Clement

Not every man of color in Elizabeth’s England was a slave, even formerly; some adventurous souls sought to visit the exotic northern kingdoms on their own power. A lifetime ago, Clement was such a man, eager to see England’s strange ways and quaint folk beliefs. London was happy to accept his service — as a militiaman, as a curiosity, as a symbol of England’s exaggerated influence over his homeland — but would not offer its respect. He had observed London as only an outsider could, with rapt attention and discernment. With insufficient pay to send himself home, to tell these stories he’d gathered, Clement had begun seriously considering selling himself into servitude. But a pale, bony woman approached him one evening, and asked him if he might mind telling her what he thought of the city. Flattered to be asked at last, the bite came too swiftly to see. Æthelgifu won a loyal agent with no more than an intense curiosity.