Colburga meets the majesty

“Is he armed?”

Cenwulf grunted. “I don’t see a shield.”

Colburga knew her laconic husband well enough to conclude that the man outside did have a sword.

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Matilda meets the fairy tale king

Matilda Cild had learned to walk beneath an ancient oaken table, by wandering between the knees of the earls, knights, and generals seated round. She must have tripped and toddled then, but the men who had raised her had taught her to step smartly like a soldier, even at such mundane moments as when answering a knock at the door.

And yet no soldier, Alred thought, had ever looked so fine and full and deliciously quivering from behind.

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Gunnilda prepares her piece

Alwy ducked his head through the door and scuffed to a stop in the dirt. Gunnilda was ready for him.

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Gunnilda meets the so-called King

Gunnilda had failed to reckon how exhausted a brisk march up the hill slope would leave her, but it had been worth it: the “fine men” were still in the square.

The laughter of the blue one carried as far as a shout: clear and loud without the grating edge of a guffaw. Bertie laughed to hear it. Gunnilda grit her teeth. If they laughed because they had spied Alwy’s blond head bobbing up the hill, then their piece would be garnished with an extra ladle of sour Gunnilda sauce.

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