Brandewyne, Rebecca (40 page)

"Ah,
gods!" Wulfgar muttered sickly at Rhowenna's side. "Whatever else he
is, Ragnar is Odinn's warrior and deserves to die as one— in battle!" And
with that, he brought forth the gleaming broadsword he had taken away from his
father when Ragnar had been hooked and hauled aboard the
Siren's Song,
and now, with a
mighty heave, threw it down into the well, at Ragnar's feet. "Because you
are my father— whether either of us wishes it so or nay," Wulfgar called down,
"that much, I owe you!"

"And
I owe you more, no doubt; but 'tis a debt I'll not pay— nor would I have, you
miserable, ill-gotten bastard!" Ragnar yelled as he bent to snatch up the
weapon and began to slash furiously at the snakes that assailed him. "I do
curse the day I ever laid eyes
and a hand on that bloody Saxon bitch, Goscelin,
your mother! I'd curse you, too, Wulfgar, with my last, dying breath, if I
didn't know in my heart that 'twould be a waste of time and air, that that
yellow witch of the Eastlands would lift it somehow and turn it back upon my
own. So I'll say naught, save that sooner or later, a man who dares to aim
higher than gods shall surely suffer a great fall."

"That,
you would know better than I," Wulfgar declared, with a mocking smile, so
only Rhowenna and Yelkei guessed at the pain that twisted inside him, thrashing
like the serpents in the cistern, that his father should hate him to the bitter
end. "Die well, Ragnar Lodbrók."

"As
I lived, Wulfgar Bloodaxe."

The
broadsword flashed silvery in the sunlight as it rose and fell ever more
slowly, the shimmering runes along its length little by little blotted out by
the venom and blood that dripped from the blade. Ragnar's face and limbs grew
discolored and puffed and swollen with poison; at last, he sank to his knees,
retching, then crumpled over, his body racked by violent convulsions that
caused him to flail wildly about the well, slinging the vomit, the muddy water,
the rotten apples, and the slimy, hacked pieces of the dead
snakes so hard
in every direction that the spectators shrank back in alarm. Then, finally, he
was stilled by the onslaught of paralysis. After a short while, his breathing
stopped; and he lay faceup, his blue eyes staring blindly into the sun, nearly
lost amid the turgid folds of his grotesque, bloated corpse.

Wulfgar's
own eyes stared skyward, as well, where in his mind, he watched the winged,
snow-white charger that galloped forth from the clouds, on its back a
gilt-haired, silver-mailed Valkyrie, singing gloriously, come to carry his
slain father home.

The Blood Eagle

They
were standing again in Aella's great hall. Of how they had come to be there,
Rhowenna had only a dim recollection. She had felt so dizzy and ill at the vile
manner of Ragnar's death that she had thought she would faint; and only the
look upon Wulfgar's face, the understanding that he needed her desperately in
that moment, had kept her on her feet, clinging to him as he had clung to her,
so it had seemed they had held each other upright. Aella sat once more upon his
throne, laughing, a gold-chased wine goblet filled to overflowing in his hand,
raised high to toast his victory over the great Ragnar Lodbrók, once a king of
the Northland and now a corpse in a snake pit. Slightly startled, Rhowenna
realized dully that she, too, was holding a cup of wine, as was Wulfgar; but
neither of them drank to Aella's triumph, only
to Ragnar's death, as was the
way of the
Víkingrs.
Then Wulfgar said:

"I'll
trouble you now for the price on Ragnar's head, due the princess Yelkei, if you
please, King Aella. Then we'll go, and haunt your shores no more, for our way
lies south, and we've a long journey ahead of us."

"But
you cannot leave now," Aella insisted, smiling, his tongue darting forth
to lick his wine-soaked lips, in a manner that reminded Rhowenna unpleasantly
of the serpents in the snake pit. "The hour is late, and the roads across
the moors are rife with brigands in these uncertain times. I cannot keep my
word and guarantee you safe passage if you would set out when 'tis nigh on
dusk. Nay, Wulfgar Bloodaxe, you and your companions must stay and have supper
with me and spend the night beneath my roof. Far better that than some
villager's shabby lodgings, some peasant's dungy byre along the wayside, you
must agree. In the morning will be time enough to settle our account and for
you to continue on your way."

This
was all said politely enough. Still, Rhowenna recognized, as Wulfgar did, that
Aella, for whatever his true reason, did not mean to let them depart just yet
and that if they pressed the issue, they were as likely to wind up his
prisoners as his guests.

"Very
well." Wulfgar spoke at last. "We shall partake of your hospitality,
then, and make an early start tomorrow; for I should not like to leave my
Dragon Ship too long at anchor in your harbor, King Aella, lest my army of
thegns
grow restless
and forget that we came here for trading instead of raiding." This threat
was as courteously veiled as Aella's own had been.

Yet,
despite this warning, they were not to depart from York, after all; for in the
morning, Aella showed his true colors by having Wulfgar and Flóki thrown into a
dank, barred cell and Rhowenna, Morgen, and Yelkei locked up in a tower. When
assaulted by Aella's guards, Wulfgar and Flóki fought wildly, savagely, like
maddened Berserks, killing several of their attackers and wounding many more.
But in the end, by the sheer weight of numbers, Aella's men overwhelmed them,
and they were taken captive and stripped naked to the waist; then iron slave
collars were fastened about their necks, each with a long chain at the throat
that ended in manacles that were clamped shut around their wrists. The women
were treated more gently, their hands bound, with ropes, behind their backs.
Then all were herded before Aella in his great hall, who laughed mockingly at
Wulfgar's struggles against both his captors
and his bonds, his expression murderous
as he glared at Aella.

"What
is the meaning of this, you treacherous whoreson?" Wulfgar demanded, his breathing
harsh and labored from his futile attempt to free himself. "Is this how
you would keep your word to us that we might come and go in peace?"

"If
you had read my missive more carefully, you would have grasped that it was
worded in such a way that my guarantee to you of safe passage was good for
yesterday only," Aella sneered, stroking his beard absently. "Today,
I may slay you if I please, and my conscience will be clear. However,
fortunately for you, that is not my pleasure. I am greatly in need of a
scapegoat, you see, and you will serve most admirably for my purpose. My
God!" Aella burst out suddenly, rising from his throne and pacing the dais
before them. "I could not credit it when I received your message, telling
me that you bore Ragnar Lodbrók captive in your train! I feared that it must be
some sly trickery indeed devised by Ragnar and his sons to conquer all of my
kingdom of Northumbria. But then I realized that however you came by him, you
honestly did not know—"

"Know
what?" Wulfgar's voice was sharp, his eyes so intense, so searching that
Rhowenna
could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he swiftly considered and
rejected one possible explanation after another until, at last, his body
abruptly tensed as though he expected to receive a mortal blow.

"Why,
that late this past autumn, a great army of Vikings landed in East Anglia, led
by the sons of Ragnar Lodbrók," Aella elucidated, each word falling
lethally into the sudden silence. "They are even now marching toward York;
and while I thought it prudent to execute Ragnar, lest he somehow escape to
ride at their vanguard, I now needs must find someone else to blame for the
evil deed, someone whom I may use to my advantage to barter with Ragnar's sons,
if necessary."

"So
that is what we are to be, is it? Coins at your bargaining table?"
Wulfgar's eyes blazed with fury and fear for Rhowenna at the thought that
surely now, they would all be undone. "Damn you to Hel, you filthy
bastard! Listen to me! I've known Ragnar's sons all my life. They haven't come
here to barter, you fool, but to conquer all of Britain; and to do it, they'll
kill you and every other Saxon king who stands in their way."

"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."