by Elena May
“‘Blood Eagle,’ Björn echoed, his face grim.
“‘Blood Eagle!’ All warriors took up the call, and the cry echoed across the green fields of York. ‘Blood Eagle! Blood Eagle!’
“I approached Callisto. ‘What are they talking about?’
“Her mouth twitched into a grin. ‘I’ve heard about it, but never seen it with my own eyes. My love, I believe we will have a few stories to tell after this coming night.’”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Blood Eagle
“The execution was planned for the following nightfall, and when the time came, we all gathered at a large field by the seashore, in a circle lit by torches and high tallow candles. King Ælla lay facedown, spread in a cross, his arms and legs tied to wooden poles hammered into the ground. No one had gagged him, and his bloodcurdling screams rose and carried over the sea.
“Björn Ironside emerged from his ship and stepped onto the shore. He walked towards us, taller than any man alive, and all I could do was stare. A long cape of reindeer fur hung from his shoulders and trailed the ground behind him. His forearms were covered in heavy golden and jeweled bracelets, and in his right hand he held a small axe. His face was painted all black, save for the rune for ‘serpent,’ bright red on his forehead.
“His long hair, falling from the single spot on his head that was not shaven and tattooed, was bleached to a pale golden shade, brushed with the fragrant lavender oil he had brought home from a trading visit to Constantinople, and woven into a single braid that reached down to his knees. But it was not the simple braid he normally wore—this time, the skulls and bones of small rodents were woven into the strands.
“A necklace of small bird skulls hung around his neck. At the tip was the skull of a goat, with the horns still attached.
“King Ælla raised his head to look at him. For a moment, the screams stopped. And then, he screamed as no man had screamed before.
“A few Vikings at the edge of the circle started beating out a rhythm on small drums. Slow, and then faster and faster. The shieldmaiden Lagertha raised her voice in a song. Halfdan joined her, and so did Ivar. Soon, all sons and daughters of Ragnar were singing, a song of the great hero Ragnar Lodbrok, descendent of Odin himself.
“Björn walked to King Ælla and knelt by his prostrate body. He raised his small axe and struck.
“The scream that tore from the king’s lips was enough to split the sea in two. Björn broke off a rib and tore it out of Ælla’s back to toss it aside. Then he struck again and broke off another.
“The captive miraculously stayed conscious. He screamed, biting his own tongue, and blood gushed out of his mouth. Björn broke off another rib. The smell of blood rose heavy in the air and awoke my hunger. I licked my lips. Patience. Many other prisoners still awaited their quicker and simpler executions. I could have my pick among them soon enough.
“Björn rose his axe and struck, again and again. He broke off each one of the king’s ribs, then smeared the blood over his painted face and cried, ‘I now give you wings to fly to Niflheim!’
“A flock of black ravens flew up and rose into the cloudy sky. Björn reached into Ælla’s chest and pulled out his lungs, spreading them out in a grotesque pair of wings. The king was no longer conscious. The Vikings untied his body from the poles and hung it from a tree for all to see. He hung there, like a pitiful eagle of blood and viscera.”
Myra stole a glance at Sissi. The girl was pale as a sheet, and her lower lip was trembling. “Vlad, I’m honestly confused. You want to convince us that this was a respectable culture worth preserving, and you choose to tell us this story?”
He looked at her, his eyes cold amber under the firelight. “I am not trying to convince you of anything. I am recounting the facts as they happened and omitting nothing. Perhaps one day, when the war is won and we have more time for stories, I will tell you of my time with the Inquisition, or with the Conquistadors. Maybe then you will see that the Viking culture was no more terrifying than any other. But for now let us return to this windy Yorkish shore.
“‘Our father is avenged!’ Björn cried. ‘He watches us from Walhalla and raises his horn of mead to toast us and to honor our deed today. The blood of our enemies has soaked and nourished this land, and it is now ours! York is now mine!’
“‘A well-deserved prize, brother,’ Ivar said. ‘But you forget that I also brought warriors into battle, and it was my strategies that secured our victory. Surely, I deserve a prize as well.’
“Björn’s blue eyes narrowed, and he looked down at his brother, sitting shriveled in his chair. ‘What do you want, Ivar?’
“‘Not much,’ Ivar said. ‘Just a small piece of land, where I can grow cabbage, onions, beans and peas.’
“Björn tilted his head to the side, and his eyes narrowed even further. ‘Small? How small?’
“‘As much as fifty cow skins can cover,’ said Ivar. ‘Surely, I deserve as much.’
“Björn’s face relaxed. ‘You deserve this and more, brother. I will give you a hundred cow skins of land.’
“Ivar grinned. ‘You are generous, Björn. Maybe I could even plant an apple tree.’
“Björn looked around. ‘Bring me a large cow skin!’ he called. ‘Let us measure my brother’s land.’
“A few Vikings left and soon one returned with a roll of cow skin. Ivar nodded at one of his men, who stepped forward and took the skin in his hands. He unrolled it on the ground and took out a knife.
“Björn frowned when the man started cutting the skin into very narrow strips. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.
“‘Following my master’s orders,’ the man said.
“Björn whirled around, facing his brother. ‘What trickery is this?’
“Ivar grinned. ‘He is simply preparing to take the measurements.’
“The servant finished and tied the strands into a long rope. A few more servants joined him and they walked towards the town that rose in the distance.
“‘A hundred of these ropes will easily encircle the castle,’ Björn spat. ‘Ivar, you want York. I never agreed to this.’
“‘But you did, dear brother,’ said Ivar. ‘You agreed to give me as much land as a hundred cow skins can cover.’
“‘You know this is not what I meant,’ Björn growled. ‘This is cheating.’
“‘Ivar is right, Björn,’ I said. ‘You did agree to this.’
“Björn stared at me, his mouth slightly open. ‘What?’
“‘You and your brother had an agreement. You need to honor it. What you call cheating is nothing more than his wit. The wit he inherited from your mother.’
“Björn took a step towards me. His reindeer fur cape trailed the ground, and the skulls in his necklace swung and jittered as he moved. His painted and bloody face was a mask of rage. ‘What do you know of my mother’s wit?’
“‘Ivar told me the tales,’ I said. ‘Ragnar had heard of her wit and wished to test her. He asked her to come to him neither dressed nor undressed, neither fasting nor eating, and neither alone nor in company. She arrived dressed in a fisherman’s net, biting on an onion, with only a dog as a companion. Ragnar could have easily called this cheating, but instead he chose to reward her and marry her. And you were born out of this union, as were many of your brothers. So much good came out of Ragnar’s decision to reward wit. And so much good will come if you give York to Ivar.’
“Björn’s blue eyes were wide. ‘This is nonsense. What would you know of this—you, a stranger with no understanding of our ways? Why should I listen to you?’
“‘You should listen to me,’ I said, holding his gaze, ‘because I am blessed by Odin.’
“He frowned. ‘What?’
“‘The festival at Uppsala is coming soon,’ I said. ‘I volunteer as a sacrifice.’
“Björn’s jaw dropped. ‘What are you saying? Are you insane? You volunteer to be hanged? You don’t even worship our gods!’
“‘Oh, but I do,’ I sa
id. ‘After I came to your lands, I saw enough to know that Odin indeed watches over us all. I want to honor him and to give myself to him.’ I raised my voice so that all could hear me. ‘I want to go to Walhalla and sit at the table of the gods! I want to drink mead from curved horns and tell Odin stories of our adventures and the battles we have fought to bring him glory! I will give myself as a sacrifice at Uppsala!’
“Loud murmurs rose from the crowd. Björn stared at me for a moment and then drew his hand across his face, smearing it with paint and the King’s blood. ‘Ivar Ragnarsson,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘York is yours.’”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Feast for Gods
“‘Have you lost your mind?’ Callisto said once we were alone with Lucien. Her dark eyes blazed like charcoals. ‘They’ll hang you! This will most likely break your neck.’
“‘I’m sure Lucien can patch me up,’ I said. ‘He must have learned something from all those ghoulish experiments.’
“‘Gladly,’ Lucien said with a smile. ‘I’ve never seen a vampire hanged before, so I’m curious to see what happens.’
“‘Don’t encourage him,’ Callisto snapped. ‘Honestly, you are both insane.’ She turned back to me and her thin dark braids swung in the air when her head whipped around. Her hair smelled of roses, and, for a moment, all I wanted was for her to forgive me. But the moment passed, and I wanted something more. ‘I thought you wished to stay with the Vikings for many years to come. After the sacrifice, they’ll think you are dead. We’ll need to leave.’
“‘I would have stayed longer,’ I said, ‘but I am ready to move on. It is a small price to pay for reviving these people’s faith. It will lift their spirits to see a stranger volunteer.’
“‘Reviving their faith?’ she cried. ‘Seriously? That is what you think you are doing? You are such a hypocrite, Vladimir. You think you are preserving their culture, but, in truth, you make a mockery of their faith and show no respect. Offering an immortal as a sacrifice? And what if indeed Odin expects nine men, and he receives only eight because you survive? What if he is angry and punishes his people? Have you, in your infinite self-centeredness, even spared a thought on this?’
“‘I have,’ I said. ‘And I know what I am doing.’
“She sighed. ‘Very well. I will try to enjoy my time here to the fullest. We will soon need to leave.’”
“My eyes traveled along the temple’s high walls. Hundreds of fires threw light over the golden ornaments and the three statues on their high thrones. Thor sat in the middle, mightiest of all, with a mace in his hand, governing thunder and lightning, wind and rain. On his right sat Odin, the furious, who gave men strength to fight their enemies. And on Thor’s left sat the fertility god, Freyr, who gave peace and pleasure to mortals.
“I had always worshipped Tangra in the open plains, next to lakes and rivers and on high peaks, with a sacrifice over a stone altar. But this temple was something else entirely. My eyes traveled to the evergreen tree in front, as tall as ten ordinary trees. Flames illuminated it from all sides—Vikings from every corner of Scandinavia had arrived for the festival, and their fires covered the open fields as far as my vampire eyes could see—stretching beyond the shores of the river Fýri.
“Lucien followed my gaze. ‘Ah, nice tree. Callisto said that’s where they hang the sacrifices.’ A grin split his face. ‘Looking forward to it?’
“Callisto approached us from behind and placed her left hand on my arm. Her right hand was fisted by her side. ‘I talked to Björn,’ she whispered. I wondered at her secrecy—we spoke Greek between us and the Vikings would not understand even if they overheard, but she seemed troubled. ‘The first sacrifice is tonight. It is a man of Sweden. Yours will be tomorrow. Only seven have volunteered so far. Björn hopes that seeing a stranger give himself to Odin will inspire more.’
“‘And if not?’ I asked. ‘Will they force people?’
“She sighed. ‘Björn has no idea what to do. My love, this has never happened before. At the last festival, nine years ago, dozens stepped forward and had to fight for their right to die.’ A mischievous smile replaced her troubled frown. ‘Luckily, I have something to lift your spirits before your big night.’
“She opened her fist to reveal a dozen small brown mushrooms with very thin stems.
“‘Ha!’ Lucien cried. ‘Are these what I think they are?’
“Callisto grinned and nodded. I smiled at her. ‘And would you enlighten me?’
“‘This’—Lucien picked up a mushroom and held it high—‘this is what Vikings use to see their gods. I can’t wait to figure out how it works.’
“I stared at the little thing. ‘It can show you the gods?’
“Callisto rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. It makes you see things, and you can interpret them any way you like. I’ve tried it before, and it can be fun, but it can also be scary. Don’t start with a large dose.’
“‘On the other hand,’ Lucien said, handing me his mushroom, ‘feel free to start with as large a dose as you like. I’d love to observe the effects.’
“I pushed back his hand. ‘Why don’t you experiment on yourself?’
“‘Because one of us needs to remain sober and record it all in the name of knowledge,’ he said. He eyed the mushroom and raised an eyebrow. ‘Or not,’ he said and plunged it into his mouth.
“Callisto’s eyes locked with mine. She raised a mushroom to her lips and bit on it, her gaze never leaving me. I reached out to take the largest mushroom and put it inside my mouth. I chewed and swallowed, but felt nothing. ‘I feel…’
“Callisto rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, yes. You feel nothing and you want another one. That’s what everyone says the first time. You are not taking another one. You wait.’ She grabbed the front of my tunic, pulled me closer and kissed me. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the feeling of her.
“The hundreds of fires around us burned bright. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. The flames rose to the starry sky, twirling and dancing. They turned from dark yellow to red and then purple.
“I realized what was wrong—my eyes were closed, how could I see all this? I opened them, but the vision stayed the same. The flames turned blue and twisted like spirals. Red faces appeared in the fires, laughing and crying.
“Callisto slipped her small hand into mine. ‘Come,’ she whispered in my ear and turned to Lucien. ‘Take the rest of the mushrooms. Don’t eat any more until we return.’
“She led me down to the river shore, and we plunged ourselves into the freezing waters. A human would have probably died. But had humans indeed died here, jumping into the river to foretell the future? I opened my eyes and saw them all floating around us—red and golden braided hair and beards, stern faces, bright blue eyes.
“Callisto gave me her blood and took mine. The water around us turned bright red. Golden fish swam around us, followed by silver birds. They flew in the water as if flying in the sky.
“Callisto pulled me back to the shore. ‘We must return to the temple,’ she said, ‘or we might miss the sacrifices.’
“The journey to the temple was a blur of color and song. Vikings around us were singing and playing music, but how much of it was true and how much happened inside my own head, I could no longer say. We found Lucien and sat next to him. I took another mushroom and washed it down with mead.
“‘Look,’ Lucien said and pointed his head towards a white-haired priestess, who had raised a bloodied dagger above a slain black dog. Lightning tore from the sky and struck the dagger’s point. The starry sky split in two, revealing a long staircase. A man walked down the stairs, his reddish-blond hair and beard shining like fire and his reindeer fur cape trailing the ground. He raised a mighty hammer and struck down. The staircase exploded in thunder, stones flying in all direction, and bolts of lightning flew away from the point of impact.
“‘Thor!’ I whispered.
“‘Thor?’ Lucien raised an e
yebrow. His face looked as if it was underneath rippled water, his features distorted, his brow disappearing into his hairline. His lips seemed to move all over his face as he spoke. ‘What mushroom did you have? Give me some!’
“Callisto sighed. ‘You know you can’t synchronize your visions, right?’
“As she spoke, her hair flew free from her braids and paled until it turned bright golden. Her tunic and leather trousers turned into a flowing gown. I gasped. ‘You are the goddess Sif, lover of Thor!’
“She laughed. ‘Ah, so this is what you want to play? You are Thor, then?’
“‘No, no, Thor is over there,’ I insisted, pointing to the sky, but she was kissing me already and cutting off my words. The goddess Sif in my arms. Thor must have been furious. I stole a glance at him, and indeed bolts out lightning flew out of his blue eyes.
“The priestess slew a horse, and its blood splattered everywhere, turning the great evergreen tree deep red. Blood rain fell from the sky as a man walked to the tree. Blue runes covered his bare torso, the writing asking Odin to accept this gift. Then the runes glowed as if on fire and moved over his skin, changing, praising Odin in strange verses.
“A noose fell from a branch of the great tree, over a wooden stump. The man walked to it, unaided, unblinded, unguided. He stepped onto the stump and placed his head into the noose, adjusting it with his hands. ‘Praise be to Odin!’ he screamed and jumped.
“A flock of ravens rose around him. A one-eyed greybeard came from the sky, grabbed the hanged man and carried him away. I turned to Callisto, shaking. ‘Did you see that?’
“My goddess smiled. ‘I saw something. I doubt it is the same as what you saw.’ She grabbed my hand. ‘Prepare yourself, my love. Tomorrow, Odin will come for you.’”
“I took no mushrooms the following night. There was something I needed to do, and I wanted to trust my senses. Early evening, I joined the priests and priestesses, who stripped off my tunic and covered my body in blue runes. A strange warmth washed over me. I was a part of something huge.