Rochester, Kingdom of Kent, 855 AD
Rochester, Kingdom of Kent, 855 ADDeormund’s urgent troubled expression alerted Faruin before the words reached his ears. “Come, quickly, it’s your mother.”
He hurried after his friend into the body of the hall to find Linveig squatting, back against a wooden column, her hair—always neatly pinned up, as befitting a married woman—uncharacteristically cascaded down to cover her face. Silent sobs racked her body, interspersed with an occasional moan.
Hastily, Faruin squatted down beside her and, for no other reason than to look her in the eyes, gently drew aside the veil of her corn-coloured hair. Instead of peering, as he supposed, into her mint-green eyes, his gaze was met by an angry red swelling that closed her right eye. On the morrow, it would be bl
