ACT ONE — CHAPTER TWO
Saving A King ✧*:･

Eoferwic, Northumbria, 879 AD.

Laywyn scowled as she sat squashed between Hild and Halig in a busier part of the inn— that Uhtred had claimed was the best place to have their conversation because the commotion around the group meant it would be harder for them to be spied on. They were listening to Father Beocca and Brother Trew explain the supposed prophecy that had led King Alfred to send Beocca north with varying degrees of interest.

Apparently, one of Brother Trew's superiors, an Abbot Eadred, had been visited by Saint Cuthbert in a dream. The blessed saint had told the abbot of a Danish slave destined to become king of all Northumbria.

A man named Guthred, who would unite both Saxon and Dane and bring peace to the lands of the north.

Though Laywyn had learnt all about the miracles and blessings that God's will sometimes enacted on earth, even the prophecies of the future that were sometimes visited upon the dreams of holy men, she was sceptical about the claims of this Brother Trew, and of his superior Abbot Eadred. She knew it was a sin to doubt such powerful men of the church, but she found it unbelievable that the abbot had actually seen a vision of the blessed Saint Cuthbert.

It seemed more probable to Laywyn that Abbot Eadred had simply decided to claim he had been blessed with a prophecy of the future in order to win support from Saxons in the south for his candidate to be king. Northumbria was a turmoiled land with multiple claims to power. The man who backed the king to unite the warring forces would be afforded unmeasured influence over it all.

But then again, mayhaps Laywyn was being too quick to judge the abbot and his followers' intentions. Mayhaps he really had been visited in a dream by Saint Cuthbert.

Laywyn was intrigued enough by the claims to want to meet this Abbott Eadred, and his King Guthred, and discover the truth of the matter for herself. Judging by the expression on Uhtred's face, her lord was thinking the same thing.

Either way, it did not really matter whether Abbott Eadred spoke true about receiving a vision or not. He would be judged rightly by God if he was lying, and Alfred had sent men north at his word. The King of Wessex clearly thought there was some merit to the abbott's claims and that would be enough to earn Guthred support to form an army.

Only if he was freed from slavery first, of course, which seemed to be what Father Beocca wanted Uhtred to help with.

"Come with us," Father Beocca was pleading earnestly to her lord as Laywyn refocused her attention on the conversation. Hild was frowning beside her, though whether from doubt of Abbott Eadred's assertion or dislike of Beocca wanting Uhtred to get involved, Laywyn could not tell. On the girl's right, Halig just looked bewildered, as if he could not believe anything he was hearing, and Brother Trew was watching Uhtred warily. "Help us to free Guthred, protect the ransom until it is delivered, and I am sure that we will be rewarded."

"Your bargain is with whom?" Uhtred asked, not dismissing Beocca's plea outright. He had been a slave before, he could empathise with Guthred's fate. Laywyn took a tentative sip of her ale as she watched Beocca and Brother Trew exchange a nervous look.

"A slave-master," Brother Trew eventually answered and Laywyn frowned at the thought of having to barter with such a man.

She was fortunate enough that Hild shielded her from witnessing the worst violences of Slavery growing up in Cippanhamm. But Laywyn had still seen men whipped and even murdered for the crime of attempting to steal bread to feed their families. The law said that it was just and right— that a theif was to be condemned no matter their desperation, nor if they worked for their masters willingly— but it always sickened Laywyn to witness.

Slavery was a cruelty Laywyn was keenly aware she would have been forced to face herself, if Hild had not taken her in to be raised as a novice of the church. And she was not eager to see such cruelty up close again.

But saving even one man from such torment had to be worth the trauma of witnessing it.

"The village in which we are meeting sits on land that belongs to someone from your past," Beocca took a deep breath before he continued, having successfully ensnared Uhtred's interest, "Kjartan."

Laywyn lifted her head from where she had been resting it against her hand at the name. Beocca was clearly talking about Kjartan the Cruel— the man who had murdered Uhtred's foster family and enslaved his sister, Thyra, in his fortress at Dunholm. The man who was the reason Uhtred wanted to ride north in the first place.

Perhaps God really was working on their side, for what other force could cause them to cross paths with Beocca hoping to free a man from Kjartan's clutches only days after they had finally left Mercia?

Uhtred, too, had perked up at the mention of Kjartan, and it seemed now he had more reason to agree to Beocca's wish. Before, he was intrigued by the mention of a prophesied king and the chance to win glory and riches by freeing an enslaved man. Now, Beocca had given him a personal stake in the game. Freeing Guthred would be going against Kjartan, and Laywyn knew Uhtred longed to do just that.

"Kjartan's land will be full of men. Warriors," Hild finally spoke, a look of worry on her face as she glanced between Uhtred and Beocca. Laywyn did not doubt the nun was concerned about what following Beocca in his mission would mean for their and Uhtred's safety should they be thwarted.

And though Laywyn could see the reason in Hild's anxiety, she could not shake the feeling that an opportunity to achieve what they had set out north to do was laid before them. They would be loath to dismiss it so quickly.

"Father, who has protected you so far?" Halig questioned Beocca, putting voice to something that had clearly been bothering him for some time. None of them had seen any warriors hanging around Father Beocca or Brother Trew since they had started speaking, which was strange since they were two holy men on a king's errand who did not possess the skill, or numbers, to defend themselves should they be ambushed. "Do you have no guard?"

"We have gathered a group of sickly men who suffer from the White Riff," as Beocca spoke, Laywyn remembered the men she had spotted hiding in the inn's shadows earlier while she had flirted with Hraefn and waited for her lord. Meeting Uhtred's eye, she knew he was thinking back on the men they had seen, too.

"Leprosy is a terrible curse," Brother Trew added.

The church was not particularly kind to those inflicted from the White Riff as it was believed that touching such men, even briefly, was enough to contract the disease yourself.

"Put these poor creatures in a cart and no man dare approach. No one can imagine the treasure sitting beside the disease," Father Beocca finished explaining and Laywyn felt pity for the men inflicted with the disease as he spoke. It must be a lonely life to suffer from Leprosy. She could not imagine how isolating and disheartening it must feel to have everyone, except others who were similarly ill, avoid you.

It was a sickness she would not wish on anyone and it caused her to reflect on her depression over the past six months. No matter how bad it gets, life can always get worse, Laywyn reminded herself solemnly.

"Your king," Uhtred changed the subject as a sombreness settled over the group. "Guthred... Kjartan would be his enemy?"

Laywyn caught on to what Uhtred was trying to do immediately and stirred her finger around the rim of her mug as she watched Beocca.

The priest appeared to catch on to what Uhtred was hinting at as well, and nodded. "He would."

"It was Kjartan's men who killed his father, Harthacnut Sigurdsson— grandson of Ragnar Lothbrok. Guthred himself was captured and sold as a slave," Brother Trew elaborated on Beocca's point, though he appeared slightly confused as to why that particular fact was so important to Uhtred.

Laywyn watched her lord's face contort in contemplation, a hint of a smile on his lips.

She knew, then, that they were going to help Beocca rescue Guthred from his slavers no matter what. Uhtred would not miss the chance to ally himself with a man who could unite both Saxon and Dane against his foster-father's killer. Not when Thyra was still out there, experiencing undoubtable horrors at Kjartan and his kin's hands. "Then he would be prepared to raise an army against Kjartan?"

"He would be an ally, I'm sure," Beocca replied to Uhtred emphatically. Laywyn smirked at the diplomacy of the priest's refusal to state outright that Guthred would aid Uhtred in his fight against Kjartans.

Politicians, she snorted to herself as she took another sip of ale, always being careful with their words.

"As I'm sure Uhtred is. But one man, against so many..," Hild interrupted the conversation before Uhtred could say anymore, seeing the resolve on their lord's face. She knew as well as Laywyn that Uhtred was going to agree to Beocca's plan and clearly did not feel the same confidence about the idea as he did.

"No, no, Uhtred is more than just one man," Beocca stated passionately, shaking his head as he slammed an indignant hand down onto the table. "And he is here for a reason."

Tenseness hung in the air following Father Beocca's proclamation and the fire of determination in Uhtred's eyes only seemed to strengthen. Laywyn could not help but grin at the sight, despite understanding why Hild was so concerned with them being outnumbered.

Laywyn may have come to doubt her beliefs following Ethandun, but she never doubted Uhtred. Her instinct told her that this was the opportunity they had been striving for all those months in Mercia. This was their chance to actually achieve their goals and do some good.

"And besides," she spoke up, breaking the tension and drawing all eyes to where she was still sitting squashed between Hild and Halig, "Uhtred is not alone. There were three of us, the last I counted," she said, gesturing to herself, the nun and the young man. "And I, for one, do not plan on standing at the sidelines and doing nothing while Uhtred rescues Guthred."

"Hear, hear," Halig agreed, taking a deep gulp of his ale.

Hild sighed at her ward and pursed her lips, but did not bother trying to argue with Laywyn yet. She would save that for later, when the pair were alone undoubtedly.

Brother Trew looked surprised at her conviction, while Father Beocca simply shook his head fondly, familiar by now with Laywyn's strength of will.

Uhtred, across from the girl, gave her a wicked grin that bespoke of a plan brewing in the back of his mind. Laywyn did not hesitate to return the gesture.

__________

"I want you and Mathilda to join me instead of going with the others," Uhtred told Laywyn the next evening, as they stood amongst the trees lining the hilltop that led down to the small market town in which the slaves, including Guthred, were currently being kept. They planned on enacting their rescue of the future king once the sun had completely disappeared over the western horizon. The darkness would impair the vision of Kjartan's men, as well as giving them the perfect atmosphere to enact Uhtred's plan to scare the slavers into submission. "You have better eyes than me. While I intimidate the slavers, I want you to find the king."

"No," Hild objected from the other side of their makeshift camp as Laywyn nodded her agreement to Uhtred's plan. "I want Laywyn by my side where I can watch over her. I will not have you risk my daughter's safety."

Where, a few days before, Laywyn would have snapped at Hild and demanded the nun allow her to do whatever it was she wanted as a free woman, Laywyn calmly stepped forward now and placed a hand on her foster mother's arm in comfort.

They had come to an agreement before leaving Eoferwic (after many hours of debate) that Laywyn would not do anything reckless in her bid to prove herself as a warrior, whilst Hild would try to put more trust in her ward and her independent ability to care for herself.

Their discussion had ended with Laywyn asking Hild to reclaspe her mother's cross around her neck and confessing her fears about being a bad Christian to the nun.

To Laywyn's surprise, Hild admitted that she, too, had doubted her faith following her assault at Cippanhamm and the subsequent battle at Ethandun. But she insisted that doing so did not make her, or Laywyn, terrible people. It simply meant that their beliefs were being tested. Hild said that so long as Laywyn remained true to herself and the Lord, she would be forgiven. Both of them would.

Hild reminded Laywyn that the fact that she was so worried about the doubts she was having about her faith proved her ward was not a terrible person.

"Your faith is yours. It is between you and God. Only you can decide how you feel about it and God knows your heart is in the right place", Hild had claimed.

Laywyn had experienced trauma and it changed her. God, Hild said, would understand.

Finally voicing some of the concerns that had haunted Laywyn since Ethandun felt like a relief. And she had set out on the road with Uhtred, Hild and the others that morning feeling better than she had in months. Less angry now, Laywyn was able to see Hild's concern for her as what it was — concern. Not the nun doubting Laywyn's ability to care for herself, but the worry a mother might have for a daughter as they prepared to enter a dangerous situation.

"Uhtred is right, Hild," Laywyn said calmly, causing Uhtred and Halig to glance at each other in surprise behind her back at the lack of fire in her tone. "I have the keenest eyes out of all of us. I will find the king and protect him whilst the rest of you deal with the slavers. And I will be safer riding in disguise with Uhtred then I will be sat exposed to the slave-masters by your side. If either of us should be worried about the other, it should be me," her lips twisted into a smirk as she joked to try and soothe Hild's fears. It succeeded in making the nun sigh and take a step back in reservation.

"Fine... just don't let him convince you to do something reckless," Hild relented, casting a sharp, warning glare to Uhtred over Laywyn's shoulder. The young warrior held his hands up in surrender at the sight.

Laywyn chuckled at the fear on Uhtred's face. "Lord Uhtred may be prone to stupid decisions that risk his life, but I am not. And I am much too pretty to die so young."

Hild rolled her eyes at that, muttering an annoyed 'children' under her breath as she walked away from the pair to begin prepping her own horse for the bargain with the slavers. Uhtred made an indignant noise of protest in return to the insult, whilst Halig barely concealed his snort of amusement behind a fake cough, earning himself a clap on the head from their lord. Beocca had no such reservations, and openly laughed at the man he had once taught.

It was soon time for the group to go their separate ways to begin their plan.

Hild, Father Beocca, Brother Trew and Halig would take the cart full of silver down the hill, on the worn road that would bring them in sight of the slave-masters, to begin the barter for Guthred's freedom. Uhtred and Laywyn, in turn, would don the masks they had made out of the skulls of dead wolves Uhtred had scavenged while they camped and washed earlier that day, then they would get into position.

They wrapped themselves in dark cloaks (taken from Eoferwic that morning) and carried flaming torches, so that the light cast by the flame would enhance the shadows of their faces and make them look surreal and frightening to the slavers as they approached. Uhtred would then play on the Danish slavers' fear of their gods by claiming to be a servant of Odin sent to punish them. And thus, hopefully scare the slavers into abandoning their prisoners and scattering into the night.

It was an ambitious plan, but Laywyn had faith in Uhtred's ability to intimidate others, especially with the carcass he wore as a mask  contorting his face, and she knew the superstition surrounding those who were inflicted with the White Riff would be enough to protect Hrothulf and his men from harm. They actually seemed happy at the idea of using the fear and stereotypes set against them and their disease to their own benefit for once. Uhtred has promised them a share of the unused silver if their plan was successful.

Laywyn's task would be the hardest — to successfully ascertain which man was Guthred in a crowd of slaves undoubtedly desperate to be freed would be a challenge. But if their plan proved a success, then all those imprisoned in the market town would be liberated by dawn. Guthred was bound to be known to his fellow slaves because of who his father was and his relation to the Lothbroks.

A few discrete questions and Laywyn should be able to guess correctly which man kept in the slave pens was the prophesied King of Northumbria. Or so she hoped.

Mounting her horse, Laywyn followed behind Uhtred with her own bone-mask tied to her face. He began relaying orders to Hrothulf to space out his men beneath the ridge of the hills surrounding the town, so that they would descend upon the slavers from all directions. The ridge would conceal the flickering flames of their beacons for the time being, and they had been given strict orders not to ride over the hill, towards the slave market, until they heard Uhtred's cry.

Uhtred gave Laywyn instructions to wait in position at the northern point of the hills that surrounded the town's valley. That way, she would ride down into the market at the slaver's backs and would hopefully have time to inquire about Guthred's location before complete chaos erupted. Uhtred would be riding down from the southern point of the ring of hills surrounding the town, thus would be in full view of the slavers in all his menacing glory. Laywyn was certain more than a few men would soil themselves at the sight of him.

He would be the distraction she needed to find Guthred before fighting undoubtedly broke out between the Danish slavers and their men. She had her sword — a blade Uhtred had commissioned for her with some of the silver Alfred had given him following the victory at Ethandun — strapped to her side, as well as Leofric's dagger, ready to be wielded when necessary.

Now all that was left for her to do was wait for Uhtred's signal.

Laywyn edged forward on the ridge so she could watch as Hild and the others approached the slavers down in the valley, dismissing Uhtred's orders in favour of looking out for her nun. She was careful to hold her torch low, so it would not be seen by those beneath the ridge anyway.

The coldness of the northern air at night made Laywyn's breath come out in white puffs on the wind and added to the eeriness of the moment.

Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest and she felt the battle-calmness settle over her in preparation. For the first time since she fought at Ethandun, Laywyn's mind was entirely silent and focused on the task ahead of her. She had missed that feeling.

Even sparring did not compare to the sensation of peace that dominated a warrior's mind in the moments before a conflict began. There was nothing else on earth like it.

Laywyn watched carefully as Father Beocca bartered with the slavers below. Her eyes honed in on one of the men, who appeared to be making advances at Hild where the nun sat mounted on her horse beside Halig. She scowled at the sight and clutched her torch tighter in her left hand as she reached for her sword with her right.

Back in Wessex, Hild had encouraged Laywyn to melt a silver cross Alfred had gifted her following Ethandun into the blade, so she would have God looking out for her whenever she fought.

She traced the outline of the cross with her fingers now as she waited, unable to reach up and touch her mother's cross from where it was tucked beneath her cloak. Uhtred had insisted on her hiding it, since they were posing as servants of Odin from the underworld. Laywyn did as she was told for once. But her fingers itched for the comfort of the familiar metal.

Fires lined the pit in which the slave-masters were throwing down their prisoners to be displayed to the men interested in buying them. The slaves would then be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Laywyn felt nausea threaten to break through the battle-haze that settled on her mind as she watched the men, women and children be shepherded around like sheep, but she forced herself to clamp it down.

They would succeed in their plan and free the poor slaves in the market soon. She had to remain focused.

Down below, a blond man, wearing what Laywyn could only assume was an eyepatch, suddenly emerged from the crowd, lumbering towards her companions.

Laywyn had a strange feeling that something about this eyepatch-wearing man was significant— that she had heard about an important Dane who was missing an eye before — but she did not let herself be distracted by it for the moment. She could wrack her brain for answers as to why she felt so sure she should know the man later, once the plan was complete.

Beocca and Brother Trew made the symbol of the cross to the slavers. Her friends had all dismounted from their horses now and seemed to be deep in discussion with the one-eyed man. Laywyn cast her eyes to the opposite ridge, where she knew Uhtred was waiting, wondering how much longer he planned to hold off before giving his signal.

Laywyn was eager for the fight to start, and the warmth of the torch was not enough to stave off the coldness of the night.

Just as she began to feel impatient, a loud cry pierced through the air around her, echoed by other voices calling out into the darkness. Flames started appearing over the hilltop, riding down towards the town below and Laywyn smiled maliciously to herself before adding her voice to the screams with a piercing shriek, stirring Mathilda into a gallop.

Dirt and chunks of mud sprayed in the air from the force of Mathilda's hooves thundering down the hill and Laywyn soon fell in line with some of Hrothulf's men.

She had never ridden so fiercely in all her life and it was utterly exhilarating.

Mathilda brought her into the market in record time and Laywyn did not hesitate to direct her horse towards the pens at the edge of the square, where the majority of the male slaves were being kept.

She screamed bloody murder at a Dane man who half-heartedly stumbled forward to stop her, the wolf skull she wore giving him such a fright that he fell backwards in his rush to get away from her. Laywyn cackled loudly in response, tugging on Mathilda's reins to get the beast to slow before they ran straight through the pens up ahead without care.

"Where is Guthred Harthacnutsson?" Laywyn asked the huddle of frightened captives before her. She felt less pleased at scaring the slaves then she did their masters, but she did not have time to try and placate them. Uhtred had given her strict instructions to find Guthred as soon as possible, so if the plan went badly she could ride off with him and find safety in Cumbraland with the king's people.

Of course, Laywyn did not actually plan on listening to Uhtred if things went wrong. She would never abandon him, Hild and Halig to the Danes, but that did not mean she was going to dally around either. The quicker she found Guthred, the better for them all.

"Where is Guthred?" She demanded again as the male captives shrunk back and whispered amongst themselves. She could hear Uhtred's voice ring out behind her, taunting the slave-masters, but she paid him no mind. She knew there was a chance that Guthred could be in one of the other pens lining the square, so she needed answers quickly to give her time to scout elsewhere. "Tell me where Guthred Harthacnutsson is and you will not be harmed."

"I-I am Guthred Harthacnutsson," a man finally spoke up, edging towards the front of the crowd before Laywyn. It seemed she had gotten lucky in choosing to inspect this pen first— she would thank God for that later. The man was blond and shorter than some of the Danes Laywyn had met, but his eyes were sincere enough that she believed he was telling the truth. It helped that she doubted any of the captives would lie about their identity with how frightened they seemed of her wolf-mask. "W-what do you want w-with me?"

A brave king, Laywyn thought to herself as she sheathed her sword to free her right hand. She adjusted Mathilda in preparation for hauling up Guthred's additional weight behind her and went to reply to the supposed king, to reassure him she meant him no harm. However, she was prevented from speaking by the Dane she had frightened off charging up behind her and swinging his axe at her head.

Guthred and some of his fellow slaves yelled a warning at Laywyn just in time for her to spur Mathilda forward and avoid having her skull caved in, but it forced her away from the pen.

A red-faced, piss-stained slaver now stood in between Laywyn and the future King of Northumbria.

Snarling, Laywyn reached back down for her sword, angry at herself for not seeing the man approaching sooner. Thankfully, the warning Guthred had given her had meant that she'd fled in time to stop Mathilda being cut by the axe and going down. She was not about to risk losing her beloved steed to take out one earsling.

Laywyn swung herself out of the saddle and landed on the dirt ground with a heavy thump. The slaver did not bother waiting for her to regain her feet before he charged at her again, swinging his axe down at her head with a rage Laywyn suspected had to do with the fact she had humiliated him earlier by making him piss himself.

Chaos sounded around them, and as Laywyn flung her sword before her to stop his axe from hitting her face, she heard the clash of steel on steel behind her. Clearly, she was not the only one who had been forced to resort to fighting.

She gritted her teeth and pushed against the axe that was caught on her blade. The big Dane was much too strong for her to overpower him like this, but she wanted to make him think she was too dumb to use another tactic, so she could catch him off guard when she made her next strike.

Sure enough, the man lurched forward with the momentum he had been using to push his axe against her blade as Laywyn swung her sword away and jumped nimbly backwards.

Before he could recover from being thrown off balance, Laywyn swung her sword up into the air and drove it down hard into the gap in his armour between his neck and shoulder. The cut was not clean enough to sever the slaver's head from his body, but the blood that spurted from the wound as she yanked her sword free was enough to tell her that she had at least hit his throat.

Droplets of the warm, red substance hit her face through the gaps in her mask, but Laywyn did not have the time to be disgusted by the spray of blood as the man fell to his knees before her, clutching at the hole in his neck. She remembered what Leofric had taught her about not turning her back on an opponent until she was sure to have defeated them, and levelled a hard kick at the Dane's chest. The blood loss weakened him enough that he fell onto his back, as her foot struck him, without any resistance.

Laywyn then ran towards the pen behind the dead slaver, conscious of the fact that her bloody blade, now coupled with her mask, only made her more terrifying to the bedraggled captives.

A few of the slaves shirked back at her appearance as she neared the gate to open the pen, but once they realised she was searching for the latch to set them free, they regained their confidence to help her. Soon, she was tugging the gate to the pen open, immediately becoming swarmed by the mass of emaciated bodies trying to rush past her in their haste to get out.

"Guthred!" Laywyn yelled into the swarm, turning around and around to try and spot the blond king as he undoubtedly fled the pen with the mass of his fellow slaves.

She felt a hand grip firmly onto her arm and turned with a jump to see who held her.

Laywyn let loose a sigh of relief when she recognised the man from before— the short Dane who had previously identified himself as Guthred Harthacnutsson.

She allowed the probable king of Northumbria to pull her forward through the crowd, until they were clear of the way the other slaves were fleeing and facing back towards the southern edge of the market, where Uhtred and her companions awaited. Guthred must have pieces it together from her actions that she, and the other shadowed figures, were working with the holy men to free him, so he had brought her to where Brother Trew was still cowering by the cart of silver.

Mathilda had run off when Laywyn dismounted her and was now nudging the nose of Uhtred's horse, Wintere. Laywyn smiled to see her steed safe and moved to tug off her mask. Guthred had thankfully relinquished her arm.

Her nimble fingers worked the knot Uhtred had tied at the back of her head free, and she pulled the skull off her face with a sigh.

"This is Guthred Harthacnutsson of Cumbraland," Laywyn said to Brother Trew once the mask was off, docking her head at where the blond king was still standing nervously beside her.

While she was busy finding the alleged king, Uhtred had convinced the slavers that he was a draugr sent by Odin to kill them, and they were now fleeing from the market on a mixture of foot and horseback. Hild had slain the man who Laywyn had watched advance on the nun earlier, whilst Father Beocca had used a dagger to fend off the few Danes who foolishly acquiesced to their eyepatched leader's commands to attack. Halig had been the one to keep their horses from bolting and ensured no fleeing masters tried to steal them.

The man with the eyepatch had scrambled off too, but not before Uhtred bound his hands and gave him a message to deliver to his father.

Laywyn later learned that the man in question was Sven Kjartansson— the son who had helped Kjartan the Cruel kill Uhtred's foster-family and who had assaulted his sister, Thyra, both when he was a boy and for years later when she was his prisoner. It had been Ragnar the Fearless who took Sven's eye when he had forcibly looked upon a young Thyra's nakedness.

Laywyn thought Uhtred ought to have killed Sven there, in the market, but Father Beocca had pleaded for him to be spared for the time being. Laywyn did not doubt Sven would face vengeance for what he had done to Uhtred's family eventually, however.

"Lord?" Brother Trew asked in disbelief as he turned to face Laywyn and Guthred with wide eyes. Laywyn bit her tongue to stop herself from rolling hers as she stepped aside to let the monk grovel over his prophesied king. "Is it you? We have found you."

"Are you hurt?" Hild came over and asked Laywyn as Father Beocca joined Brother Trew in questioning Guthred.

Uhtred and Halig were speaking quietly to Hrothulf, and ordering the rest of the pens containing the slaves to be opened with the help of the men Laywyn had freed from Guthred's pen. Quite a few of them were shouting the names of family members, searching for their kin who had also been taken captive.

"I am well," Laywyn assured the nun with a small smile, feeling slightly overwhelmed with all that had just occurred, but physically fine. She gave Hild's hand a squeeze both in reassurance and comfort, for she could tell the older woman was still shaken after experiencing the slaver's advances.

Eyes seemed to burn into the back of Laywyn's head and she turned to see Guthred watching her, even as he spoke with Beocca and the monk. He seemed surprised at her appearance, no doubt not having expected the person behind the wolf mask and his rescue to be a woman.

Laywyn tried her hardest not to scoff in the King of Northumbria's face.

She was glad their plan had been successful, but she had yet to be convinced of the former slave's divinity to rule. He had been the one to find her when she freed the slaves and helped return her to her companions, so Laywyn's impression of him was far from a negative one. But there was something coiled in the startling blue eyes of the king that now raised her hackles.

Naively, Laywyn put the odd feeling in her gut down to exhaustion and walked away from Hild, Guthred and the holy men to help Uhtred free the rest of the captives. She could sense Guthred still watching her, but decided to ignore it for the moment.

Neither she, nor any of her companions, could have possibly conceived of the events their rescue of Guthred had set into motion.

author's notes.

i'm non-religious btw, so if i get any of the facts about christianity or the norse gods wrong in future chapters please let me know - i don't want to disrespect anyone's beliefs!

one more chapter and then we meet sihtric ;) i'm so excited, i've had his and laywyn's first conversation written for months now. they're my babies.

please vote and comment if you enjoyed!

— cat xoxo