PROLOGUE Engla-lond 1030 C.E. – Mædmonath (Meadow Month – June) 

 

Making no sound, Udele closed the door to her father’s house and stepped out into the moonlight. She scanned the collection of buildings to see if anyone was stirring— her father’s housecarls slept like bearns— even when on watch— and if they rose at all, it would be just to piss onto the scattered rushes covering the hall’s floor. The two hounds Cyning and Cwēn padded over, seeking attention. She stroked their heads but said nothing.

 

Udele made her way to the horsefold where she bridled her favorite gelding. Bats flittered above her, catching flying insects, and though the night was warm, she shivered. She wore a tunic and long-sleeved under-tunic, a cæppe to cover her head, and a mantle over her shoulders. Udele scanned the broad valley and saw the shadows of clouds crossing the moon travel over the fields of wheat and barley. She remembered her purpose and hurried. He would be waiting. 

 

Udele led her horse down the track from Ravens Hill and only mounted when she was well away from the large steading. When she thought it safe, Udele urged the horse into a controlled canter, the road visible in the moonlight. 

 

The hamlet of Déorfald lay but a mile distant and their meeting place was not far from there. Déorfald consisted of a mill, bakehouse, smithy, and several cottages. Udele and Aloc often met downstream on a wooded clay bank above where cliff swallows burrowed. The thought of Aloc waiting made her heart rate quicken. He was the miller’s son, tall and handsome, and though not of the thegn class like herself, he would make a fine husband. Her father would come to the same conclusion in time. Poor Aloc fretted over Thegn Wulfrun’s disapproval and sometimes he would despair of ever marrying her. But Udele knew she would have him in time. 

 

Where the track straightened, she spurred her horse faster beneath the clouds scudding across the face of the moon. She slowed to a trot and then to a walk to veer onto a path that would bypass the hamlet. Udele followed the track, watching for low-hanging branches of birch and rowan that could sweep her from the horse’s back. Once past Déorfald, the path crossed the north road. She re-entered the wood on the other side. Her way was a lattice of moonlight and shadow. An owl hooted from high in one of the trees, then remained silent as she passed. Where the trees grew taller and broader, less light reached the forest floor, but Udele knew the way. She and Aloc had been meeting often since the spring, keeping the late frost away with the heat of their bodies. 

 

As she drew close to her destination, her heart quickened once more. Then her horse raised its head and nickered. Odd, as Aloc would be on foot her horse would not have scented another. 

 

She dismounted. “Aloc?” she called softly.

 

There was no response.

 

Udele proceeded on foot, feeling her way between the trunks of the trees. She could hear the whisper-ripples of the shallow water flowing in the burna close by. “Aloc?” If only it were not so dark. And then, groping as if blind, she stumbled over something and fell headlong. Dry moss softened her fall. Udele picked herself up and wiped the dirt from her face. She turned and retraced her steps. It had felt like an animal carcass that caused her to trip. She could just see the dark shape on the forest floor. A deer? She knelt and reached out, expecting the hair of a deer hide. Instead, her fingers touched homespun cloth. Udele recoiled but then realized who it must be. 

 

“Aloc!” Udele cried, touching him, shaking him. He lay on his front, so she turned him over— roughly, in her panic. She cupped his face. “Aloc! Can you hear me? Wake up.” Frantic, she moved a hand to his chest to feel if it rose and fell with breath. Her fingers found instead a great wetness of blood, and then the antler-hilt of a knife protruding from beneath Aloc’s lowest rib. 

 

Udele’s screams awakened the night.

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