An Immortal Dance

by Alastair Fontaine

  Flavius Aetius had been in the North for nearly a decade, searching for her. Who could have guessed that his beloved would become a barbarian Queen? She ruled amongst the savages that inhabited a beautiful coastal valley, a people entirely different from the opulent population of Rome. He sat on a high bluff overlooking the ocean. He sighed. It was truly a lovely day. It reminded him of the halcyon years long before either Víkingr or Rome were even inklings in man’s primitive mind. In those times, all the world had been a savage jungle and the night had still held terrors. Long before man used fire to drive the darkness away, only the sun had protected his people in the deep forests where starlight could not enter. They had loved the day of Midsumarblot just as the Víkingr did. It was the time of the year when the sun burned longest, allowing them to wander freely, without fearing a sudden, fatal twilight.

  “How do you want me to introduce you?” a melodious voice interrupted his musings. After centuries apart, she had only grown more beautiful. How he wished those sapphire eyes had stayed with him in Rome. Perhaps together, they could have averted… no, he would not think about that. “Maybe Sigurðr would do.”

  “Please, do not ask me to take a name from amongst these… primitives.”

  She raised an indignant eyebrow, “Keep in mind that this is my home and that these are my people. I know that this is not what you are accustomed to, but that world is gone.”

  “It lives on in far Byzantium, in the lands where Alexandros once ruled. I did not come here for the freezing winds or strange rituals of a people who live only to survive and destroy those who prosper. I came here for you, for love.”

  “Hmm… I do recall having to flee those same lands. Did you not have to flee Rome as well? There seems to be a pattern. Every time we spend time in the ‘civilised’ world, we get run out,” she said, a sudden bitterness in her voice.

  “Firstly, I was forced to leave Rome precisely because of people like this.” He pointed at the revellers below, neglecting to mention that a Roman emperor had ordered the attempt to kill him long before the Vandals sacked Italy. “Secondly, the incident with Alexandros happened a thousand years ago. Will you never let it go?”

  “If Rome was so great, why did ‘primitives’ so easily destroy it? Also, no, I will never let it go. That spoiled brat wanted to kill me just because he had an obsession with you!”

  Flavius’ face softened at that. “He was a good man, my sweet. A great one. His only mistake was having loved a man whose heart belongs to you. Besides, you know that he could never have truly harmed you.”

  “The intent was there,” she snapped, annoyed that after centuries, he continued to defend Alexandros. “Now listen, I will make you a lord amongst my people- a Jarl. They will doubt you at first, but they will not dare to question me. In the coming raids, fight well and make them adore you when they see you in battle. They will forget about your stupid name. All I ask is that you respect them. If you cannot, I will mourn for my love of you, but you will leave these lands and go to your dear Byzantium.”

  He saw steel in those blue orbs, and did not argue. He had come to the Northern wastes out of love for her, and he would not let a tribe of savages tear them apart. Maybe he could even teach them a little civilisation. “I understand, my Queen. Now come, before we have to be all lordly.”

  Desire mingled with irritation in her eyes. He was as charming as ever, and she did not doubt his affection, but she could only wonder if he would truly abide by her terms. She hoped so. It was one thing to leave him if he would not follow her, but for all her threats, she did not think that she could bear to send him away. In any case, it was pointless to worry about the future. She had him now, and that was what mattered. The barbarian Queen threw her slim, pale arms around the Roman’s neck as he lifted her into his own. He buried his fingers in her long, golden hair as their lips passionately wrestled before the dying sun. Ecstasy ran between them like electricity, binding them together, hearts of the North.

  Eventually, she forced herself to pull away, “Aetius, right?”

  The long day of the Midsumarblot was coming to an end, and night approached at last. “Flavius Aetius, Dux et Patricius,” he teased, chuckling at her sigh of annoyance. They sat on the edge of the cliff, legs hanging freely over the precipice. He put an arm around her supple waist, and she leaned into him so that her head pressed against his shoulder and her hand was on his muscular chest.

  “Look, the longship,” she murmured. “They will fill it with offerings to Baldr now.”

  Men had begun to file into the vessel, carrying stacks of gold, jewels, pottery, great wooden shields, beautiful mail coats and all manner of fine weaponry. Aside from the shields and some of the arms, the items were things far beyond the ability of the Víkingr to craft. Flavius realised, outraged, that the things that they handled so carelessly had been plundered from the civilisations that carried on the legacy of Rome. Were the savages so determined to snuff out every light in the West? As the goods were thrown into the longship, accumulating into a great mound of treasure on its deck, the men stepped away from the dock.

  Except for one.

  Flavius stared in horror as the mortal lit a torch and began to walk around the craft. Wherever the bearded primitive stopped, orange flames erupted until at last, the whole ship was engulfed in flames. His work complete, the man jumped to safety on the dock. Others rushed to help him push the ship out to sea, where it would travel the great, blue expanse until the inferno consumed it and its riches were claimed by the depths. What a waste. Yet Flavius could not help but to admire the sheer beauty in the scene. As darkness fell, the burning ship remained a beacon of light, reflected in the sapphire eyes of his love. She was utterly entranced, looking at the doomed boat with the same, childlike wonder that was etched into the faces of the solemn worshippers below. Flavius forgot the lost wealth, for he knew that the only true treasure in his life was sitting beside him. He could get used to the North.

  Ambrose awoke with a start. He was used to having strange dreams, but something else troubled him. Those sapphire eyes did not resemble Courtney’s. They were Courtney’s. She was the warrior maiden who had spared Archelaos. She had been the Viking Queen. It had to mean something. Or he was going insane…

  The world tries to change me hold me back and break me.

  Cause I am different I don't fit in you see they think this some great sin

  but I'll spread my wings and soar up high break these chains and say goodbye

  to all of you that held me down.

  I’m on my way can't stop me now.

  -Phoenix, South Africa

  15

  Mr. Hart acknowledged Ambrose’s presence in morning registration with a quick, disinterested glance. The teacher was utterly blind to the sea of mixed emotions that greeted Ambrose that morning. Some glared at him in disgust. Others held jealousy, like poison, in their eyes. A few gazed at him in admiration, perhaps even gratitude. All the attention made him deeply uncomfortable. He quickly became very conscious of the fact that the majority of the hushed whispers that began to fill the room were about him. Ambrose was careful to avoid eye contact with anyone as he walked to the back of the room. He saw Ronald sitting in a corner, surrounded by his friends. They stared at him with open hatred, their eyes promising a gruesome revenge for the wounds their leader sported. A group of girls doted on Ronald, no doubt convinced of some lie concocted to hide his shame at being so soundly beaten. Ambrose found himself wishing Finn was in his registration group. At least his friend would have distracted him. He wondered why Courtney was absent. She always arrived on time.

  Suddenly, he saw a trio approach him. He began to tense, unsure of what to expect. A tall girl walked at their head. Her brown skin and curly, black hair contrasted marvellously with captivating emerald eyes and an alabaster smile. Imani Asola. He had seen her before, but they had never spoken. She was no Courtney, but still, she was far from lacking in physical allure. He began to relax; she had been amongst t
he faces that looked kindly upon him. He nodded in assent when she motioned to sit next to him. The others quickly followed suit.

  “Hey, I’m Imani. Ambrose, right? I guess we just wanted to say that we are totally with you. Whatever really happened-” she saw a flash of annoyance in his hickory eyes and smiled, “Yes, Ronald’s been telling the world his version of how you savagely pummelled his innocent arse,” she giggled, “Don’t worry, we know what he’s like and he’s trashed on everyone here. Including the idiots sitting with him now.”

  “Though if you and your girl really did set him up just to beat the daylights out of him, I’m still totally ok with that. He’s the biggest prick I’ve ever met,” a gangly, raven-haired youth piped up.

  “Shut up, Dave,” Imani scolded him, but she could not suppress a grin. “So, what actually happened?”

  Ambrose sighed, “Well, Courtney and I were just chilling out. Then, Ronald came in out of nowhere and pushed us both to the ground. He said that he thought I was trying to hurt her, so I kinda flipped out and well, I guess you know how that ended.”

  “Wow. For a lying piece of lard, he really is creative,” Imani scoffed. “I gotta admire his creativity.”

  “I mean, what else does he have to do with his life?” Dave asked. His blue eyes sparkled with unabashed cruelty. He was all too familiar with Ronald’s modus operandi. Ronald would pretend to be someone’s friend with hugs and nice words, all the while spreading rumours about them and playing the victim when confronted.

  “I feel like he devotes way too much time to gossiping about people. It just isn’t healthy,” said Amos Bishop, a brawny boy with umber skin and striking, caramel eyes. He had remained silent throughout the conversation, only occasionally smirking. “If he put all that effort into the gym, he’d be the next Arnold.”

  “Too true. He just likes to try and tear people down that he feels are superior to him. He’s a really insecure kid,” David agreed, shooting a venomous glance at Ronald.

  “I swear he tries to flirt with me whenever he gets a chance and it’s just gross,” Imani added, shuddering for emphasis.

  Ambrose listened to the conversation develop, utterly bemused. He was grateful for their support, but he was getting really tired of talking about Ronald. For people who hated the guy so much, they really did seem fascinated by him. His thoughts drifted to his girlfriend. Where was she?

  ***

  “Marshall!” Courtney shrieked. “Marshall, where are you?”

  She heard the clatter of running feet on the marble corridors of her home. It got louder and louder until finally, her guardian burst into her quarters, a savage expression on his face as he searched for the source of his employer’s distress. He saw only her beautiful figure, sitting dishevelled on her luxurious bed. He looked at her, perplexed, “What’s wrong?”

  “I hate this room. I hate it. I want you to have labourers throw everything out before I get home this evening,” she commanded.

  “Madame, I don’t understand?”

  “Don’t ponder dear, just do it!” she snapped, waving her hand at him imperiously.

  “Yes, Miss Rossborough.” Marshall bowed his head. He knew better than to argue. It wasn’t his money after all, but he did wonder what had gotten into her. Perhaps she’d argued with her pretty, new boyfriend. He doubted it. The guy seemed decent enough, and he seemed to genuinely care for her from what he had seen. In any case, there would be no talking to her now. He decided to broach the subject later, when she was in a more gracious mood. “When would you like to leave?”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour.”

  “Excellent,” he said, and walked out of the room, closing the heavy oak doors behind him. Courtney knew that she had been unfairly harsh to him, but she did not care. He should not have questioned her. Then again, he could not possibly hope to comprehend her anger. After all, he was only a mortal.

  Courtney had awakened just half an hour earlier. Slowly, she had stirred as the warm sun coaxed her eyelids open. Her first waking thought had been her Ambrose. How wonderful it was that she would see him again that day. She had picked herself up, looking forward to the hours ahead. He had been so splendid the day before. She recalled how concerned he had been after their run-in with Ronald. Ambrose had fussed over her, making sure that she had not been hurt by the fall. He had apologized profusely, unnecessarily she thought, for having beaten Ronald in front of her. Really, she had been ready to do the same when Ambrose had lunged at him. The whole display had been oddly endearing. The old Ambrose had been fully aware of her power and would never have been so protective of her. He would have seen no need to be. In truth, she found that she enjoyed being doted on. Ambrose still possessed the charm and tenderness that she had always loved, but now saw her as a vulnerable, delicate flower, to be venerated and adored. The memories had made her smile, wondering what would come next in their strange tale.

  Then, Courtney had looked around her gilded chamber, becoming suddenly aware that something was terribly wrong. She saw a mahogany wardrobe filled with the latest fashions. Fine jewels of every size and colour littered her nightstand. A crystal chandelier hung above her from the centre of a ceiling decorated by a fresco worthy of Raphael. The very bed that she slept on was a work of art. Its frame had been crafted from elm, with ornate carvings decorating the headstand. Both sheets and mattress were made from the same, sumptuous material- the wool of the vicuña. The entire room was a monument to the excesses of the civilised world. A monument to Ambrose. Where had Belit gone?

  She felt that it was time to remodel. Her love had returned, and there was no reason to languish in her glamorous prison any longer. She had him, and no longer had any need for his memory. Once more, she would sleep on a bed of furs in a room lit by torchlight. The first thing that she saw in the morning would be a golden sun in the blue vastness above, not gaudy jewels, nor extravagant works of art. Courtney Rossborough lived for Ambrose, but Belit would never fade.

  ***

  Second period was over and she still hadn’t arrived. Ambrose grew increasingly determined to convince her to buy an iPhone. It was driving him insane. He hoped that she was alright. Surely, she would have told him if she didn’t plan to come to school. He would get Finn to drive him to her house later in the day.

  On the bright side, Imani, Dave and Amos had finally let up about Ronald and had actually become tolerable, even enjoyable, company throughout the morning. They shared the majority of his classes, and he found that they actually seemed to have similar interests as him. Despite the fact that he could probably be a professional athlete, Amos wanted to be a Chemical Engineer. Dave was working on an app that he hoped would make him a millionaire. Imani longed to be a lawyer, defending the vulnerable in faraway countries. Strangely, they seemed genuinely attracted to their chosen paths. They were fortunate. Ambrose could not understand it. To him, an office was an office. The best that he could hope for was to land in one where he would at least get paid well enough to compensate for hating his life ten hours a day.

  The small group was clustered in the corridor, waiting for the next round of classes to begin. Ambrose saw Finn and waved him over.

  “Hey Finn!” he greeted his friend.

  “Sup,” Finn replied, glancing nervously at the others.

  “Meet Amos, Dave and Imani.”

  “Your friend is actually the coolest, you heard about what he did to Ronald, right?” Dave gushed.

  “Yeah, he told me about it last night. I saw Ronnie today, you really messed him up Ambrose. The prick deserved it anyways,” Finn laughed.

  “Yeah, oh well,” Ambrose said. “Do you wanna go to lunch with us today? We were thinking the Alexandria.”

  “No way. I got back so late last time, and I didn’t even get to eat anything.”

  “It was well deserved!”

  “I totally saved you a seat.”

  “That wasn’t your intention.”

  “Hug it out?” Finn grinned, spreading hi
s arms. “Fine, I’ll go.”

  They grinned and embraced. The rest of the group could only stare, bemused.

  “Is there a story behind this?” Imani finally asked.

  “Oh, basically, this idiot decided it would be hilarious to third wheel on my first date with Courtney. I’m pretty sure if we hadn’t grossed him out he would’ve gone through with it too,” Ambrose explained.

  “Wow man, too mean!” Amos chuckled, shaking his head at Finn.

  “Hey, you woulda done it too if you coulda seen the look on this guy’s face,” Finn objected, pointing at Ambrose.

  The boys shared understanding looks, laughing about what could only be described as excellent banter. Imani could only stare at them, utterly lost.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t understand them either,” a musical voice whispered from behind her.

  None of them had seen Courtney appear, engrossed as they were in their conversation. Now, however, her magnificent figure, dressed in jeans and a white blouse, dominated the group as she walked up to Ambrose, leaning in for a quick kiss. He put his arm around her waist, looking at her affectionately.