Terry Deary - Saxon Tales: The Lord who Lost his Head

Bloomsbury Education

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This electronic edition published in 2017

Copyright Terry Deary, 2017

Illustrations copyright Tambe, 2017

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This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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ISBN

PB: 978 1 4729 2924 2

ePub: 978 1 4729 2925 9

ePDF: 978 1 4729 2926 6

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Contents

Never trust a lord. Thats what my dad always said. Ooooh, he used to rage. They will trick you and trap you and dirty-deal and double-cross you. They will treat you like mud on their boot until they want something from you. And then... then... they will treat you like a king. He looked at me from under his thick and fierce eyebrows. Or, in your case, Marian, a princess.

Mother stirred the pot of porridge and dropped in some scraps of a rabbit that Dad had snared in the woods.

Id like to be a princess, I sighed. I bet they dont have porridge for dinner every day.

With rabbit, dont forget, Mum snapped. Your dad spent half the night setting those rabbit traps. She wiped the sweat from her brow, sweat that had been dripping into the rabbit porridge. It would sit there and simmer all day.

Most of the night, Dad grumbled. Just so my little princess could have some meat with her meal. And what does she say?

Mum put in, with a whine in her voice, Urrrr. I have to have porridge for dinner every day. I think the whine was supposed to be me.

Urrrr, Dad echoed. I have to have porridge for dinner every day.

Sorry Dad, I muttered.

I should think so too, Mum said. Poor Dad. Hes probably too tired to go to work in the fields, arent you, love?

I am, my love. Breaking my back, pulling up weeds under the burning sun and the pouring rain, he groaned.

Yes, Dad, I said. But you cant be pulling up weeds under the rain and the sun, I added.

His eyebrows met in the middle as he glared at me. Sun one day, rain the next. And why? I ask you? Why?

I knew the answer to that one. So King Offa can stuff his grain stores full of food while we go hungry, Dad.

The eyebrows rose. How did you know I was going to say that?

Because you say it every day. Sometimes ten times a day.

He sniffed. Well I wasnt going to say it this time. Why do I labour in the fields? So my daughter can moan on about how boring her dinner is. Well let me tell you, princess, when I was a young churl we went for days without meat... weeks... months...

Years? I asked.

Dont be cheeky, Mum said, or youll have no dinner at all.

Sorry Mum, I said. She slopped porridge into my wooden bowl. It smelled good. The day before, Dad had patched a crack in the wooden walls with some cow dung and that would smell quite strong until it dried. It didnt put me off my food.

Mum went back to her weaving and Dad ate slowly. He did that so he didnt have to work a moment sooner than he had to. Most days the village chief had to bang on our door to get Dad out.

But that morning it was just a light rattle on the door. Im coming, Dad groaned. Just making sure our Marian has enough to eat.

The door creaked open and Mistress Longmeadow put her head around it. Its only me.

Oh, Dad said with a sigh. What do you want?

Ive got news, the old woman said. She was so old she creaked when she moved. Dad said she was over forty years old.

Yes, itll be something exciting like it was last time. What did you barge in to tell us? The priest had a hole in his shoe or something.

Mistress Longmeadow grinned and showed her gums. No. Even more exciting than that. The whole village is meeting outside the chiefs house. You wouldnt believe what Thane Ethelberts done now. You wouldnt be-lieve it.

Bertram was chief churl of Clun village: a thin-faced man with a mouth that turned down in a wide curve, like a pale grey rainbow. Whats it all about? people were muttering. There were village meetings most evenings in the torchlight of Bertrams hall. But not in the daytime when we were supposed to be working.

Is every free man of Clun here? Bertram cried.

Aye, and the free women too, Mistress Longmeadow piped.

Bertram threw out his chest as far as it would go... which was about as far as your nose from your face. Thanes of Clun, we are gathered here today with serious news.

The crowd gasped, even though they didnt know what the news was. As you know, King Ethelbald was killed last year. His bodyguards killed him.

Served him right, someone laughed. Nasty old goat.

And now, Bertram went on, our country is ruled by Offa.

Hah, Dad whispered to me, they say Ethelbald was killed on the orders of Offa. He sort of polished him Offa. Hurr, hurr.

Dad loved riddles and bad jokes. Nobody else did. Sad Dad.

Shush, someone hissed at Dad. This is serious.

Offa is a powerful king, Bertram said. He is so mighty he plans to build a great wall and ditch all the way along the border with Wales.

Is that to keep the Welsh out or to keep us in? Dad laughed. No one else did. Bertram ignored him.

We have to pay him a tribute every year, as you know. It pays for his army that protects us from the wild men of Northumbria and the Welsh tribes.