Free The Red And Savage Tongue (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) by F J Atkinson

it.’ 
         Martha laughed aloud at the vision created by Simon—the first time she had laughed since the raid. The sound was a sweet melody to Simon’s ears and he could not help but laugh with her. They both laughed long and loud as the tensions of the last two days seeped out of their very pores.
         After they had composed themselves, Simon scooped many of the wind-fallen apples into the bundle he carried. Martha smiled at Simon as he secured the bundle over his shoulders and was about to tell him what a fine pack pony he made, when the smile froze on her face as she saw a man, fifty yards away, pointing towards her.
         As she watched, she observed more men gathering beside him. She grabbed Simon by the hand and pulled him to his feet. ‘Run!’ she screamed. ‘They’ve seen us! Quick, we must get away!’
         Simon looked with despair at the approaching men but didn’t move. He shook his head sadly. ‘It’s no use. It’s too late. There’s nowhere to hide and we can’t outrun them. There’s nothing we can do now.’
         The men moved quickly, and soon a laughing and mocking rabble surrounded them. She recognised one of the men as the fat leader of the raiders, and realised that their lives would soon be over. She knew there would be no mercy with him. His delight at slaughter and rape in the village had been beyond her comprehension. He was a monster, pure and simple. 
         Egbert spat in her face as he pulled her towards him, then slapped her hard across her head, knocking her to the ground.  ‘The cause of my fucking hardship,’ he said, his voice quivering with rage. ‘I’ll take great delight in teaching you a lesson!’ As he loosened his tunic, he cast a mocking glance at Simon. ‘And who’s this that attends you, whore? An old cunt long overdue the grave by the look of him. But first things first. I’ll see to him at once.’
         He beckoned impatiently to one of the men to give him his ax, and then walked over to Simon who was crouching on the ground looking up at him. Egbert turned laughing at the men. ‘See how the old rooster glares at me in protection of his hen.’ He cupped Simon’s chin in his hand and leaned close enough for Simon to smell his sour breath as he sneered into his face. ‘You’ve done well to survive the years, old one, but if you could do me the service of stretching out your scrawny neck so that I can remove your head with one swipe, I’ll be forever in your service.’ As Egbert stepped back a pace to deliver his blow, Simon merely looked up at him, unable to understand his Germanic tongue.     Egbert looked at the men near to him and challenged them to a wager. ‘Who will bet a sheepskin bedroll that I can not remove the old goat’s head with one swipe?’
         Some of the men were about to respond when Withred reached the group. He held up his hand to Egbert. ‘Wait Egbert, not so quick, you are forgetting that we’ve still not found the lad. I see here a replacement, or do you wish to eat Hubert’s cooking again?’
         Egbert considered this for a moment. Hubert, a skinny warrior with dubious personal hygiene, had been the camp cook before Tomas had arrived. His meals had been badly prepared and often undercooked, and Egbert had lost count of the number of times he had hurled his food at Hubert , after attempting to chew on the stringy offerings before him. He had been surprised at Tomas’s adaptability around the campfire and was aware of the great improvement in both quality and quantity of food since his capture. He put this down to the boy’s background and assumed that all Britons knew how to cook. He looked at Simon and reasoned that a Briton as old as he must also know how to make swine tasty.
         He nodded at Withred. ‘You seem to be more and more pitiful these days heron, but maybe you’ve a point.’ He paused a moment as he considered the possibilities. ‘Okay … I’ll let