Free Sunder by Kristin McTiernan Page B

hoped she would remain with Cædda’s house. He wanted to learn more about her. She looked so pitiful, slumped against Sigbert’s back, her eye clamped shut by the swelling bruise. She would need his friendship, as none of the other slaves spoke Latin.
    As the city on the hill came closer, Thorstein reached over and nudged the dark one, trying to put her at ease. “Welcome to Shaftesbury.” He pointed to the high walls and to the trees all around them. “This is your kingdom now.” 
    She looked back at him with her open brown eye. Her face did not change and it was difficult to tell if she heard him.
    ***
    Isabella shifted her weight in the saddle.  Having chosen archery over equestrian competition in her youth, the unfamiliar feel of the horse was starting to hurt her. She wanted to reposition herself, but being straddled behind the priest may lead to the unfortunate impression she was snuggling with him. In the Dark Ages, priests could marry. Given how she was dressed, she did not want Father Sigbert to interpret her physical discomfort as an attempt at seduction. Though she had to admit, wrapping her arms around him made her feel a little less terrified, even with that evil violent man giving her looks at every opportunity.
    She looked up at the crude stone walls surrounding the hillside encampment that the young blonde boy—who thankfully also knew Latin—had called Shaftesbury. That was a name she knew. Etienne’s grandmother had been born and raised in Shaftesbury and he had often spoken of the two of them going to visit someday. I cannot envision any circumstance under which I would set foot in that backwater country. If you find England so fascinating, you go visit . Momentarily overcome with anger at Etienne’s cruel sense of humor, Isabella held in her breath. Even knowing she was in the south of England, her confusion remained. The men were certainly not speaking English, at least not any English she ever heard.
    The hoof beats underneath her turned suddenly louder and hollow sounding as they crossed a short wooden bridge over what could reasonably be called a moat. Really, it was just stagnant water pooled at the base of the hill, but she supposed it had its uses. For a moment she was almost tempted to smile at the idea of actually debating the merits of a moat. Her travels through time had never taken her far back enough to think on such things, and her imagination could never have conjured the scene before her now.
    The slate-grey stone wall to the city contrasted with the undiluted green of the surrounding landscape. It was the most civilization she had seen since leaving sight of the church. There had been occasional small villages, but cities seemed few and far between in this Wessex.
    Shouts came from inside the walls and the thick wooden gate swung slowly open in front of them. Cædda rode through first, acknowledging the three men at the gate who bowed deeply to him. Isabella sat up straight in the saddle to watch him over Sigbert’s shoulder.
    “Father, does Lord Cædda rule the city, or does he rule Wessex?”
    Sigbert chuckled. “King Alfred rules Wessex. Lord Cædda was given reign over Shaftesbury as a reward for service to the king. He rules here as well as the surrounding farmlands. He answers only to the Ealdorman and the king.”
    They were riding through town now, traveling up the main road. Merchants called out their wares, people milled about them. Some watched their lord while others remained immersed in their buying and selling. Most of the buildings were small and made of thatch, the massive stone and mortar church being the notable exception. Isabella earned some confused or angry looks from those who took a good look at her, but for the most part she went unnoticed in the bustle of the town. The women wore long dresses and some had head coverings. She hoped she would be given appropriate clothing soon. But even with the clothes, she realized, her face and hair would still