The Wanderer's Word

By Amy Sanderson

Where king and his conquered subjects collided, only trouble could follow.

England, 11th century. William of Normandy has taken the crown and is travelling in procession across a land he now rules, but which continues to resist him.

Alden, newly widowed blacksmith of a village barely worth a name, has greater cares than a single king. His world fell into tatters the night he lost his wife and child, and now his only concern is to protect their grave.

Except Alden’s family were denied a Christian burial, and the site he chose instead is under threat from the king’s men. He’s not the only one who would see that ancient and hallowed place protected, but if Alden is to gain their aid, he’s going to have to make a deal with the Old Spirits who still haunt the land – and he might lose more than he knows in the process.

The Wanderer’s Word is a 6000-word short story, and a glimpse of a historical England that never quite was – but easily could have been.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Sanderson
• Release date: Mar 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524247089

Amy Sanderson

Amy has been writing for as long as she can remember, inspired by a childhood fascination with books. By the time she was fifteen and confronted with school 'careers guidance', she'd decided being an author was the only profession she could possibly enjoy - which, of course, led to a string of other roles, including Archaeology student, bookseller and library assistant. These days, she lives in the North Yorkshire countryside with her partner, where they run a bed & breakfast business and smallholding. When she's not working or writing, Amy enjoys reading, gaming, photography, and trying to pretend she's a grown-up.

Book preview

The Wanderer's Word

Amy Sanderson

Alden could feel rain on his skin. Even here, working beside the red eye of the forge, suffocating heat and the sting of sweat were eclipsed by the drumming of the rain. He could feel it now, weeks later, as he had then: pounding on his back as he'd buried his wife and child, bowing him beneath its weight, making his tools lead weights in his hands. That night – that horrible, fateful night – was going to haunt him for the rest of his days.

A shout drew his head up, then a second, in a language not his own. Thankful for the distraction, Alden tossed his tools onto a bench with a clatter and went to the open forge door. A messenger was riding up the hill into the village. His horse came to a snorting halt, dawn mist around its lathered legs.

Early morn or not, the crowd was quick to gather; Alden stayed on its margins, where it was almost possible to ignore the whispered gossip. There were appreciative glances, too, from the younger women and some of the older, as though Mona's death wasn't still a raw, gaping wound on his soul. Rather than consider it, Alden studied the newly arrived bay horse and its beautifully crafted tack.

The messenger was dressed in impractical, travel-stained silks, though at least his heraldic tabard was mostly obscured by a thick woollen cloak. He looked down at the crowd, men and women alike, with the greatest disdain. When he launched into a diatribe in his tangled language, Alden caught the name 'William', but nothing else.

What's he saying? an old man called, as the message came to an end. Grumblings filled the silence.

Something about William the Bastard. The second voice didn't trouble to disguise its sneer.

King William of Normandy, Conqueror of England, the messenger corrected, switching to the villagers' own tongue.