Chapter 13 Skarth the Godless
Thirteen
Skarth the Godless
She looks like the queen she was born to be, sitting on her throne, poised and regal, when I know inside, she is tearing at her flesh.
She has every right to disown me as her partner and sacrifice me to the wolves.
The little display Aethelbald orchestrated was for Emeline. To show her what a disgusting brute I am, and he’s right. I wish to cut off my own cock and would if my hands were free.
It’s a perfect example of how we men are nothing but animals, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from responding to what Inga and Bodil did. It’s not because I wanted them. It’s a response that happens when our dicks are the star of the show.
I clench down on my jaw, disgusted with myself.
I have no idea what will happen next.
The fact that Aethelbald sits beside Emeline is a sure sign that he is to be crowned. But then what?
No doubt, deals have been made.
Lives sacrificed.
But Emeline is up to something.
There is no way she would agree to any of this if our son’s lives were not saved.
But then what?
The wise thing would be for us to walk away, but our pride will not let us.
I look down the long row of prisoners I’m shackled to. All loyal to Emeline. We’re on display to be made an example of. The heretics who will be punished for not following the rule of Aethelbald.
Catherine meets my eyes.
I nod subtly.
It will be okay.
We just have to get through this spectacle.
Sigrith stands on guard. It appears she is Aethelbald’s most trusted soldier.
Her betrayal is unforgivable.
Emeline stands, and her court instantly quietens. “Friends, I thank thee for attending on such short notice, but the news could not wait. I have made it no secret that England has been my first love, and all I have done is to better this land we love.”
Men in the crowd snicker under their breaths because Emeline has indeed done this, much to the disgust of the chauvinists who refused to see what England could become because a woman was queen.
Now, they’re about to get their wish.
“But I now see that I…” She pauses, composing herself, as I know what she is about to say goes against everything she fought so hard for. “I see that perhaps I was foolish in believing that I am able to rule without a king.”
Aethelbald nods in agreement.
All I can envision is ripping that head from his shoulders.
“Lord Aethelbald is of royal blood. Son of Lord Aethelwulf. Grandson to King Egbert of Wessex, Lord Aethelbald is the rightful heir to the throne. I should know, of course, as I raised him like my own. In case memory escapes you, I was wife to Lord Aethelwulf before he met an…unfortunate demise.”
The room falls quiet because Emeline is airing her dirty laundry at court.
She may be forced to surrender her kingdom, but she won’t go down quietly.
And this is why I love her.
“Lord Aethelbald will no doubt follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.”
This isn’t a compliment.
But I soon wonder if she speaks about King Egbert’s demise.
Memories of what we did flood my mind, and I instantly meet Emeline’s gaze, for she too is lost in the moment she delivered his fate—a blood eagle.
She rises and walks down the carpeted stairs and stands in front of her audience. Aethelbald removes his fur cloak and kneels in front of Emeline.
Sigrith stands to her left, a white silk pillow in hand. Emeline retrieves the large gold ring set with a ruby. “In God’s grace, do you, Lord Aethelbald, accept the Ring of Kingly Dignity?”
“I do.” He offers his left hand, where Emeline places the ring on his ring finger.
She then reaches for a gold orb topped with a cross and set with pearls, jewels, and a purple stone; the crucifix sits on it. She places it in his left hand. “The Sovereign’s Orb is an ode to our Christian faith and our domination over the secular world.
“There is only one God, one, which you, Lord Aethelbald, promise to serve and be His faithful servant?”
“I do,” he replies as Emeline recites the vows with no emotion.
Sigrith passes Emeline a gold scepter with a diamond encrusted at the top in the shape of a star. “This staff is a symbol of power and justice. Do you, Lord Aethelbald, swear to be just and fair and all-powerful in the name of England?”
“I will.” He grasps the staff in his other hand.
Emeline then reaches for the final piece, which will cement our fates forevermore.
The gold crown, encrusted with many colored jewels and pearls, looks utterly pretentious. It’s a show of power and control; a reminder of who rules this kingdom. Emeline’s gold crown is simple and tasteful because she doesn’t rule for the ostentatious jewels and riches.
She rules because of her loyalty to her people.
But that is about to change when she places the crown upon Aethelbald’s head. Sigrith fixes a purple robe around his neck. “Lord Aethelbald, are you able and willing to take the oath?”
“I am willing.”
“Do you solemnly promise and swear to govern England with a pure heart?”
“I solemnly promise.”
“You will be fair, just, and merciful in your rulings and judgments with no contempt in your heart?”
“I will.”
“Will you maintain the Laws of God, our savior, and never stray from the word of the Gospel? Will you maintain the relationship between England and the Church and abide by its rulings? And will you accept all changes and decisions in the name of the Lord granted by the churches?”
“To all this I promise.”
“Then, with God as my witness, I name thee, King Aethelbald of Northumbria and Wessex. God save the King!”
“God save the King! God save the King! God save the King!” chants the elated audience as trumpets sound.
Aethelbald stands and faces his kingdom, relishing the applause and praise. Emeline stands off to the side, her cheeks blistering red. She has handed over her kingdom to Aethelbald and made an oath which no one can break.
Aethelbald walks over to her and takes her hand. “Long live the queen!”
She appears stunned, which means this wasn’t part of the deal. She attempts to subtly release her hand, but he bends low and whispers something into her ear.
Her expression has me lunging forward, not caring that I will drag everyone I am tied to with me. But Sigrith appears in front of me, blocking my path.
I decide to speak in our native tongue. “You would kill me in the name of a Christian?”
“Do not speak to me of loyalties, Dear Brother, for you killed many in the name of a Christian,” she replies in Norse.
She is right.
It did not matter who they were. Religion. Gender. Or beliefs. If Emeline’s life was in danger, they were my enemy and deserved to die a painful, dishonorable death.
“That is true, but I did so in the name of love. What do you fight for?”
Her eyes turn nostalgic. “I, too, fight for love.”
Love?
This is a turn of events I did not see coming, and perhaps explains so much.
I am about to probe further, but a guard comes and drives the butt of his sword into my flank. “Get back in line, heathen.”
Sigrith and I share a moment, and I hope to find the sister I once loved. But she is dead to me, and in her place is a stranger I vow to kill because she is no sister of mine.
* * *
I have no idea why I’m sitting in a room in the palace. I doubt I’m here for scones and tea. So I’m on high alert, expecting anything.
Aethelbald enters, still wearing that ridiculous hat.
I don’t bother with small talk.
He walks the room without a care in the world, and why would he? Emeline just signed over half of England.
“Your sweet Emeline saw to her end of the deal, and I am a man of my word.”
I sit perfectly still.
“This is a complicated situation because Emeline cannot simply dethrone herself. It must be done in due course and with reason.”
I do not move.
“You understand me, heathen?”
“I understand you just fine,” I reply slowly.
He seems out of sorts that I have not retaliated.
But that’s what he wants.
“I am your king, and you will respect me.”
I cannot contain my laughter. “You are not my king. I do not respect any man who does not earn his place in this world. You wear that ridiculous crown because of extortion. You do not have an honorable bone in your body.
“And sooner or later, all of England will see just that. Your days are numbered, and you will meet a grim demise, one that you deserve, just like your father and grandfather.”
Aethelbald’s jaw clenches, and it’s evident I have struck a nerve. “I cannot believe she sacrifices everything for you.”
“And that is because someone like you does not know what love is. You are only in love with your reflection because who could ever love someone like you?”
Aethelbald storms forward, withdrawing his sword. He places the tip over my heart.
I remain unmoved.
“I should rip the heart from your chest.”
“You should.”
We remain in a deadlock because no one will surrender tonight.
That is, until I hear…
“Faeir.”
No matter how many moments I take, nothing will ever prepare me for seeing my sons again. How they’ve grown.
Sune stands tall.
My brave boy.
He is angry with me. And he has every right to be. He sees my absence as abandonment. And I don’t blame him for thinking in such a way. Such stubbornness animates his existence, and I am proud of it.
Loki is gifted in ways I never saw coming. My boy wears an eye patch, confirming it was his eye they took. Pain slashes at me because I failed him. I failed both my boys in so many ways.
“Do not worry, Faeir. Sight comes in other ways.” Loki attempts to console me, but those who harmed him will pay dearly.
I come to a stand, admiring my sons. “My boys, I am proud of you. Here you stand, far braver than those who are nothing but cowards, holding you hostage. I do not insult you by asking if you are okay, for I can see you are more than all right.”
Loki and Sune listen intently.
“You made your point, Aethelbald. What is it you want?”
Aethelbald appears to weigh over my question. “Every man wants to protect his family, and you are fortunate enough to be blessed with two boys. Take them and be a family. I am kind and present this offer to you.
“Forget this place and go in freedom and good health.”
“My family is not complete without Emeline.”
Aethelbald brushes off invisible fluff from his robe. “Perhaps it is time to make a new family then.”
I contain my anger as I do not wish to damage my boys more than they already are. “That will not happen.”
“Then my offer is off the table,” Aethelbald counters. “You can either take your boys right now and leave this place without punishment and live a free life, or you will be thrown back into the dungeons, and your boys will remain my property.”
“They do not belong to you,” I snarl between clenched teeth.
“That is where you are wrong. I own everything…thanks to your beloved.”
I step forward, ready to rip out his spleen and feed it to him, but Loki shakes his head. “Faeir, no. This angers the gods. You must choose. This is what the gods wish.”
“How can I choose? I am faced with saving my sons, but condemning the love of my life for an eternity. I cannot.”
“But you must. This choice changes everything.”
Walking over to Loki, I drop to a crouch in front of him. “What do you see, my son?”
Loki places a tiny hand on my cheek. “I see that whatever you decide, it will change the world.”
How do I choose between my sons and Emeline?
I know she would want me to choose them and be free, but I cannot. I know that once I leave these palace walls, I’ll never be able to broach them ever again. Emeline will be lost to us forever. And that’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make.
She will hate me for this choice, but there is another way. I refuse to believe that there is not.
“Your heart has decided,” Loki says with a smile.
“And I fear my heart is just a sentimental fool.”
“Mother will understand.”
Planting a kiss on Loki’s forehead, I inhale because he smells like home, and I refuse to destroy our future by leaving Emeline here.
“Your choice is made then?” Aethelbald asks, eyes narrowed.
Coming to a stand, I nod.
“Let it be known then that my generous offer has been denied. Sigrith.”
My sister enters and gestures that the boys are to accompany her. But I lunge for them, drop to my knees, and scoop them up into my arms. I hug them tight, committing this moment to memory because I do not know when another will arise.
“I love you, sons. So very much. I will find you. I promise. Until then, know that you never leave our thoughts. We will be a family once again,” I say to them in Norse.
Sune stands solid, unmoved, but Loki holds on tight. “As the sun rises, death will free us all,” he whispers into my ear.
“Loki? What does that mean?”
Sigrith rips them from my arms, refusing to allow Loki to answer.
A rage so fierce overcomes me. I stand slowly, daring Sigrith to strike me.
She doesn’t.
“Just as I thought, nothing but a coward behind that sword,” I spat in Norse.
She straightens her spine as it seems I’ve struck a nerve.
This is the moment she remembers that the same blood runs through our veins, and she stops this betrayal.
But she does nothing of the sort.
She takes my boys and leaves.
Aethelbald sighs, clearly annoyed I didn’t take the bait. “You are a silly, silly man not to accept my gratitude. It will not come again.”
“Your terms never come without strings attached. You are nothing but a juvenile. I have dealt with kings far braver than you. Your reign is laughable, and sooner or later, all of England will see what you are.”
“And what is that?” he asks, nostrils flared.
“A man child.”
Aethelbald tongues his cheek, lost for words. “Guards!”
Three soldiers burst into the room, and when he gestures with his head that they’re to apprehend me, they surround me. I don’t fight. I allow them to lead me from the room, but as we pass Aethelbald, I can’t help myself and swiftly headbutt him.
The guards jump on me, yanking me out of the room, but I leave happily, with nothing but a smile on my face.