The Price of Blood Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Patricia Bracewell
want.
“You will learn that when the time is right,” he said. “Until then I will keep you close by my side because I have learned that I cannot trust anyone else to watch over you.”
She glared at him, and he glared back at her, confident, she supposed, that he had kept her blind and deaf, as helpless as a newborn kitten. But he was wrong about that, for she knew more about his affairs than he imagined.
“I am aware of your frequent dealings with northerners, my lord,” she hissed, “and I’ve heard that even men from across the Danish sea have been in this—”
In an instant he had slammed down his cup and grasped her arm with all the strength of a man well used to wielding a sword. She found herself thrust into a corner out of sight and hearing of the men in the hall.
“If you cannot watch your tongue, girl, I shall cut it out for you,” he snarled. “And while you’re about it, keep that inquisitive little nose of yours out of my business. I promise you, I look forward to the day when I hand you off to your husband and you become someone else’s problem.”
“And that day would be when?” she spat at him. “Soon, I think, for I am twenty summers old and you must use me before I am too old to be considered a prize for any man!”
“You are no prize now, sullied as you are by the king’s lust.” He gave her a shake, and then, to her astonishment, he grinned. “But have no fear, daughter,” he said jovially, his words slurred and indistinct. “Your betrothal is all but settled. In the end, you will thank me.”
He stumbled against her, and she realized that the drink had done its work and more. He would be less careful now about what he said.
“Who is it then?” she demanded. “Who am I to wed? I will go to him gladly, so long as you have not sold me to some brute of a Dane.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before he’d clamped a hand at her throat.
“I told you to keep your mouth shut!” he snarled. “Get you back to your chamber, now; I’ve no more to say to you.”
He thrust her away from him and, her mouth set in a grim line, she left the hall.
Her father had not revealed everything, but he had said enough.
He had done the unthinkable—betrothed her to some filthy Danish warlord, some savage with a great deal of gold who wanted to buy a noble wife and rich properties in England. What had been the bride price, she wondered, that her father had demanded for her? Whatever the settlement, it would prove worthless, for she would marry no Dane. She had watched them rape and murder her old nurse, and her father well knew how much she hated and feared them. If he tried to force her into a marriage with one of those brutes, she would murder him with her own hands.
But it would not come to that. The king’s messenger must still be here, for he would eat and rest while a fresh mount was readied. If she could just get to him, she could put a stop to this marriage herself.
She sent the maidservant—her father’s eyes and ears, she was certain—to the larder house with what remained of the mead. Inside her own chamber she went to the coffer that held her most precious belongings, unlocked it, and withdrew a handful of coins. It should be enough, she guessed, to enlist the services of the royal messenger and to purchase the silence of any of her father’s grooms who might be about.
Fearing that she may already be too late, she made her way swiftly to the stables.
The king’s man, she saw with relief, was still there, checking the girth of his mount while a young groom clutched the bridle and spoke soothingly to the gelding. There was no one else about.
She went up to the boy holding the horse, whispered, “You did not see me here,” and pressed a coin into his palm. “Understand?” He grinned and nodded, and she added, “There’s more of that for you if you make sure that no one enters the stable while I am here.”
He scurried to the door, and she left him to
“You will learn that when the time is right,” he said. “Until then I will keep you close by my side because I have learned that I cannot trust anyone else to watch over you.”
She glared at him, and he glared back at her, confident, she supposed, that he had kept her blind and deaf, as helpless as a newborn kitten. But he was wrong about that, for she knew more about his affairs than he imagined.
“I am aware of your frequent dealings with northerners, my lord,” she hissed, “and I’ve heard that even men from across the Danish sea have been in this—”
In an instant he had slammed down his cup and grasped her arm with all the strength of a man well used to wielding a sword. She found herself thrust into a corner out of sight and hearing of the men in the hall.
“If you cannot watch your tongue, girl, I shall cut it out for you,” he snarled. “And while you’re about it, keep that inquisitive little nose of yours out of my business. I promise you, I look forward to the day when I hand you off to your husband and you become someone else’s problem.”
“And that day would be when?” she spat at him. “Soon, I think, for I am twenty summers old and you must use me before I am too old to be considered a prize for any man!”
“You are no prize now, sullied as you are by the king’s lust.” He gave her a shake, and then, to her astonishment, he grinned. “But have no fear, daughter,” he said jovially, his words slurred and indistinct. “Your betrothal is all but settled. In the end, you will thank me.”
He stumbled against her, and she realized that the drink had done its work and more. He would be less careful now about what he said.
“Who is it then?” she demanded. “Who am I to wed? I will go to him gladly, so long as you have not sold me to some brute of a Dane.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before he’d clamped a hand at her throat.
“I told you to keep your mouth shut!” he snarled. “Get you back to your chamber, now; I’ve no more to say to you.”
He thrust her away from him and, her mouth set in a grim line, she left the hall.
Her father had not revealed everything, but he had said enough.
He had done the unthinkable—betrothed her to some filthy Danish warlord, some savage with a great deal of gold who wanted to buy a noble wife and rich properties in England. What had been the bride price, she wondered, that her father had demanded for her? Whatever the settlement, it would prove worthless, for she would marry no Dane. She had watched them rape and murder her old nurse, and her father well knew how much she hated and feared them. If he tried to force her into a marriage with one of those brutes, she would murder him with her own hands.
But it would not come to that. The king’s messenger must still be here, for he would eat and rest while a fresh mount was readied. If she could just get to him, she could put a stop to this marriage herself.
She sent the maidservant—her father’s eyes and ears, she was certain—to the larder house with what remained of the mead. Inside her own chamber she went to the coffer that held her most precious belongings, unlocked it, and withdrew a handful of coins. It should be enough, she guessed, to enlist the services of the royal messenger and to purchase the silence of any of her father’s grooms who might be about.
Fearing that she may already be too late, she made her way swiftly to the stables.
The king’s man, she saw with relief, was still there, checking the girth of his mount while a young groom clutched the bridle and spoke soothingly to the gelding. There was no one else about.
She went up to the boy holding the horse, whispered, “You did not see me here,” and pressed a coin into his palm. “Understand?” He grinned and nodded, and she added, “There’s more of that for you if you make sure that no one enters the stable while I am here.”
He scurried to the door, and she left him to