Dawn of Wolves (The Kingdom of Mercia) by Jayne Castel Read Free Book Online Page A

wanted to become a nun,” she murmured, “and my father was on the verge of allowing it when Wulfhere ruined everything.”
    “A nun?” Wynflaed replied, genuinely surprised by her mistress’s admission. “Do you not want a husband and children?”
    Ermenilda shook her head, vehement. “Not if it means being wed to Wulfhere of Mercia.”

Chapter Seven
The Wolf and the Lamb
     
     
    The Mercian party rode north, covering the furlongs swiftly, on the paved Watling Street. The weather remained good—cold with clear skies—although the outlines of skeletal trees reminded the travelers that spring was still some way off.
    Four days out from Cantwareburh, they entered Lundenwic.
    Ermenilda had heard much of this city from Bishop Frithuwine, but had not been looking forward to seeing Britannia’s largest settlement. According to the bishop, Lundenwic represented everything that was wrong with the world of men. It was a ferment of corruption, debauchery, and greed.
    Her first glance at the city did little to allay her fears.
    They rode into Lundenwic, following the western bank of the mighty River Temese, a wide tidal river that flowed through the center of the city. The first thing Ermenilda noticed was how dirty the river was. It was littered with refuse, the corpses of dead animals, and floating excrement. The stench made her bile rise, and she covered her mouth with a piece of linen scented with rose water to prevent herself from becoming ill.
    Farther upriver, they rode alongside wooden docks—pier after pier of moored longboats and cargo barges. The tide was rising, and it appeared some of the boats were preparing to leave. Men scurried to and fro, shouting to each other, tossing coils of rope, and carrying sacks and wooden crates onboard their vessels.
    Overwhelmed by the sight, sound, and smell of so much humanity, Ermenilda glanced away, her gaze shifting to the east, where the ruined wall of the old Roman city glowed in the afternoon sun. Beneath it, a carpet of thatched roofs spread out and hugged the lazy bend of the river. Smoke from cooking fires and smiths’ forges stained the sky.
    Lundenwic represented everything Ermenilda had wished to shun. It was dirty, uncouth, and overwhelming—and it made her long for her garden sanctuary in Cantwareburh.
    Riding next to her, atop her ugly roan, Wynflaed had the opposite reaction.
    “I’ve never seen a city so large,” she exclaimed, her wide-eyed gaze taking it all in. “There’s life here—you can breathe it in.”
    “You certainly can. Lundenwic has something for all folk.”
    An appreciative male voice drew the women’s attention to Wynflaed’s left, where a blond warrior with startling blue eyes had ridden up beside them.
    Ermenilda recognized him as the man who helped her handmaid mount in the mornings. His name was Elfhere, and he had clearly taken a shine to her comely servant.
    “I wish we were staying here,” Wynflaed admitted. “I would have liked to explore its streets.”
    “Perhaps, one day, you will have that chance,” he replied.
    Their gazes met for a few moments, before a slow smile crept across the warrior’s face. Then, with a nod to them both, he urged his horse forward and moved off up the column, leaving the women alone once more.
    Ermenilda pursed her lips. Although she instinctively liked Wynflaed, she found the girl’s optimism and childlike wonder vaguely irritating. She also did not approve of Elfhere’s interest in her maid; he was entirely too bold.
    “Something for all folk? I smell nothing but dung and rotten fish,” she commented.
    To her chagrin, Wynflaed laughed.
    “I know, isn’t it wonderful?”
    That was the last word Ermenilda would have used to describe this cesspit.
    Around them, beggars had clustered at the roadside to watch the passing Mercians. Emaciated and filthy, they called out to the passersby, pleading for food or coins. Ermenilda wished that she had some bread to give to them, for the