[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 07-20-2006 @ 04:10 PM).]
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 07-20-2006 @ 04:10 PM).]
[This message has been edited by Lady Arcola (edited 06-20-2005 @ 09:51 PM).]
"Seems you have an admirer, Aldric," observed Liudger in a low voice with a barely suppressed gram of mirth thrown in as well. "Who did she say was her father? I heard something about him and the proprietor."
"I don't know. I was somewhat... preoccupied."
"Maybe we should just ask." Liudger's face opened into a wide grin.
"Shhh! Liudger! Stop it! My vows!" protested Aldric, in a desperate tone, but voice low enough the cook and the girl would not hear. "You know I must not invite anything."
"I think the invitation is coming from elsewhere and not from you as it is."
"Liudger! Don't!"
"What good are vows, lad, if they're never tested."
"I don't need a test."
"Well, don't look now, Aldric, but the test has just begun."
Aldric blinked and looked over his shoulder to find that Adalwi was bringing a tray with food and drink for both. She placed it on the table and then removed each item from the tray, placing his helping before each man. When finished she stood at table's edge with an odd expression on her face, just as if she were debating something. The expression changed as if her decision were made then and there. "May I sit with you gentlemen for a moment?" she asked demurely.
Liudger nodded. Aldric winced. Adalwi unceremoniously pulled out a chair and sat down with her hands loosely clasped on her lap and her eyes moving back and forth between Liudger and Aldric, but always staying longer on Aldric. "I do not mean to be forward," she began (Aldric nearly choked on a bit of stew) but I have a terrible curiousity."
Why is it, wondered Aldric, that women's clothing is so designed as to cover what it should, but not necessarily all that it could. He continued to eat his stew, but with ears attuned to what she was saying.
Adalwi's voice was sweetly melodious, with a youthful timbre that caught the ear of any nearby that could hear, like the soft call of a songbird would catch the attention of a passerby in the woods and cause him to pause. "You are merchants I hear. True?"
Aldric knew he had no choice but to answer. "Yes, that is true." Adalwi's face turned to him immediately, grateful for the invitation to do what she intended to do all along.
"What do you sell?"
"We acquire, mostly. Artifacts. Ancient novelties. We have customers who collect curiousities." Aldric didn't like dancing around the truth, but there was no help for it.
"My father told me his men had noted strangers in town who claimed to be merchants. They must be you."
"Your father?"
"Yes, Hathowulf, Sheriff of Dokkum."
Aldric's eyes darted towards Liudger. Both had the sense to control their outward expressions, but inside was turmoil. Of all the miserable ill fortune... "Of course, the Sheriff," repeated Aldric, heat rising inside that he hoped was the effect of the stew and not something else too plain on his face.
"What is it you seek?"
Aldric again glanced at Liudger. "Uh, carvings, statuary, ancient things, rare books..." Aldric saw the girl's expression change when he mentioned "rare books". Odd. Is there knowledge of something? "Do you know who might have any of these and would be willing to sell for a sum of monies?"
"Maybe. But I'd have to see." Her brows knitted together. "You are Frisien," she said to Aldric. Looking at Liudger her expression was more discerning. "You are not. Frankish, I think."
The cook's voice interrupted them before Liudger or Aldric could answer. "Adalwi, get a move on young lady or the stew for the prisoners will be cold before you get there! Leave the man and lad to their meals!"
The girl's eyes narrowed into two angry slits. "Greda! Don't you shout at me! I shall do what I should without your shouting! My father..."
Greda the cook interrupted her. "Your father long ago told me should you misbehave I am to paddle you with the nearest pot! Now girl, either its your chore or the pot, take your pick!"
"I shall speak to my uncle about you!" she cried out, anger and frustration etched all over her voice. "He may have one good eye but he sees more than you think!"
"So speak to him," countered Greda. "Then I'll tell him which pot he must replace because I've used it on you!"
"Ooooo!" Exasperated, Adalwi stamped her foot, walked demonstrably to where the tray filled with plates of stew waited for her and picked it up. As she walked through the door to the street outside, she turned once to send a look Alric's way that spoke of fire, ice and hidden expectations. Then Adalwi balanced the tray on one hand and with a mighty pull, slammed the door shut making the walls rattle despite their apparent sturdiness. The cook returned to her work with a self-satisfied smile on her face.
Aldric tore his eyes away from the door just then closed harshly. "I think we have entered the storm," he noted scraping the last of the stew from his plate with a piece of bread.
Liudger nodded. "And lightning may strike us both at any time."
This time Aldric nodded. "Let us go upstairs and bring food to mother and daughter, shall we."
"Yes." Aldric and Liudger thanked the cook and they both brought meals upstairs to Gisela and a newly awakened Rosamund.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 06-21-2005 @ 04:16 PM).]
"I should have known it was you," said Hathowulf with a sigh. "Your entrances are never without drama."
"Father!" protested Adalwi, "You say such things to me all of the time, even when I do things you ask like bring this food here. She put her nose in the air. "Anyway, I'm not listening to any of this today."
"And should that make this day any different?" asked her father, something of a devilish smirk forming on his weatherbeaten face. His comely daughter's dark eyes flashed at him and her red lips pursed.
"I said I was not going to listen to any of it and I mean it. Besides, I have other things to do." She took the tray to the two gaolers in the next chamber for them to place in the occupied cells of the dungeon. Adalwi quickly returned. Her father and Focwald watched her.
"What other things?" asked her father, picking up the conversation where it was left briefly hanging.
"I met a young man."
Hathowulf glanced at Focwald who immediately rolled his eyes. "Oh Fortuna, here we go again!" groaned Focwald.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 06-24-2005 @ 06:57 PM).]
"How refreshing," observed Focwald with a touch of sarcasm. "That should make the community feel much safer now, especially after your escapade with that blonde-bearded heathen."
"Bjorn was no heathen. True, he probably shouldn't have started that brawl in the tavern, but he had reasons."
"Surely he did, as you were there making eyes at every foreigner in sight. That he took umbrage with all of them was certainly no fault of yours."
Adalwi painted a self-righteous expression on her pretty face. "Well, at least we agree on that." She looked down at her skirt to make sure it was free of any spots from spilled supper. Satisfied she glanced at her father and brother and lifted her chin just enough to show how independent she was. "I think I'll go to the inn now and see if there is anything more I can do there for Uncle."
"And see that Frisian too, no doubt," added Hathowulf.
"If he happens to be there."
"You mean, if he happens to be anywhere in the town so you won't have to break his door down."
"Father!" Adalwi's face reddened.
"Oh, be off with you girl," said her father. "Some day you'll wed and this town will enjoy peace once more." Focwald looked the other way so Adalwi wouldn't see how much difficulty her oldest brother was having keeping from laughing out loud.
"You are being mean, Father!" she exclaimed, hiking her skirts in a huff and leaving the gaol. It took a few seconds for the echoing of the slammed door to die down throughout the structure.
Hathowulf glanced up at Focwald without saying anything. His son knew exactly what the wordlessness meant. "Of course, Father," he said resignedly. "Follow her to make sure she stays out of trouble." Hathowulf nodded. "Discretely, as well," added Focwald. Hathowulf nodded again.
"And one other thing," said his father.
"Yes?"
"Keep your eyes open for a Frisian traveling with a Frankish merchant and Frankish woman and child. I would like to meet this person and learn why he travels with such company. I want to hear it from him while I watch his face and eyes. There's much to be learned from watching a man's eyes as he speaks. Bring him here if you find him. The others, too. It is time they meet the town sheriff.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 07-25-2005 @ 04:55 PM).]
"Eh? What's that?"
"Room 17. That's where you're bound."
"How would you know that?" Giggling by the young ones among the galley servants caught Adalwi's ears. She sent them a withering glance that promptly quieted them. "You have business in the galley, children," Adalwi said to the three girls, barely two years younger than herself. "See to it." All three went silent.
The Cook ignored Adalwi's pique. "Because that's where the lad is, the one you seek."
"I seek no such person. I am... uh..." Adalwi looked around grasping for a substitute reason. "Uh... I must bring them towels." She headed for the cabinet where soft absorbant cloths were kept to be placed near the porcelain bowels and water pitchers in the rooms.
"They have towels. Cloths were brought to them earlier." The Cook motioned to one of the galley servants who also served the inn as a maid.
"They were insufficient. I shall bring more," Adalwi stated. The young girls began to giggle again, but quickly stifled their laughter even before Adalwi turned and glared at them once again.
With a smirkey smile, Cook remained silent, picked up a ladle and began to stir the remains of the pot of stew she had made for that evening's supper. Hearing the cabinet open and towels being extracted, Cook glanced at the young girls and winked. They smiled back and continued with their chores remaining silent until Adalwi was gone. A moment later the door to the galley opened again and this time it was Focwald that entered the room. Cook turned to greet him knowing full well why he was there. She motioned with her index finger to the area of the rooms upstairs and said "Room 17" while the young girls all curtseyed to the eldest son of the town's respected Sheriff, a position of far more prestige in Dokkum than in some outlying communities, and stared at him, their eyes wide from thoughts only a woman-child might have in the presence of a tall young unmarried warrior.
Focwald nodded to Cook and smiled at the young girls bringing color to their cheeks, not due from the exertion of their work. "Is there any of your wonderful stew you might share with me this evening?" Focwald asked, knowing full well his uncle had given standing orders to his galley help to feed Focwald or any of his brother's children on request. Feeding Focwald was always a welcome chore. Feeding flighty Adalwi or the other nephew was another matter.
Focwald sat down on the bench seat of a nearby hewn table and continued to stare through the doorway into the public area in the direction he knew his sister had gone. Meanwhile three young girls nearly fell all over themselves to bring him stew, bread, and something to drink, each one hoping they themselves would be the most noticed among them and would capture Focwald's glance once he decided to give attention to his meal instead of his annoying sister.
Upstairs, a soft knock on the door to Room 17, brought Aldric to his feet and caused Liudger to place his hand on the handle of a sword leaning against the leg of the square table at which he sat.
"Rosamund insisted on saying goodnight to you," explained Gisela stepping into the room behind the young girl. Rosamund walked deliberately to Liudger where the soldier sat and placed her arms up obviously expecting a hug. She was rewarded. The she walked, almost danced over to Aldric and did the same. Aldric lifted little Rosamund and gave her the requested hug as well. The child placed a soft kiss on Aldric's cheek. Aldric left it there for the warmth of innocent love it left in its wake.
"And I should say goodnight as well," Gisella added as her eyes passed from Aldric holding Rosamund, to Liudger. A sudden embarrassing thought raced into her mind and she hesitated while looking at Liudger. "Umm, I mean not like Rosamund, uhh, just goodnight."
Liudger smiled not wanting Gisella's growing embarrassment to become too overwhelming, but appreciative that the woman was embarrassed at all. "Yes, goodnight," affirmed Liudger. "To you both."
Engaged in this exchange, it was Rosamund that heard the next knocking on the door of Room 17. "Someone's at the door, Mother," she observed. On alert, Liudger again reached for his sword and once again Aldric answered the knock. There stood Adalwi, a short stack of towels in her hands. "I have brought these to you."
Aldric frowned. "We already have towels."
Adalwi was not going to permit herself to be dismissed too readily. "If you've used some, and no doubt you have, these are replacements." She angled herself to peak into the room and saw the woman and child standing there. "Company? Oh, his wife and child. Or yours?"
Busybody, thought Aldric. "No, a family we are escorting home. A widow and child, that is all. Their room is down this hall. Perhaps the towels could go to them."
Adalwi's mind raced. She had an idea, half-formed, risky... but this young Frisian was perhaps worth it. "I have come to speak of something with you. May I enter?"
Aldric sighed. "Yes, enter then."
"Thank you. What I have is for merchants not a widow with a child, no disrespect intended."
Gisela looked at Liudger, who nodded. She gathered up Rosamund and with little ceremony and certainly no attention to Adalwi, Gisela left the room once Adalwi entered and closed the door to the hallway.
Liudger remained silent, but studied the girl with steady, alert eyes and ears attuned to whatever he could understand of the Frisian tongue. Aldric spoke for them both. "What is it you have to say?" asked Aldric.
"Adalwi, my name is Adalwi," she said, a degree of irritation edging her voice. "Tell me again what you are merchants of?"
Aldric sighed. "We are merchants of rareties, old books and odd objects. We seek these for our clients."
Adalwi hesitated as she debated once again the propriety of what she was considering. She looked first at Liudger and then at the young Frisian. Aldric felt as if he were being surveyed and parceled all the while she stood their silently. He was exceedingly uncomfortable, but nonetheless riveted to the place where he stood, as if the girl's powerfully alluring manner had nailed him to the rooms wood planked floor.
The sheriff's daughter made her decision in that moment and without invitation set the towels down on the room's table and sat herself down in the one available chair located nearby.
"What is this old book?" said Aldric, maintaining an air of only mild interest, not wanting too seem to eager for fear of putting the girl off or frightening her with intensity. "Maybe some value. One never knows." He yawned behind his open palm as if it could not be avoided but covered it up not wanting Adalwi to think him discourteous or inattentive.
"Hmmm. I think significant value to some, but means little to any of us." Adalwi paused and frowned slightly. "I heard my father say this very thing. It seems to have value outside of this land. I don't know why we keep it. Are you interested?"
Aldric looked at Liudger and relayed to him in Frankish what Adalwi had said. The Frankish soldier nodded. He turned his head to see Adalwi staring at him suspiciously. Liudger did his best to smile a disarming smile and nodded as if pleased with what he had been told by Aldric. Adalwi, her feet tapping nervously on the floor of the room, dramatically shifted her eyes opposite of where Liudger sat and then focussed them on Aldric. "What does he say."
"You saw him nod. That means we should be interested," Aldric told her. "When can we see it?"
"Tomorrow. At night. I will guide you there."
Aldric decided he would try once more to understand what book it might be. "Maybe you can tell me what the book is about."
"I never read it. Besides, it's in some language nobody speaks anymore, nobody in this village that is. You see the words in stones and in places more to the south. That's where the book is from they say. The south. Lah, uh. Lah-teen. Yes, that's the language. Lah-teen. There's handwriting in it too. By the man who once carried the book. His name is written on the first page. Next to blood spots."
Aldric struggled to contain himself. "His name?"
"Yes. Ummm, Bony-Face. Strange name. Not one I'd name my son." She glanced at Aldric and suddenly turned pink and looked the other way.
"Tomorrow night then, Adalwi. We must rest now. Tomorrow night."
"Yes," she answered simply. "Behind the Inn. We can walk to the place. I wish one thing though."
"It is?" answered Aldric.
"I must see you, Aldric, alone tomorrow. Daylight. Alone." She glanced at Liudger to see the effect. He shrugged his shoulders.
Aldric swallowed hard. "Alone then. After morning meal."
"Yes, after morning meal." She rose from her chair and made her way to the door and paused. A pretty smile accompanied her glance as she looked back over her shoulder at Aldric alone. Then she opened the door, peeked outside, and closed it behind her as she left the two men alone.
"Yes. As to whether she's sincere about giving it to us or if it's a trap arranged by her father I'm not sure," noted Liudger. "Yet she seems..." He paused, considering.
"Seems what?" Aldric tried to hurry him along.
"She has eyes for you alone."
Aldric's face colored. "I suppose. I mean, I guess so. But Liudger, I didn't encourage anything ever."
"That's the way it happens at times, lad. Musing, whims and fleeting thoughts. Saints! Sometimes I think they don't even know it's happening. One moment they are free as birds, the next minute they self-link to a man and the bond is only breakable with great effort and pain."
"Sadly for the young woman."
Liudger snorted. "Sadly for both the young woman and her object of attention, lad. I assure you before this is over you will know what I mean. There will be a consequence to both of you, together or individually." He shifted in his chair as if seeking a more comfortable sitting position. "But our mission demands we do what we are about to do because we must. In doing it, may we be guided to cause as little harm and suffer as little harm as possible." Liudger bowed his head momentarily as if punctuating his informal little prayer. Aldric made the sign of the cross on his shoulders, chest and forehead.
"Amen," he added. "I will meet with her tomorrow morning. I think I know what she intends."
"Do you, Aldric? Young women seem fleeting and frivolous, but they are usually many steps ahead in their thinking and their plan. Luck to you."
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Both men were so surprised by the vigorous knocking on their room's door they very nearly jumped, Aldric by a full step and Liudger out of his chair. "By the saints!" exclaimed Liudger reaching for his sword, his hand tensely holding its handle for the third time that night. "Open it," he ordered tersely.
Before the open door stood a powerfully built man as tall as Liudger and possessing the same kind of poise. A soldier without doubt. "Yes?" Aldric inquired.
"I am Focwald, son of Hathowulf, Sheriff of Dokkum."
"Brother of Adalwi?" said Aldric stepping back from the door but avoiding standing between Focwald and Liudger.
"Yes. I spoke to her moments ago. She was here as she claimed?"
Aldric saw no point in telling other than the truth, but wondered what they spoke about. "Yes, she was here. She brought us towels and conversation. A lovely girl who knows what she is about."
Focwald studied the younger man, but paid more attention to the older man who did not speak yet held a sword as if knowing how to use it. Once or still a soldier, he concluded. Caution. "I thank you for speaking so about my sister. I have learned you are Frisian and your companion is a Frank. You travel with a Frankish woman and a child. They are not related to either of you. Is this so?"
"Yes," replied Aldric.
"Then you are the ones my father the Sheriff wishes to see. Tomorrow, near the sun's highest point. All of you are to appear before the Sheriff at the gaolhouse."
"Are we under arrest?" Aldric looked behind Focwald to see if there were other soldiers or gaol guards. There did not seem to be any.
"No. He merely wishes to speak with you. You are strangers and your companions are Frankish. That is the only reason. With Franks it is customary we be cautious. It is an unquiet peace between us and Charlemagne. This is merely a precaution."
Aldric looked at Liudger and read the message in the man's eyes then turned to Focwald. "We shall be there as requested."
Focwald hesitated. Aldric added, "You have my word as a Frisian."
Moderately satisfied by this he spent a short moment studying the eyes of the young Frisian standing before him and then surveying the lad's appearance. Gentleness, but firm in some manner. Neither burly like Ratbodo, himself or his father, but with signs he was capable of hard work. In small ways he could see why his sister was intrigued by this Frisian stranger. Focwald straightened up into a military stance appropriate for an official conclusion of business. "Your word then. Tomorrow as promised." He turned on his heels and walked from the doorway back down into the galley. Adalwi was still there, a look of great fear on her face.
"You didn't... You didn't..." She couldn't finish. Her hands were trembling.
"No, Adalwi, I didn't. They are two of the four our father instructed me to bring to him tomorrow late morning. That is all I said and all that I did."
Relief flooded across Adalwi's face. "I thank the spirits you didn't do what... Why are you smiling at me, Focwald?"
Indeed he was. Actually, he had never seen Adalwi quite like this. There was something different in her stance, her words, her emotions displayed so openly without defenses. This is the time to do anything but something hurtful he concluded, for despite her unpredictable nature, there had always been a greater bond of affection between them than they would admit to each other. "I can see why you're interested, Adalwi. Be careful, sister." He saw the expression on her face change from deep concern to surprise. The girl's eyes opened wide and her mouth began to move, yet no words formed as her emotions twisted and turned within. He held out his hand to Adalwi, who mechanically took it, her eyes riveted on her brother's face while her mind raced faster than a free white mare on the plains.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 08-02-2005 @ 04:01 PM).]
Lacking the wakefulness to think of it sooner, Ratbodo now began to stuff the tails of his hastily put on shirt into his breeches. It was good he awakened before her and made his escape so cleanly. There were questions that usually followed a night like that and he wanted nothing to do with having to lie... er, answer the questions he expected her to ask. Not wanting to chance her noticing he was gone and following him down the backstairs as well, Ratbodo hurried towards the main street, his work tucking in his shirt tails close to but not yet completed.
He wondered who else might be out and about this early. Perhaps shopkeepers opening stores. Bakers up since very early morning making fresh bread to sell that day. Orphans sneaking out in first light to see what might be captured and brought back to their hidey holes. Now and then a victim of the night who will not see this or any other morning ever again. Yes, it happened sometimes, despite his father's and older brothers vigilance.
This time it was a woman. A lovely, mature woman. A woman whose appearance in the street carrying a basket brought his steady, hasty pace to a sudden bone wrenching halt. His head throbbed from the sudden stop, or maybe from that and the drink and revelry of the previous night. He sidestepped to the nearest building's wall hoping it would hide him from her view even as he studied the woman's familiar face from a distance. Fuzzy headed, Ratbodo had trouble placing the face with an event or location, but he knew there was a definite connection with something he should know about her.
His mind worked feverishly to shove the fog aside as the woman passed his position walking on the far side of the narrow street ten paces across from Ratbodo. He pressed himself against the wall that much harder and stepped back to hide in shade caused by the low eastern sun. Knew her. Yes, knew her. That face... Looking up. Terrified and tearful. A small cabin. Soldiers. Franks! A little girl he told his comrades to remove. Yes, he knew her. Intimately. He remained hidden. She shouldn't be there. Why was she in Dokkum? Who has she spoken to? She must not be allowed to speak of... of that. Yet, why is she here? The woman suddenly stopped and looked around her as if she sensed Ratbodo and his thoughts from that distance.
Gisela peered into the shade across the street and into other nearby areas. Such an odd feeling... Not seeing anything or anyone she shrugged her shoulders and changed her grip on the basket handle to something more comfortable, then resumed her walk towards the bakery to pick up something for their travels ahead. From out of the dark between two closely positioned structures a man's hand reached out and grasped her right arm above the elbow and drew her firmly into the narrow, dark space clasping his other hand across her mouth to prevent her from calling out in alarm.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 08-03-2005 @ 04:08 PM).]
Gisela recalled the voice now. It was Grimald. She relaxed measurably and Brother Grimald relaxed his hold on her arm and removed his hand from her mouth. "I am so very sorry. I hope you will forgive me for what I did," he said pleadingly.
"Of course, Brother Grimald. I understand."
Grimald's face even in the dim light entering the narrow space registered vast relief. "I had to warn you."
"Of what?"
"You were being observed."
"I was? By whom?"
"The son of the sheriff."
"Oh, Focwald. We've already met..."
"No, not that one," Grimald interrupted her. "I would not have bothered. It was the other, the younger son, Ratbodo."
Gisela's blood turned to ice. Ratbodo! The image of a learing, sweatty face, mouth open, breathing rapidly and stinking of beer and wine, staring into her eyes as she lay prone, helpless and invaded. Her stomach began to churn as bile rose to a point almost beyond her ability to control it. She saw Grimald look at her with alarm.
"Are you not well? Shall I get the others?"
Gisela reached into herself for the last bit of control she could muster and suppressed the desire to empty her stomach then and there. "I will... be... fine. The name..." She paused. "Is this Ratbodo a soldier, leads Frisian horsemen?"
"Yes. He is the son of the sheriff and is a member of the Frisian Guard. He often patrols the south with his men, so I am told. He hates Franks. I don't know where he came from, but I saw him slinking about across the way trying to observe you from the darkened areas."
Gisela suddenly realized the potential threat. "Do you think he recognized... I mean... Would he have... Well, what did he do?"
Grimald appeared puzzled. "Recognize you? I don't know how he could other than to know you as one who travels with Liudger and Aldric. I mean, he hasn't ever seen you before."
Gisela changed the subject quickly. "Do you have any news?"
Grimald's eyes brightened and he smiled in spite of himself and his concern over Gisela's odd questions. "Why yes! That's why I was out this morning. Looking for one of your companions. Good news indeed! I learned that the relic of St. Boniface is very near Dokkum though not in the town. One of the children I tutor let it be known that he heard his father and mother speak of it one time. Seems his father was one of those who conspired to steal it from the monastery. He said he was sneaking by their room when he heard them talking. He was almost bragging about his sneaking ability. I don't even know how the subject came about except we were talking about the importance of books and he wondered if the book his parents were talking about was important. 'Which book' I asked. So he told me."
"Do you know where it is hidden?"
"No, nor did the child. More's the pity, that."
"Confirmation though of what we know."
"How's that?" Grimald asked.
"We will be shown its location today, according to Aldric and Liudger. I shan't tell you more because it is best you can say you know nothing more if ever asked. The boy confirms that we very well may be shown what Liudger seeks. We have only to overcome the issue of seeing the sheriff and..." Gisela paused as the blood once more drained from her face upon realization. She looked at Grimald as if desperately hoping the answer would be in his eyes or some other place on his face. "But what if Ratbodo is there, with his father?"
He looked around with a concerned expression. "I must be leaving now. I might be missed and will have to explain my absence. The sooner back, the less likely I will have to do very much explaining."
"God go with you, Brother Grimald."
"And with you," answered Grimald.
She watched Grimald hurry into the dark between the two buildings and she stepped into the still early sun of the new day. There was no sign of Ratbodo. She said a short prayer of thanks.
Brasaldulf, clad in chain mail and armed with two heavy axes hanging on his belt, stood just behind the dragon figurehead of his ship and watched for signs of trouble. His people often traded with the Frisians, but since his son's last visit things had been strained.
"Bjorn...come up here!"
"Aye father." Bjorn, his left arm still wrapped in hide and splints, limped towards his father. His cuts and brusies had healed, and his ankle was much better. The vicious broken bone in his left arm had taken longer to heal, and even now, over a month after the injury, he was just now able to enjoy painfree days.
Brasaldulf watched him approach and thought of the events that had brought them here and had left his son in such a state. More than two months ago, Bjorn had travelled to Dokkum on a mission to secure a bundle of arms and armor for his father's settlement.
Bjorn had always been a hothead and quick to fight, but it wasn't until a beautiful young Frisian caught his eye that Brasaldulf's son got into trouble. With a town full of women, leave it to the youth to find not only the most flirtatious, but also the sheriff's daughter. It was during a night of drunken celebration with this woman, that Bjorn found himself in too much trouble.
Bjorn had related a tale of someone pinching the girl's backside, and Bjorn taking exception to it. The fight started between the two men, but then the Frisian's friends seemed inclined to interfere on their allies behalf to stop the beating he was receiving at Bjorn's hands. When the dust, and broken timber, had settled, four young Frisians were carried off to the nearest doctor.
However, the destruction he had wrecked in the inn would soon earn Bjorn a fierce beating at one of the sheriff's sons and his thugs. Once Bjorn and Adalwi had said their goodnights, and Bjorn had retired to bed, the Frisians swept in on him and dragged him from the town. Bjorn was knocked unconscious and taken a few miles from the settlement. There the three men took great joy in beating and bashing on the young Viking, after binding him of course. When they finished, he was left for dead.
Thank Odin above, that the Frisians had no idea of the strength within a Viking heart. Bjorn had survived. He managed to free himself and make his way to a nearby creek. The next morning, thank Odin's Ravens, a few of Bjorn's countrymen happened upon him, and helped him to their ship. One of the men had been a distant cousin of Bjorn, and so knew where to take him.
Bjorn had been healing nicely since returning home, but the time had come for a reckoning. Had Bjorn lost a fair fight, Odin alone would have found displeasure with him. But to attack, bind and beat a Norse prince would not go unpunished. Brasaldulf had three dozen of his best warriors amidst his sailing crew, and he would either have the heads of those responsible, or Dokkum would burn.
"You are sure you will not be perusaded?" the older warrior asked his son.
"No father, Adalwi and I are made for one another, and she will leave with me. After we reclaim our honor, I shall claim a bride."
"But what if her feelings have changed?"
"I don't care! She will be mine!"
Brasaldulf dropped the matter. He would discuss this again with his son, once vengenge had been achieved.
[This message has been edited by Lady Arcola (edited 04-26-2006 @ 10:28 PM).]
"He would die. That's what I expected. Not that he would live and escape." Ratbodo couldn't look his father in the eyes. "Besides, there's something else I need to talk with you about."
"Something else?!" railed Hathowulf. "We have a longship bearing down on us from the North and you can think of something else about which to speak? "To rot with anything else!" Assemble our men and meet these Norse. Persuade them it was a misunderstanding. Offer reparations. Bring gifts and apologies! Yes, apologies! Anything! Dispel their fury any way you can! Fight as a last resort! Focwald and I will prepare what defense we can and take the women and children to safety. Clerics too!"
Focwald, standing silently well away from his shouting father, noted the addition. "Clerics, father? Even the Christian cleric?"
"Yes, Focwald. We do not want questions asked by the Franks or others as to why we failed to protect those we invite into our township."
"Yes, father," nodded Focwald. "I understand the need."
"Would be best if your brother understood it before he acted."
Ratbodo grimaced. He thought the tirade over, but was wrong. He stayed silent so as not to say or do anything to further incur his father's wrath. The issue of the woman could wait.
Hathowulf paused. "Focwald, the burial crypt west of Dokkum will serve our purpose. It is big enough and the Norse are reluctant to enter burial chambers. See that your sister is the first to arrive there and the last to leave. That impetuous girl will be the death of us yet. Now go, both of you." The sheriff's voice projected both frustration and no small degree of worry. Focwald glanced reprovingly at his younger brother. Ratbodo knew better than to offer his usual insolent glare. Both sons of Hathowulf hurried off to do his bidding.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 04-24-2006 @ 03:53 PM).]
What is wrong with you Ratbodo! What were you thinking! Everything Father has worked towards has been undone by your impetuous behavior! First the Franks and now this! What else did you not tell Father!
Sullenly Ratbodo glared at Focwald as he mounted his horse. “Nothing that concerns you. A matter I can handle on my own.”
“It’s your handling that has caused the current problem not to mention the time before that!” Focwald spat at him, grabbing his reins and wheeling his horse towards the main part of the village and his men. “Don’t let Father down again! Go do what he said.”
Ratbodo’s glaring eyes followed his brother as he rode off in the opposite direction from his brother to gather his own men. In his mind a path worked out on how they would get to the shoreline. Knowing the Inn would be on their way out of Dokkum he mulled over how to search it for the woman he knew would be his undoing.
The warmth of the fire in Liudger and Aldric’s room was soothing. Gisela tried to calm the fearful feelings welling up inside her. She watched as Rosamund played with Aldric and Liudger sharpened the blade on his sword. Pieces of the bread from the morning repast were still in the basket. A quick recount of her meeting with Grimwald had brightened both men. She glanced towards Liudger, should she tell him about Ratbodo? Her eyes slid over to her daughter and the horrible memory of their ordeal weeks ago, invaded her again. Involuntarily a shudder passed through her frame, and tears welled up in her eyes. Taking a deep breath to gain control again, Gisela excused her self. Liudger stopped cleaning and stood, “Let me walk with you, Gisela.” Thankfully she nodded. Gently the door closed on the laughter of Rosamund, Liudger reached down and took her hand. Gently turning her towards him, he raised her chin till her eyes met his. Caught off guard, with her eyes locked into his kind ones, she gave up trying to hold back her fear. [This message has been edited by Lady Arcola (edited 04-26-2006 @ 05:21 PM).]
“I must go lie down.”
Aldric smiled at her, “Rosamund can play in here. Go rest.”
She didn’t realize that he had been intently watching her since she had returned to the room. She had no idea that he had caught her shudder and tears that she had tried hard to conceal.
“What is it, Gisela?”
“Ratbodo is here.”
Seraph Lady Arcola
"I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly."
"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." -Walter Winchell
~ BFME2 Heaven | Stronghold Heaven | Stronghold 2 Heaven~
«..»º©º«..»º©º«..»«..»º©º«..»º©º«..»«..»º©º«..»º©º«..»
PING! Aldric looked up from a napping Rosamund upon hearing something strike the crudely framed unevenly formed glass window. PING! Again something struck the window. Aldric unlatched it and swung it open on its protesting iron hinges. Adalwi stood below the window. "Well," she said in a stern whisper, tapping her foot, her face a mask of irritation. "You're supposed to be down here, not up there."
"Uh, yes, of course. You're to show me the... something."
"Yes, that's what we agreed. Now hurry. Get down here."
"As you request, but in a moment. I have the child to see to."
Adalwi's face fell into an even greater frown. "That woman's brat... You attend to her too much. Get her mother and hurry. We have an agreement."
"She is but a child and not a brat."
Adalwi blinked. Her face softened "You like the little girl?"
"I care for all children," replied Aldric, looking left and right to make sure nobody was in the vicinity eavesdropping on their whispered exchange.
From Aldric's vantage point he knew indecipherable thoughts were passing through Adalwi's mind. Her frown relaxed. She even managed a small smile. "Hurry, please, Aldric," she said in a more agreeable tone.
"Just as quickly as I can." And saying this he pulled his head back into the room and closed and latched the window.
So where was Liudger and Gisela, he wondered. He must give the child to her mother so he could do what Adalwi wanted. The relic waited and that was why Liudger and he had travelled this way.
"Bjorn, it was Ratbodo and his men who attacked you, yes?"
"As we have already discussed father, yes it was the younger of the sheriff's sons who did this to me. Why do you continue to ask this of me?"
"Because, my son, you are not coming with me. I am going to see the sheriff and give him a chance to make amends for what has happened. It is possible that he was not to blame for his child's actions. However, if he refuses to make this right, you and the rest of our men shall bring Odin's fire upon the entire settlement."
Bjorn's face drained of color, and then just as quickly grew red hot with fury. "I am shamed by their treachery! It is my honor tha must be restored! The Hel I am not going!" Before he finished, Bjorn knew he had gone too far.
Brasadulf reached out with a mighty hand, and hefted his injured son 8 inches off the ground. "Do not forget your place." The Viking king said in a collected voice. "You are my son, but I shall not be disrespected. One more word from you, and I will have you bound and stuck in the hold. Do you understand me?"
Still suspended in the air, Bjorn clawed at the huge hand of his father. Finally he did all he could, and gasped, "Aye father. Please forgive me."
Brasaldulf lowered his son gently to the deck. "I expect to be back by noon tomorrow. If I am not here, or a runner from me has not returned, then I am in Valhalla, and your honor is yours to recover however you see fit."
Bjorn finally realized how dangerous the situation was and gave his father a quick hug. Brasaldulf cuffed him lightly on the chin and turned to disembark the ship. "Magnus, Honus, Wolfgun, Brava, and Rasagulf come with me. To then rest of you, know that should I fall, Bjorn is your rightful king. Follow him as you would me. May Odin smile upon the death that awaits us all."
Without another word, six armed vikings left the ship and headed down the shoreline towards Dokkum. As they moved away, a large dog scurried upon the deck, and down the ramp. Fraga, the grey wolfhound of Brasaldulf, chased after his master.
Bjorn uttered a quick prayer to Thor to watch over his father and friends, then he prayed to Frigg, Odin's wife, that Adalwi was still his and that he would see her soon.
"You say Ratbodo is here," Liudger gently began. "I have not heard his name or any reference to him in this structure."
Tears welled up behind eyelids that poorly served as levees. "Not here, Liudger. In Dokkum." She told him about her encounter with Grimwald. "I'm frightened. I mean, if he should see me, or touch me..." Her voice trailed off as her tears began to flow freely.
Liudger was used to commanding men, not consoling weeping women. Words to say came haltingly to his tongue and stayed frozen there as he stood with his arms close to his side. Finally they began to break through and become free, but in a whisper. "He will not touch you again."
Gisella looked at him, thinking she heard him speak but not sure. "Wha... What did you say, Liudger? I couldn't hear you."
Emboldened by a growing resolve, Liudger spoke the words clearly and forcefully. "He will not touch you again."
She wiped away tears that still trickled down her face. "But how can I be sure? I mean, what will stop him?"
"I will," said Liudger in that same forceful way. "Should he so much as step towards you I will kill him where he stands."
One tear managed to escape, but she caught it with a free hand and erased it from her cheek. "You cannot watch me day and night."
"At my side, where the woman I love should be, I can." Liudger said these words almost without thinking.
Gisella's eyes opened wide. Her smile, long hidden that day, found its escape and showed itself to Liudger with the glorious brilliance of a summer day's sunrise. She flew across the room, her feet hardly touching the floor and alighted within Liudger's now open, welcoming arms.
She cried again, but this time for joy. Liudger held her close as she whispered into his neck close to his right ear, "Do you really mean that, Liudger?"
"With all of my heart," he answered.
"And you shall have all of my heart as well," she said, sealing the pact between them.
This moment together passed quickly, it seemed. So quickly that only a few grains of sand could have possibly passed through the narrows of an hourglass before an urgent knocking on their door brought them back to a world filled with people other than themselves.
Liudger opened the door, his hand on his sword. It was Aldric with a groggy Rosamund in his arms. "Hurry," Aldric urged, "Adalwi is here and I must go with her." Aldric looked at Liudger with a puzzled expression. "Has something happened?"
Liudger nodded. He remembered why it was necessary for Aldric to accompany Adalwi. It was Gisella who answered Aldric's question though. "Something wonderful, Aldric," she said. Aldric couldn't fathom what it might be. Then Rosamund, more awake than not, leaned forward with her arms open indicating she wanted her mother to take her from Aldric. Transfer completed, Aldric pushed the confusion of the situation back in his mind. "I must go now."
"As must we," replied Liudger. "To the Sheriff's office. We have a matter to settle."
Adalwi waited outside on the street. Aldric joined her there with Liudger, Gisella and the child. A shout from afar prevented any from speaking to each other. "Adalwi! I've been looking all over for you!" It was Focwald who at last had succeeded in finding his sister.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 09-24-2006 @ 05:44 PM).]
The six vikings would have been a sight had anyone been travelling along the roadway. In addition to Brasadulf, and his twin battleaxes, there was Magnus and Honus, two twin brothers both adorned in grey wolf hides covering black chain mail, both wore long swords on their hips, and both were scarred along the left cheek. (Only Magnus had been scarred in combat, but when he returned to their village different, Honus cut himself so they would be twins once more.) Behind them was Wolfgun, largest of the troop. He stood nearly 7 foot tall, and was 290 pounds of solid muscle. It was said that he could crush a man's head with a single squeeze of his massive hands. He wore grey chain mail with the arms bare. (Some said that the armorer couldn't make the suit big enough to cover his arms and still allow him fluid movement.) His weapon of choice was a large club that could barely be seen over his right shoulder. Next came Brava; he wore a horned helmet, leather armor with metal rings attached to it, carried a large round shield, and had a belt with a half dozen throwing axes around his waist. His deadliest ability stemmed from the bow over his left shoulder. It was said that he could draw the bow, and fire an arrow, before an opponent could close five feet to strike him. The most unique of the squad was Rasalgulf. He refused to wear any armor, he refused to wield a shield, and only covered himself with leather breeches, a leather shirt, and leather boots. He carried a two-handed sword that nearly dragged the ground when it was settled upon his back. He was one of the few vikings who still were Odin-blessed with the ability to enter a berzerker rage in combat. When a fight started, his heart rate would increase, and as the adrenaline reached his mind, he felt no pain, and could sometimes lose himself in the battle. He would become a man possessed, and would need a while after the fight to return to normal. It was said that he killed more men while in a single rage than most vikings did in their entire lives.
The vikings had walked for nearly an hour, and were quietly telling stories of greatness when Brasadulf overhead the twins talking.
"So, Magnus, we are going to raid the town and reap the wealth?"
"No Honus, we are here to have a reckoning with the sheriff's son for the dishonor he dealt to Bjorn."
"Ah, then we burn and reap, yes?"
"No. No burning and pillaging unless King Brasadulf orders it."
"What?! We are not going to steal money and women to warm our beds? Why are we here if not to honor our traditions?"
It was this last comment of Honus that caught Brasadulf's attention.
He stopped the march, and turned to face Honus in the eye.
"What bothers you young one?"
"Uh...nothing my king, nothing."
"I know what I heard, and you know all are free to speak their mind around me."
"Forgive me almighty King, but is this not a lot of trouble with the chance of very little return?"
"Perhaps, but when you enter Valhalla, do you want to do so whole or broken?"
"Of course I want to be whole, none may enter Valhalla if their bodies are torn apart."
"I now ask, what would have happened to Bjorn had not his cousin found him bloodied and bound in the river?"
"Uh...wolves would have eaten him...my king?" answered the confused Honus.
"Exactly. Ratbodo not only stole Bjorn's honor with his disrespect, he tried to steal his soul from Odin. If we leave this unresolved, Bjorn will either come kill the man himself, and have his head chopped off by the Frisian authorities, or Bjorn must live the rest of his life without any glory or honor for his name. Does either of those sound worthy of a viking prince to you?"
Honus's face was filled with horror at what Brasadulf had said, and he thought many minutes before answering. "My king forgive me. This man must learn what a high thing honor is to our people, and if he refuses to learn the lesson, I beseech you to allow me to kill him."
Brasadulf smiled at the young viking, "We shall see Honus, we shall see."
The band continued south towards the village, and drew closer to a sinister looking grove of trees.
[This message has been edited by Lady Arcola (edited 07-20-2006 @ 03:21 PM).]
"Adalwi! Where have you been! I've been looking for you everywhere!" His words may have been directed to Adalwi, but Focwald very quickly glanced from face to face among the small group of strangers, and automatically to Liudger's hand that seemed unthreatening but very close to his sword. "Were you going somewhere?"
Aldric said a silent prayer asking forgiveness of Adalwi for the little lie she was about to tell. "Seeking shelter for my kind friends," Adalwi improvised.
"How did you know?" a suddenly surprised Focwald said. "Nobody but a few of us know about the Vikings."
"The Vikings? Oh! The Vikings! Yes, that's right. The Vikings!"
"Adalwi, why do I get the impression we are at cross purposes at the moment?" queried Focwald.
"Cross purposes, brother? No, not at all. There is to be a raid isn't there?"
"Possibly, though we are not exactly sure."
"Then I must lead them to a protected area, right?"
"Not you necessarily..."
"Then as the sheriff's daughter I shall do my duty and we shall all go to the shelter as directed."
Focwald shook his head. "But I didn't direct you to do anything."
Adalwi stamped her dainty foot. "You so much as told me so when you said the Vikings were coming. What else is there to do?"
"I suppose... But really there's..." Focwald stopped when he saw the 45 men on horses round the corner and enter the street about 100 meters away. Their leader immediately slowed them from a near gallop so as not to run into Focwald and the others and to allow them time to move to the edge of the town's center street. As they neared, Gisella's blood ran cold and she began to tremble involuntarily causing Rosamund to look at her mother in surprise. The child returned to staring at the horsemen until they came to a halt in front of Focwald. The leader of the horsemen, Ratbodo, passed a greeting to him and his sister.
"To the road ahead and a defensive position," said Ratbodo in answer to the unasked question. "You found her I see," he said nodding to Adalwi. "And some others too." Ratbodo's eyes washed over Liudger, Alric and Rosamund, settling with intense focus on Gisela. The Frankish woman paled but returned the stare with more than a hint of hatred, but she kept silent as she moved closer to Liudger. There was no doubt in Gisela's mind that Ratbodo recognized her, but why did he not say so?
Finally, the sheriff's son turned in his saddle to again face Focwald, his eyes the last to turn from Gisela's direction. "There is a copse of trees on the road that will provide perfect cover for an ambush. The Viking party we're told is not large, unusually small I would say. One dragon ship and about 30 or 40 men. More like a reconnaisance party prepared to defend than to attack. We must be wary of course. An ambush will make my force seem twice its size. Good strategy, brother?"
Focwald nodded in approval. "Our father never questions your strategy, brother, just your decisions on other matters."
Ratbodo frowned. "Some day that will be at an end. I shall be back again to see you this day brother, and maybe I shall have time to see those with you as well." Ratbodo cast a meaningful glance in Gisela's direction. Liudger tensed but made no other move. Gisela was now firmly convinced Ratbodo knew who she was. With a wave of his hand, Ratbodo put spur to horse and with a second wave signaled his men to follow him at whatever speed he was about to set.
Not a Viking was in sight when they reached the trees and they searched successfully for places in which to hide themselves and their mounts, and none too soon for that matter. One of the Frisians poked Ratbodo in the arm and then pointed silently to the northbound length of the road. Walking towards the copse of trees was a small party, not more than 6 in number, of heavily armed Viking warriors. One of them Ratbodo noted was older and others seemed to defer to him as they walked as if he were the leader. And one of the Vikings was the biggest warrior Ratbodo had ever seen in his life.
Here was prey for the taking, but something suggested to Ratbodo that he should perhaps find out what they were about before doing anything so drastic. He signaled to his men the need for silence and stealth, and he then passed on quietly his orders to surround the Vikings and take all six prisoner, if at all possible. He wondered if the giant Viking would take kindly to capture or not, and how many of his men would go down before the Viking warrior was convinced to surrender.
They didn't draw their weapons, as Brasaldulf would not start the fight. He ordered his men to stop, and stared were Fraga indicated.
"You might as well come out Frisian, we all know you're there."
Ratbodo was more than a little unnerved to have been uncovered so quickly, but kept his senses. With quick nods at his men, Ratbodo stepped from cover.
"Hail and well met, noble viking. What brings your party to our shores this day? Why do you come ashore so far away from our town?"
"We come on a matter of honor, son of the sheriff."
Ratbodo was not happy by either revelation. He didn't like that he was known, and he liked the idea of a matter of honor even less.
"Really, and whose honor is that?" asked Ratbodo carefully.
"My son's whom you shamed and dishonored with your treacherous actions." answered the old viking without much malice.
"Your son? I'm afraid I don't understand. Your son was lost some time ago, but I took no part in his disappearance. In fact I led a search party for him, so that we might finish our negotiations."
"Lie." said Brasaldulf. "The next time you seek to kill a viking, steel up your loins and drive a blade into his guts. Instead of leaving him to be slain by wolves. We vikings are of tougher leather than you know."
"Sir, I assure you I don't know of what you speak." said Ratbodo with little conviction in his voice.
"Lie. My son survived your attack, and told me the names of the four men who beat him. I was here when your father named you many years ago, and so knew one of the men to be you right away. We will go to your father, and Bjorn's honor will be restored."
The idea of involving his father was too unpleasant for Ratbodo to stomach. He knew that his father would be truly furious if he learned of how Ratbodo had attacked the viking without cause, and his father might very well hand him over to the vikings. He could not risk it. He had these trespassers at a distinct disadvantage. He outnumbered them nearly 8 to 1. With a quick movement of his wrist, four of his men fired arrows at Brasaldulf.
One arrow hit the old viking in the chest, but bounced off his armor. Two more flew wild, but the final arrow found its mark. The arrow pierced Brasaldulf in the hip, and sank until it struck the bone. With the fury of an old warrior, he snapped off the arrow, drew his axes and charged ahead into battle.
Behind him, Brava fired three arrows in quick succession, and killed three of Ratbodo's archers. The fourth slid behind a tree trunk to save himself.
Magnus and Honus drew their long swords, and slid shields from their backs. The twins also stole into the trees looking for an opponent, and all around them Frisian warriors appeared.
Wolfgun drew his club and moved to engage four Frisians who cringed in the shadow of the giant viking. They raised their weapons, and one actually managed to slice into the viking's side, before the massive club swung from left to right, crushing two of them. His weapon low, another of the Frisians slashed him across the back, and recieved a punch to the face that shattered his nose.
Brava was content to fire arrows every time a Frisian appeared, but Rasalgulf drew his two-handed sword. Rasalgulf charged after his brethren, and soon found himself amidst a group of Frisians. He raised his sword into the air and began to swing it in a wide arc. The sword almost sang as it bit into the flesh of the Frisians.
Within five minutes of the fight starting, nearly a dozen Frisians had either been taken out, or had taken themselves out of the fight. Ratbodo watched as his command began disintegrating around him. He needed to do something. Ratbodo looked as his last archer, and directed him to attack the largest viking. The archer pulled back on his bow, and took careful aim. Just as Wolfgun knocked down another Frisian, an arrow flew from the bow and slammed directly into his throat. He was staggered, and dropped to one knee. Ratbodo took advantage of the scene, and charged forward. He slashed out with his sword, and cut the viking down.
The others took notice of Wolfgun's death, but could not mourn him. They were fighting for their own lives. Brasaldulf swept his axes in a cross pattern, and cut cleanly through the guard and armor of a Frisian axeman.
The Frisian archer took aim at another viking, but never loosed his shaft. Brava caught sight of him, and was careful to pin his head to the tree. The Frisian died with his bow still in his hands. But this cost Brava dearly, for a Frisian had moved within melee range, and as the viking tried to fire a final arrow, the Frisian long sword cut through his bow and sank deeply into his chest.
With two of their number down, Brasaldulf was more than a little concerned. Brasaldulf looked around and caught sight of Ratbodo. He quickly moved to attack him, and hopefully end the fight. Ratbodo saw him coming, and raised his sword just in time to block the viking's axes. His sword crashed to the ground, and Ratbodo nearly joined it. At the last moment, Ratbodo drew a dagger from his belt, and swung it wild. By Luck's graces, his dagger slipped under Brasaldulf's armor, and bit into the flesh of his stomach. The blade sank in deep, and cut the bottom of his liver. This hurt, but did little to slow the viking. He brought the butt of the axe handle down across Ratbodo's forehead. Ratbodo staggered back, and Brasaldulf moved in to finish him off. But when Ratbodo's dagger had been pulled free, the blood poured from the wound. Brasaldulf tried to swing his axes down, but he just couldn't, his arms wouldn't respond to him. Ratbodo saw the viking drop to one knee, and grabbed his long sword from the ground. He moved over to the viking and raised his sword high. As the blade came down, Fraga leaped through the air and bit down hard on his left wrist. Ratbodo screamed, and wrenched his hand away. The hand was still there, but badly mangled. He kicked out at the snarling dog, and caught him right under the chin. The wolfhound's neck snapped backwards, and the dog collapsed; badly hurt.
Ratbodo surveyed the field. One of the viking twins was laying in a pile of his own blood, and the other would soon be joining him. The viking with the two handed sword was amidst a pile of dead Frisians. And he could clearly see that Brasaldulf was dying. Ratbodo looked down at his hand and ordered his men to withdraw. Of the 45 men that Ratbodo had led from the town, fewer than 20 left the cropse of trees with him.
Rasalgulf was winded and watched as the Frisians withdrew. He quickly moved to check his companions. Magnus, Wolfgun, and Brava had already left for the golden halls of Valhalla. Honus and Brasaldulf were alive, but hurting badly. The blood poured from Brasaldulf's side, and Rasalgulf did all he knew to do. He tore off a bit of cloth and shoved it into the wound. Then he began to make a travois that he could use to drag the wounded back to the ship. When this was done, Rasalgulf qucikly gathered the dead together, covered them in mead, and set it aflame. He uttered a quick prayer to Odin, and headed back east dragging Brasaldulf and Honus behind him.
Adalwi and their tiny party were now in a group of townsfolk as Focwald hurried them westwards towards the burial crypts. Focwald’ Liudger was surprised at the unspoken love the brother showed his little sister. He inwardly smiled, he now held a hope that reason would prevail if they had the chance to meet with Focwald and his father. Somehow they must be made to understand the deceit that Ratbodo had sown in the Frankish kingdom when he murdered Gisela’ “ Focwald turned to his sister gently clasping her shoulders; “ “ Affirmation from the men present answered his request. “ “ As Focwald wheeled his horse Adalwi winked at Aldric, Liudger groaned. Hoping the girl was not deceiving her brother and them.
Focwald voice rang across the group.
Seraph Lady Arcola
"I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly."
"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." -Walter Winchell
~ BFME2 Heaven | Stronghold Heaven | Stronghold 2 Heaven~
«..»º©º«..»º©º«..»«..»º©º«..»º©º«..»«..»º©º«..»º©º«..»
Bjorn could see Rasalgulf's approach and ran over to meet them. He knelt down beside his father, as Rasalgulf related the story of the ambush.
"Father, rest easy. We will care for you."
"Bjorn, it's too late or that. Odin calls to me and I must answer. I lived this long only to pass some wisdom on to you."
"Go ahead, my king."
"I have not always led a moral life, but I have always held true to my faith. You are my only son, and therefore must take my place when I go home to Odin. Hold true to your people, and to the gods. The gods will someday judge your courage, give them a long list to read through. First and foremost, take back your honor from Ratbodo. Leave the town be, but reclaim your honor."
With these last words, a final breath escaped from the Viking King, and he passed on to Valhalla.
Bjorn knelt for a second longer, and then rose. He grabbed the bandages around his arms and began ripping them off. At first the pain was terrible, but soon he found he could move easier without them. Bjorn drew his sword and brought it to his forehead. With a aquick prayer to Odin, Bjorn checked on the dead Honus, and then turned to his men.
"Burn Honus, load our former king on the ship, and then set sail due west. There is another score to be paid in town, and this time we will sail right up to the docks to make sure we get their full attention."
Twenty minutes later, the viking ship was creeping down the river, and the Frisian town was just a few miles down stream.
[This message has been edited by Johndisp (edited 10-13-2006 @ 10:43 AM).]
"Why cry ye so loudly in victory?" bellowed one of the old men hoarsely. "Have the Vikings been vanquished?"
Ratbodo reined in his horse and signaled for the others to halt. He waved to them to dismount and partake of the tavern a few paces away. "Indeed old man, we have left the Vikings in pools of their own blood. The danger is past!"
The old man, a former captain in years passed, surveyed the troop with Ratbodo. "A good many of your men must lay in pools of their own. Your numbers are badly diminished."
Ratbodo frowned. "They died valiantly. Have you some complaint?"
"No, just questions and curiousity. How many Vikings were dispatched? Thirty, maybe 40?"
Ratbodo dismounted not answering.
"I say again," persisted the old man, "how many Vikings did you defeat?"
Ratbodo refused to meet the old man's eyes. "Four or six, three more soon to die. Maybe one at most escaped our bloody swords." Ratbodo made inspecting his horse and its saddle a belabored effort. "What does it matter? They are gone."
"To the 20 or more Frisians who will not see the light of this day any longer, perhaps a great deal. We thought you would negotiate a deal with the Vikings and avoid bloodshed. I have negotiated such with them myself in my youth."
Ratbodo's face reddened. "I shall take it up with my brother and not you, old man. As you say, in your youth. This is not then."
The old man snorted. "And you are not your brother, or your father."
Ratbodo suddenly reached for his sword and tightened his hand on its hilt. The old man merely stared back at Ratbodo as if the say 'do what you will to me, but I've said my piece'.
"Halt!" A new voice, younger and recognizable called out from a distance away. "Stay your hand, brother! What is the matter there!" Focwald saw his brother reach for his sword and quickened his pace into a determined run. Ratbodo looked away from the old soldier and saw his brother running down the street, and relaxed his grip, but returned his eyes to the old man glaring a warning to him to watch his words.
Focwald reached Ratbodo's side in only a brief moment. Only slightly out of breath from running wearing armor and weapons, Focwald noted Ratbodo's men were elsewhere. "Have the Vikings departed and have you reported to father yet?" The old man remained silent while waiting to see what Ratbodo would say.
"Defeated and gone."
"Casualties?" Focwald inquired.
"Defeated, I said. Made to leave. At sword's point."
Focwald groaned inwardly at his brother's evasive nonanswer. "How many Frisian casualties?"
"Twenty."
"Half the troop."
"Yes, I suppose."
Focwald struggled to contain himself. "Far too many!"
"They won't be back. One of their slain I think was their tribal leader." Ratbodo said this with an air of self-pleasure.
Focwald gritted his teeth. "Report to father."
"But I... The tavern..."
"Report to father, I said."
Ratbodo struggled to contain his anger. "As you wish," he said. Ratbodo spun on his heels and mounted his horse then drove spurs so deeply into the animal's flanks it nearly reared up instead of setting off at the pace its rider commanded.
Then Focwald thought of the women and children, among others, sent to the labyrinthine catacomb for safety. Time to have them return as the danger now was past. He headed back on foot towards the tomb's entrance. Half-way there a riverman charged out of a side street frantically waving to Focwald to stop. Before Focwald could say anything the riverman blurted out "Focwald, the river. The Vikings are coming down the river heading right for the town landing!"
"How do you know this? Have you seen them?"
"No, not I, two fishermen. They rowed swiftly to warn us. He saw them return to their longboat. They burned their dead and set sail on the river in this direction. The fishermen didn't wait for more to see but quickly rowed back to town to stay ahead of them."
Focwald pursed his lips. Must tell father. Must gather the remaining troop. "Thank you. Now find some safe place for yourself and your family."
"The gods protect us," the man added and he ran off to do what Focwald said. Focwald looked up the street to where his father's gaol was located and in the opposite direction to where the tavern was located filled with the now more than likely sodden survivors of the first skirmish with the Vikings. He felt he had no other choice. He started running towards the tavern.
___________________________________________________________
Adalwi deliberately allowed one of the other among the womenfolk take the lead and guide the group deeper into the catacombs. As she lagged back, she motioned Liudger and the others to stay well behind her. As the leading group turned a sharp corner to the left, Adalwi signaled with her torch for them to follow her into a branching tunnel leading to the right. "Follow me," she whispered just loud enough for them to hear. It's only a little ways from here." They set off for the chamber Adalwi remembered as being the one that held among other things the book Aldric sought.
"Hush now. Yes, it's dark. But Liudger is here and won't let anything hurt you. "Ouch!" she exclaimed as her shoulder brushed too close to an outcropping of stoney soil. "Couldn't you hold the torch a little closer to us to light the way?" she said with annoyance to Liudger who walked a few steps ahead.
"I would, Milady (a little annoyance detectable in this as well) but you seem incapable of keeping pace even when I slow."
"If I weren't carrying so much I could keep pace and even set the pace," Gisela replied with even greater annoyance. "I haven't merely that oversized match in one hand to bear."
"Silence, woman. I can't hear what is said ahead of us or listen for trouble with you complaining so loudly."
"And you wouldn't see it if it struck the child and me boldly this moment you are so far ahead of us."
"Shall I carry the child and the torch too, Milady? Will that protect you better should I need a sword in hand?"
Adalwi slowed her steady pace and suddenly stopped causing a distracted Aldric to nearly collide with her as he failed to slow his own pace in time. "What is the matter with those two?" she whispered. "They bicker like man and spouse."
"You'd think I'd married them some time ago," the words coming out of Aldric's mouth before he could shut his face at the near fatal admission of his position in life. Adalwi looked at him curiously. "I mean, I'd like to see them married just to legitimize their right to argue." The red of his face was not discernable in the flickering red/yellow light coming from the torches they carried.
Aldric was relieved to see an expression of dismissal of some thought pass across Adalwi's face. "Do you think we would argue like that if "Oh I don't know..." Aldric paused. "Who is this 'we' you're referring to anyway?" "You and I, silly. Who else?" "I, uh, you and I, umm. Well, it could... That is..." Aldric ceased his stuttered response with relief upon the arrival of Liudger and company. "Why have we stopped?" asked the Frank. "To allow you to catch up," Aldric blurted in his effort to change the subject quickly. "And to offer some additional light as we go." "Oh, never mind," injected Adalwi her eyes never leaving Aldric's still red face. "I'm sure we would not. Afterall, I'm simply not that type of person." She then turned about and began to lead them further into the catacomb. Aldric rolled his eyes, a gesture nobody in the dark of the tunnel could see. As they progressed, Aldric noticed that the width of the tunnel was increasing and what seemed like a sudden widening, perhaps that of a chamber entrance, was becoming illuminated by Adalwi's torch. "Just a few paces ahead," he heard Adalwi say loudly for all of them to hear. And in fact it was just a few more paces when they passed under a reinforced portal into a chamber with six nooks on each side, all of them occupied with the remains of Frisians. Just ahead was the end of the chamber, a solid wall with only one much smaller nook carved out. In the nook was a small, plainly hewn, unlatched wooden box. Without hesitation Adalwi walked straight to the wooden box in the nook and threw open its lid. [This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 01-04-2007 @ 04:04 PM).]
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