Amber Treasure, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

Aidith running after Mildrith. She wore a loose-fitting
green gown that hung from her shoulders and as she ran there was a mixture of
bouncing and swaying within the dress that was ... well ... quite distracting.
I stared at her, open mouthed and I felt a tightness come to my throat as well
as a stirring of interest between my legs. She saw me looking, smiled at me and
then waved, before running off. I knew my ears had gone bright red.
    “Ah! I see that now, Cerdic.
Girls clearly have no effect on you at all,” said Cuthbert dryly and Eduard
roared with laughter.
    Aedann was also maturing. Being a
slave, he was not permitted to join in the training for war, but I’d often see
him lingering in the shadows beside the barn, or sitting up a tree watching us,
unless my father caught him. If that happened, he would be sent away with a clip
to his head. Aedann’s eyes were darkening to a deep green, his hair to jet
black. I hardly ever heard him speak and whatever thoughts he was having, he
kept to himself and just studied us in silence.
    We boys called him Loki because,
like that god, Aedann seemed to be able to disguise and conceal himself,
appearing suddenly from the shadows. Loki was also the god of trickery and
deceit and we began to think of Aedann that way. We started talking about this
quietly, when he could not hear us, but over the years he had stumbled into us
as we joked about him and he must have heard what we said, because we could see
him getting angrier with the passing months.
    Aedann was a slave so had no
rights or recompense for any hurt he suffered. He could do nothing and did
nothing, save bite his lip and stomp off away from us: until one day, when
Eduard, Cuthbert and I had been practising with swords and were coming back to
the Villa hoping to steal some bread. Aedann came rushing out of the kitchen
door and collided with Eduard, knocking him down on his arse.
    “Clumsy Welsh bastard: you should
watch out for your betters,” Eduard snarled at him, then shoved Aedann from off
the top of him and tossed him down into the mud, outside the door.
    Aedann’s tightly bound fury exploded.
Like a snake leaping up to bite at its prey he surged up from the ground,
punched Eduard and then kicked at his shin, all the time swearing and cursing
in Welsh. Eduard was stunned for a moment and then swung his fist round to
connect heavily with the slave boy’s chin. Aedann was heaved through the air,
hit the door with a splintering crash that knocked it off its hinges, then slid
down it to the ground.
    The noise must have been heard
all over the estate. My father and Grettir came running from the barn and
Caerfydd emerged from behind the ruined door and bent to examine his son: a
crumpled heap on the ground.
    “What in Woden’s name happened
here?” Grettir demanded of Eduard. My friend was standing glaring down at
Aedann, breathing fast, his fists clenching and unclenching.
    “This little runt hit me; that’s
what happened,” Eduard shouted, pointing at the Welsh boy. My father turned to
question me.
    “Well, son,” he said, “is this
true? Did Aedann attack Eduard?”
    Everyone now looked at me and
their faces each wore a different expression: Cuthbert’s shocked at the sudden
violence, knowing that this was not the full story but unsure whether to speak;
Eduard’s demanding I back him up. ‘This is about loyalty, Cerdic,’ his
expression was saying. Caerfydd’s face was tense − afraid for his son
− and hoping I would say something to help him. Grettir, impassive:
watching how I would deal with the situation. Finally, I saw Aedann’s face. He
looked at me like a warrior looks at an enemy who has captured him in battle.
There was defiance and there was hate, but there was no hope of mercy.
    I hesitated. Maybe this then was
the moment for mercy; the moment to show Aedann that his blind hatred was
wrong. I could speak the truth; say it was an accident and flared tempers, but
nothing more. I could have