The Silken Cord
Authors: Leigh Bale
Tags: #romance, #inspirational, #england, #historical, #wales, #slave, #christian, #castles, #medieval, #william the conqueror
by
Leigh Bale
*****
Copyright 2013 by Leigh Bale
First Edition published 2013 by LAS Publishing at
Smashwords.com
*****
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please
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this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your
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own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this
author.
*****
She risked
everything
on a man she
should never trust.
Convicted of treason, Wulfgar, Earl of Glyndwr, was
once a favored Norman knight of King William the Conqueror. Sold
into slavery for his crimes, Wulfgar is determined to have his
honor restored and vows revenge on those who conspired for his
downfall. But once Wulfgar belongs to Ariana, he finds there is
nothing he will not do to protect her. She holds his heart in her
hands and this silken cord is stronger than any chains.
Once his betrothed, Princess Ariana of Wales has come
to the slave auction to buy Wulfgar, a man she believes betrayed
his king. Only Wulfgar knows how to free her young brother from the
cruel ruler who has taken Wulfgar's place at Castle Cynan. But
Ariana is unprepared for the darkly handsome warrior who kindles a
passion within her that threatens the lives of her people and her
own soul.
Note to reader:
This book is an inspirational
historical romance.
*****
titles by Leigh Bale at Smashwords.com
http://www.LeighBale.com
*****
This book is dedicated to Lisa Mondello, a generous
friend and fellow author.
*****
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Excerpt from The Heart’s
Warrior
Excerpt from Healing the Forest
Ranger
The Slave Market of Hedeby
North of England, A.D. 1076
“Buy the slave.” Ariana squinted her eyes
against the afternoon sun and glanced at Jenkin, her father’s most
trusted warrior.
Jenkin’s brow furrowed as six guards dragged
the slave onto the auction block. Bloody slashes crisscrossed the
bondsman’s chest and arms, the fabric of his fine clothing hanging
from his torso in shreds. Though trussed in chains, he struggled
against his captors, his dark eyes blazing with fury.
Jenkin’s lips thinned. “The man is
dangerous, my lady. They have beaten him and still he fights.
Perhaps we should keep our silver and find another way to free your
brother.”
Ariana lifted her gaze to the platform. An
imposing man, the slave stood head and shoulders above his captors,
with hammerlike fists and brawny arms that spoke of great strength.
The guards struggled to contain him. Six men! If they couldn’t
control him, how would she be able to do so? “You know there’s no
other way. Only Wulgar de Conteville knows how to gain entrance
into Castle Cynan.”
Black shaggy hair fell into the bondsman’s
eyes. His lean ribs and hollowed cheeks indicated he was
half-starved. The frigid wind beat against his thin clothing and he
clenched his jaw. Though his proud carriage marked him as a
nobleman, his present circumstances declared him of no consequence.
Nothing but a slave. And yet, even bound in chains, he would never
bow before any man. Or woman.
Knots of tension tightened Ariana’s stomach.
A shiver swept her spine and she pulled the hood of her cloak
closer around her face. What had possessed her to think he might
help her?
Fear and desperation.
If Wulfgar refused her plea, her brother
would be doomed. Surely Wulfgar was a Christian, like her. But in
these cruel times, religion didn’t always matter. Many men were
Christians and continued to lie, cheat and kill.
“Hold him,” the slave trader ordered as he
jumped onto the wooden platform.
Wulfgar planted his bare feet on the
splintered planks and tried to throw off his guards. A snarl of
rage tore from his throat, his black eyes filled with venom.
“Haven’t I taught you respect, yet?”
Wielding a short club, the slaver blew a breath from his nostrils
like a charging bull.
Wulfgar spat at the man’s feet and the
slaver slammed the club against Wulfgar’s tight abdomen. Wulfgar
almost doubled over, but the guards jerked him upright. Ariana
winced at Wulfgar’s low groan of pain. She could hardly stand to
see him beaten. Her Christian faith had taught her to love all
mankind. Only her plans to free him later on justified her buying
the slave now.
People crowded close to watch the spectacle.
Amidst their morbid cheers, the guards pounded Wulfgar with their
fists. Wulfgar tried to fight, but he was bound too tight and there
were too many. Within moments, he hung limp in their grasp,
coughing, spitting blood.
A blaze of sympathy tore through Ariana and
she clenched her hands. She wanted to help this man, yet he
deserved his punishment. He was a traitor to his king and she must
think first of her young, innocent brother in the hands of a
murderer.
She hardened her will, squelching her
compassion. Once she owned Wulfgar de Conteville, her offer would
be more than generous for him to earn his freedom.
“Have you had enough?” the slaver
growled.
Wulfgar jerked against his bindings, still
eager to fight. He’d do Ariana no good if they injured or killed
him. She took a step, but Jenkin held out a restraining hand. “It
isn’t safe for you to intervene.”
“Then, stop it,” she ordered in a low voice.
“I need him if we are to save Dafydd.”
The slaver lifted his arm to strike again.
Wulfgar locked his jaw, his eyes filled with loathing as he met the
threat without flinching. The fool! Was he so eager to die?
“I’ll not buy damaged goods.” A tall
merchant called from the crowd.
He stood before the auction block, his tawny
hair ruffling as the wind stirred up dust around his feet. The
slaver paused, his beady gaze moving to rest on the man.
Competition! Ariana hadn’t considered this.
Her hand tightened around the small leather pouch hidden beneath
her cloak. Besieged by war and poverty, her people had scraped
together what little wealth they had. She prayed it was enough to
buy Wulfgar.
The merchant wore a rich ermine cloak. A
short sword and leather coin bag hung at his waist. Ariana could
not understand why anyone but her would want to buy Wulfgar. He was
too violent to make an obedient slave. She wanted him only for the
information he might provide, not to work the fields. She couldn’t
understand the merchant’s interest.
The slaver lowered his club and grinned with
yellowed teeth. “Fair enough. Though he is strong, you can see
it’ll take a firm hand to control him. What will you bid?”
“Two marks,” the merchant replied.
Ariana’s throat tightened. Wulfgar fought
his captors no more. He stood silent. Waiting. His keen gaze rested
on the merchant, a brief flash of recognition in his eyes. Did he
know the man?
“A piddling amount for such a fine slave.”
The slaver shook his head with shame. “Once a valiant warrior, he’s
strong as an ox. I cannot take less than seven marks.”
Seven marks! Such a high price.
The air filled with excited whispers as
people gestured toward the dais.
“From whence did he come? In whose army did
he fight?” a red bearded man called.
The slaver showed a cruel smile. “It was
William of Normandy he fought for. The slave was once a nobleman
and one of the Conqueror’s best Norman knights.”
A gasp rippled amongst the people as they
digested this information.
“What are his crimes that he’s sold into
slavery?” the bearded man asked.
“I know,” a woman called. “The tinker gave
me the news. He spoke of a great lord from the south that plotted
treason against King William. No one seems to know why the king let
the traitor live instead of beheading him.”
A rumbling murmur spread through the crowd.
Ariana took a deep breath. She also had wondered why the English
king had been so merciful. William was a Christian and slavery no
longer existed in England. So, why had the Conqueror allowed
Wulfgar to live in spite of his crimes?
“I would never own such a slave.” The
bearded man shook his head and dropped silver coins back into his
purse. “Any man who would betray his king would show no loyalty to
me. He’d murder my entire household while we sleep.”
Ariana crinkled her brow. If she bought
Wulfgar, he could very well slit her throat instead of helping
her.
Grim clouds gathered in the heavens and she
caught the pungent scent of rain. They must hurry or be caught in a
storm on their voyage home.
Buyers gathered around the scaffold as the
slaver tugged on his thick beard and grinned. “Come now. Will no
one else bid? Surely one of you men can tame this slave.”
Ariana was no man, but she would show the
traitor who was master. With a determined lift of her chin, she
glanced at Jenkin. "Buy him. Now.”
"I’ll give you seven marks of silver,” the
merchant called before Jenkin could speak.
The slaver crowed with glee. "Ah! I have
seven marks. He has noble bloodlines. You can work him hard or put
him with your slave girls to produce strong babes. Come now, who
will give me eight marks?"
"Eight," Jenkin boomed.
The merchant turned to look at Jenkin and
the two men measured each other before the merchant’s jaw tensed
with annoyance. Ariana’s nails bit into her palms. She wanted no
trouble, but neither would she back down. She must buy Wulfgar. She
had no other choice.
"Eight-and-a-half marks.” The merchant’s
eyes were chilling as he challenged Jenkin.
The slaver laughed and clapped his hands
together. "Good. Who will give me nine?"
A titter ran through the crowd. Nine marks
for an untrained slave was unheard of.
The merchant consulted two other men
standing close beside him, their expressions fierce. A jagged scar
ran the length of one man’s face. From their shields and weapons,
Ariana knew they were warriors. With their hair cropped short, they
could be French or Welsh, from a rival principality to her father.
But why would they want to buy Wulfgar?
They glowered at Jenkin, as if that would
deter him from bidding again. Ariana snorted. They didn’t know
Jenkin very well, nor her for that matter.
"Bid nine.” Ariana mouthed her demand
beneath the silken scarf covering her lower face.
She glanced at Wulfgar and saw him standing
silent, watching her. His expression darkened, his eyes crinkled in
puzzlement.
"Nine marks of silver.” Jenkin’s voice
sounded gruff.
The merchant grimaced. Hefting his coin
purse with one hand, he cupped the hilt of his sword with the
other. Ah, the price had become painful. For Ariana also. But her
brother’s life was worth every bit of silver, and more.
"Nine-and-a-half marks.” The merchant’s
voice contained a desperate edge.
Jenkin did not hesitate. "Ten."
"Ten-and-a-half."
"Eleven!"
The merchant's shoulders sagged and he threw
Wulfgar a despairing scowl. Then he looked straight at Jenkin, his
eyes filled with such fury that Ariana braced herself in case the
merchant lost his temper and turned the marketplace into a
bloodbath. Her men were outnumbered, but they would fight. She
reached for the twin daggers she kept sheathed in a girdle beneath
her cloak. Her fingers curled around the jeweled hilts.