Chapter 19 Queen Emeline #2
Bodil latches onto me, but I spin. Yanking the knife from Inga’s eyeball, I drive it into her neck, severing her jugular.
She drops to the ground, clutching the bleeding wound and gasping for air.
I savor the sight for a moment before I return to Inga and drive the knife into her skull and face repeatedly until her skin, muscle, and tendons hang like a grotesque meat artwork.
She is still alive, her tongue unable to retract into her mouth because I have cut off her lips, resulting in her tongue just lolling forward like the dog that she is.
The soldier is long gone, so it’s only us girls.
Inga begins to pray in Norse, but she doesn’t get that privilege as I yank out her tongue and slice it off. I scoop out her eyeballs and slice off her nose. Nothing will pacify this rage inside me, a rage she initiated when she touched what is mine.
Her face is merely meat, and her empty sockets morbidly peer up at me from the ground. I stomp on her head, her brains splattering under my boot and painting the stones red.
Turning over my shoulder, I see Bodil crawling toward safety, but a sword is soon embedded in her back, impaling her to the ground, and that sword belongs to Alruna.
Old scores have been settled here today.
Alruna looks at my handiwork and nods in respect.
I am happy to see her because this means Aedan, Ulf, and his men have made it inside the castle.
“Kill anyone who isn’t on our side,” I order, picking up my sword and going in search of Aethelbald.
There is only one place a coward would hide. I stalk the familiar hallways, memories of when I was a child floating in and out of my mind; the childlike, innocent laughter replacing the bloody gurgles of dying men.
Kicking open the chapel door, I am greeted by my former ealdormen and, to my utter surprise, my once “husband” King Beornwulf.
Seeing him surprises me because I believed he was safe in Mercia.
“I failed you, dear husband,” I sincerely say because I feel nothing but affection for King Beornwulf.
“You did nothing of the sort. It is good to see you again, Emeline. It has been too long.”
“It is good to be seen,” I reply, allowing nostalgia to show.
King Beornwulf is one of the good guys, and it saddens me that this is how it ends for him.
I had to take all factors into consideration as I knew Aethelbald would use anyone who meant something to me as collateral. And that is why I instructed Ulf to kill anyone if they were used as bait.
Lord Rufus places a knife to King Beornwulf’s throat. “Why? I have already appointed Aethelbald king of Mercia and Wessex!”
“Yes, but without the church's blessing, your word is worthless. And that is why we must punish those who sided with a heretic.”
Lord Rufus slashes a knife across King Beornwulf’s throat, killing him where he stands.
“No!” I scream, rushing forward, but it’s too late.
My friend’s body drops to the ground with a thud.
With him dies Mercia.
I don’t have time to grieve before King Raedwulf is shoved onto the altar by Aethelbald. The snake has finally come out of hiding. It doesn’t surprise me that he must play dirty to get my attention.
“You are the most pathetic little weasel I have ever set my eyes upon. There isn’t a decent bone in your body, and I swear it, you can kill a thousand men, but I will never surrender.”
King Raedwulf is beaten and bloody, as I know Aethelbald despises him more than the others because he sits on the throne, which Aethelbald believes is his.
“Their thrones are yours!” I scream. “There is no need to spill their blood. Their armies will obey you. Their kingdoms are yours! What more do you want?”
King Raedwulf and I have been through so much. He has known me for most of my life. And now, I have failed him. He is married and has three daughters. How can life be this cruel?
“You slaughter good Christian men because you cannot fight fairly. You resort to lying and cheating. You will never be worthy to be king. Forgive me, my friend,” I say to King Raedwulf, but he nods, accepting his fate.
An arrow shoots straight into his chest, where he topples to the ground.
Aethelbald is stunned, but I am not because the arrow belongs to Ulf. Aedan places a heavy bar over the chapel doors, locking us in. The ealdormen begin to panic, looking amongst themselves as this was clearly not part of the plan.
“You have butchered half of England, where now you and I only exist. Only one of us will survive. So let's do this once and for all, you insufferable wee brat.”
Ulf, Aedan, and the men advance, showing no mercy on the ealdormen who are not born fighters. They are slain within minutes, except for Lord Rufus at my orders.
He will receive a special form of justice.
Aethelbald and I go head-to-head, locked in a battle to the death. “You have killed innocent men for nothing!” I bellow, our swords clashing as I attempt to take his head.
“The church would never sanction my ruling.”
“So you decided to kill anyone who stood in your way? That is not a real leader. All you are is a coward. You killed my friends!”
I kick him in the stomach, his back smacking into the altar.
He springs back, punching me in the mouth.
I taste blood on my lips, which fuels the tempest beast within.
Only Aethelbald and I are alive now, as all monarchs are dead. If I too join my comrades and England is left in the hands of a psychopath, then I fear that is the end of the country I fought so hard for.
What of my children?
What of the people who sacrificed so much?
I cannot lose.
Aethelbald and I fight for our lives, both knowing only one will come out of this the victor.
Ulf and Aedan fight the soldiers, but I can sense Ulf’s urgency to help me. But this is my fight, and no one will win it but me.
I pick up a burning candle from the altar and throw it at the drapes hanging behind the large crucifix. They instantly set alight.
I will smoke Aethelbald out. Or we can burn in here alive.
Our swords clash loudly, him blocking my moves and I dodging his.
I vaguely hear a thumping against the doors. I don’t focus on anything other than taking Aethelbald’s head.
“Surrender!” he roars, charging me.
I laugh in response and spin, kicking him in the kidneys.
The fire spreads, and before long, the entire back wall is alight. The smoke is thick, and soon, a haze covers the chapel, making it hard to see.
Aethelbald coughs.
“I would rather burn this castle to the ground than surrender!”
The loud banging on the door soon erupts into roars as men break down the wood and enter the chapel. They are a mixture of Wessex, Mercian, and Northumbrian soldiers.
I was right. I had trusted blind faith, hopeful that without the church’s consent, the armies would follow their rightful kings and that would buy us some time. But without a king, they follow whomever they believe will lead them to victory—no matter how corrupt he is.
We are more than outnumbered now. And I know that Aethelbald hid in here on purpose, knowing I would seek him out. It seems he, too, had a backup plan.
Ulf, Aedan, and our men fight, but they cannot keep up. Ulf and I lock eyes, and he shakes his head, reading my defeat.
Even though I will not surrender, I will also not sacrifice my men.
Searching in my pocket, I find what I need.
It was always my last resort.
I didn’t tell a soul because this was always my choice to make. And I devour that choice in one mouthful.
This is the only way for those I love to be free.
I peer around at the bedlam, which is worse than I ever thought. I knew it would be a bloody war, but this is a bloodbath.
We need a miracle.
And when three heads land at my feet, I realize that perhaps the Lord has delivered.
“It cannot be,” I mutter under my breath as I witness Skarth the Godless destroy anyone who stands in the way.
He was supposed to be out cold for hours, and unless day has eclipsed into night, then he has just proved what a true phenomenon he is.
His presence somehow stokes my fire, and I am charged once more.
Aethelbald yanks a sword from a soldier’s back and now comes at me with two weapons.
Again, he cheats.
“Say hello to your father and grandfather from me,” I say, picking up a blade and tossing it.
It embeds into his leg.
My comment enrages him, and he flies into a fury as he charges me. He slices through the air, connecting with my arm. He cuts through the material, leaving only a superficial wound.
“Aunt Emeline!” Benedict screams, tossing me a bow.
Although I wish he weren’t here, I am thankful for the extra manpower.
I catch the bow and pull out the arrow from King Raedwulf’s chest and load it into the bow. I shoot it, and when it embeds into Aethelbald’s pectoral, excitement courses through me because perhaps we can win.
I went into this with no game plan.
There were no tactics. Just fight and hope for the best.
This battle will always be remembered because it was fought by the underdogs who refused to give up.
Ulf and Skarth fight back-to-back, getting closer and closer to me.
The chapel is now half alight, and the men who do not fight flee for their lives. Benedict fights well, but he makes a mistake, one which is about to cost him dearly. His back is turned to Lord Rufus, who picks up a sword and is about to stab Benedict with it.
With a roar, I frantically retrieve an arrow and shoot it at Lord Rufus. It pins his arm to the wall.
Sighing in relief is in vain because a sharp pain is ripped through my middle, and peering down, I see a sword with a purple jewel embedded in the hilt.
A royal jewel.
Dropping to my knees, I hear a diabolical rumble, unsure where it comes from.
“NO! Hugrekki!”
Blood spills from the wound in my stomach and pools around me. I run my fingers through it and coat my face with my fingertips, painting my face to meet the gods.
Aethelbald stands in front of me, unable to wipe the disbelief from his face as he cannot believe it’s his sword that sits in my abdomen.
A lucky shot is what ends my life. It seems all very anticlimactic.
I grip the blade, and it slices through my palm.
I relish the pain because it’s the last of it I will ever feel.
Lord Rufus rushes over to Aethelbald, yanking on his arm. “We must go, my king! The castle is burning to the ground.”
I smile in victory as I did what I promised. I’ve burned this kingdom to the ground.
“Now, you’re king to nothing.” My breath wavers as it hurts to breathe, but I will not leave this world without the final word.
“My lordship, please!” Lord Rufus begs Aethelbald, but he shakes his head.
“She is right! We must celebrate her death and show the people that I am now king. They will have no choice but to obey me. Fear leads to weakness. We show them the parchments she signed. The church will comply with our terms, and I will be the rightful king of all of England!”
I chuckle, blood spluttering down my chin. “The only way you would ever sit on the throne is by cheating your way to the top. You dishonorable son of a bitch. I will ensure to haunt your dreams until death seems a mercy.”
“All right, so be it, but now, we must go!” Lord Rufus is desperate to flee, tugging on Aethelbald’s arm.
The room grows smaller, and everything turns on its side. The noise soon swirls into silence, and sadness is replaced with love. The darkness is light, and everything is warm.
My life flashes like a moving memory before my eyes, fast yet slow, and I relive it in small moments in time.
What a life I have lived.
My loved ones who perished wave at me in what appears to be clouds, beckoning me to join them where there is no pain.
I want to go…
But if I do, I will never see my sons again.
I will never see my Vikings.
But if I stay, this will never end.
My death will put an end to this war.
Alive, I will never win.
Aethelbald grows stronger.
But if I am no longer an intrant, then there will be no war to be won.
All’s fair in love and war, and nothing is grander than true love…
I succumb to the silence, knowing my sons are safe. As well as Ulf and Skarth.
Falling to the floor, I embrace death because today is a good day to die…
In my final moment on this earth, I hear the gut-wrenching screams of Skarth the Godless as my kingdom cries, “God save the queen!”
It’s finally over.
They’re safe.
My death is their freedom.
Godspeed, my friends…until we meet again.