Free Shadow of the Raven: Sons of Kings: Book One by Millie Thom Page A

replied, holding Eadwulf’s intense gaze, ‘this place is Hedeby, an important trading town. Goods from as far as the Orient, Samarkand, Byzantium and even deepest Africa can be purchased here.’
    ‘Have you been here before?’
    ‘I have not, but I have been to other towns like it – Kaupang and Birka, for instance, both in the lands far to the north of here. All markets have many similarities but Hedeby is renowned for one particular commodity, for which purchasers will travel many miles.’
    Eadwulf stared in silent expectation.
    ‘That commodity isslaves, Eadwulf. I believe we’ll be taken to the market place and sold to whoever offers a good price for us.’
    ‘I already knew the reason for our capture,’ Eadwulf huffed. ‘But if I’m to become a slave, I shall escape!’
    Sigehelm grunted. Now was not the time for lectures, but escape was as plausible as the sun falling from the sky. And without doubt, Eadwulf’s life depended on his obedience to his new master, no matter how harsh his commands might be.
    * * *
    Eadwulf lay down beside the still sleeping Aethelnoth, the conversation with his tutor playing on his mind, his nostrils filled with the reek of putrid straw. He was weak from days without proper food, though the gurgling sickness in his stomach would not acknowledge hunger. He drifted in and out of a sleep where vivid images swamped his mind: of bloody slaughter and the sickening stench of burning flesh. Once fully awake he kept his heavy eyelids closed, unwilling to acknowledge the wretchedness around him. A moan and a soft sob told him that others were beginning to stir; the rhythmic breathing at his side revealed that Aethelnoth still slept.
    Beyond the warehouse the first carts were rumbling along the waterfront, just the odd one at first . . . then another . . . and another. Occasional shouts from what sounded like men loading and unloading cargoes mingled with the interminable screeching of the gulls. From inside the warehouse the sounds seemed far away and indistinct.
    But Eadwulf knew they were not.

Six
    Soon after daybreak the four guards entered the warehouse, gesturing to the captives to eat the thin gruel they’d brought. Eadwulf forced down what he could, under threat of a whipping if he refused. Their wrists were bound and the long cords used to link them together before the guards again departed. The hum of the town’s business intensified as the morning wore on and Eadwulf envisaged the crowds of bargain hunters goggling at the human merchandise.
    The gruel sat heavy in his stomach and he swallowed hard to keep it down.
    On their return, the guards shunted them out into the sunlight, worsening the dread pounding in Eadwulf’s chest. He sucked in calming breaths of briny air and watched the seabirds swooping to snatch scraps from the jade-blue water. The jetties were packed with barrels, crates and bundles being moved to and from the moored vessels. Fishing boats and trading ships sailed in and out of the inlet – which Sigehelm had told him was Haddeby Noor – to the Schlei Fjord, which connected with the open waters of the Baltic Sea.
    They were goaded along wood-planked walkways towards the town’s centre. The stall-lined streets swarmed with people of skins and clothing of diverse hues, all seeming intent on spending the silver in their purses, and the hapless captives were knocked and shoved as they struggled through, trying not to entangle anyone in their bindings. Along broader thoroughfares, ox-drawn carts rumbled amongst shoppers on foot and a few wealthier people on horseback. Between the streets, smoke seeped through the thatched roofs of domestic buildings to blend with the stink of putrid waste from the shallow ditches alongside the fences. In many yards, craftsmen were hard at work; in some, women threw scraps to honking geese, or drew water from their wells.
    The peaceful normality of the town’s everyday life was too much for Eadwulf to bear. He choked back an