This isn’t the moment to be chivalrous because I need him to fight beside me. I cannot win without him.
“That is a tempting offer, Viking, and rather valiant of you. Perhaps that would be the best solution, seeing as your sweetling puts your life on par with the others.”
“Guards!”
“No!” I scream, rushing forward, but am stopped by soldiers who apprehend me.
Sigrith soon appears. She watches on with no emotion. I vow here and now that she will pay dearly for this betrayal. “He is your brother!”
She shrugs and withdraws her sword, walking over to Skarth, who is cut loose from the other prisoners. She knows he won’t fight. He will sacrifice his life so I do not have to choose.
My options are only one…
“His name is Brother Maurice!” I cry, shaking free of my captors. “He knows who in the church opposes your rule. I am to ride to the monastery tomorrow to meet them. I do not know who it is. He did not tell me. Only that the church wishes to overthrow our kingdom and rule itself.”
That is a complete fabrication, but I hope to stall and perhaps buy us some time.
Aethelbald mulls over what I shared before he explodes with a roar. He commences hacking into a wooden rafter with his sword, screaming profanities.
I stand back, watching this infant have his wee spat. It seems he believes me.
“This is your fault!” he accuses, glaring at me breathlessly. “And I am sick of being undermined by you. It’s time you understand that I am the one in control, not you. Kill him.”
“No!” I scream, storming for Sigrith.
She ducks out of the way, only for a soldier to take her place.
“It is all right, hugrekki. I will wait for you for an eternity.”
“Do not dare. Fight!” I scream, fighting to get past the two guards who stand in my way. They do not budge, however.
But he doesn’t.
My vision blurs, and a shrill ringing echoes loudly in my ears, in sync with my frantic heart.
“Sigrith! Please! No! Help him!” I beseech her to show him compassion, but she is as cold as this blackest night.
“A life for a life. Choose,” Aethelbald orders, mayhem breaking loose as it pulsates around us.
“I will take great pleasure in cutting out your innards and playing with them!” I scream, rabid as I continue to fight to break free.
Panic saturates the air, and there is no order, merely madness. We are stir-crazy, unsure what the next second brings. Suddenly, a fight breaks out because Aric hacks through his confines. He immediately steals a soldier’s sword and cuts Catherine free.
I watch with heart in my throat as he tosses her the sword, kisses her forehead before she commences fighting, whilst Aric cuts the rest of the prisoners free.
The soldiers don’t stand a chance because Catherine is a skilled fighter, and when her temper is provoked, she is unstoppable. She severs limbs. Impales soldiers on the end of her sword. Aethelbald shoves the men out of the way and swings, about to take off Skarth’s head.
Skarth accepts his fate…
“NO!” I scream, almost blind from hysteria.
“Papa!”
Catherine charges forward, intent on saving Skarth, but those will be her last ever steps because Aethelbald quickly turns, and in one brutal swing, he severs her head from her shoulders. It rolls along the ground, her long hair appearing as a tumbleweed in the wind as it comes to a stop at my feet.
I meet her large eyes that are caught in the moment of horror forevermore, and her final word, “Papa,” drapes her ruby lips.
“No,” I whisper, refusing to believe the sight before me. I frantically scrub at my eyes, but there is no rubbing away this horrific truth.
