IdeasGuy
patreon
Legends Never Die: Changing Winds (ch. 8)
🕑 Added 2022-08-10 15:18:22 +0000 UTCDespite my hopes, I found Alabu in full swing as we entered the city. Not as much as it had been when I first visited, but it still felt like there were twice as many people in the city as it was meant to house. People eyed me with some interest, given that I towered over them thanks to the wagon and horse. My destination was the longhouse, to speak to the Jarl -- he was the one that would give me permission to set up a stall in the marketplace, and he was the one that could buy my excess foodstuff. If he didn’t want it for whatever reason, then I could look to trading with merchants for it.
One downside was the fact that I wouldn’t get to actually keep the money I made from the transactions. Every ounce of it would go to the Jarl towards my bride price for his daughter. As it would for another two or three years until she became a woman in the eyes of men. In hindsight, it was a pretty raw deal that I was getting. It forced me to rely on raiding to subsidize my income since the farm, technically speaking, wasn’t actually giving me anything.
But, it was still worth doing. The hard work would pay for itself when I did start making money from the farm in a few years.
“Keep an eye out for father, yeah?” Kirk told me as I hopped off the wagon, my wolf pelt cloak falling around my shoulders, nearly dipping into the mud. Every thaw, it happened -- the melting snow turned all the dirt into thick and sticky mud. I didn’t know how people could stand to have their cloaks brushing the ground -- sure, it looked a bit better, but it was in no way worth dealing with a pound of mud caking itself on the bottom.
“You too. Might take them a few days, though,” I said, giving my brothers a nod before leaving them behind. Walking towards the longhouse, I saw that a crowd had already formed within. I reached the back of the crowd and started to push through, but I heard the familiar voice of Jarl Horrik booming out within the large longhouse before I got very far.
“I’ve heard enough -- both men were seen drinking together beforehand, and Birger was seen cheating. This was no murder,” he said, much to the relief of the crowd, but I did hear some grumbling as I pushed forward. “That being said, you fled the scene of the crime instead of staying with the body and stating your intentions-”
“I feared for my life, Jarl Horrik!” A man protested, and I pushed through to the front of the crowd just in time to see Jarl Horrik frowning deeply at the man.
“As I was saying, this cannot stand. We have our ways for a reason. If you feared reprisal, I would understand, but we had to drag you here kicking and screaming like a little girl instead of coming to us to explain what happened like a man. For this reason, you will be beaten by the city of Alabu. All shall participate, without exception.” he said, sounding thoroughly annoyed, and the cheer of approval didn’t quite mask the man’s sound of despair.
That might as well be a death sentence. The city was overfull. I hadn’t ever seen the punishment take place, but the sentenced would be forced to wade his way through a tunnel of people, all of which were punching, kicking, and throwing rotten food and rocks at him every step of the way.
The man was led away and Jarl Horrik gestured for another person to come forward. A large man. “You have a message from King Sigfred. Is there a reason you chose to wait for the Sigurblót to state what the message is?” he asked, sounding thoroughly unhappy. To the point that it sounded like he would rather not let the man speak at all, but killing a messenger was enough to start wars.
“Aye, Jarl Horrik. I am here to speak of the Franks and their King, Charlemagne,” the man spoke, and Jarl Horrik’s frown deepened until it was an outright scowl. “To the South, King Widukind has returned to Saxony and the Saxon Earls have rebelled. King Sigfred has promised to send his armies to aid the Saxons in rebuffing the Franks and their god.” His voice boomed out in the longhouse, speaking to us just as much as he was to Jarl Horrik.
He nodded at the man on the throne, “King Sigfred has long since respected your independence, Jarl Horrik. Which is why he asks that you join him. The Franks are rich with plunder! The women are soft and the Franks are weak-"
"If that were true, your king wouldn't be asking for my help. For that matter, the only reason he respects my independence is because he knows he can't take it from me. My warriors are stronger and braver! They more than make up the difference in numbers if it came to battle!" he said and the crowd cheered in response to the aggrandizing.
It seemed that his independence was a long-standing issue between Jarl Horrik and King Sigfred. Jarl Horrik controlled a large swath of land, and had enough men loyal to him that the King was hesitant to declare war for it. As for why Jarl Horrik wasn't King Horrik, it came down to the fact that he didn't have other Jarls sworn to him. King Sigfred did.
The diplomat didn't miss a beat, "That is why King Sigfred wants you to sail with us. To fight with us! Together, we can't lose!" he said, shouting the last sentence, and the crowd cheered just as fiercely as they did for Jarl Horrik. Something that didn't seem lost on him. "Our warriors will push back the Franks and their weak god. Honor, Glory, and Wealth will be ours!"
It was a battle of wills, in a way. And so far, the crowd was eating up the diplomat's words. Everyone liked being praised. They liked the idea of being the strongest, smartest, and fastest and, even more so, they enjoyed the idea that others thought the same thing.
But it wasn't a decision to make so lightly. I was ignorant of the history between Jarl Horrik and King Sigfred, so I couldn't say what was going on there. What I did know was that going to war was different than going to raid. In the thousand something population of Alabu, on the last raid, there had been fifty warriors in total that had gone. Barely a drop in the population.
Going to war meant a much larger mobilization. Hundreds of warriors. A fleet of ships. Food to feed them. And we would be gone for a much longer period of time -- weeks or months instead of a few days. I'm not sure what kind of armies the Franks could field, but I'm guessing the answer was bigger than ours since Saxony was said to be very large.
"You speak well, Thegn Ubbe. You have given me much to consider. Whatever my decision will be, take heart that it will be made with a great deal of deliberation," Jarl Horrik said, buying himself time to think. Thegn Ubbe offered a small nod, knowing that his opening had closed. He turned and started walking to the door, sparing me and others a glance as he continued on. Though, his eyes lingered on me a moment longer than the rest of the crowd when he saw my neck, but he said nothing and left the building.
"And for today, that will be all. I will decide where our course will take us after speaking to the gods. If you have any outstanding issues, then consult the Law-giver," Jarl Horrik said, making a dismissive gesture. I started to follow the leaving crowd, but Jarl Horrik stopped me with a gesture to approach him, having spotted me among them. He leaned forward in his throne, one of his wives next to him. "Looks like you had an eventful winter, Siegfried."
I offered a half-smile, "More than most. Got kissed by a few wolves," I said, showing off the scar on my neck.
"I've seen plenty of bite wounds, but I've never seen a wolf bite of that size," his wife Oydis noted, and I stopped exposing my neck.
"It wasn't a normal wolf. It was twice the size of the biggest one in its pack," I said with a gesture to the white and gray pelt I wore over my shoulders. "I took its eye but it got away."
Jarl Horrik made a sound amusement, "It must have been a fearsome beast then, Wolf-Kissed." I don’t think he fully believed me. Or, at least, he thought I was exaggerating.
"It was. I searched for it during the winter, but there wasn't anything to find. But, if anyone ever comes to you about a large black wolf that’s missing an eye, then let me know. I intend to return the kiss it gave me," I said, making the two crack a smile despite the tension lingering in the room. "Beyond that, winter was productive. I have twenty-five bushels of barley, fifty of turnips and onions, ten of garlic. I have timber to sell, whole planks, baskets, woodcarvings, and pelts too."
As I spoke, I saw the fleeting amusement vanish in Jarl Horrik's face, replaced with a deadly seriousness. "The last owner of the farm gave me half that when he still paid his dues. And you don't look like you've been starving yourself," he noted, eying me up and down.
"The next harvest should be larger. The hard part of breaking in the farm is over. It's a plentiful plot of land," I said, and that got a small laugh from Jarl Horrik.
"Apparently so. Do you have it all now?" he asked, standing up. "And where's the rest of the farmers? I doubt that Kalf would be so eager to let you represent the village of Leira," he said, and I felt like I was missing something.
I looked between him and his wife for a moment. "...I… was supposed to come with other people?" I questioned, and rather than being mad, the Jarl's wife laughed lightly at that.
"Aye, you were. Your farmstead is a part of the Leira village," Jarl Horrik stated.
"... It is?" I said, wondering when exactly this was supposed to be explained to me, because it wasn't. As far as I knew, I was on my own.
That got a snort of laughter, "Indeed, it is. Next time, go to the village. From there, all of the foodstuffs that you make will be gathered together, and the village will send a group to sell the excess. That way, the village is getting the same deal without accusations of being cheated because one found a better buyer than others. As for personal items, those can be sold freely." Then he gave me an even look, "You're young, but you are a man now. Such mistakes can happen only once. If it happens again, you would be an outcast in the city and your village."
I offered a nod, filing the information away for later. Being an outcast to the village really didn't mean much to me. I haven't seen it or met anyone from it. The city was another story, though. So, I had to play nice, "It won't happen again," I said. I hadn't thought of it like that. I hadn't really thought of myself as any part of a community.
Jarl Horrik leaned in, "It seems you have an enemy in Kalf. He's the one that should have informed you and welcomed you to the village," he said, tossing me a wink. And it was only now that I realized I had been set up to look like a fool. I wasn't angry. More… disappointed in myself for falling for it.
That was a lie. I was also really pissed off.
"I see," I responded tensely, idly wondering if I could challenge the man to a duel and cut his head off. The offense wasn’t quite grievous enough to draw a square over, especially if it was an honest mistake. It wasn’t, but I doubted that would stop Kalf from saying as much. While the gods would give their verdict by whoever left the square, that wouldn’t stop mortal men from wagging their tongues about the duel.
Killing him was a completely valid response. I would just have to go through the proper ways, as stated by the Jarl and gods.
"Good. I'll take your word that you have all the bushels in full weight and purchase them from you at a fair price… but considering that timber just became a lot more valuable I'll give you a good price for the planks you have," Jarl Horrik said, not mentioning the amount of weight of my payment. There wasn't a point, really. He was paying himself, essentially. The fruits of my labor might as well be free.
"Thank you, Jarl Horrik," I said, accepting the price he gave with a nod. Father said that one of the most basic principles of negotiation was being able to tell the other side to kiss your ass. If you couldn't do that, then you were in no position to try to negotiate. And I certainly wasn't.
"The rest is up to you to sell," he said, catching my attention. "Find good prices for it. How much you keep of the profits and how much goes to my daughter's bride price, I will let you decide." he said, and I felt the test he was throwing my way. Was he trying to see how good of a deal I could make? Or see how much I was willing to pocket over paying towards the bride price?
"I suggest you make your bargains quickly, Siegfried. Time will be short in the coming days," he told me, leveling a serious look at me, the implications clear. I hesitated for a brief moment before I nodded, telling him that I understood.
…
In Alabu, the thaw was celebrated in a number of ways. As often as people were selling their wares, they were drinking and catching up with those they hadn’t seen in months or years. Family greeted family, old friends caught up, and so on and so on. Given that the rest of my family wasn’t in the city, and I didn’t see anyone from Ivarstead, I turned my attention to the competitions.
Combat was the way to be honored by the gods, but the competitions were the way to earn honor in the eyes of men. Throughout the city were various games and competitions -- riddles, which I avoided as I did the poetry, but also far more physical tasks that I leaned towards. Games of tug of war, wrestling, stone throwing, and stone lifting. It was the latter that I found myself entering.
Before me were rounded stones of various sides and weights. Before the stones themselves were old rounded platforms that stood at various heights. The stones ranged from the size of a man's head to the size of a man’s head, chest, and shoulders. There were a dozen stones that we would have to lift as fast as we could, setting them upon the wood platform, competing against another dozen men that were also trying to come first.
There was cheering going up as the barker announced the game. People took bets and I found myself wishing I put money on myself. I would have made a great deal of coin because I was a head and shoulders shorter than everyone else and by far the youngest in the line. “Competitors! On your mark… get set… go!” The barker shouted out, prompting all of us to sprint forward to the first platform.
No one struggled with it. It wasn’t that heavy all things considered. The second was heavier by half, but it too went up on the wood pole in the ground with little difficulty. The third was heavier by half of the second, the same for the fourth, fifth, and sixth. At the halfway mark, some of the competitors began to struggle to lift the stone and set it on the pole.
Over the winter, my body adapted to the harsh labor. I was young in years, but I possessed the strength of a man. The biggest issue was my height. Still, while some began to struggle with the sixth stone, I quickly moved on to the seventh, then the eighth, and ninth, much to the surprise of the cheering crowd. The poles grew in height as the stones got heavier and I found the tenth to give me the most difficulty. I had to begin to lift the stones over my head to get them on the platform.
There was a pleasant burn in my arms, chest, and back as I moved on to the eleventh, finding that I had a good lead. One man toppled the ninth, his rock falling and he was disqualified from the race. The only other man working on the tenth was struggling to heft the stone and he was red in the face as he lifted it. I had to lift the eleventh stone overhead, and I just about toppled the pole, but it remained seated, letting me move on to the final stone.
The crowd erupted in cheering when I placed it on the platform and the gods rewarded me with Physical Powess and Prestige. I quickly found myself mobbed as people cheered for me, and I saw that Kirk was giving me a broad smile. “You made me rich, Siegfried!” He shouted, telling me that he hadn’t forgotten to bet on me and I shared the smile as I felt hands pat me on the back and shoulders.
“Well done! Well done,” I heard someone shout, and I looked over to see it was a man around Tormunds age, so he had seen his twentieth year. Even with a passing glance, it was impossible to not know who he was. If the fine clothing didn’t give it away, then it was the very strong resemblance to Jarl Horrik that did. The son of the Jarl offered an arm for me to clasp, and his hand engulfed my forearm when we did. “I am Thorfinn Horrikson. And you are the man marrying my youngest sister. I see the tales about you haven’t been exaggerated.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Thorffin,” I told him, caught by surprise so I defaulted into being polite. I wasn’t sure what else I should do. I had fought together with Jarl Horrik and, however vaguely, I knew him. I didn’t know his eldest son Thorfinn at all.
“Likewise, Siegfried,” He spoke before he looked to another man. A tall, barrel chested man with a gut straining against a vibrant red tunic. His beard was bushy, matching the color of his brown hair. He looked down at me with eyes that were a little too sharp. “I would like to introduce you to a good friend of mine -- This is Kalf,” Thorfinn introduced the man and any thought of challenging him to a Holmgang fled my mind the moment I realized this man had been introduced as Thorfinns friend.
“You have Erik’s look about you,” Kalf remarked, holding out an arm to clasp. I looked at it for a brief second before I did so, squeezing his forearm harder than needed, making his eyes widen a fraction. “You as well. Kirk, I believe?”
Kirk puffed out his chest, “Aye, you presume correctly.” He did say it, but it was clear in his tone that he realized who this was. It seemed like I hadn’t been the only one that stayed up when our parents discussed the attack on the farm.
“Kalf here is one of the largest freeholders in my father’s Jarldom,” Thorfinn began, seemingly picking up on the tension that budded between us. Kalf seemed unaffected nor surprised. Thorffin did, though. Did he not know that his friend had tried to kill our family? Should I tell him? It wasn’t like I had proof though. I wished father was here. He would know what to do. “And, while my father won’t say it, he is impressed with how you turned the farm around after only half a year. So, I thought you and Kalf should meet and discuss… whatever it is that farmers do.”
There was an edge in his voice that told me that the request wasn’t actually a request. Kalf wanted to know how our farms -- both mine and my fathers -- were producing so much. And after what he did, I’d sooner see him dead than give him that information.
“Ain’t nothing too it really,” Kirk spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at Kalf. “We worked the slaves good during the fall and through the winter, we cleared trees for more farmland.”
It was evident that Kalf didn’t buy that answer, but Thorffin smiled and clapped him on the back. “See? Just as I told you. You just need to buy more slaves,” Thorfinn said, offering a small nod at me and Kirk.
“Aye, I suppose so,” Kalf allowed, giving both Kirk and I a searching look. The tension between us swelled until we heard a horn blowing. An announcement for another game. “You should go. Compete in the games while you still can,” he said and I heard the threat in his voice.
“While we still can?” I asked, my tone sharp, and Kalf did seem a bit flatfooted when I called him out on the ending remark.
“While you’re young,” Thorfinn said, answering for Kalf. “We you get to his age, its nothing but complaining about bad backs and sleeping funny. Gods be with you, Siegfried. You’ll need it because I intend to best you in the tug of war.” He said with a laugh, leading Kalf away from us and both me and Kirk watched them go.
We shared a glance and Kirk spoke what I was thinking. “We need to tell father.”
…
I spent a few days in the marketplace selling like a mad man. My brothers helped as well. There was a number of wares to push, and some sold better than others. The pelts were sold almost as soon as I displayed them. Winter wasn't so far gone that people forgot the cold. The wood carvings also sold well. The furniture too. The baskets were less of a hit on the account that they were a common item to be found at the market.
With each sale, I gained Stewardship and Diplomacy exp. The large sale of the foodstuffs counted even if I didn't have any silver to show for it, giving me the most exp I had ever gotten at once. I almost gained another perk with it alone. But, two days later, I found my market spot much emptier and my pockets much heavier. Then, with one final sale, I got two perk points.
One for Diplomacy in the Negotiation sub-stat, my first one. I had a choice between Silver Tongue and Tell Spotter. Both were good, allowing me to either avoid putting my foot in my mouth, or spot when someone was lying. Given the circumstances, Tell Spotter was my pick.
And, for Stewardship in Economic Assets, I gained a choice of Assess Value or Distort Value. The former made me instinctively know what an item was worth upon inspection. The latter made objects I owned subject to opinion on their worth, letting me increase the price a bit. My choice was Assess Value -- a little extra money was nice, but so was not passing over an item, thinking it to be worthless when in truth it was worth a fortune.
More people funneled into the city, increasing my competition, but it also meant there was more money going around. By the second day, I had already sold through the wares I had gathered up over winter, netting me a nice profit. It was still less than what I had made for the various shirts of chainmail, but a nice profit nonetheless.
In that time, I was reunited with Father and Halfdan, who brought news from the farmstead. I had become an uncle during the winter. Brandr and Asta had their baby, and by all accounts, he was a healthy boy named Arne, after Father’s father. The other said that they missed us and sent us their love. It was good to see them again after half a year of toiling away on the farm, regardless of how short of a distance there was between us. Just going to visit meant I lost a week of productivity.
Brandr had stayed behind to look after his family. And apparently, Haldur had moved to another homestead as a worker. Helga’s marriage was upcoming in a few months, so I needed to prepare a gift…
It was an odd thing. I spent so many years on the farmstead, and in six months, it felt like I was completely out of the loop.
But, that was months away. And it was looking increasingly likely that I wouldn’t be there for her marriage anyway. Word had spread about the invitation to go to war with the Franks. And given how profitable the raid down South had been last year, people believed that it was a rich land. Naturally, they weren’t thinking much about the Franks that would be guarding that wealth.
Public opinion was really pushing towards going to war. Even before there had been an official decision, Jarl Horrik’s intentions were known. Word was spread to his hird and thegns, the former including my father, to ready their arms. Sharpen their axes, make their shields, prepare their farmland for a lengthy absence and try to put one last son in their wives before they set out. In my case, I sent Kirk back to the farm to get my weapons while Father did the same for Halfdan.
When we stood in the longhouse, standing on one of the balconies above a crowd that was packed, it was just a formality. “Thegn Ubbe -- I’ve thought about your proposal. At first, I thought it might be yet another attempt at unseating me by your King. Oh, how he has longed for the city of Alabu for many years…” he said, the smile on his face not taking the sting out of his words. “I consulted the gods, speaking to the seers and looking for a sign. Indecision is unlike me, but I found myself stuck on which course to take.”
His smile widened, “Then Odin himself gave me a sign. As I looked out over my city, I watched as a raven circle not once… not twice, but three times before it set its course South. The gods have made their decision clear, and their voice has been heard! We shall march with King Sigfred to aid the Saxons! The call to arms has been sent out! The world shall tremble and the Franks shall weep at the sight of our army!” he shouted, throwing up a cup of ale at his proclamation, prompting plenty of others to do the same as they filled the hall with cheers of approval.
Father bent down and spoke, practically screaming to be heard, but I just barely made out the words. “Take a good look, my son. That is how you lead,” he told me before straightening out. I didn’t respond.
Because Jarl Horrik had lied. It was a subtle thing. I wouldn’t have noticed unless I was specifically looking for a tell that would give him away. It was a slight change in his speech combined with a gesture. Jarl Horrik didn’t speak with his hands -- he kept them mostly still.
Except when he spoke about the sign from the gods. There had been no sign. No raven.
Us going to war was completely his decision.
…
Readying for war was a time-consuming thing. First, the call to arms had to make it to the various villages and homesteads, they had to make their preparations, then they had to set out to the rallying point. Everyone was encouraged to bring their own food. The logistics of how we were going to feed everyone was beyond me because I wasn’t included in the discussions. All I knew was that every able-bodied man that was available and not needed at home, marched to Alabu for the war effort.
I spent my time training. I sparred with the warriors that were trickling into the city, proving myself to them. People that didn’t know me just saw a beardless youth, but after they tasted my boot after I put it up their ass, I started to get a little more respect. My prestige was slowly going up, bit by bit. Father seemed proud.
The fleet of ships were gathering up at Alabu -- Jarl Horrik owned over twenty of them, but his thegns provided their ships and warriors, giving us a fleet of about seventy ships. Which was just enough to carry the thousand warriors that entered Alabu from across Jarl Horrik’s territory. Of which, I would be sailing on the flagship with Jarl Horrik along with my Father. My brothers would be spread out across the others, but we would fight together.
Enough time passed for me to come to peace with the fact I was going to war. No, not even that, but… I was a little excited. It would be a good chance to prove myself -- not just to Jarl Horrik, but to the other thegns and Jarls and Kings. I could make a name for myself. The only thing hampering that was the fact there were at least three thousand warriors wanting the exact same thing.
“That girl is staring at you,” Halfdan pointed out, laying on the dirt after I knocked him on his ass. He was gasping for breath as we fought outside of the city, since the interior was getting too crowded. I glanced over to see that he was right. A girl was staring at me. At first, I thought it might be Morrigan, but that wasn’t the case. She was younger. A few years younger than me, light brown hair that was borderline blonde, wearing a simple dress. She carried a round shield in her hands.
I had absolutely no clue who she was. She didn’t look that familiar, but I knew I had seen her before…
Upon realizing that I had spotted her, the girl approached us with a large burly warrior trailing behind her. A guard.
Oh.
That’s my fiance.
She approached calmly, though I noticed that she got a bit nervous the closer she got based on her reddening cheeks. Coming to a stop just out of arms reach, she shoved the shield towards me -- the planks were painted red and white in an alternating pattern, the boss of the shield came to a point, while metal went around the rim. “This shield is for you. To protect you in the coming battles,” Jill spoke, sounding as if she had practiced that line. Then a shadow of doubt crossed her face, “You will be fighting, won’t you?”
I nodded, dropping my training axes and accepting the shield with both hands and a nod, “I will. Where the fighting will be at its thickest, so thank you for the added protection.” I told her, making her blush as I tested the shield’s weight. It was heavier than I was used to, but of far better make. I opened my mouth to continue, but then Jill straight-up turned around and ran away as if the spirits of Hel were nipping at her heels.
My jaw dropped as I slowly looked up to the man guarding her, who watched his charge flee for the hills. He met my gaze and, after a moment, he offered a small shrug. “She’s a shy girl,” he told me, as if that was an explanation for what just happened. Then he simply walked away, heading after her. I looked at her retreating back, then at the shield.
I hit Halfdan with it when he wouldn’t stop laughing.
I didn’t see Jill again until the day we were setting off. There were rituals to perform -- to sway the gods to look favorably on the army setting out. A large feast was held, which was almost secondary to the sacrifices held. I stood in the market square, standing around a nude woman whose modesty was only preserved by the bodypaint that she wore. She was painted red and black, the red marking out intricate designs and runes.
The northern lights shifted overhead, as did countless stars and a half-moon. Torches illuminated the city, the sounds of a drum beating and bones rattling seemed to fill an otherwise silent city. I saw the Jarl’s family -- Jarl Horrik, his two wives, Jill, another girl I didn’t know, then his eldest son, Thorfin. They were painted as well, though they still wore fine clothing.
In the middle of the circle made of people was Jarl Horrik’s third and favorite wife, Oydis. She stood perfectly still, a trough made from the bark of a tree in front of her.
First, a chicken was brought to her. With practiced ease, she slit its throat and drained its blood into the bucket. Then a pig was brought out, and she did the same. The same with a goat. Then a bull. The other animals had died without much of a fight, but ten men were restraining the bull with thick ropes around its body as it kicked and tried to gore whoever came close with its horns.
“Siegfried Wolf-Kissed,” Oydis suddenly said, her voice ringing out over the grunting of the bull while the beating of the drums suddenly went silent. “Step forward,” she ordered me and it was as if everyone in the city looked directly at me. I took a step forward, looking at her warily. She didn’t smile, but her gaze softened ever so slightly. “It is you that will strike down the bull.” she decided, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jarl Horrik frown.
It seems that this wasn’t planned. Good. Because I would have liked to know beforehand if it was.
A man dressed in a white garb walked forward, presenting me with a large axe. The beard came down a hand length and a half, making it a broadaxe. With a nudge, he sent me towards the raging bull that seemed to fight harder the closer I got. Keenly aware of all the eyes on me, I didn’t miss a step.
I had watched the rituals of my people plenty of times. I partook in them plenty of times too. Sacrifices for a bountiful harvest, sacrifices for good luck when Father and the others were going on a raid. This was a little different. This was a sacrifice for the army. If I misstepped in any way, then that would be considered an ill omen. That the gods had not blessed this endeavor. Worse, that it went against their will.
So, I tried to look confident as I strode forward. The bull, sensing its impending death, lashed out with all of its might. It threw its body to the side, jerking its head back and forth, and bellowed loudly. The drumbeat picked up once again, but it didn’t manage to drown out the noise the beast was making. Then, without any warning, one of the men that was restraining the creature's leg lost his grip. The rope slid out of his hands, and that was the opening the bull was looking for. It didn’t let it go to waste.
The bull lunged, throwing another two men off their feet before it began to turn its horns on them. A man screamed in panic, the tip of the bull’s horns going for his gut. He would have died, but I hefted the axe over my head and took the final step forward. Bringing it down in a Power Attack, I caught the bull right in the middle of its thick neck. The blade sliced through dense muscle, sinew, and the bull’s spine with enough force that I buried the axe into dirt when at the end of the swing.
Instead of being gored to death, a heavy bull’s head landed in the guy’s lap. The bull remained standing a moment longer, not realizing that it was dead, but it was still following through with its momentum to gore the guy before its powerful body collapsed on itself, landing in a heap as blood poured out from the stump of its neck.
The men dressed in white quickly moved in, placing bowls against the wound to catch the blood. Oydis stepped forward, taking one of the bowls that was offered to her and dipping it into the tough of blood to fill it completely. She didn’t say anything, but there was an intensity to her actions now that the bull was dead. The drumbeat increased in tempo as the men laid into the drums -- she handed the bowl of blood to a man dressed in white and accepted a bundle of dried wicker from another.
Dipping it in the trough, she wetted the wicker before she turned to me. “The gods favor you! The gods favor us!” Oydis shouted, flicking drops of blood across my face. The men in white began to do the same, dipping their bundles into the blood and flicking it over the Jarl’s family, then mine as they moved through the army, blessing all those they came across with the blood of the sacrificed.
People were happy with the good omen -- a mighty beast beheaded with a single swing. They were calling it a sign of the battles to come.
I hoped that they were right.
Comments
Mika Artus
@ideasguy You forgot to change the name of Eivor to Siegfried in the summary on FanFiction.Net
MagisterdeVita
Honestly, this story has my mind a buzz with possibilities. Absolutely love the way the story is going. I wish there was more ck2 or ck3 stories out there was a similar historical lean to them. I'm eagerly awaiting to see the next chapter!
