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mickume

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"Please, stop. Stay away," she pleaded, holding out her hand hoping that would stop him from coming near her. Hot tears sobbed in her eyes and she buried her head in her shaking knees. She heard a heavy thud and scrap of metal on wood as Ubbe threw the dagger away from them. It landed on the other side of the room, near the sleeping figure of Sigurd, who was either an extremely heavy sleeper or politely ignoring the ruckus.

"It's gone. Do you want me to leave?"

"No," she sobbed. She hated crying. It burned her eyes and cheeks and made her breath ragged and labored. She tried to calm her breathing, slow it down with large gulps and long exhales, but a sob caught her in the back of the throat and made her choke a painful cry.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

She looked up at him slowly. He wasn't that man. He was Ubbe: tall and thin Ubbe, his braid un-kept from sleep and short sides peaking in all directions, blue eyes shining in the low light with worry. He was still an arms-length away, perched on the balls of his feet, ready to rush over and scoop her close. Closing her eyes, she felt the warm rush of fresh tears pour over her and she let them fall. "No."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

He bit his lip and grabbed hold of the fur blanket that was balled next to him. Just out of reach, he held it out to her. She tried to suppress another uncontrollable sob as she took it from him. As her fingers closed around the fur, he quickly slid the few feet to her and wrapped her with the blanket. She didn't try to fight or argue this time. The fur between them comforted her, but she felt shameful that he needed to comfort her over something so little as the anxiety of an event that didn't even occur. She hated feeling weak and even more so letting someone, especially Ubbe, see.

He began rubbing her arms like she had done, scrapping the touch of the man away and Lhyrie could feel him begin to fade slowly. Her breath began to slow, matching his deep inhales and exhales that swayed with the rhythm of his touch. The tears faded beneath her eyes and the salt stuck in the back of her throat, she could taste it with every breath. She felt more relaxed, but not fully. She leaned a little on Ubbe's shoulder and he pulled her closer. She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that or whether they slept. She just remembered the beat of his chest against her ear telling her she was safe, they were alive, and she was loved.

Lagertha's transition into power went smoothly, for the most part. The citizens of Kattegat seemed to barely notice a change in regime, just the change in colors flying over the city, from blood red to sky blue. More people seemed to even enjoy the change, from a forgone leader to one actually sitting in the throne of the Great Hall as more farmers traded their plows for swords and more women trained with her shield-maidens to fight in her wars. The Great Hall was filled almost nightly with laughter and warmth, as she let them flock into her new home, trying to gain their trust. As Ubbe spent more and more time in Kattegat and with her, Lhyrie felt disinclined to go to such gatherings since Ubbe would only go for announcements and not for socializing.

It seemed like most nights Ubbe spent with her when he wasn't out hunting. And he hated seeing the people flock to Lagertha almost as much as he hated seeing Lagertha sitting in his father's throne. He couldn't understand why people would gather to someone who usurped a throne after leaving it in the first place. And neither could she. But Lhyrie had friends, and enjoyed the gatherings, almost as much as she enjoyed her nights with Ubbe and wished to join their parties.

Somehow, Lagertha had continued to convince her to treat her injured shield-maidens and warriors and Lhyrie accepted. She could get inside the Great Hall and personally see to Lagertha and any plans she was brewing. She thought Ubbe would be pleased by that, trying to spy on Lagertha, but he wasn't.

"And if she finds out?"

"She's not naïve, Ubbe. She knows."

"The more reason not to," he said one night.

"Don't you want to know what she's up to?"

"Yes, but not on your life."

"She wouldn't kill me, Ubbe."

"I am not so certain."

"You are not certain of anything," she jabbed playfully. "And you are too cautious."

"And you are far not for a woman without a husband or father home."

She stuck out her tongue at him and curled back onto his bare chest. "I'll be just fine," she told him.

They heard a roar of laughter come from the Great Hall and Ubbe pulled her closer into his chest. He gave a heavy sigh before drifting off to sleep.

The next day, drunken bodies were scattered on the wood beams of the Hall, exhausted from the ambitious night of ale and mirth and Lhyrie had to dodge them as she made her way into it. A family stood on the far side of the Hall, waiting for her. She had helped the boy before, unhooking a rather intricate hook from the underside of his foot, and it seemed like he was in more trouble as he was grabbing at the front of his trousers nervously. The father, too seemed fidgety standing behind him, rustling his hair every so often.

"Now, Throun, what did you get into today?" She asked him, crouching low to speak with him.

"I hooked myself again, lady," he said sheepishly, avoiding her eyes. His father lightly knocked him in the head.

"Where this time?" He looked down between his legs and cleared his throat. His father did the same. "I see."

"I unhooked him, lady. But I'm afraid he'll fever. Do you have a potion for that?" The father asked.

"I have a medicine, yes," she corrected, careful not to be labeled a sorceress. She rummaged through her bag, looking for her balm of yarrow pedals. Placing it dab into a glass, she handed it to the father. "Place this on the wound every night. Be liberal and it will stop a fever."

A few hours later she had three chickens, a bucket of goat's milk, two men's height of rope and a fox pellet as payment for her services. Her brow was flushed and she was warm from a hard day's work. Although the days were growing shorter and the air brisker, all she could think about was a swim in the fjord. Perhaps she was finally accustomed to the Viking weather, as winter would soon be in Kattegat.

"It seems like the people trust you," a soft voice said behind her. She turned to face the black hair of Astrid, who was smiling wide at her. "They give you valuable things."

"A healer is a valuable thing," Lagertha said, coming out of a curtain behind Astrid.

"Yes, my lady," Lhyrie and Astrid said together. They looked awkwardly at one another as they spoke in turn, as if they didn't wish to share the same thoughts.

"Would you like some ale, Lhyrie?" Lagertha asked.

"It would be refreshing," she replied, taking a glass from Astrid.

"I didn't see you last night," Astrid said to her, sipping her glass of ale.

"I was tired," she gritted through her teeth, avoiding her glare.

"Ubbe Ragnarsson is in Kattegat, yes?" She asked coldly.

"I believe so." So, the interrogation begins, Lhyrie thought.

"He is fond of you, I hear," Lagertha joined in.

"Yes, my lady. We were close friends when we were young."

"And are you not now?" Astrid asked with a sly smile.

"We have both been through challenging times, losing our mothers," she tried to say without malice in her voice. "We have taken comfort in one another." Silence fell over Astrid and Lagertha, but the thin smile on Astrid's face remained. It was widely talked about in Kattegat that Ubbe was staying with Lhyrie most nights and their growing relationship was no secret.

"Yes, that is challenging," Lagertha finally said. "You were in Frankia for some time with your parents, if I remember correctly."

"You remember correctly, my lady. We spent almost three years there."

"Why did you return?" Astrid asked.

"We heard of Ragnar's return and wished to come back," she stated, starting to feel uncomfortable with their questions, but was grateful for the ale and people in the Hall to witness their conversation.

"You were with their army, correct?" Lagertha asked.

"A piece of it."

"Did you fight with them?"

"Mainly just healed their wounds, my lady," she said as she sipped her ale. "But I did train in my spare time."

"Did you learn anything of value?"

"They fight differently from Vikings. It supplemented my previous training."

"Shall we see what you learned?" Astrid asked, raising an eyebrow and walking the few yards to a shield propped up against the wall. Conceitedly, she placed a hand on the butt of the sword dangling from her hip. Lhyrie looked toward Lagertha, who smiled and nodded her head slightly.

"I don't have a shield," she began as Astrid threw her the one she had picked up and grabbed another off the wall. Lhyrie awkwardly grasped at it as she caught it and jammed her finger in the process, letting out a low groan. The few people in the hall quieted and moved out of the middle of the space to allow them their room. Lhyrie shifted the shield on her arm, getting used to the weight of the unfamiliar armor and gripped the hilt of her sword that hung unmercifully on her belt for the last few weeks. Astrid pulled her sword from its sheath, as Lhyrie took a deep breath and did the same to hers.

Astrid raised her sword high, striking her shield square on, though it simply rebounded as Lhyrie braced hard against the shield to absorb its blow. It blasted Astrid backward toward a pillar and she stumbled and nearly lost her balance. Noticeably angry, Astrid ran to meet her back in the middle of the hall and raised her sword again. Lhyrie huffed and twisted out of her path, knocking her with her shield as she ran past.

Astrid was glaring at her like a wolf attacking its prey and Lhyrie thought she was going to growl. She began to sidestep to match her cadence and they shuffled in a circle in the quiet Hall. "To first blood?" Lhyrie asked to no one particularly. "Or surrender?"

"First blood," she heard someone call. She thought it was Lagertha, but the blood pounding in her ears muffled her hearing.

She tried to think of what she heard about Astrid and her fighting. She was better at hand-to-hand combat rather than with a sword. Lagertha trained her personally, she heard, and Lagertha was an exceptional shield-maiden. Lhyrie hated hand-to-hand and always favored her sword and shield. With Astrid holding a vendetta against her for some reason, she couldn't risk losing her weapon or shield as Astrid might draw more than blood from her.

She drew a deep breath and lunged at Astrid, striking off to her side instead of at her shield. Blocking it with her heavy shield, Astrid swung her sword toward Lhyrie who stopped it with her own. Astrid charged at her again, eyes raging in the dimly lit Hall, determined and aggravated that Lhyrie wasn't folding. She slashed again at her, and Lhyrie clashed their swords together and struggled against her to unhook them.

Astrid huffed and pulled against her, unhooking their swords and swinging it back at Lhyrie's shield. She blocked and twisted away from her so that she was at her back. Astrid wasn't quick enough. She lost her footing as Lhyrie twisted away from her and struggled to turn to face her. Seizing the opportunity, Lhyrie gently sliced the top of Astrid's arm as she moved to face her, the bare skin peeking out between her tunic and vest. Grimacing, she called out as blood pooled slowly on the thin cut and dropped her sword to grip her shoulder.

Lhyrie tried to slow her ragged breathing and calm the blood pounding in her ears after the fight. Sheathing her sword at her hip, she slowly walked over to the edge of the Hall and placed the shield back in its spot. She gave a small smile, trying not to patronize Astrid's meaningful attempt toward Lagertha, who was smiling back at her, unconcerned with her bleeding shield-maiden. Whispers resumed in the Hall as the patrons returned to the work they were doing previously and turned away from Lhyrie and the two women in the center of the Hall. Lhyrie grabbed the satchel she was dropped and pulled out a piece of cloth before going over toward Astrid to help her.

Crouching down to meet her, Lhyrie lightly placed her hand on Astrid's back as she was curled down clutching her arm. "It's not deep, but let me cover it."

"No, it's fine," she replied and shook off her help, standing and still gripping her shoulder.

"Please, I wouldn't want it to fester."

"You said it wasn't deep."

"Even the smallest things can cause trouble," Lhyrie explained as Astrid lowered her arm. She covered it quickly with the gauze and tied it in a tight knot over the cut. Astrid grimaced in pain. "Sorry," she genuinely apologized, both for the knot and the cut.

Lagertha and now Torvi joined them in the middle of the Hall. "That was impressive," Lagertha said, smiling. "I trained Astrid myself and few could beat her. It seems Frankia has taught you something."

"Or just luck, my lady."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," she said. Astrid looked coldly at Lagertha, somewhat taken aback. She was her right-hand man and lover. Lagertha should have more confidence in her than that, Lhyrie thought. Perhaps the strain of usurping a kingdom had taken their toll in her inner circle. There was a weakness, she saw. "Your talents are wasted as a healer," Lagertha continued. "It would be an honor to have you on my guard and as a warrior."

Lhyrie pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. How could Lagertha ask that and not think of her safety? She had just enough motive as Ubbe for wanting her dead and that could be easily accomplished if she was in charge of Lagertha's safety and on her guard. Nevertheless, she thought about it. Ubbe would be furious; he would call her brash again. He would see her as a traitor, even though she hated her just as much as he did.

But women must be sly, must be cunning with revenge. It is not black and white or as violent as men could be. It had to be carefully thought out and executed, and could be done this way effortlessly. Of course, Astrid would most definitely keep her from forming any intimate connection to Lagertha or her security, she was certain of that. Astrid looked on her with disappointment and near hatred.

"I hope you won't be offended if I take time to think over this decision," she asked hesitantly.

"It is a big decision to make," Lagertha answered.

Astrid took Lagertha by the arm, pulling her and Torvi away from her. They had their backs to her and spoke in hushed whispers. Lhyrie took her time and looked around the Hall. Lagertha had changed it slightly and she never had the time to fully look at the changes while she was working. The throne was new. It was carved in the shape of an eagle, with its wings spread out behind the chair.

"Do you want to do this?" Astrid hastily asked, darting her eyes toward Lhyrie.

"I have made my decision," she heard Lagertha counter.

"She is in bed with Ubbe. He could have her kill you."

Lhyrie gave a faint smile as she heard that. She was fully capable of killing Lagertha without persuasion from Ubbe, but she let them have their innocence. A horn echoed from far away, it sounded as though it came from the docks and the three women perked their ears toward its sound. A runner came rushing through the doors of the Hall and many women shrieked in surprise as he did, out of breath and collapsing on the floor. Lhyrie felt her face tighten with tension and confusion. Have the boats returned from England?

If they had, she didn't want to contemplate it. She was uneasy with the thought of Jagar returning, unsure of what she would do; who she would choose; just like her decision on Lagertha's proposal. Her life with Ubbe was falling seamlessly in place and was comfortable. She could picture it until she was old and grey. Jagar had been away for so long she could hardly picture him or hear his voice. What if he returned changed from his raid? Would she still want him as she had when he went away and first met him?

As the runner regained his breath he spoke in rough sentences. "A boat... my lady... Not... Viking..."

"How many?" Lagertha asked quickly. Metal on metal echoed around the Hall as the people drew out their swords and shields. Lhyrie gripped her sword on her hip, ready to unsheathe it.

"Just one..." he puffed.

One. So, it wasn't the raid returning, Lhyrie breathed thankfully. One more day to not think about Jagar. But she couldn't think on who it was. Many foreign traders came to port at Kattegat without raising alarm, so this must be different. Then again, an attack from a foreign land could not be accomplished with one boat, but why be guarded.

She felt the weight of her stomach drop. The only reason a boat would return from England and not be Viking were that the boats were lost. And the city wouldn't be in alarm if Vikings were in the boat, so they must be Englishmen. The leather on the hilt of her sword creaked under the pressure of palm. Lagertha nodded toward the shield-maidens around her hall and they left with haste toward the docks.

"Who is in the boats?" She asked calmly toward the messenger.

"We believe... it is Ivar," he wheezed.

"The rest... are Englishmen."

She didn't know why, but a heaviness lingered in her heart and pulled at it. The grip on her sword lessened as Astrid's tightened on hers. She was whispering in Lagertha's ear again, but this time she couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Thank you," Lagertha told the runner. She turned to look at her. "Is Ubbe at your residence?" She asked.

"He may be, my lady. There or the smith."

Lagertha looked back at the runner. "Go there and inform him of his brother." The runner huffed and turned toward the courtyard. He sauntered for a moment before breaking into a run toward her uncle's house. She wasn't sure how he knew where she was living, but apparently, it was no secret. "Grab my cloak, we will go to the docks," she told Torvi.

Lhyrie couldn't bring her feet to move to join them as they left the Hall. Her legs felt like bricks laid into the flooring, although her heart felt drawn to the docks to be with Ubbe. One other person remained in the Hall with her, seemingly just as frozen, but she recognized her.

"It is good to see you, Lhyrie," she said softly, almost in a question. She was looking down, not at her and seemed nervous.

Lhyrie walked over to her in the far corner in the Hall, her footsteps, unfrozen, echoed in its emptiness. She looked thinner, but well-off, for a slave, Lhyrie reminded herself. She was still pretty as ever, amid weathered clothing and scrapes.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Lhyrie smiled at her.

"I have been in Hedeby," Margrethe answered, still avoiding her eyes. "I've only come to bring Lagertha her things. I will travel back tonight."

She felt her smile freeze slightly on her face. Just as she had Jagar, if he returned, Ubbe had Margrethe. And now that she was in Kattegat, Lhyrie wasn't certain who he would choose now that she was face-to-face with her.

"Have you seen Ubbe?" She asked carefully, sweetly.

"No, but he is staying with you?" Margrethe asked softly, almost childlike and looked up at her just as small looking.

"Yes... if Ivar has returned, he will be with his brothers."