Chapter 8 Skarth the Godless #2
“But I ask for your help. I cannot protect our people from the Saxons if you do not work with me. I am helpless to love, and I will never forget who I am. But my children, my legacy is at stake, and I cannot win without your help.
“I have forsaken thee, but I do so because I did not wish to incite a war. But war is brought to me by the Saxons, the people I fought to protect because of who I swore my life to. I do not wish to start a war amongst us, but I will kill anyone who stands in my way because this cannot have been for nothing.”
My kinsfolk dare not speak.
I confess my sins because I wish for them to be the decider of my fate.
If they see my truth as betrayal, then I will accept my punishment.
“I ask you to deliver justice as you deem fit. I cannot sway your feelings because I understand what I have done by falling in love with a Saxon. But she protected you. She ensured you were fruitful with land and food. She did this because of who our children are. Part Saxon, part Dane.
“Our children are the legacy to our future. Please put aside your prejudices. Queen Emeline has been good to you. She never turned her back on you. She ensured your safety. She changed the course of history and accepted every man, woman, and child into her beloved England.
“I fear my children are now missing, and I cannot find them without your help. I cannot do this because my choices have placed my family in harm’s way. Emeline can be anywhere. She rides with Ulf the Bloody. She rides with a Viking because she trusts our kind more than she does her own.
“I will reward thee with what I have. Surrendering what I have because nothing is more important than family. I beg of thee.”
And only then am I done.
Skarth the Godless does not beg, but here I am, asking for compassion when I did not show it for years. Yes, I saved our people, but I also turned my back on the gods when I fell in love with a Saxon.
I cannot say anything further.
Now, I wait for someone to show me benevolence when perhaps I did not express the same to my kind.
I decide to water and feed my horse, as I know my people are proud and will not come to me in fear of judgment. I cannot judge them, as I too would see their cooperation as betrayal.
I don’t know if my honesty was the right path to follow, but nothing is more vulnerable than a man who has nothing left to lose. And if my family is in danger, then I have nothing left to live for anyhow.
Dismounting, I decide to keep to the shadows, and if no victory will be had, then at least my horse will be well nourished. A small win indeed.
Every part of me functions on something other than human because Emeline is with Ulf when she should be with me. Ulf will fill my role and remind Emeline of who protects her and who does not.
I want to kill every man, for my anger is grand.
“Skarth?” a small voice says from behind me.
I turn and see a man I do not recognize.
“Aye.”
I give him my full attention because a desperate man is at the mercy of all.
“Your words reflect your heart, for there is no deceit to be heard. I have not seen your beloved, but the trusted word is that Saxons captured them near the bluff's edge.”
Captured by her own kind? What ill fortunes have forsaken my love?
“How reliable are your eyes?”
“My son was hunting and saw your queen, accompanied by a Viking with a scar across his face. He cursed this very land and all who flourished. His profanity was heard from kingdoms afar.”
I shake my head because this sounds like Ulf. “Thank you, my friend. Here, accept this reward for your bravery to do what no man had the gall to do.”
I toss him my money pouch.
He catches it, and when he feels the weight, he knows his riches are grand.
Even if he fools me, I must take the risk with no other choice. The stars betrayed me. As do the gods.
Ulf is with Emeline, and they are captured. He has failed to protect her. But so have I.
“What will come of us, Skarth the Godless?” he asks, peering at me with lost hope in his eyes.
The country we once called home is facing change, and I fear it will incite war.
Perhaps all will see the good Emeline’s reign brought us. Now, all our futures hang in the balance.
A war is coming, and I fear we may not win.
* * *
I will sacrifice all I am to save her.
Ulf the Bloody, however.
I will happily surrender to their demands because that arsehole can burn in hell for an eternity for all I care.
I abandoned my horse a mile back and kept to the shadows, for I needed to be one with the darkness to find my beloved and save her from a fate I had destined her to.
The trees are my friends at this moment of truth, but they can only provide sanctuary for so long.
I don’t know what I will do once I see Emeline. It has been so long. The moment I see Ulf, however, I will rip off his arms and beat him to death with them.
He will use this leverage against me, reminding me that he provided for my family when I could not. The thought turns my belly, and I wish to burn this kingdom to the ground, but this fault is mine alone. I will accept whatever consequences the gods deem fit, but will I like them?
No, I will not.
I do not understand how they have been taken. Both are smart, unless it's a ploy to gather information. I do not want to believe my sons are in jeopardy, but this may be the only reason Emeline would venture out alone.
Not alone, I remind myself, as Ulf stands in my place.
A branch snaps under my boots. I freeze, listening for any intrusion, for I know better than to make a sound. If I do not keep focused, then this would have all been in vain.
I follow the fresh tracks as the Saxons are careless. Or perhaps they do not want to conceal their path. England is crumbling, and a new leadership awaits to overthrow it. This makes the Saxons cocky and careless, and it will be their downfall.
The terrain is wet, the mud thick, thanks to the constant downpour. It seems the heavens are crying for England, too. I crawl on my belly toward the bluff's edge and peer below me. The fire is bright. As are the drunken cheers of those Saxon bastards who provoke their prisoners.
I need a moment to compose myself because this was not how I envisioned our first meeting. Nor did I predict my beloved would be tied to a stake and stripped almost bare.
I will eviscerate every man who touched her and subjected her to such derogatory ways.
A string of profanity catches the wind, which can only mean one thing—Ulf is close by, shackled and caged. The sight pleases me immensely as his hands cannot touch what is mine.
But what if they already have?
This jealousy will be the death of me. I can deal with the aftermath once they’re safe. Now, however, I need to focus on freeing them.
There is no strategy because I’m outnumbered. The only advantage I have is the element of surprise. So with that as my mindset, I sneak through the terrain and hope the moon stays in hiding, providing the sheath of shadow long enough to slaughter as many of these arseholes as I can.
The closer to camp I get, the angrier I become because I hear the obscenities the Saxons spew.
“Yer nothin’ special. All this fuss for the precious queen. Her cunt doesn’t sparkle.”
“Nor does it hypnotize.”
I inhale deeply, focusing on anything but disemboweling these arseholes and using their entrails to hang them from a tree.
One of them slaps Emeline, causing blood to instantly pour from her lip.
“See, Conrad? She bleeds just like us all. There is nothing special about thee.”
They high-five one another, hollering in utter glee.
“Please,” Emeline whimpers, her eyes wide.
“Please what, my Queen?” mocks a man as he curtseys.
Emeline mumbles incoherently under her breath.
The man steps closer and closer. And when within reach, Emeline spits in his face. His cheeks are covered in her bloodied spittle.
“Please shut up or just kill me now, as I would rather that fate than listen to your folly a second longer.”
Ulf’s riotous laughter reflects mine.
The men soon realize her docile and coy behavior is just a ploy to remind them that, even shackled and imprisoned, she will never cower in fear.
The man advances, sword raised, but a man in uniform steps from a tent, shaking his head. “Enough, Benjamin. She does this to bait you. She is no good to us dead.”
“Aethelbald has you trained like his well-behaved little lap dogs. What do you think he will provide once you’ve done his dirty work? Your heads on spikes, that is what.”
Aethelbald.
So it is confirmed, then.
When I think of his legacy, I realize that this day was bound to come. Poetic justice, some may say.
Things have just become even dire, knowing who my sons are.
“You will also suffer the same fate, Ulf the Bloody,” Emeline spits, turning toward him. “You just had to follow your barbaric instincts, did you not? For it is because of your impulsiveness that we find ourselves at the mercy of these rabid dogs!”
I smirk, elated to hear her spew such venom toward Ulf. But that soon turns.
“You know you will miss my head as it is attached to the hair you so longingly pulled as I lapped at the ripeness of your—”
“You disgust me!” Emeline says, not at all humored.
“You wound me,” Ulf mocks.
“Too bad it is not fatal.”
Regardless of her words, it’s evident that Emeline’s feelings for Ulf still run strong. The urge to fuck her into submission for the world to know she is mine and mine alone overwhelms me, for I am forever Viking at heart.
“Aethelbald will restore what you destroyed,” says the man in uniform. He is someone of standing. “He is the rightful heir. Not you. You’re nothing but a woman. Good for nothing other than spreading your legs and rearing our sons.”
He stands in front of Emeline before slapping her cheek.
The cage rattles as Ulf throws his body against the bars. “You weak coward,” he sneers. “The only way you can subdue her is when she is restrained, and even then, she is far braver than every single one of you Veslingrs.”