The First Lost Tale of Mercia: Golde the Mother Read Free

simply watched this spectacle with
unassuming awe.
    “You think King Ethelred will protect you
from the Vikings?” Alfric’s voice trembled with passion as he
looked from one of them to the next. “He won’t. He can’t. I helped
the Danes because they will rule eventually, anyway; and I’d rather
it not be over my own dead body!”
    Golde could hardly contain her horror. So, he
had not only run away; he had “helped” the Danes! Had he given them
Ethelred’s plans? Had he supported them with his own fleet? She was
not sure she wanted to know. In truth, she hardly even cared about
the war; what she cared about was the safety of her own home, and
Alfric standing here now as traitor to the Anglo-Saxons poised too
great a danger. If he stayed here much longer he would bring the
king’s rage upon them all. She stormed around the table and grabbed
Alfric’s tunic. “ Out! ”
    He stumbled as she dragged him through the
doorway, then cried out and sputtered as the rain splashed his
face. She slammed the door behind them and blocked it with her
small but sturdy frame.
    He looked miserable, rivers of rain running
down his face as he stared at her. Nevertheless, mischief flared
momentarily from behind his golden lashes, and his expression
reminded her of one Eadric often wore. “Ethelred will forgive me
eventually, Golde dearest. I’ll talk some sense into him
again.”
    She shook her head in disbelief. “How could
he forgive you? You helped the enemy.”
    She could not see his tears through the rain,
but she sensed they were there. He stared up at the veiled moon. “I
did. I gave them Ethelred’s plans. I told them everything.”
    “Stop, Alfric I don’t want to know—!”
    “I took my ships and went with them.” He took
in a heaving breath. “We all would have died otherwise. It was the
only way …” Helpless, she waited for him to go on. She saw that he
could no longer hold it in. “That’s what I thought, Golde. I really
did. But then the rest of Ethelred’s fleet pursued us, and he … he
took … he took one of my ships …” He sobbed openly. Golde did not
know whether to feel sorry for him, or furious. “He slaughtered
everyone on board. And then his ships went after the Danes anyway,
and the battle … oh God.” He bowed his head and shook violently. “I
escaped my ship, with these men … but they took my ship, and some
of my men were on board … and now they’re dead.”
    She was surprised to find tears pricking her
own eyes. Of course, Alfric had been a fool to act as he had. And
yet perhaps he had truly wanted to save his men’s lives—on that she
preferred to give him the benefit of doubt—and despite everything,
he had failed. “Alfric, you shouldn’t be here. Not only are you
endangering me, but you are leaving your true family to the king’s
mercy. Get back to your own family. Protect them. Go somewhere
safe. But you’ll solve nothing hiding here, cramming the last of
your loyal men in a pig-sty. Stay in the barn until morning, if you
must, but I want you gone before the cock’s crow.”
    He scowled at that. “You’ll regret casting me
out when I’m in the king’s favor again, wench.”
    “So be it. Until that time comes, farewell,
Alfric.”
    There was nothing else to say, so she went
back inside and bolted the door. She remained leaning against it a
moment, trembling.
    “Mother?”
    Reluctantly, Golde turned to meet her son’s
gaze. To her surprise, he looked angry.
    “Why did you send him away?” demanded Eadric.
“I liked him!”
    “Because he’s dangerous.”
    “No he isn’t! I could tell!”
    Golde sighed wearily and sank down onto a
stool, dripping everywhere. Her heart ached as she watched Hunwald
clean the table without question or complaint. He was such a good
man. He did not deserve the trouble she brought to his doorstep.
“Alfric is dangerous in an unusual way, my boy,” she said. “Better
just to forget about him.”
    “I don’t want to.”