Free Nightfall till Daybreak (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 2) by Jayne Castel

to be done, why
does it pain you so?”
    “Because I learned differently. My studies in Gaul taught me
that there are other ways, besides battle, to gain victory. I knew this, and
yet I chose the easy path, that of violence and bloodshed.”
    Silence stretched between the two men for a few moments.
Frankly, Aidan was at a loss for words. It was too late now to regret a course
of action that, at the time, Sigeberht had been fixed upon.  Ironically, Sigeberht
was a talented commander in battle. To Aidan, it seemed as if the king was
making himself miserable for no cause.
    “So what will you do?” Aidan asked finally.
    “I have thought long upon it,” Sigeberht replied, pushing
aside his half eaten pottage, “I need to find a way to appease the Lord. My
words with Seaxwyn reminded me of what a heathen land this is. If I can bring
God’s word to my people then maybe he will pardon me for my actions.”
    Aidan remained silent. The king’s words made him uneasy.
    “While you were away hunting I sent word to Gaul, to the monks
I knew there, asking them to send me a missionary,” Sigeberht continued, “but
even here there are pockets of Christianity. I’ve heard that there is a new
monastery at Iken – an island of faith in a sea of the faithless. I wish to
travel there.”
    “Then you should milord,” Aidan replied, heartily wishing they
could now change the subject.
    Sigeberht took another sip of water and regarded Aidan with
that uncompromising, iron-grey gaze his thegn knew so well.
    “Aidan, I wish you to come with me,” Sigeberht replied.
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
     
    Freya watched the king and an entourage of warriors – with
Aidan among them – ride out of the stable yard.  She stood on the steps,
listening to sound of their fading hoof-beats as they rode towards the town’s
rear gates.  When they had gone, Freya turned back to the Great Hall.
    A smile crept across her face.
    Sigeberht had decided to visit Iken, a newly founded monastery
that lay just under a day’s ride away from Rendlaesham. He had informed Freya
and the other slaves that he would be away at least three days, before leaving
them a back-breaking list of chores to complete during his absence.
    Excitement formed a hard fist in Freya’s stomach when she
re-entered the hall. This was her chance. She would be a fool not to grasp it
with both hands.
    She made her way towards the king’s bower, to begin her task
of carrying the furs outdoors for beating, but her mind was elsewhere. She
would hide some food later in the day. With Sigeberht’s hawk-like eye removed
from the hall it would be easy to put some food aside, with a bladder of water.
She would need to slip unnoticed from the hall after midnight. Fortunately, the
privy was outside, beside the stables, so it was usual for people to come and
go from the hall during the night. She would also have to find a way to slip
past the guards at the Great Hall’s gate. This task was trickier; the town’s
gates would also be closed till dawn – and guarded.
    Freya picked up an armful of furs and pushed the heavy
tapestry aside. She made her way through the hall, past where a group of women
worked at their distaffs. The women wound wool onto wooden spindles that would
later be woven into fabric. They gossiped as they worked, ignoring Freya and
the handful of other slaves who moved about the interior of the hall.  Since
Sigeberht’s arrival at Rendlaesham, a number of ealdormen and thegns had
flocked to him from throughout the kingdom. Now that Ricberht the Usurper was
dead, they pledged their loyalty to a king who had reclaimed the throne for the
Wuffingas.
    These women were wives of high ranking men. Observing them,
Freya could not prevent a stab of envy at the sight of their fine clothes,
jeweled brooches and arm rings. She felt like a drab in their presence. They
spoke with high, musical voices and laughed often.
    In contrast, Freya had not laughed since her arrival