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CHAPTER III:

✧. ⋆ search for the dane slayer

     𝕳EADS TURNED AS THEIR GROUP of both Danish and Saxon warriors came galloping into the town. Eldrid had to admit it felt strange to ride alongside the Saxons. She had to keep reminding herself she was doing this for Ragnar, to find his brother and not to gift Alfred back his best warrior. When she told her men of their new mission, it had taken them some convincing. But Ragnar had made his plea well and so they followed. Though she had heard numerous conversations about Uhtred and if he was truly innocent of killing Ragnar the Fearless. The men might not have been convinced about his innocence but they were willing to follow Ragnar, content with a new path to follow.

Ragnar had thought it best they would first visit the man responsible for his brother's enslavement. Eldrid had been unable to tell if it was because he wanted information, or because he wished to shame the king for his actions. Or both. And so they had broken up their camp near the beach and rode for Cumberland to visit king Guthred.

After a long ride they had finally reached the city walls of Eoferwic. Men and women gathered around them as they rode through the streets to the main courtyard. The palace came into their view soon enough and it seemed to be the only building with roman walls. Their party came to a halt in front of the palace. The unrest of their arrival had captured the attention of two priests, who came walking out of the hall and unto a balcony. She imagined they must have liked their place there, high above them.

"Sister Hild and company," the oldest of the two priests said. "What is your purpose?"

"We're here on the orders of Alfred of Wessex," Ragnar answered. "I want to see king Guthred."

"You are a Dane," the priest sneered, as if that made his request somehow unacceptable.

Ragnar simply smiled and Eldrid admired his calm demeanor for she probably would have beheaded him already. But not the son of Ragnar the Fearless, who instead calmy introduced himself. "I am Earl Ragnar Ragnarson." He gestured towards her. "This is my friend Eldrid Brynjardottir. And this" -he turned to Steapa- "is the warrior Steapa, Alfred's man."

"Alfred sends his greetings to King Guthred," Steapa said.

"And Guthred's sister?" Hild spoke up. "Lady Gisela. Is she here? I would like to see her."

"She is not," the priest said, this tone suggesting that the woman in question was a topic he'd rather avoid. "She did abandon the city."

"Where to?"

"I have yet to find out, but I shall find out."

Eldrid felt the need to drive her sword through his heart grow with every word he spoke. Before she could revel in that day dream however, another man stepped out unto the balcony. He had watery blue eyes, a pointed face and blond hair. He was wearing white robes and a sword around his waist. She could tell by the small bow that both priests made that this was the king. Yet nothing about him looked kingly. Not the way he carried himself, nor the way his uncertain eyes looked at the world around him, nothing.

It was clear that the power in Northumbria did not belong to this man, nor to his priests who seemed to try so hard to pretend that it did. This was a pretend king, a man who liked to think he had power over the Danes and Saxons that lived in the land. But Eldrid could tell from just one look that it was nothing more than a fantasy he was living in.

"You're his brother?" Guthred asked. Even his voice lacked authority. "You're Uhtred's brother?"

Hild looked at Ragnar. "It is Guthred."

Ragnar nodded. "I am Lord."

"Alfred sent you to do what?"

"To find Uhtred. He is in Uhtred's depth and would not see him harmed."

The christian king indebted to a heathen. It sounded like a magnificent story, one that would be told for many generations to come and yet Eldrid had trouble believing it. Hearing about a Uhtred's greatness was one thing but she knew she would not be able to believe it until she had met the man himself. How was it that he had the mighty king of Wessex sending out soldiers to find him? He had to be more than just a soldier. She could not help but admit she was growing more and more curious to this Uhtred.

"Uhtred is lost," Guthred said. "I am truly sorry to say that. My apologies to both you and Alfred." He didn't sound sorry in the slightest and it made her blood boil. Apparently he was not only a false king but a liar as well.

"There," the older priest said. "You've had a wasted journey."

Eldrid could not help herself, her hand was resting on her sword, ready to pull it out and cut off the man's tongue. But she knew it would do little to help the situation.

"Rest, please," the pretend king offered, "here, by all means-" "You will tell me the name of the man who took Uhtred," Ragnar interrupted him.

"I need to gather my thoughts," the king said with a shake of his head.

But while Ragnar pleaded to a man who would not help them, Eldrid felt her attention drawn to a little girl who was making her way through the crowd. She was holding an apple in her hand, offering it to Hild. The nun took it and when she did, her eyes searched the crowd and landed on a Danish boy dressed in black leather. The two seemed to have a wordless understanding before the boy turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

"Uhtred is indeed lost," the priest snapped before turning and following the king into the palace.

Ragnar smiled disdainfully, his eyes filled with suppressed anger.

"Let's leave here," Eldrid suggested. "I refuse to remain in the company of cowards and liars a moment longer than necessary."

And with one last disgusted glance over her shoulder, she turned her horse and headed for the gate. The rest of the party followed, leaving the small village and its coward of a king behind. As they rode for the rest of the men they left in the field outside of the town, Eldrid rode up next to Hild, watching as the nun held the apple tightly in her hand.

"Are you so beloved by children they just willingly give you food, sister Hild?" Eldrid questioned, knowing there was more to it than that but unable to pass an opportunity of teasing the nun.

Hild did not even spare her so much as a glance. "Being kind certainly does not hurt." Her tone was cold, a sign that she was very well aware of Eldrid's reputation.

She was unable to stop herself from smiling. "You're unlike any nun I've ever met."

"By "met" I assume you mean slaughtered?" Hild said coolly.

"I don't kill innocent people," Eldrid snapped. "Only those who deserve it." And it was true. She had made it her life's mission to destroy slavers and their trade of human lives. She did not kill for pleasure or to pass time. There was no honor in slaughtering innocents.

"Some might argue that no man deserves death," Hild said, still staring at the road ahead of her.

"You don't believe that," Eldrid replied. "Or you wouldn't be carrying that sword."

Finally the nun turned her eyes to Eldrid, her cold demeanor melting away like snow beneath the sun. Instead her eyes seemed filled with an infinite sorrow. Then she took a deep breath and turned her eyes away again. "Ragnar!" she called out, slightly taking Eldrid off guard. "I know where to go next."

The horses came to a halt and Ragnar rode to stand next to Hild, who was holding up the apple she had been given. When she opened her hand they could all see a small piece of parchment in her palm. A few words were hastily scribbled on the yellowish paper. There was a small hole in the apple in which the paper had been hidden. Eldrid recalled the young Danish warrior she'd seen exchanging glances with Hild. He must have been the one who hid the paper in the apple and sent the little girl to give it to the nun.

"What does it say?" Ragnar asked, who, just like Eldrid herself, never learned how to read.

"It's from Lady Gisela," Hild explained. "It says Uhtred was sold to the slaver Jonis."

"Why is she helping us?" Eldrid questioned, wondering who the Lady was who undermined her brother's authority so fiercely.

Hild turned her eyes to Eldrid and her face said it all. Ragnar noticed it too and let out a booming laugh. "He had a way with the ladies my brother," he grinned.

"Do you know where to find this Jonis?" Hild asked Eldrid, ignoring the Dane.

"I have heard several slavers mention his name," she said. "I think I might have an idea where he could be hiding." And without waiting for an answer she urged her horse to get moving again. They followed her as she drove through the hills and over the fields, towards the coast. Most slavers had a post near the sea, easy for trade and easy for an escape route. There was a part of the coast of Northumbria she had not yet searched and so that was where they were heading first.

They galloped through the hills and rode on for most of the day. It was late in the afternoon when she could spot a small campement between the trees ahead of them. They made their way inside with her and Ragnar in the lead and with Hild, Bjorn and Steapa right behind.

A man in a blue tunic came walking up to them, his suspicious eyes narrowed at them and, subconsciously or not, his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

"We would appreciate some water, for ourselves and the horses," Ragnar said.

"It's yours," the man spoke with a heavy accent, as he gestured for some of his men to go get some water.

They dismounted and she handed the reins to one of the men. He took her horse away to a few barrels in the corner of the camp. Then they walked closer to the man in the blue tunic.

"You are Jonis?" Ragnar questioned.

The man nodded. "I am."

"I've been told you took a man, a warrior, from Guthred of Eoferwic. You sold him as a slave."

The man shrugged. "I see the faces of so many creatures."

Eldrid took a deep breath to contain herself at hearing his words, her hand going for her sword and every bone in her body screamed for her to take her sword and run it through this man. He didn't even have the heart to call his slaves men and shrugged their life away. He didn't deserve to keep breathing a moment longer.

Her disgust must have been clearly visible on her face because Jonis took a small step backwards. Ragnar put his hand on her arm and she released the hilt of her sword. "We're not here to open your belly, Jonis," Ragnar promised.

"Not yet," Steapa said.

She smiled, perhaps the big man wasn't as bad as she first thought.

"I'll pay you," Ragnar said, ignoring the scared look that had appeared in the man's eyes.

Jonis, however, was distracted by something happening behind them. "You will not feed the slaves!" He suddenly shouted, pointing at someone.

Eldrid turned around and saw Hild had been handing out food to the chained up men and women. Her face was as hard as stone when she shouted: "And you will not bark like a great fat hound!"

Surprise flashed through her as she watched the nun drop the last of the food to the ground and then walked towards them. This woman had more fire in her than any other nun or priest Eldrid had come across and she hated to admit that she loved her spirit.

"You said you would pay?" Jonis asked.

"Yes I did," Ragnar confirmed. He took a piece of silver out of his pouch and tossed it to the boy standing beside Jonis.

"A warrior slave," Jonis finally said, "called himself Osbert."

The name was unfamiliar to Eldrid but it clearly meant something to Ragnar because he took out another piece of silver and tossed it to the boy once again.

"There was another man, smaller, Saxon," Jonis continued. "A sea trader named Sverri took them both."

"Sverri?" Eldrid said, her voice sharp and her heart pounding.

"You know him?" Ragnar asked.

She clenched her jaw. "We've been trying to catch him for months but he keeps on slipping through our fingers." She turned her eyes to Jonis. "Where is he now?"

"Wherever the sea and the promise of silver takes him," Jonis answered. "Life at the oar is hard and short. Sverri will return, I'm sure. Refresh his crew."

"When?" Ragnar asked.

"Autumn and winter will pass, but, come spring, the first full moon after Sigr Blot, we will gather for business at the beach. Sverri will be there, I swear."

"And between that time he sails where?"

"His ships plough the roughest sea, he could be any place."

"You tell us nothing," Hild said in frustration.

"I tell you what I know to be true," the man snapped. "All you can do is watch the beaches and wait."

"Thank you," Eldrid said, then in a quick movement took her sword out of her sheat and pushed it through the man's belly. She ignored the gasps of shock from the people around her and watched with a small smile as Jonis collapsed on the ground, dead. She pulled her sword free and cleaned the blood with his tunic, the blue slowly becoming stained with red. Then she stood back up and gestured for her men to start freeing the slaves. Her eyes turned to Ragnar, who was watching her with a small frown.

"It was you who promised to spare his life, not me." Then she turned on her heels and headed for her horse.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I wanted to start with a big thanks to COTTAGECORES for the beautiful gif banner you can see at the end of this chapter! All credits go to her. I absolutely love it, thank you!

My favorite thing about this chapter has to be the moments between Hild and Eldrid. They are two very different women so it will take some time for them to warm up to each other. But at the same time they are very much alike, both headstrong and willing to fight for what they believe in. I can't wait to develop their relationship! I really hope you guys will enjoy it as well.

Something else I can't wait for is to introduce Eldrid and Finan to each other. These two have been pretty much the only thing on my mind for weeks now. Just a warning that I like to take my time with things, sometimes to great frustration of myself as well. They will meet soon enough though, don't worry :)

I also wanted to thank you all so much for all the love you've given this story. I know the Last Kingdom fandom is pretty small but everyone is so kind and supportive and I just love you guys so much! Your support really means a lot!

xx Nelly