Warriors of Ethandun by N. M. Browne Page A

take what they want and there are other bandits newly come to the Levels who aren’t any better. These are hard times. Perhaps you could tell your Lord that I meant no harm.’
    Dan took the cloak gratefully. The draught through the open door told him that the morning air was damp and chill.
    â€˜I am new to his service,’ he said carefully, ‘but I will tell him of your kindness.’ He did not know what else to say. He did not want Aelfred to be his Lord. He nodded a goodbye, not knowing quite what to think about the woman, then he ducked his head under the low doorway and followed King Aelfred outside. One way or another he’d had enough of kings.

Chapter Thirteen
    When Ursula chose to look again through her own eyes, it was late afternoon and someone had taken away the food offering she had neglected to eat and replaced it with oatcakes drizzled with honey. Ursula found that her mouth began to water at the smell of such sweetness. She felt strangely light-headed – perhaps from hunger – and her body felt stiff and wooden when she finally decided to sit up. She was like some beginner puppeteer who hadn’t quite worked out which string to pull. She lifted the wooden platter of cakes by the force of her will and set it beside her and then did the same with the gold chalice of milk. She was thirstier than she realised and almost spilled the milk down her chin. Her hands were shaking and her muscles felt weak, though the magic in her burned as strongly as ever.
    The guards who were watching her – young men of around her own age – looked worried when she moved and one of them ran away. She guessed he had gone to take a message that she had woken again. She ate thecakes too quickly and felt slightly sick but a little less feeble. She made a mental note to remember to eat and drink. She was confident that the magic would keep her alive but the idea of being little more than an animated skeleton was not very appealing. She got awkwardly to her feet only to find that her legs were numb and she might have stumbled but that she kept herself upright with power. She floated a centimetre above the ground then gradually trusted her weight to her legs.
    There was a distant commotion as the guard brought everyone from camp to see the Goddess eat. Ursula was tempted to escape mentally if not physically, but she did not. She needed to eat something else and she knew that should she ask these people would provide it.
    The crowd clustered around her, keeping a respectful distance. Ursula made her blonde hair longer and thicker, made herself taller still and made her eyes flash with emerald fire. The crowd looked interested. The warrior who appeared to be their leader stepped forward and beckoned to one of the men who were bearing gifts – women’s clothes and gold, roast venison and ale. At his leader’s signal the gift-bearer stepped forward and Ursula got a closer look at his offering.
    â€˜Lady, Goddess, we have brought you more gifts and will be able to bring more still should you grant us your help in our campaign.’
    The gift-bearer, a young blond man, laid out the clothes for her on the platform that had been her bed. There was a long fine linen shift and blue stockings, scarlet leather boots, which would be several sizes too small, along violet overdress decorated with gold and silver braid, jewelled clasps and a thick fur-lined cloak. It would have been wonderful had she not been so tall. She made no move to take any of it. A second man made the food offerings, which she did take. She beckoned to him and noted the way his hands trembled when he gave them to her. She did nothing to put any of them at their ease – it did not occur to her. She tore at the venison with eager fingers and stuffed it into her mouth with no concern for appearances: the meat tasted wonderful. The crowd watched silently until she had devoured all that had been given for her and drunk the ale.