Ease The Dawn

Chapter 1

The ride from the Humbery Monastery back to the castle in Wessex was a full day's travel commencing at dawn. The midsummer heat was stifling within the confining walls of the carriage and the rattling of the wooden wheels, over uneven ground, agonizingly loud. Aethelswith and her lady rode in silence for what seemed like hours, already covering the possible topics of discussion early into their journey and having to shout to do so. As the day stretched on, they cast each other repulsed looks and rolled their eyes as the crude horseman driving, repeatedly, cleared his throat and honked onto the ground. He would even stop to relieve himself off the side of the carriage, simultaneously, flatulating like a boar. He was a repulsive little man who obviously spent more time with horses than humans.

The guard was slightly more civilized, in manners at least, addressing her graciously as Princess and keeping obediently to his orders. This was not necessarily for her regard but because she was the cherished sister of King Alfred and the wife, seemingly less cherished, of Lord Burgred.

Unenthused about the uncomfortable journey home, Aethelswith was, at least, pleased to be resurfacing to the world of the living. As God serving as any other royal Saxon, the weeks of prayer with the sisters of Humbery was enough to make her feel mad in the head. But it had been the much-needed reprieve from her husband that generated the push for her trip to worship. 

Tipping her head back against the smooth fabric of the seat, she closed her eyes in an improbable attempt at sleep. Her lady, a girl of seventeen named Ardith, hummed a hymn just loud enough to be heard over the constant clatter of their ride.

A sharp holler from their driver ripped her from her rest just as the carriage lurched on its path, jolting both her and Ardith against the open window. They braced themselves clinging to the wall of the carriage as it rumbled to a stop. A thick cloud of dust billowed inside causing them to hack and cough. Glancing between the open windows, Aethelswith could not see the reason the driver had swerved so violently. A cold shiver ran down her back and her mouth gaped open when she heard the strange voices outside the wooden walls. She did not need to understand their words to know they were not simple bandits. The accounts of rape and pillaging, as well as the tribulations of her brother's attempts to protect their Kingdom, rang like chapel bells in her mind. These were Northmen.

A carriage carrying two young Saxon women, traveling under guard, would without question capture their dangerous attention. Shooting Ardith a stern look, Aethelswith brought her finger to her mouth in an effort to shush the young servant but the girl was close to panic.

Leaning forward, Aethelswith sunk her hand deep into the woven bag carrying her tapestry materials and pulled out a thin-bladed dagger. Her eyes scanned the ornate handle with intricate gold vines and ruby flowers. The memory of receiving it as a gift from her grandfather, King Ecbert, at her coming of age ceremony flashed through her mind. As did her foolish adolescent thoughts of the time. She used to wish, on more than one occasion, that she would have the opportunity, one day, to use it. Squeezing her eyes closed, her cheeks burned at her naivety as well as the realization that today was most likely that day.

A sharp whack jolted Aethelswith from her thoughts and Ardith flung herself across the carriage, clutching onto Aethelswith in a frenzy. There were no voices that she recognized as her guard or driver. Footsteps over dry dirt rounded the carriage causing both women's eyes to widen. A rugged face appeared in the open window of the carriage door, his expression seemed pleased and curious, not as sinister as his intentions unquestionably were.

This man's features could not be mistaken for anything but Viking. His sandy flaxen hair was plated and pulled partially back away from his light green eyes which were narrowed under a heavily furrowed brow. He wore leather armour crafted to appear like the skin of a dragon and he was covered in grime, absolute filth, like a man who slept on the ground.

Despite the humidity, goosebumps spread up Aethelswith's arms and she tightened her hold around Ardith, narrowing her own eyes back at the heathen. The dagger was still in her other hand, concealed, between her thigh and the bench seat. Cautiously, he poked his head through the open window looking around the inside and breaking into a grin that Aethelswith could only describe as sly. The door was yanked open and he leaned his body forward lifting and resting a leather boot on the threshold. They were trapped. The Northman's pleased smile and squinted eyes shot back and forth between the terrified woman. Abruptly, he stepped back, bowing and dramatically motioning his arm as a footman servant would.

"Princess," he said in a sarcastic, thick-accented voice.

He knew who she was! Her eyes shot wide and her breath hitched as she shook her head in confusion as her mind searched for an explanation.

The grimy man's expression darkened and he barked out words in his own language but they sat frozen. Clearly frustrated, he huffed and leaned through the open door extending his arm to grab Aethelswith's knee. Without hesitating, she swung her dagger towards him, chopping it down onto his forearm slicing cleanly into his skin. Hissing, he lept back and grabbed his arm, his eyes wild with surprise, and shouted something indiscernible in his awkward language. Doing her best to steady the shaking in her hands, Aethelswith raised the dagger again, directing it at him. Turning away, he yelled to someone outside the carriage and then slammed the door hard, leaving the ladies inside.

Shouting bounced between an uncertain number of men before the same dirty hand, belonging to the Northman, shot through the open window, grabbing Aethelswith's wrist. It squeezed tightly and she cried out in pain as he yanked the knife free with his other hand.

Ardith's screamed but it was interrupted by the carriage door flying open. An older, giant of a man with long hair and a scraggly beard leaned in reaching past Aethelswith, clutching Ardith by the arm. Effortlessly, he pulled her out of Aethelswith's grasp, causing her to slam forwards onto her knees on the carriage floor. Ardith disappeared through the door and it slamming behind.

Scrambling to the window Aethelswith peered out; her breath was ragged and her throat felt too dry to scream. The tall, older Northman stood in front of two horses holding Ardith's tiny arm in one hand. As if she was a feather, he swung her up to sit on the chestnut horse, her dress flying up exposing her legs. Slapping the horse's rump, the animal skittered forward, launching Ardith onto its neck. She hugged the horse tightly as it galloped down the trail in the direction they had come.

The carriage dipped under the weight of someone climbing onto the driver's bench. Listening, she could hear and feel the heavy hooves and sway of the horses being readied just as the carriage jolted forward into motion.

Sitting board straight, she pressed her trembling hands to her chest attempting to slow her breathing. A cold sensation spread up her back and over the top of her scalp and she bit the inside of her cheek, realizing  just how dire her situation was. She was being kidnapped and they had specifically targeted her. For ransom? Gold, she wondered? Where were they taking her? Her mind raced with questions. What would they do to her once there? Squeezing her eyes closed, she swallowed with difficulty at the images in her mind. Her guard and driver were obviously dead but as long as the carriage was moving, she was safe. 

"Woah," called a gruff voice from up front as the carriage slowed to a stop.