Free The Breaking Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 1) by Jayne Castel Page A

I
thought it prudent to uphold our promises. We may need Cynddylan’s assistance
in the future.”
    Rodor frowned. It was unlike Penda to care about
keeping oaths, or to bow to the demands of others.
    “Mercia does not need the help of those Cymry dogs,”
Rodor replied, his lip curling.
    Penda gave a humorless laugh. “You did not fight
alongside them at Maes Cogwy, Rodor. They are formidable allies, and I am not
done fighting. Northumbria might have been beaten to submission but I still
have enemies to face. Annan of the East Angles has long been a thorn in my
side. I will not rest till I gut that whoreson on my blade.”
    Rodor did not reply to that. He knew that the
rancor between Penda and Annan ran deep. Mercia had beaten the East Angles at
Barrow Fields, years earlier, and killed their king. The successor to the East
Angle throne, Annan, was allowed to live only if he agreed to ‘bend the knee’
to Mercia. Penda had attempted to seal the agreement with an arranged marriage
between his sister, Saewara, and Annan. Unfortunately, his plan had turned
against him when Saewara fell in love with her new husband, and betrayed her
brother.
    These days, it was forbidden to mention Saewara’s
name in Penda’s presence. The king’s hatred for his sister ran deep.
    “Cynddylan of Powys will also become your bane,”
Rodor told Penda, his dislike for the prince overriding prudence. “Mark my
words, he will be laughing at you right this moment – gloating over his good
fortune.”
    Silence stretched between them then. When Penda replied,
his voice was low, dangerous. “What would you counsel me to do?”
    Rodor hesitated. He knew that tone well, and it
warned him to proceed carefully. His king was on the verge of losing his
temper. Rodor was close to bearing the brunt of the Mercian king’s wintry rage.
    “Send a war party after Cynddylan,” Rodor told
Penda firmly. “Kill him before he reaches Powys.”
    “What? And turn Powys against us? Have you not been
listening to me – we need their alliance.”
    “Make his death look like the work of outlaws,”
Rodor continued. “No one has to know it was you.”
    The king did not reply for a moment. His gaze moved
away from his thegn, to where Paeda was still clutching his ear and wailing
curses at his smug younger brother.
    “Finally,” Penda drawled, “a suggestion that
doesn’t make you sound like a dolt. I was wondering if the trust I have placed
in you all these years had been misguided.”
    Rodor stared back at Penda and felt his face flush
hot at the insult. The king’s response was offensive. Yet, he could see that Penda
was starting to come round to his idea.
    “It must be an assassination,” Penda continued.
“Swift and silent. The killers must move like shadows. Cynddylan’s throat must
be cut while he sleeps – and no one must ever suspect that I was behind
it.”
    Rodor nodded, holding his breath.
    Penda’s gaze swiveled back to the warrior before
him, and Rodor saw the calculating gleam in the king’s gaze. “Who will carry
out this task?” Penda asked.
    Rodor smiled. They both knew the answer.
    “I will, Milord.”
    “You, Rodor? Yet, I see that you hate the Prince of
Powys. Hate makes a man rash, foolish. I’ve lost many a good warrior to it.”
    “I’m one of your best. I do not succumb to the same
mistakes as others,” Rodor replied without a trace of arrogance. It was a
simple fact. Penda knew it – that was why the king had left him behind to
protect Queen Cyneswide while Penda marched his fyrd to war. He would
only leave her in the hands of a warrior he knew to be his own rival.
    Penda nodded. “You are – but this task requires
more than skill with a blade. You will not be fighting Cynddylan on the
battlefield. You must catch him unawares. Can you be as silent as a shadow?”
    “I can,” Rodor assured him. “I will gather a group
of warriors – the best you have. We will track down the Cymry army, and
penetrate their camp