packhorses came last, each led by a man on foot.
    They did not retrace their steps toward Calleva. Cynric had seen the city; now he wanted to see the rest of the country in the area. So they went west, to the old Roman road that led to Venta from Corinium. Their pace was leisurely. The king wanted to spy out what kind of land lay in this new part of his kingdom. He had eorls back in Winchester to whom he owed much, and there was little in the way of gold to be had from the British. But there was land.
    The farms they saw were all deserted. Word had got round that he was coming, Cynric thought scornfully. It would not be difficult to settle Saxons in this country. He would scarcely need to fight.
    They filled the packhorses to capacity with the items that took their fancy in the farmsteads, and then, as they were still ten miles from home and it was time to eat, Cynric decreed that they stop for the night. They found a clearing by the road to make camp, fires were made and food cooked. Cynric sat on the rug that had been spread for him, watching his men and fighting his own weariness. No longer could he ride for eight hours at a time. He was getting old.
    The girl sat on a rug as well and watched his men out of grave and level eyes. She had ridden behind him all day, her face still and guarded, giving away nothing of what she felt. There had been no whining about how tired she was, how frightened, no questions as to what he was going to do with her. He looked at her now approvingly and said to Cutha, “I am going to lie down. She had better come too. She cannot be used to