by Swan Road
"Well, we shall soon see, will we not?" Aella smiled smugly, confident of his own ability to prevail. Then, motioning to his guards, he demanded, "Take them away!"
With that began the long months that in her mind, Rhowenna was to think of ever after as the dark days. In the tower where she, Morgen, and Yelkei were kept locked away day and night, time crawled by in endless hours they spent alone, shut off from the rest of the world, devoid of any news, even some small message or word that might have given them hope, have let them know how Wulfgar and Flóki fared or even if the two men were still alive. But there was nothing. Neither the guards posted outside the tower door nor the waiting women who brought meals and bath water daily spoke to the three women; nor was there any chance for them to escape. Rhowenna and Morgen played long games of chess and draughts and fox-and-geese; Yelkei cast her rune stones and muttered to herself. All the while, Rhowenna's child grew within her, her soft, round belly slowly burgeoning; at night, she longed for Wulfgar and wondered desperately about his fate, exhausting herself, making herself ill as she wept into her pillow to muffle her sobs at the thought that perhaps her babe would never know its father.
Then, finally one morning when summer was nearly upon them, Rhowenna stood at the tower window, and her heart leaped to her throat; for she saw what she had feared ever since Aella had imprisoned them, what she had hitherto seen only in her dreams: On the road to York, there marched the greatest army she had ever beheld, at its fore, Ivar the Boneless, mounted on a showy white steed.
* * * * *
Seeing this vast horde approach and realizing at last the truth of Wulfgar's words to him, Aella fled from the city to join forces with his archrival, Osberht, both kings agreeing that under the circumstances, they would be wise to set aside their differences until they had rid themselves of the Víkingr threat, after which they might resolve their own quarrel. Thus decided, they returned to York to reclaim the city that Ivar the Boneless had taken from them without so much as unsheathing his broadsword. Breaching the poorly maintained Roman walls of the city, Aella and Osberht bravely led their forces into battle against the Northmen; but, in the end, could not hold their ground, and broke and scattered before the ranks of the Berserks, the Víkingrs, and the mercenaries Ragnar had assembled before his death, to conquer all of Britain. In the fierce fighting, Osberht and eight earldormen were slain. Aella was taken captive; and it was then that Ivar learned that Wulfgar and Flóki were caged in Aella's dungeon, and that Rhowenna, Morgen, and Yelkei were confined in Aella's tower.
When the three women were led from the tower, Rhowenna felt certain that they went to their deaths. Yet it was not for herself that she grieved, but for her unborn child, alive and kicking so hard in her womb, as though sensing her distress. She pressed her hands to her belly, rubbing gently there, in a vain attempt to quiet the babe. It was a son, she thought, a strong, healthy son, like his father; and she wept to think that the child would not live to draw breath, to see the light of day. Then her tears of sorrow became tears of joy as she spied Wulfgar standing in the great hall to which they had been brought, and before the thegns could stop her, Rhowenna ran to him, crying out with all her heart held for him. As tight as she could, she embraced him, sliding beneath his manacled wrists so she might feel his arms about her; and cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him feverishly, as he kissed her, muttering her name hoarsely as his lips brushed the tears from her cheeks. Then, at last, together, they turned to confront Ivar the Boneless, who sat, now a king, on Aella's throne, while Aella himself stood nervously to one side, between Ubbi and Halfdan.
"While it gives me no end of pleasure to see you alive and well, Wulfgar," Ivar drawled dryly, "I must confess that the feeling is somewhat mitigated at seeing you in chains. But then, King Aella here has told me a strange tale of how you came to his court, with my father, the great Ragnar Lodbrók, as a prisoner in your train, an iron slave collar around his neck. Now, while I find that difficult to believe, I must admit I have heard other such rumors up and down the coast of Britain all spring; so perhaps 'tis fitting, after all, that you are shackled like a slave. Aella claims that you brought Ragnar here to York to sell him for the price on his head, and that when you learned Aella did not mean to kill him, but to hold him for ransom instead, you found the Berserks' Way and shoved my father into a snake pit. Is that true, Wulfgar?"
"Nay, 'tis not," Wulfgar answered, calmly enough. "Oh, I did bring Ragnar here to sell him all right, Ivar, and he died in Aella's snake pit— that part's true enough— which you may see for yourself if our father's corpse is still lying there. But 'twas not I who decided to slay him or who ordered him cast in to feed the serpents, either."
"Well, we shall find out shortly whether or not you speak the truth, will we not?" Rising, Ivar glanced sharply at Aella, continuing in the Saxon tongue. "I have been too busy making war upon you and Osberht to explore much of this city or of this long-house, either, else I should have known before now of Wulfgar's presence here and looked sooner into this matter of my father's supposed death. But now, I would see this infamous snake pit for myself. Bring him," he commanded his brothers; and as these had been Aella's own words to his guards regarding Ragnar, Rhowenna felt sure that Aella thought himself imminently to receive a like death at the hands of Ragnar's sons.
The gardens in the courtyard were a riotous profusion of blooming flowers, whose thickly sweet perfume hung heavy in the air, almost but not quite masking the scent of decaying apples, which Rhowenna believed she would never forget as long as she lived. Her stomach churned, and despite the heat of the warm day, her hand was as cold as ice in Wulfgar's own. After Ragnar's death, Aella had ordered the snake pit covered with a heavy wooden lid, which, at Ivar's command, several of the thegns now heaved from its resting place to reveal the cistern itself. As they did so, a foul, nauseating stench wafted up from the dank, dark bottom of the well, and Rhowenna swayed a little on her feet; Wulfgar, his eyes filled with concern for her, held her close to steady her.
"I did not believe it. I did not want to believe it; but 'tis Ragnar, in truth," Ivar said at last as he stared down into the snake pit at the skeleton that lay there. Its long mane of hair was dark with mud; bits of flesh still clung to its bones. Around its neck still was Ragnar's distinctive gold torque; on its arms were his armlets and bracelets of gold and silver. Its bony fingers still clutched the hilt of his broadsword. "Aella, no Víkingr worth his salt would have slain my father in this bizarre fashion; 'twould have taken the mind of a Saxon for it, I am thinking. So I know that 'twas you who gave the order that he die here. Now all that remains to be sorted out to my satisfaction is the identity of the one who pushed him in."
" 'Twas that yellow witch yonder who did that!" Aella declared hastily. "She did bend near to him to whisper something in his ear— I know not what— so he roared like a madman; and then she hit him hard on the back, knocking him in."
"What did you say to Ragnar, Yelkei?" Ivar asked, as calmly as though they discussed the weather and not the killing of his father.
"That is for me to know. Still, perhaps someday I'll tell you— or mayhap nay."
"You've an accursed tongue that has always been as forked as a serpent's, speaking in lies and riddles and prophecies. Perhaps today I'll cut it from your head— or mayhap nay. Was it written in the stars that Ragnar die here, by your hand, I wonder; or was it your own predictions and machinations that brought about his fate, Yelkei?" The question was rhetorical, for Ivar answered it himself. "You will say that only the gods know the answer to that, and no doubt, that is true. That being the case, let us move on, then, to what is more obvious. Now, since he was collared and chained like a slave when he went into the snake pit, I know that my father had not his weapon in his hand then; so who did throw it down to him, that he might die like the great Víkingr he was— in battle against his foes?"
"I did," Wulfgar responded quietly, although, in his bones, he felt certain Ivar had already known the answer.
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"Of course you did— although not even for that did Ragnar speak to what was in your heart, Wulfgar, I am thinking, but left his debt unpaid." On Ivar's face was a peculiar expression of understanding, almost of pity, Rhowenna thought, puzzled that Ivar should feel such for Wulfgar. After a long, silent moment, Ivar spoke again, addressing one of his thegns. "I do stand in debt, in my father's stead, that he died not a coward's death. Fetch an armorer or a blacksmith to strike off that slave collar from around Wulfgar's neck."
"And Flóki's, also," Wulfgar insisted, eyeing Ivar steadily.
"Ah, aye, there is still the matter of Flóki the Raven, is there not?" Ivar's voice was lightly mocking. "A man who dared to assault his king and to steal from him a rich prize. 'Tis hard to imagine... isn't it? All this"— his sweeping hand encompassed all those, including himself, who stood in the courtyard, and the snake pit, where Ragnar lay— "for love of the princess of Usk." He stared hard at Morgen in Flóki's arms, thereby missing the malicious light that danced in Yelkei's eyes at that, and the sudden fear that leaped to Wulfgar's own; for surely, no truer words had ever been spoken than those unwittingly uttered by Ivar the Boneless just now. "What shall I do with you— all of you— for that, I wonder? I needs must think long and hard on that."
Presently, the armorer was brought; and after half an hour of tedious chiseling, both Wulfgar and Flóki were freed of their iron slave collars and chains, and stood, slowly chafing their necks and wrists, where the heavy metal had, in the beginning, rubbed raw, bleeding wounds, now scabbed over. In all the time it took to cut through the iron, Ivar, silent, seemingly lost in reverie, kept everyone standing in the sun. He himself seemed not the least perturbed by the delay, as though he had all the time in the world and so was not in any great hurry to get on with the business at hand— although no one present thought that when the armorer's task was completed, Ivar would not claim retribution for his father's killing. Still, only when the last manacle had been forced open and tossed to the ground, did Ivar finally speak again.
"Now, it seems to me that Ragnar's death may be laid at many a door, including his own; for if many long years ago he had not lusted for a black-haired, yellow princess of the Eastlands, he might not have come to this pass. Who can say but the gods whether a man's fate is inevitable, or if he only makes it so by his actions? But this, I know: Regardless of what led up to it, 'twas you who ordered his death and who determined the manner of it, Aella; and for that, you must pay the penalty exacted for the slaying of a king of the Northland." Then, glancing toward Ubbi and Halfdan, Ivar said, "Strip him, and tie him facedown over the snake pit, that he may glimpse Náströnd long ere he steps foot upon its corpse- and monster-ridden shore, there to wander for nine days and nights to the barred gates of Hel."
Ignorant of what Ivar intended, sensing only the excruciating pain and the horror that would come of it, Aella struggled like a man possessed against Ubbi and Halfdan— to no avail. In the end, Aella was forcibly stripped naked and compelled facedown over the snake pit, spread-eagled across its gaping maw, his hands and feet bound to short posts driven into the ground along the sides of the crumbled wall that surrounded the cistern. When it was done, Ivar, drawing his glittering broadsword from the scabbard at his back, slowly approached the well, stepping up onto its low stone wall and then, like an acrobat, with uncanny agility and grace, swinging one leg across to the other side, so he stood with Aella directly beneath him. Then, after raising the blade high, Ivar deliberately brought it down so the point slashed into Aella's flesh, cutting a fine crescent-moon from Aella's shoulder to his lower back, first one side and then the other, torturously, so Aella was unable to restrain the agonized cry that emanated from his throat. With a mocking smile, Ivar tossed the bloodied weapon to Wulfgar, as though daring him to use it. But after catching it instinctively with one hand, Wulfgar, his face grim, only lowered the broadsword to his side; and with a low laugh, Ivar turned his attention back to Aella. With his bare hands then, Ivar slowly peeled back Aella's skin to expose his backbone and ribs. Ivar broke the ribs away one by one from the backbone before grasping Aella's lungs and pulling them from his body so they lay spread like an eagle's bloody wings upon his mutilated back.
Aella was dead. Of course he was dead. He must be dead, Rhowenna told herself dumbly— shocked, horrified. No one could have survived that terrible, inhuman ritual. Yet it seemed that she could still hear his hoarse screams of torment ringing in her mind as Ubbi and Halfdan, slicing through the ropes that bound the fallen king to the short posts along the stone wall, pushed his corpse into the snake pit, where it fell with a sickening thud on top of Ragnar's skeleton. Lifting his outstretched hands to the heavens, so the blood ran down his arms, Ivar threw back his head and shouted, a wild, mighty cry. "Odinn! Odinn!" So much in that moment did he resemble Wulfgar standing on the deck of the Siren's Song that night of the storm upon the North Sea that it was, to Rhowenna, like seeing her husband's other half, a dark, terrible side of him that she did not know, did not want to know; and overcome by horror, she slipped finally, mercifully, to the ground, in a dead faint.
Casting down Ivar's broadsword, Wulfgar knelt swiftly beside her, gathering her into his arms and cradling her against his chest, his face stricken as he glanced up to see Ivar standing now on the edge of the snake pit, his eyes burning with a feverish triumph and bloodlust that warned Wulfgar that his half brother's revenge was not yet finished.
"Seize them!" Ivar commanded; and the next thing Wulfgar knew, he was being hauled up roughly from the ground by a group of Ivar's men. "Hold them!"
As he had Aella's guards, like a Berserk, Wulfgar fought Ivar's thegns. But as Aella's own had been, Wulfgar's struggle was in vain. Presently, he and Flóki both stood furiously, fearfully, breathing hard, forcibly restrained by the many strong hands that constricted them, preventing them from breaking free. Like Aella, they were ignorant of what was to come, knowing only the dread it inspired within them as, his mouth curving in a terrible, mocking caricature of a smile, Ivar jumped down from the stone wall; then, like some predatory beast, he began slowly to stalk toward Morgen. Her eyes widened with terror, then narrowed with hate and understanding; her nostrils flared, like those of some wild animal scenting danger. Her fingers curled into punishing talons, she lifted one hand to claw at Ivar's cruelly handsome visage. But he caught her wrist in a brutal grip, then, with his fist, he backhanded her across the face before, tearing at her clothes, he forced Morgen to the earth and ground his mouth down on her, hard.
Then, one by one, while Wulfgar and Flóki, tears trickling from his eyes, stood and watched helplessly, Ivar, Ubbi, and Halfdan raped her.
Chapter Nineteen
The Great Army
When Rhowenna awoke, it was to the slow, rhythmic movement of an ox-cart, in which she lay upon a pallet, and to Yelkei's wrinkled moon face bending over her, black eyes anxious, as though the yellow woman had feared that Rhowenna would never regain consciousness. But upon seeing Rhowenna's eyes flutter slowly open, Yelkei nodded to herself, giving a small cackle of satisfaction. Then, turning away, she reached into one of her many deerskin pouches and, with crushed herbs and roots, and wine from a leather flask, she prepared in a wooden bowl some dark potion, which she pressed to Rhowenna's lips.
"Drink, lady," Yelkei commanded softly. "Now that you are awake at last, 'twill help to revive you and to give you strength. You have suffered a bad shock— the ritual of the Blood Eagle was too much for you, I fear— and I would not have you lose the child, when 'twas because of it that you were spared by Ivar the Boneless and his brothers, I believe."
"What... what are you talking about, Yelkei?" Rhowenna was startled to hear how weak her voice sounded. "What has happened? Where is Wulfgar? Where are we— and where are we going?" The questions came softly but swiftly, as though she feared the answers.
"Shhhhh. You must not tire yourself, lady. Drink, and I will answer as best I can." Obediently at last, while Yelkei held the bowl, Rhowenn
a drank until it was empty. Then Yelkei spoke again, responding to what was uppermost in Rhowenna's mind. "Do not be afraid. Wulfgar is alive and well; he rides ahead of us, with Ivar and his brothers, as does Flóki the Raven, at Ivar's command. For although another man would have slain them outright, there is something dark and cold in Ivar's soul that stayed his hand against them, that compelled him instead to raise the stakes, to draw out the game a little while longer yet. Some might call it evil, and that is a part of it, I am thinking; but I myself would name it fear. Aye, for all that he holds him prisoner, deep down inside, Ivar is afraid of Wulfgar. I know not why, save that they are like hacksilver, two halves of the same coin." Yelkei unknowingly voiced aloud Rhowenna's own thought when she had seen Ivar poised over the snake pit, shouting to Odinn, bloody arms upraised unto the heavens; and now, remembering, she shivered, despite the warmth of the spring sun that stretched toward summer.
"Having conquered all of Northumbria and been paid to go in peace by what ealdormen who still remain, Ivar now departs," Yelkei continued, "leaving behind a puppet to rule in his name— Egbert, an earl of Northumbria who was exiled from Britain and sought refuge in the Northland, as Ragnar's thegn. 'Tis southwest we travel, to march now on the kingdom of Mercia. For, like his father, Ragnar, before him, Ivar means to conquer all of Britain, to rule as Bretwalda over all the Saxons and Angles and Jutes who are its peoples."
At the thought of being taken into Mercia, home of Prince Cerdic, Rhowenna shuddered again violently, filled of a sudden with a terrible foreboding. For the thousandth time, she cursed herself for a fool for not reading Aella's letter to Wulfgar more carefully, more closely; for if she had, they would never have stayed in his royal manor to be imprisoned by him; they would not now be at the mercy of Ivar the Boneless and his brothers.