Enthralled: Viking Lore, Book 1 Read Free Page A

she heard Brother Egbert curse her and make his way to the Abbey.
    Laurel plowed through
the kitchen and into the refectory, not knowing where she was going. Perhaps
the nuns’ quarters would be safer than her own straw mat in the corner. Just as
she turned toward the wooden door that led to the nuns’ side of the double
monastery, the doors banged open on their own and light flooded the refectory.
    “What in God’s name is
going on here, child?” Abbess Hilda boomed at her, candle held high.
    “Abbess, I—”
    “Abbess Hilda,” Brother
Egbert interjected, stepping into the refectory. “Thank the Lord you’ve stopped
this little witch from escaping. She attacked me by the river.”
    The Abbess’s cold, dark
eyes took in the scene before her. Laurel glanced down to find herself a muddy,
bedraggled mess. A quick look over her shoulder revealed Brother Egbert in
little better condition. His brown robes weren’t as muddy as her dress, but he
had four angry red lines running the length of his face, which was wrinkled in
a dark frown.
    “What do you have to
say for yourself, girl?” the Abbess asked calmly.
    “I—I was getting more
water to finish scrubbing the floor. It was Brother Egbert who attacked me at
the river! He kissed me and tried to—tried to…”
    Laurel swallowed.
Abbess Hilda’s eyes had widened for a moment, but then they narrowed with
obvious suspicion.
    Brother Egbert jumped
into Laurel’s faltering silence. “The girl is clearly lying—I have the marks to
prove it.” He gestured toward the red scratches on his cheek. Then he bowed his
head in an overt attempt at piousness. “And if I have been tempted into impure
thoughts about her…well, it must be the Devil testing me. After all, she is sin
incarnate.”
    Abbess Hilda shifted
her gaze back to Laurel, and she knew all was lost now.
    “Come here, child.” The
Abbess’s voice was quiet and flat.
    Laurel approached
slowly, her head held steady. She would not grovel for a wrong she hadn’t
committed—either for tempting Brother Egbert or the fact that she was born out
of wedlock. When she halted in front of Abbess Hilda, the older woman’s mouth
turned down in a sneer at her audacity.
    “Ever since the day
your shame-filled parents abandoned you on the Abbey’s doorstep, we have
clothed you, fed you, and tried to guide you toward God’s light.”
    Laurel had heard these
admonitions before. Each time the Abbess or one of the nuns or monks who lived
at Whitby started in about her sinful origin or her ingratitude, she had
hunched a little more, bowed her head lower, shrinking inside herself.
    Yet tonight, after
scrubbing the refectory floor in the dark, being attacked by Brother Egbert,
and having to stand before his lies and the Abbess’s reproofs, she felt her
spine harden. Her stomach turned to lead, her hands clenching at her sides.
    “Yet despite our best
efforts, you carry sin with you—you are willful, proud, slothful, and now you
tempt a monk, a holy man devoted to God, to join you in your sin.”
    Abbess Hilda eyed her
for another moment, no doubt taking in her level chin and rigid body. The
Abbess sighed and gazed heavenward.
    “Yet it is our duty to
continue to set you on the right path. We cannot abandon you, as your parents
so easily did. We must cleanse you of your sins.”
    At the word “cleanse,”
Laurel’s strength evaporated. “Nay,” she whispered.
    “The chair,” Abbess
Hilda said calmly.
    “Nay!” Laurel screamed.
Her legs suddenly gave out underneath her , and
she fell to the cold stones of the refectory floor.
    “Brother Egbert, wake
the Abbot and tell Sister Agnes to bring the chair to the refectory,” Abbess
Hilda went on, paying no attention to Laurel.
    Laurel knew there was
no point in begging not to be put in the chair. The Abbess rarely used this
punishment, but when she did, she was unyielding to pleas for mercy. Laurel
would rather take the switch than the chair—but the Abbess knew