Enchantress Mine by Bertrice Small Read Free Book Online Page A

lustful pervert!”
    Aldwine Athelsbeorn did not even question Dagda’s word in the matter. He was an educated man in a time when few were. Although the giant’s words shocked him, he knew enough of the dark side of human nature not to disbelieve him. Suddenly all his previous hesitancy fell away and brushing Fren’s other customers aside he demanded in an authoritative voice, “What price on the child, slaver? I fancy her as a serving maid for my wife.”
    “The child is not for sale, sir,” replied Fren.
    “Not for sale? What trick is this you attempt to play, slaver?” The Saxon’s voice had risen now so that he was beginning to attract a small crowd. “If the child is not for sale, then why is she wearing a slave collar, displayed here for all to see? Is it that you seek to gain an unfair profit, or perhaps use her for immoral purposes? Speak up, man!”
    Fren’s face grew mottled with nervousness, and he sputtered impotently but no intelligible words could be heard.
    “By our Blessed Lady Mary, that is what this rogue intends!” the Saxon shouted. Turning, he appealed to the jostling and interested crowd. “This low fellow would offer this little one, who is practically still a baby, for vile usage! Can we allow such a thing, my friends? Will someone not fetch a priest to try and bring this wicked fellow to repentance? Find me the sheriff! This villain had displayed the child in order to appeal to the evil ones, but I, Aldwine Athelsbeorn, King Edward’s thegn, have found him out!” finished the Saxon dramatically.
    The crowd, seeing little Mairin’s innocent beauty, which Dagda, entering into the spirit of the Saxon’s game, displayed by lifting the child up so she might be viewed by all, began to mutter ominously and shake their fists at Fren. The English loved their children for children were a man’s immortality. Then one fellow, a bit brighter perhaps than the others, called out, “Why do you seek to buy the child, Aldwine Athelsbeorn? Are your motives pure?” The crowd’s interest swung from the slaver to the thegn.
    “This child reminds me of my dead daughter,” said Aldwine Athelsbeorn. “I would bring her home to soothe my grieving wife. There is no crime in that.”
    “How do we know he speaks the truth?” cried another voice from the crowd, and looking toward Fren, Dagda saw one of his two assistants was missing.
    The Saxon proudly drew himself up. “I am Aldwine Athelsbeorn, Kind Edward’s thegn. In Mercia there is none who would doubt either my words, my motives or my courage!”
    “This ain’t Mercia! This be London!”
    The crowd was becoming dangerous. Dagda’s arms wrapped themselves protectively about his charge. For a minute he had thought the clever Saxon could use the crowd to his own advantage, but alas it hadn’t worked. He looked to see whether or not in the ensuing uproar that was sure to transpire he might not make good his escape with Mairin. The collar about her neck did, however, pose a problem for it was too tight for him to cut or even get a grip upon so he might break it open and free her; but he would solve that problem after he brought his lady to safety.
    Then suddenly amid the din he heard cries of, “Make way for Bishop Wulfstan!” and the angry crowd parted to allow the powerful and popular churchman through. “Well, Aldwine?” said the bishop sternly, but Dagda saw a twinkle in his eyes. Reaching the platform where they all stood, he demanded, “What is this all about?”
    “Look at this child, my lord bishop. Does she not remind you of our little Edyth, may God assoil her innocent soul. I wish to buy this little girl to bring home to my Eada so that perhaps she will cease her lamentations over our daughter and live again. She has mourned without ceasing since the spring. The slave merchant displays the child, but then demurs on selling her to me. I believe he seeks to use the child wrongfully.”
    The bishop glanced at Mairin, but if there was