Ten
Skarth the Godless
“E meline!”
Jolting upright, I frantically search the unfamiliar room for her, but she’s nowhere to be found. I have no idea where I am.
The last thing I remember was…
“Why won’t you wake?”
We made it out alive—just. But the injury I sustained; it was too much. I lost so much blood, which is why I’m here, wherever here is.
Peering down at my side, I see it’s wrapped in cloth. Only Emeline would care enough to tend to me this way. I need to find her.
Just as I attempt to stand, Sister Ethelyn enters and rushes over to help.
“I do not need your help,” I snarl, but she doesn’t listen as she wraps her arm around my waist, offering me support. “Where are we?”
Once I’m on my feet, I gently shrug free.
Sister Ethelyn wrings her hands in front of her. “Clones Monastery.”
“We’re still in Wessex?”
When she nods, I curse under my breath. “ Skitr. Where is the princess?”
Sister Ethelyn grips the crucifix around her neck.
“Where is she?” I repeat dangerously low.
“She’s gone. Your people took her.” It’s Raedwulf who replies as he enters these dark, dank chambers.
“If you do not explain yourself, I will rip that useless tongue from your throat,” I warn Raedwulf. He is no use to me if he doesn’t have the information I seek.
Lord Robert follows Raedwulf, a broken man. “She sacrificed herself for our well-being,” he explains, carrying more wood for the fire. “The Northmen were going to raid, but Emeline offered them herself in exchange for our safe passage.”
“And you allowed it?”
“I am sure you know we do not allow anything when the princess is involved,” he corrects because Emeline cannot be controlled—something I adore about her. But not when her safety is at stake.
“How many days ago?” I ask, long forgetting my injuries as I begin to dress.
“Two,” Lord Robert replies. “She wanted us to return to Northumbria.”
“I do not care what she wanted,” I state, reaching for my sword. “What you decide to do is your choice. But I’m leaving here. Now.”
“Wessex Guard will capture you. They have swarmed the countryside.” Raedwulf is nothing but a coward.
“They can try,” I reply, sheathing my sword onto my back, “but they will fail.”
Sister Ethelyn crosses herself as she knows I will spill copious amounts of blood until I find Emeline. And I won’t stop until I do. I’ve already wasted so much time.
I’m furious at myself for succumbing to illness. I won’t let Emeline pay for my weakness.
“What did they look like? My people,” I add, drawing a distinct line because with Emeline gone, we are no longer on the same side.
“Like you,” Raedwulf spits, making his hate for me clear.
Lord Robert ignores him. “The leader was a young man. No older than you. He had a scar down his left cheek. They called him Ulf.”
And just like that, the breath is stolen from me, and I’m not sure if it’ll ever return.
“You know of him?”
“Yes, Lord Robert, I do.” I don’t elaborate further because finding Emeline has become even more important.
With that information in hand, I leave this place and make my way down the long, dark hallway in hopes of finding the exit and soon.
“Who is he?” Raedwulf questions, chasing after me. I don’t stop.
When I see an archway that leads to a garden area, I quicken my step. “He is someone who should not be in possession of a princess.”
“Why not?”
I ignore him because he should not have let Emeline leave here in the first place. I know she is stubborn and strong-willed, but Raedwulf should have done everything in his power to stop her.
He grips my wrist, attempting to stop me, but no one will.
Twisting his arm, I shove him against the wall, lowering my face inches from his. “Do not touch me. Ever,” I caution, curling my lip as he pathetically attempts to fight me. “The time to show courage has come and gone. Now, I must do what you could not.”
“Do not speak as if you are better than me. It’s because of you we are in this position. Emeline would not leave without you. If we had, she’d be safe, and we’d be back in Northumbria, preparing to be wed.”
I press my forearm across his throat, my temper rising. “What did you say?”
“Unhand me, heathen.” When he attempts to break free, I only press down harder.
“Do not make me repeat myself. You will not like the consequences if I do.”
He gasps for air as he replies, “Emeline has accepted my proposal of marriage. I will make an honest woman of her.”
“She doesn’t need a man for that,” I state, eyeing him fiercely. “She is far too good for any man.”
He snickers, proving me wrong. “She mustn’t agree, for she was overjoyed at the prospect of being my wife.”
It takes all my willpower not to choke the life from him, but if what he says is true, then Emeline would never forgive me. So, because of my affection for her, I let Raedwulf go.
He sags forward, clutching at his throat as he gulps in mouthfuls of air. I cannot believe Emeline would agree to marry this weakling.
“You should be ashamed you let the woman you’re about to wed be taken.”
But men like Raedwulf don’t feel shame. They are given second chances in life because of their social standing. It does not matter that they are spineless fools. I’m the heathen, not them, for they are cultured and obey a fake God.
But I’m the one who will save Emeline from the hands of an animal—Ulf the Bloody…my once best friend.
Monks gasp and scurry when they see me, afraid I will exercise my reputation and paint this monastery with their blood. But there is only one whose blood I shall spill.
Ulf and I fought beside one another since I can remember. We were inseparable, as were our fathers. But that changed when King Egbert destroyed my family. I died on the battlefield alongside my father. Ulf wanted to fight together, but I knew we couldn’t win.
We lost many men and women during battle, and without my father, the Hersir, which is equivalent to a king, I knew the only way to avenge his death and find my family was to surrender. Ulf and the remaining Drengrs saw it as weakness, as a warrior never acquiesces, but my father taught me battle comes in all different shapes and sizes.
This was the only way to win, for I would not allow his death to be in vain.
Ulf made clear that if I left, I would be the enemy, and he would hunt me as he would any Saxon. The only reason I still stand is because he could never beat me in battle. But now, that’s changed.
Now that he has Emeline, I will do anything he wants.
I can only hope she does not reveal who I am to her, for mentioning me will not do her any favors. But she is smart. And Ulf has always been distracted by a pretty face.
Leaving Raedwulf before I go back on my word and rip out his throat, I quickly walk into the gardens and seek out the gatehouse. Monks stay out of my way, and although I am thankful they offered me sanctuary, I know they only did so because of who I was traveling with.
They will always look at me as a pagan, no matter that I willingly risk my life for one of their own.
“Skarth!” It’s Sister Ethelyn who chases after me.
I stop because I know she will do anything to save Emeline.
“Take this,” she says, placing her gold crucifix into my palm. “It was a gift from the king. It will help you negotiate for Emeline’s return.”
She’s right. It’s pure gold and encrusted with colorful jewels.
But I shake my head, closing my hand over hers. “I have something far more valuable.”
“What could be more valuable than gold and that of a king?” Her green eyes widen, and although she’s a child of her God, she is extremely pretty. It seems a waste she squanders that beauty on her God.
“Me,” I reply with a slanted smirk. “I will trade my life for Emeline’s. I am a bastard among my people and yours, Sister.”
“Godspeed then, Skarth the Godless. I will pray for thee. Your horse waits for you by the gates.”
I appreciate the gesture, but her prayers are wasted on me.
I go to turn, but she reaches out, gripping my arm softly. Her blonde hair, which has been cut short to obey her religion, catches the wind. Emeline told me the absence of a veil is a sign she is not yet fully ordained. And that is the reason she helps me.
She hasn’t surrendered completely, for I believe she is rebellious at heart. Her being here, helping a pagan, is a sure sign of it.
“Bring her home,” she says, pleading I don’t fail. “You are the only one who can.”
“I will, Sister Ethelyn.”
She doesn’t hide her surprise that I’ve referred to her in this way, acknowledging her position in the church. She watches as I make my way toward the gatehouse, where, as she said, my white horse awaits.
Lord Robert waits for me by the gate, and I know he wishes to come with me. But he cannot. If my people see him, they will kill him on sight. I am the only hope for saving Emeline.
Mounting the horse, I nod at Lord Robert in a silent promise to find Emeline and bring her home.
When I cluck my tongue, the steed doesn’t need further command and breaks into a trot. I ride away from the monastery, unsure what faces me. What I am certain of is that come nightfall, I will find Emeline for I will follow the North Star.