Dawn of Wolves (The Kingdom of Mercia) Read Free Page B

drew his seax. Then, he clamped the blade between his teeth so that he could scale the ladder quickly.
    Wada was scrambling out of the furs when Wulfhere reached the platform. He was naked. A young slave girl, the iron collar around her neck gleaming dully in the flickering torchlight, cowered behind him.
    Rage twisted Wada’s bearded face, whereas the slave had gone the color of milk.
    “So the upstart pup has returned.” Wada snarled, reaching for his sword that lay beside the furs. Even on the defensive, the Northumbrian ealdorman did not show a trace of fear. “Come home for a whipping have you?”

Chapter Two
The Taking of Tamworth
     
     
    Wulfhere held Wada’s gaze. He did not bother to reply to the insult—the steward was just trying to bait him. Instead, he inclined his head slightly and favored the Northumbrian with a cool smile.
    Beneath them, the roar of battle shook the Great Tower of Tamworth to its foundations. The platform beneath Wulfhere’s feet vibrated from the force of it. It was as if the gods were raging, and Wulfhere could taste the bloodlust in the air.
    Wada lunged, but Wulfhere had anticipated him. Two steps took him up against the ealdorman, beyond the reach of his sword, where Wulfhere drove his seax blade up under Wada’s ribs.
    Wada inhaled sharply, his breath wheezing as if Wulfhere had punched him in the stomach. As the warrior struggled against him, Wulfhere withdrew the dagger and deftly slashed the Northumbrian’s throat open.
    The slave girl screamed, as the ealdorman slumped to the fur-covered floor, gurgling and thrashing.
    Wulfhere let him fall. Ignoring the blood, which had splattered over him, he cast a glance at the cowering slave. Tears streaked her thin face.
    “Please . . . ,” she begged, her voice quaking. “Don’t kill me . . .”
    Wulfhere dismissed her; he was not interested in killing defenseless slave girls. There were others more worthy of death this night. He turned away and quickly descended the ladder to the main hall.
    Mōna was savaging a Northumbrian warrior, who had tried to climb the ladder in an attempt to come to Wada’s assistance. The man’s screams echoed high into the rafters as the wolf pinned him to the ground, her huge jaws ripping at his flesh.
    Wulfhere moved around them, leaving Mōna to her task, and stepped down onto the floor.
    Men fought with seaxes, boning knives, or their fists. Although it was customary to leave your weapons at the door inside the Great Hall, many of the Northumbrians were armed. Surrounded by Mercians, they wisely carried their swords and seaxes everywhere.
    Alfwald, the red-haired ealdorman, slashed at any Mercian who came within reach, the blade of his sword running dark. He strode now, toward Aethelred, who had just used his seax to kill one of the ealdorman’s retainers. Alfwald’s curses rang across the hall.
    “Oath-breaking maggot!” he roared. “Come taste my blade!”
    Aethelred spat on the floor and stepped forward to meet him.
    Alfwald spied Wulfhere, and his face twisted with rage. He quickly forgot about the younger brother and turned to Wulfhere.
    “Princeling,” he growled. “So you show your face at last.”
    Wulfhere sheathed his seax and drew Shield Breaker.
    “Aye,” he replied with a chilling smile, “and this face will be the last thing you ever see.”
    ***
    A terrible hush hung over the Great Hall, broken only by the wet gasps of dying men.
    Wulfhere lowered his sword and looked about him, taking in his surroundings for the first time since the attack had begun. Unarmed folk—men, women, and children—cringed against the sides of the hall or peered out at him from the alcoves. A carpet of bodies spread out around him, both Northumbrian and Mercian. The air stank of blood, offal, and fear.
    It had been a bloody fight. The Northumbrian king had left his best men to rule Tamworth as his stewards, and Wulfhere’s men had not expected to find them armed. Even so, the Mercians