“I do not always argue,” I refute, keeping my eyes peeled for anywhere to camp for the night.
“If you insist.”
“Now you are just being nothing but annoying.”
Ulf laughs loudly.
It’s nice to hear because I realize my world has lacked any cheer for a very long time.
“Why do you do it, Emeline?” It seems Ulf can still read me just as well. “You’re clearly unhappy. You’ve sacrificed your life, and for what? For your children to be stolen, and for you to fight battle after battle. When is it your time to be happy?”
“I wasn’t raised a quitter,” I reply. “I refuse to surrender to the outdated patriarchal views. If I did, it would put England back fifty years. My happiness is to provide a better life for my children. And to better the lives of my people.”
“I understand that, but you’ve not answered my question. When is it your time to be happy?” he repeats slowly, but with no judgment.
“I don’t even know what that entails anymore.”
I don’t wish for sympathy.
“Perhaps it’s time to relearn because I’ve seen it in your eyes. You just need to find it once again.”
I can’t help but smile. “Since when have you become so sentimental?”
“You caught me at a weak moment,” he playfully replies. “Shall I kill a Saxon child to make up for it?”
Alruna and I burst into laughter.
“All is right in the world once more, heathen.”
We continue to ride until we reach a small township. “I do not know the villagers. It is best if we do not tell them who you are. I will ask for food and sanctuary for the night. What do we have for payment?”
I finger the ruby ring, but Ulf reaches into his side pouch, producing a handful of gold coins.
“I do not even want to know how you came into possession of those.”
“Best you don’t ask, then,” he counters with a grin.
It’s dusk, so the smells of food catch the night air, sending my belly into hysteria for I am famished. I have been starved of food many moons ago so that I can control my hunger, but with many days passed, my body demands to be fed and fed now.
Villagers come to see who invades their town, suspicious and on guard.
“We wish you no harm,” I calmly say. “All we ask is for food and shelter for the night. Your riches will be many.”
Ulf rattles the coins in the pouch as proof.
They look at one another, but in the end, as I knew it would, money wins out. “You may remain, but the heathens may not.”
“We all leave then, and take our fortunes with us,” I reply blankly. “I am certain the next village shall reap the advantages you shun because of imprudent pride.”
I cluck my tongue, instructing my horse to turn, but a man steps forward, hands raised in surrender. “You are welcome to stay. We will ensure you are fed. Your horses will be tended to, and we will provide shelter for the evening. You come alone?”
I nod.
“And the Danes will not do us harm?”
“They will respect you if you respect them.”
I look at Ulf, who glares at the man, which isn’t really cementing my claims. When I clear my throat, asking him to behave, Ulf attempts a smile. I think I prefer him scowling, however, because now it appears he is thinking about ripping out this man’s liver and wearing it for a hat.
