Bertha's Tale: A Novel
9. in which the prince embarrasses himself in his drunken stupor
A creative retelling, based on truth but not intended to be read as historical fact.
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Palace of Eormenric, king of Kent and overlord of all kingdoms south of the Humber
Canterbury
c. A.D. 580.
Hild looked towards the door as it burst open and Æthelberht, the prince, stumbled in. The door had given way more easily than he’d thought it would, swinging open as he’d leant his full weight on it. He managed to stay on his feet - just - but he’d swayed to a comical, almost horizontal position: feet planted outside the threshold, hand gripping the door handle, head about to crash to the floor before he managed to right himself.
He looked up at Hild, sitting on the bed nursing their daughter Æthelthryth. His eyes were only half open and he was stifling a laugh as he whispered, “Shh…,” his finger to his lips. “Sorry.”
Hild had left the feast early, claiming to be called by the cries of her little one when she really just couldn’t bear to watch her husband flirting with another woman, especially another woman who was soon to be her rival for his marriage bed. It was just one week until Æthelberht would marry Bertha as arranged by his father, King Eormenric. It should have been a political contract and no more; but Hild had seen the way Æthelberht’s eyes lit up when he looked at his betrothed, the same way that they had only ever lit up for her.
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