by T S Florence
“Yes, father.” Ivar said.
“He has no honor, I can smell it on him from here. I can smell his fear, too. He is a weak man. Do not trust a word that comes from his mouth.”
Ivar
Ivar watched his father and the Duke talking, and could see the mutual respect between the two men. The Duke was surprised that his father could speak English. They sat, drinking ale together, and eating venison.
“Your men fight differently than us English. Much more effective,” the Duke said to his father.
“We train to fight like this since we are young pups,” Bjorn said to the Duke.
“I would like to call a cease to the fighting, for now. I would hope that we can come to an agreement that would benefit us both, for I do not enjoy seeing my young men die in such battles,” the Duke said.
Ivar was surprised at this comment, and could see the surprise on Bjorn’s face, as well. Bjorn had always told Ivar that English leaders such as the Duke did not care for the men below them, for they were a means to an end. They helped them retain their own power and wealth.
“What sort of deal did you have in mind?” Bjorn asked.
“I can see that you, like me, do not relish losing young men. I can see it in the way you fight, and I can see it in the way your men celebrate with each other after fighting. There is a bond there that is unique to your men,” the Duke said.
“But here is not the place to make such deals, and winter is coming. I would give grant you and your men some land for the winter and in return I would expect no more raids or killing of my people until we have met. In the coming Spring.” The Duke continued.
“Agreed,” Bjorn said.
Bjorn the Fearless
1 year later
They marched through the gates to Newcastle, the home of Duke Henry. The streets were deserted, save for a young girl and two boys. Bjorn had paid them no attention, until Ivar stopped to talk to them. What is this boy doing?
“We don’t have time for games today, son. We must proceed with the business” Bjorn said to his son, pulling him back towards his horse.
“I will see you again one day,” he heard his son say.
“And what makes you think you’ll see this girl again one day, you young fool?” Bjorn said, though without malice.
“She is mine now,” Ivar said.
“What, you intend to marry the Duke’s daughter? Well I’ll tell you this, if you can convince the Duke and his daughter to marry your sorry ass, I’ll give you my damn blessings to marry the English girl,” he said, laughing.
One of Bjorn’s men spoke up “You’ll have to share her with some of us, so don’t go thinking you can have her for yourself,” the huge warrior said.
“I’d cut your throat before you got your cock within ten feet of the girl” Ivar said, Bjorn watched his son’s gaze turn to stone. This boy will have her, if he turns he damn country on its head.
Duke Henry
Henry watched from his great throne as the Vikings walked into his hall. As custom, they left their weapons outside, with the guards. They showed great respect by honoring his wishes, especially after they were so dominant on the battle field. They certainly owed him nothing, yet here they were, coming to negotiate. Henry sensed an honor in these men, similar to an own personal honor that he held himself to.
“Welcome to Newcastle” Duke Henry said to Bjorn the Fearless.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Duke Henry, Bjorn said.
Henry observed the great warlord’s son, who he believed to be called Ivar. He had already grown, since he had last seen him on the battlefield, mere months earlier. He had a defiant, intimidating air, that rivalled his own fathers. The great white bear fur that he wore was a display for all the world to see that this boy feared nothing. That he could go into the wild, face great beasts, and come home a victor.
They talked long into the night, drinking ale and wine and mead, just the three of them. The rest of the men had been sent away, so that the true conversations could take place. And for a night, they put aside that they were enemies, that they were responsible for killing each other’s men, that they both came from lands far away from each other. And they talked.
“My son and I do not relish losing our young men, but we need money in this country, and we need good farming land. We are a simple people, we value friendships and honor,” Bjorn said.
“There is much I admire about your people,” Henry said, pausing weighing the truth of their eyes, deducing their words to hold no deceit “and there is much that my people could learn. For one, your people bathe more often,” he said with a booming laugh.
“But if something were to happen to me in the coming years, I could not guarantee that my brother would go back on his word, attacking your people,” Henry said, aware of his brother’s own deceitful heart. “And not only that,” he continued “but I fear for my daughter’s safety, should anything happen to me. You see, even at such a young age, the people of Newcastle love her and would demand her to take my place, which would anger my brother greatly.” Henry said.
“Then simply marry your daughter to a kingdom out of his reach, no?” Bjorn suggested.
“On its face, I think it seems like a good idea, and it is inevitable. I suspect that my daughter, Isla, will be married in the coming years. But she has a free heart, and I do not think she will be happy to be married for reasons other than love. You may have seen her, in the streets this morning as you entered Newcastle. She is often at the smithy’s shelter, playing with other children. In any event, I believe that regardless of her happiness in marriage, my brother would still seek her death in my absence.”
Henry noticed the boy’s eyes light up, at the mention of his daughter.
“You must kill your brother,” Ivar said.
Henry laughed at this, though not mockingly.
“I would, but as of yet, he has not given me any reason to kill him. I cannot kill my brother merely because of my own fears. It would have to be because of his actions that I kill him,” Henry said.
Henry noticed Bjorn eyeing his son carefully, before speaking to him in their native tongue quickly and harshly. The son appeared to ignore his father’s counsel, not taking his eyes from Henry.
“I will protect your daughter should something happen to you. But I ask for one thing in return.” Ivar asked.
“And what is that?” Henry asked.
“If I come back, and ask for her hand in marriage, you agree.” Ivar said.
Henry was taken aback. It was one thing to marry his daughter in a strategic marriage to another Englishman, but to a Viking? This was something unheard of.
“If you were to marry my daughter, it would be only at her own wish, and her wish only. If she does not wish to marry you, then you would leave her alone, and not trouble her. But for all this, you must protect her life, regardless of the outcome of marriage or no marriage,” Henry said.
“Agreed,” Ivar said, drawing a knife from his belt that Henry had not noticed, and cut his hand and holding it out. And so Henry, Duke of Newcastle, cut his hand and made a blood pact with Ivar. Ivar would protect Isla with his life, but only for a chance to marry her at her own decision.
“You’re a stupid boy,” Bjorn said to his son, shaking his head without anger. You are now bonded to that oath for the rest of your days.
“It is fate,” Ivar said, young and brash, his heart stolen at an age too young for reason to interfere.
14
Current day
Isla
Isla woke to a gentle rocking, the sound of wood knocking against wood, horses breathing hard, and men laughing and joking in a language she could not understand. She sat up and looked around. She was lying on a cart of furs. Slowly, her memory came back. Ivar’s words. Her uncle’s men.
She sat up, looking towards Ivar, riding at the front of the pack. His great bear fur still covered in dried red blood, not cleaned from the battle. I should have cut him last night when I had the chance. Isla tho
ught, but knew I her heart that she could never cause him, or anyone else, harm.
They set up camp only 2 day’s ride from Newcastle. Her uncle would be within a day’s ride from here, she thought sadly. Isla sat quietly, realising how little she had experienced in life, and wondered what her life could have been, if Ivar had not so cruelly forced himself into her existence. Surely Tomlin would not have let her uncle take her away had the Vikings not done the work for him?
Ivar
Ivar watched her from afar. Tonight, she did not offer to fill the men’s cups of ale, she did not joke or laugh. She looked broken. Broken by him, Ivar the Cruel. Had there been any other way, I would have chosen it, princess. He thought to himself, guilt clutching at his heart like a bear clawing its prey. I made an oath to make sure you were never harmed, and I broke that oath, for I see your heart spread out on the ground, shattered into pieces like dead men on a battlefield. And I hold myself responsible. Forgive me.
Everything was necessary. Everything. A woman makes a man weak, and a weak man dies. That’s why I have had to remove you from my heart, just for a time. I made a blood oath to your father, I would protect you, no matter the cost. And if that cost leaves you hating me for the rest of your life, then so be it. My men needed your uncle’s gold, so why not kill two crows with one stone?
Isla
I hate the way he watches me now. I hate the way he looks at me with his cold, calculating eyes. Why is he so handsome? I hate his rugged, hard face and I hate his scar, that shows the battles he has endured. I hate the great white bear fur that is now covered in the blood of dead enemies. I hate that he has determined himself the judge of my fate. I hate you, Ivar the Cruel, the only man to break my heart.
Isla had not felt this way about another person, not even Tomlin, for she pitied Tomlin. He was a weak where Ivar is strong. Isla could find nothing about Ivar to pity. He was too guarded, too whole, too real. She watched him, as he approached her, sitting next to her.
“When you wake tomorrow, when we go to meet your uncle, I want you to think of the day I first saw you, before I knew you were the Duchess of Newcastle. I want to remember what you felt in that moment.”
What does that mean? “Leave me alone, Ivar.” Isla stood, walking over to her Ragnar, who was preparing food.
“How are you doing, Princess?” Ragnar asked.
“I hate Ivar,” she said.
“Hate can be useful,” he said.
“How so?” Isla asked.
“Use it to quiet your fear. We Vikings are masters of fear, we do not let it affect us like you English folk do,” Ragnar said.
It’s easy to say, when you can fight for your life, Isla thought.
Ivar approached her again, surprising her at his persistence.
“There is one good thing that will come from tomorrow,” Isla said, beating Ivar to speaking first.
“What is that?” Ivar asked.
“I will go to heaven, to my god, and when you leave this earth, you will go to Valhalla.” Isla said.
Isla watched his face, which, only for a moment, showed surprising pain.
“I did not think of this,” Ivar said.
“Why would you, what would you care about this? You care only for gold and your men,” Isla said.
“You will understand soon,” Ivar said.
“I’m tired of trying to understand you, I hate you Ivar Bjornsson.”
4 years earlier
“That man is sent by the devil himself,” Jack said to Isla, as they watched the young warrior in the great white fur ride towards her father’s castle.
“I don’t know, I kind of liked him,” Isla said, watching him.
“What, he threatened you Isla!” Jack fumed.
“He didn’t threaten me, did you not see his face?” Isla asked.
“I did, and all I saw was the face of a killer,” Jack replied.
“Of course. I suppose most people see that,” Isla said, considering why it was that she did not fear the young warrior. “But there was something else. Something true.” Isla smiled to herself.
“I wouldn’t trust him with my dog,” Jack kicked a stone into the street.
I feel I could trust him with more than my dog. I feel like one day I might have to trust him with far more.
Isla couldn’t explain the feeling. What was it? Was this the almighty God’s plan, that her father spoke of, or was she just smitten with the handsome young warrior who had paid her attention? No other boys had looked at her like that before, for fear of what her father would do. But this boy was different from any other boy she had ever met before. Different from the young Prince, Tomlin. Sure, he was handsome, Isla thought, but he didn’t seem to have that something that the young warrior had. Was it strength? The confidence of a warrior?
Ivar
Current day
The day had come. Ivar had sent men away in preparation for his plan. It would work. There was no way he could fail, for he was Ivar the Clever, leader of Vikings, and Alfred was an uninspired, weak man, who grasped at power with his slimy hands like a whore clinging to a rich man’s cock.
Isla would not look at him. Good. He could not bear to see her face. He let warriors go ahead of him, so he could observe her, just for a moment. She sat on her horse, tears streaming down her face. He noticed that she was not on the grey horse with white and black spots.
“Ragnar,” he bellowed, causing Isla to jump.
“Where is the damn horse?” He snapped as Ragnar rode to him.
Ragnar, immediately understanding what was wrong, galloped down the line of men, in search of the horse. A short while later, Ragnar returned, getting Isla to hop from one horse to the other. She did not protest, but simply did as she was told. She seemed broken. It was not like Isla to simply do as she was told.
It killed Ivar to tie the rope, once again, to Isla’s waist. She did not argue. He held the other end like a man would a dog on a leash. I’m sorry, Isla.
They rode until the sun had almost reached the middle of the sky.
“Hold your lines,” Ivar called out, as they stopped, having a short rest before going the final mile.
Skald approached from the edge of the wooded forest.
“They have the gold” Skald said, causing Isla to raise her head, looking from Skald to Ivar. He pretended not to notice.
“Are you sure?” Ivar asked.
“The gold is there. I saw it with my own eyes,” Skald said.
“Good. I want you to stay close to her when it goes down,” Ivar said to Skald.
Skald nodded in agreement, pulling up besides Isla.
Isla
My time on this earth will be over in mere hours. I have been the best I could be in my time here. I have loved people who needed and deserved love. I have even tried to love those who did not. If this is where God’s plan for me, then so be it.
Isla noticed that there were fewer men with them today than on the previous days. She also noticed that today, the men were wearing all of their war glory. Ivar’s bear fur had been washed. When did that happen? It looked splendid in the light, the tips of the fur still wet, gleaming under the autumn sun. The air had a bite to it, winter was approaching fast.
The men sung songs and drank ale earlier than normal. They had their faces painted. Well, I suppose it is smart to make yourself seem as scary as possible before meeting with people like my uncle. Isla thought.
Skald looked particularly terrifying. His face was painted red, His teeth had been dyed black. She did not know how he had done this, but it resulted in a terrifying look. He wore a fur of a large black wolf, hung over his back, showing his prowess and the kill that made him a man.
Ragnar was riding on the other side of Ivar, similarly dressed. His dreadlocked hair had beads through it, displaying his prowess in battle. He wore the skin of a great brown bear, far larger than the normal bears in England, she did not know how these men survived with such huge beasts in their home land.
Her s
kin had goose bumps, and she did not know if these goose bumps were caused by the cold or because of fear. She halted the movement the large band twice as often as normal, to release water in the forest, which she put down to nerves.
Now and then, Ivar would turn around, his eyes searching for her. Her heart pained, just looking at him. Hate him, hate him! Her head screamed, but her heart drowned out the noise I cannot, I love him. But that love could not quell the anger she had towards him.