Leofric: Sacrifice

By S. J. Arnott

Denmark, AD 515. Leofric, a young Angle noble, goes hunting in the woods near his home and discovers the corpse of a woman. She has been murdered, and suspicion quickly falls on one of the victim's travelling companions. However, Leofric is less certain of the man's guilt and comes up with a plan to reveal the true killer.

Set in Angeln on the Jutland peninsula, homeland of the Angle people, Leofric: Sacrifice is a Dark Age short-story set against the Germanic migrations that lead to the creation of the new Angle, Jute and Saxon kingdoms in the east of Roman Britain - the Angle-Lands.

The novel 'Leofric: Sword of the Angles', set five years after the events in 'Sacrifice', is also available.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S. J. Arnott
• Release date: Mar 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9780957384057

S. J. Arnott

Please see my author site for more information about me and my other books.

Book preview

Leofric: Sacrifice

by

Stephen Arnott

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Published by Ketingas Press

Copyright © Stephen Arnott. 2015.

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-9573840-5-7

Version 1.0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by James at GoOnWrite.com

Foreword

Leofric: Sacrifice is a short-story set around AD 515. It takes place in Angeln, homeland of the Angles, in the Jutland peninsular (now part of modern Denmark). The story is set against the background of the folk migrations to the new Angle lands in the east of Britain.

You can read more about the adventures of Leofric in the novel Leofric: Sword of the Angles.

Map of Jutland AD515

Chapter 1: The forest

The morning sun dappled the forest floor as Leofric and Chlodochar trudged between the trees. Both boys carried boar spears, but they had tired of balancing the heavy shafts on their shoulders; now they let them drag behind them, the trailing ends leaving long gouges in the leaf mould. There was no-one nearby to scold them for mistreating their weapons, the main party was far behind them, the voices of the huntsmen almost inaudible through the undergrowth. Leofric’s uncle, Eadwig, had sent the boys ahead to scout for traces of game, but Leofric knew it was a fool’s errand. From the moment they set out, Eadwig’s hounds had been barking at every snapped twig and startled squirrel. Any boar or deer with a grain of sense would be half way to the next valley by now.

Leofric squinted up between the branches, trying to gauge the height of the sun.

‘It’s getting late.’

Chlodochar spat on the ground. ‘It was late when we left the Hall. You have to be up before dawn to catch a boar in its bed.’ He rubbed his belly. ‘I’m starving. How soon can we give up this goose chase and go back for something to eat?’

‘Didn’t you have enough at breakfast?’ Leofric said. ‘You ate enough for three men.’

Chlodochar grinned at him. ‘What can I say? I’m a growing lad.’

That was true enough. Of the two, Leofric had always been the taller, but now Chlodochar was catching up quickly. He was bulking out too, his muscle and bone thickening to manhood. In contrast, Leofric’s clothes hung on him like a scarecrow. Years of