Skarth slowly stands and turns to face Ulf. They have a turbulent past. But Skarth extends his arm. Ulf grips Skarth’s forearm, and Skarth does the same to him. They shake with both hands locked on one another’s forearms; a true warrior’s handshake.
Skarth says something in Norse, and Ulf listens intently. When Skarth makes eye contact with me, I realize that I am the topic of discussion. Ulf nods and bows his head.
“They have come to a truce,” Sigrith explains. “No more fighting. Well, for now anyway.”
Abbot Maxwell approaches me. Thankfully, he only has a few scratches. “I will ensure all damages are paid for, and the brothers who perished receive the honorable burial they deserve.”
He nods in gratitude. “Today has marked a war.”
And he’s right.
We can no longer enter the palace because Aethelbald has no doubt taken it over, strategizing with my council in a battle plan to take us down. We are displaced. But home is where my family is. A place is merely a structure, but a home is where love grows.
“You will need sanctuary. I offer it in the way of the monastery.”
“Thank you, Abbot Maxwell. We will restore it whilst we wait as a sign of our gratitude.”
It’s the least we can do.
“However, you grant sanctuary to us all? Even those not of Christian faith?”
Abbot Maxwell looks around at the carnage before replying. “We are all God’s children, for look at the blood we bleed. One and the same. I do not honor their gods, but I respect their faith, for they only wish for peace as do we.
“Aethelbald may be of the Christian faith, but he does not respect our religion. If he did, he would not have come here tonight, intent on war.”
Skarth steps forward, towering over the abbot. “Thank you. We come in peace and respect, for it seems we have a common enemy.”
Abbot Maxwell nods. “You may take lodgings in the cells. It may be a little cramped.”
“We have slept in far worse,” I assure him, placing a hand over his arm in gratitude. “We must send word to the church, for they are in danger. Aethelbald will bribe, blackmail, and butcher anyone. No one is safe.”
Benedict comes to stand by my side. “Hello, Abbot Maxwell.”
The abbot’s eyes instantly water. “My child. It is good to see you.”
“It is good to be seen,” he replies, before hugging him tightly. “How is Barlow?”
“He is safe in the tower. I’m sure he is desperate to hear all about your adventures.”
Benedict smiles. “I will see you come morrow, dear aunt. Now, I must tend to my brother.”
I nod, unbelieving this fine young gentleman is my brother’s spawn.
Benedict limps away, elated to be reunited with his kin.
A small win for us all.
I am suddenly hit with fatigue so fierce that I waver on my feet. Skarth places his arm around me to stop me from tumbling over.
“Come, hugrekki. Tomorrow is a brand-new day. Good night, Abbot Maxwell.”
I don’t fight as he leads us toward our lodgings with our sons holding our hands. I peer over my shoulder and see that Sigrith and Ulf follow. But what of Aedan and his men?
“Stop worrying,” Skarth whispers into my ear.
His voice is a hypnotic caress.
We reach our lodgings, which are cave cells, and although humble, they are home. Sune and Loki rub their eyes, exhaustion overtaking them. Skarth picks up Loki, who nestles into his chest. With Sune’s hand still in mind, I lead him over to a small cot.
