Liberty
FINGERS CRAMPING AND shoulders aching from having wielded the pitchfork all day, Rhyddes ferch Rudd tossed another load of hay onto the wagon. Sweat trickled down her back, making the lash marks sting. Marks inflicted by her father, Rudd, the day before because eighteen summers of anguish finally had goaded her into speaking her mind.
Mere physical pain couldn't compare with the ache wringing her heart.
Her father despised her.
She slid a glance toward the author of her mood. He stood a few paces away, leaning upon his pitchfork's handle in the loaded wagon's shade to escape the July heat as he conversed with her oldest brother, Eoghan. She couldn't discern their words, but their easy camaraderie spoke volumes her envy didn't want to hear.
Her father's gaze met hers, and he lowered his eyebrows. "Back to work, Rhyddes!" On Rudd's lips, her name sounded like an insult.
In a sense, it was.
Her name in the Celtic tongue meant "freedom," but the horse hitched to the hay wagon enjoyed more freedom than she did. Her tribe, the Votadins, had been conquered by the thieving Romans, who demanded provisions for their troops, fodd ... read full excerpt from Liberty ebook
