𝕺𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞 || TLK Fic || FinanxOC || Eleven
Story Summary: Tove chose to surrender rather than be killed, after Sigfried was defeated at Beamfleot, giving herself up to the mercy of the Saxons. Thanks to Finan’s intervention, her life is indeed spared and she is brought into Uhtred’s service. With the sting of defeat fresh on her tongue and her new life fighting for the Saxons secured; Tove is left wondering what tricks the Gods have in store for her next.
Words: 6048
**Notes have been moved to the end.
Kåre woke with a splitting headache and a compress wrapped around his head partially obscuring his left eye. Groaning, he raised a hand toward his face but was stopped by a sharp thump to his wrist. He turned his head to find Halvar watching him and chewing on his chew stick with an expression of exasperation.
“You know, the healer said to make sure you were being careful with your face.” Said Halvar. “So of course, the first thing you do upon waking is reach for the damned thing.”
Kåre snorted, rolling his eyes, as he struggled into a sitting position. “What happened?”
His throat felt incredibly dry, and he started looking around for a cup.
“Well,” Halvar said, resting his chin in his hand. “Looks to me like someone carved up yer face pretty good.”
Kåre threw an annoyed look in his friend’s direction. “Yes, well that bit is rather apparent. I mean at the battle.”
Halvar took the stick from his mouth to inspect it for a moment before replacing it. “Wasn’t there was I? But from what I hear the Saxons sprang a trap and Harald ran squealing like a stuffed pig. He’s basically finished.” He paused and gave a snort. “Ketill’s pissed. Almost seems to think we ought to have stayed with Haesten.”
“Gods.” Kåre rolled his eyes and sat back having given up on a drink for the moment. “Any word on survivors?”
Halvar shrugged and finally produced a cup of water for his friend. “None as of yet. Who knows, some might simply have just fled to Mercia rather than continue under Harald.”
Kåre’s lip curled. Not all had sworn an oath to Harald, he certainly hadn’t, but there were some who had and if he’d deserted then they were oath breakers. And to break an oath was an abhorrent thing even to a foolish lord like Harald.
Halvar just shrugged having an inkling of his friend’s thoughts. “So, was it at least the Dane slayer?”
For a second, Kåre was caught off guard as he had been momentarily distracted from his wound and the battle by what to do next. He had been about to curse himself for not trying to persuade Harald to his thinking in regard to attacking Winchester. They might have been sitting on a pile of gold by now if he had, but instead, Kåre had deferred to one he knew to be easily manipulated. And now it would after all be within his right to take his ships and search out his fortune elsewhere. There wasn’t a high likelihood of success for much in Wessex without a ‘great heathen army’ and that had been near halved. But Halvar’s inquiry brought Kåre’s thoughts back to Uhtred and ultimately to Tove, he couldn’t leave her there.
“It was not,” said Kåre ruefully, then paused to sip from the cup. “One of his damned oath men I assume. The short and quick bastard.”
Halvar hummed thoughtfully.
“What is it?” Kåre asked.
“She wasn’t there then?”
“No.” Kåre’s tone was clipped, making it clear he had little interest in discussing the topic at the moment. “I can only assume she was kept far away.”
A frown unfurled across Halvar’s lips as he considered Kåre’s words. It had been difficult to speak with him about the situation regarding his sister since that first conversation. While Halvar certainly did not disagree with Kåre’s aim to eliminate Uhtred, he had not intended to give the wrong impression to his friend. Before he’d been able to explain entirely about their meeting on Scaepege, Kåre had made the assumption that Tove must be a prisoner. She would never serve a Saxon; he’d said dismissively despite the fact that no other scenario made sense. Why else would she have been there, Halvar had intended to ask. Let alone that Tove had said as much, Uhtred was her oath lord whether Kåre accepted it or not. And Halvar knew if they stayed, they would meet her in battle eventually and he hoped Kåre was not present for that meeting because Halvar would not hesitate.
Since Uhtred’s return, he had become determined more so than ever to teach Uhtred the younger swordcraft. A feat Tove, among some others, was beginning to think might be impossible. The boy simply did not have the aptitude for the art, but what was worse he had little interest in it either -and it was likely that part which drove Uhtred to anger- as even one without the predisposition can be taught to be a decent warrior. Without motivation, it was unlikely Uhtred would succeed with or without talent. It was that lack of motivation Tove observed as she idly watched Uhtred putting the boy through drills for the third time that afternoon.
It was difficult to decide who to feel bad for in the current predicament. Uhtred had just lost a wife, his truest love, but the younger had lost his mother with who he was much closer than his father. Both losses were a terrible thing and neither of them was handling it particularly well. Nor did it help that despite being different in many ways, both were grieving in a rather similar manner and that was to bottle it up as much as possible.
Slowly chewing a bite of her apple Tove considered the matter as a way of distracting herself from Uhtred the younger’s atrocious lack of ability. He had just been knocked on his arse once again causing Tove to wrinkle her nose in second-hand embarrassment for the boy. In the end, she was not able to dwell upon it for long before her thoughts were interrupted by Sihtric who had taken the place beside her and pretended to accidentally knock the apple from her loose grip. Scowling, Tove gave him a shove with her shoulder, but the half Dane only chuckled flashing her a mischievous grin.
“Where is Finan?” Sihtric asked.
Tove arched her brow and gave a slight shrug. “How am I to know?”
Sihtric rolled his eyes but said nothing further which prompted her to frown.
Did everyone think there was something between herself and Finan? Had they always? Surely not. Things hadn’t really changed between them until recently Tove thought. Though it was difficult to put a finger on when exactly that was as she had been ignoring the growing feelings which had become apparent to her only when questioned by Rypere. Her frown deepened at the thought of that conversation.
Why hadn’t she discussed it with Gisela when she’d had the chance? Sure, she could still go to Ealhswith, but Ealhswith was Sihtric’s wife and Sihtric was obviously also friends with Finan. Not that she thought the Saxon woman to be a gossip just that spouses spoke of such things with each other.
Glancing at Sihtric out of the corner of her eye, Tove wondered quite skeptically whether Sihtric could keep anything she might confide in Ealhswith to himself. And she very much doubted that.
“Don’t think too hard or you’ll hurt yourself,” said Sihtric.
“Tell Uhtred I’ll be at the alehouse if he requires anything.”
Though he gave her an odd look, Sihtric agreed that he would, and with that Tove strode off. He watched her go for a few seconds before the thump of Uhtred the younger hitting the dirt again caught his attention. Uhtred was becoming increasingly frustrated with the boy which Sihtric couldn’t fault. A distraction came for him just then in the form of Finan who called to Uhtred that he had a message from Alfred. Sihtric made his way over to the group in time to hear what the messenger had apparently relayed to Finan.
“We’re to meet Haesten to return his hostages and pick up ours, Lord.” Finan paused then, looking a tad amused. “And to prepare to receive the king here…there’s to be a baptism.”
Uhtred let out a groan. “And who will be being washed?”
“Haesten’s wife and son.”
The Lord who hadn’t so much as cracked a smile since their return almost snorted with amusement at the utter ridiculousness of that news.
On her way to the alehouse from the training yard, Tove had to pass by Uhtred’s home. Thinking she might check in on Stiorra and Elflæd who were spending more time together even than before. It made sense, of course, Stiorra needed companionship more than ever and Tove could not always be there.
When Tove reached the house, she hesitated at the sight of Skade who Uhtred had seen fit to imprison in a cage in front of the building. She wished he would have just killed her. It even would have delighted her to kill Skade as she blamed her for Gisela’s death. And Tove wasn’t the only one who thought so either though unlike the Christians Tove knew upon hearing of the curse saw why he could not. To kill the witch without breaking the curse would make it permanent, one of the many things that made witches dangerous. So, he had to keep her.
As Tove drew nearer, she became aware of Skade’s crystalline eyes following her boring into her as if attempting to read something important about her. It was unsettling and she didn’t like it. She would’ve just kept walking if Skade hadn’t called out to her prompting Tove to unwillingly turn toward the sorceress.
“I know your face,” Skade said to her simply in Danish.
Tove said nothing instead just lifting a questioning brow, inviting the sorceress to elaborate.
“Or perhaps only a mirror of it.”
“What do you mean?” Asked Tove cautiously.
“I dream,” said Skade.
Tove pressed her lips together in annoyance. Of course, she did it was what seers did. They dreamed their visions whether awake or asleep it was still dreaming.
“You will never return to Denmark.”
“Won’t I?” Tove challenged.
Returning was hardly on her mind in the near future, but never? She couldn’t imagine never seeing her homeland again. Or Igna or her father.
“You will die on this island.”
“You’ve seen my death?”
Skade shook her head.
“Then how can you know?” Tove pressed.
“It is your fate.”
Tove paused; her lips pressed together in dissatisfaction with the answer Skade provided. She may have pushed for more information had a maid not appeared at the door just then. The girl wasn’t much younger than Tove and she was clearly anxious looking between her and Skade. Twice the girl opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out leaving Tove to take charge of the situation.
“Is the lady Stiorra in?” Tove asked pointedly.
Finally getting a hold of herself, the girl nodded. “Yes, but she is lying down resting at the moment lady.”
Tove gave a short nod. “Well, if she wakes before I return then let her know I was here.”
The girl nodded in response and hurried off without even glancing at Skade.
“Two paths lay before you Ødgersdottier.”
Tove narrowed her eyes at Skade.
“Are you still a Dane?”
“Are you just a mouthy whore?” Tove snapped back growing irritated. “Because you’ve told me naught but empty riddles.”
Much to her surprise, Skade laughed at her insult which only annoyed Tove further. Tove left without giving the witch a chance to speak further. She’d had enough foolishness for one day.
After the odd encounter with Skade, Tove did not go directly to the alehouse choosing instead to take the long way around to get there which took her past the church. Watching the miserable place, she observed the priests and monks going about their business for a moment before taking off again. Silently, she sent an apology to Gisela for not doing more to honor her, but after the incident with Bishop Erkenwald, she was banned from the place which effectively also banned her from even visiting Gisela.
“Weasel,” Tove muttered under her breath.
Finally, she made it to the alehouse which by then was starting to get busier. To her surprise, Sihtric stood up and waved her over she he saw her come in. Obeying the summons, Tove went over to join him and Osferth whilst staunchly ignoring the half-Dane’s questioning look.
“You missed the news.” Said Sihtric.
He then proceeded to fill her in on the message Alfred had sent which caused Tove to balk.
“From what I know, he has little fondness for his wife. So, I’m sure he sees it as no real sacrifice at all. Meanwhile, it will appease the king -possibly even gain him favor, knowing how pious Alfred is.”
“Perhaps,” Osferth began thoughtfully. “But his son?”
“He’ll tell the boy to forget it,” Tove shrugged.
Osferth did not seem to think much of her disregard for the holy sacrament of baptism, however, he was used to it, and besides how could he argue when there was a high likelihood she was right anyway.
Sihtric added something to her comments to Osferth, but Tove didn’t hear it. Her ears had been pricked by the sound of a familiar gregarious laugh close by and she couldn’t help searching out its owner. It only took a matter of seconds to locate Finan leaning up against the bar and chatting with one of the barmaids. The girl was short with ashy blonde hair and Tove couldn’t help but notice was rather amply endowed. Her fingers tightened reflexively around her cup as she watched the two with a critical eye. It was impossible to not notice the overtly friendly treatment the barmaid was giving him.
As Tove mechanically lifted her cup to drink as a feeble distraction, she watched the girl place a hand on Finan’s forearm.
“Tove?” Osferth asked having jumped slightly when she slammed her cup down onto the table. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m great,” she grumbled unwillingly tearing her eyes away from Finan and the barmaid.
It only took Sihtric, who was ever the most discerning of their group, a cursory glance around the room to identify the most probable source of Tove’s sudden shift in mood, and upon seeing Finan, Sihtric could’ve hit him. Sihtric had assumed there was something between Finan and Tove for some time. At least since Rypere had tried making a move on her but possibly even before that. He hadn’t meant to get involved except the morning they’d left for battle he’d had to and the look on Tove’s face when she’d realized Finan hadn’t been alone. While it had been altogether very different than the one she was wearing just now, both confirmed his suspicions in their own way.
Sihtric glanced at Osferth meaningfully. “I’ll be right back.”
Only the former monk acknowledged him.
Once he was away from the table, Sihtric checked to ensure Tove wasn’t paying attention and then went directly for the bar. When Sihtric reached Finan he could see the Irishman’s eyes were bright from drink though he wasn’t anywhere near wasted. The barmaid smiled flirtatiously at him as well which Sihtric ignored.
Clapping a hand hard on Finan’s shoulder, he said. “Come and drink with us.”
Finan’s attention immediately abandoned the blonde leaving her looking extremely put out and annoyed, but Sihtric didn’t care.
“Alright then.” He agreed.
Thankful it hadn’t taken more persuading, Sihtric headed back to their table with Finan in tow. When he reached it and saw Tove had gone Sihtric with a held groan of frustration.
“Where’d she go?”
Osferth frowned. “Can’t be sure. I tried to get her to stay.”
“Tove?” Finan asked.
“Uh yeah, she just took off,” Osferth said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
“Damn.”
“Dolt,” Sihtric muttered just loud enough to be heard.
Finan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he focused his gaze on the half Dane. “Really?”
Looking at Finan defiantly, Sihtric said. “Yeah. I said it.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Finan snapped, fire igniting in his blood.
“Come on Finan,” Sihtric implored him exasperatedly. “We’ve been friends a number of years now. You’re insulting us.”
“What he means-“Osferth cut in. “Is we’re your friends so we can’t help but notice something’s been going on.”
He was not ready to talk about this with them. Still, he was struggling against his fears past, however irrelevant to the present situation they were. Finan huffed in annoyance but said nothing opting instead to set his cup on the table and head for the door with haste. Leaving Sihtric and Osferth in peace.
Out on the street, a feeling of Deja Vu struck him as he was again chasing after this woman. Fleetingly he found himself wondering how long he would be doing this, chasing her. Laoise had made him chase her too though that had been quite different. Thankfully the physical chase didn’t take long as Tove had not gotten far. Finan found her a few streets over walking at a measured pace in the direction of the wharf.
“Tove!”
She faltered for a moment but kept walking which not only confused but frustrated Finan. Grumbling slightly under his breath, Finan sped his pace from a fast walk to a quick jog. Thankfully she hadn’t changed pace though, and he caught up with her in rather short order. Reaching out, Finan grasped her shoulder turning her to face him.
“What?” Tove asked in a tone of quiet frustration -not meeting his eye.
The Irishman furrowed his brow. “What’re you doing?”
Her eyebrow crept up slowly at his question. She looked around pointedly as if that ought to be enough for him to discern her intent.
“I mean, why’d you leave?” Finan asked.
Tove hesitated. How could she answer it without lying? After all it wasn’t as if she was going to admit she couldn’t stand seeing him flirting around with the too friendly barmaid. In lieu of a real answer, all she could do was give a slight one shouldered shrug.
For almost a full minute, Finan just stared at her utterly flabbergasted. He just couldn’t believe how strange things had become between them in what felt like such a short period of time.
“What on God’s green earth does that mean?”
Tove crossed her arms. “I wanted to be alone.”
Finan frowned. “Ya want to be alone a lot these days.”
Whether or not Tove wanted to, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice it anymore. Sure, she hadn’t just withdrawn from him, but Finan did feel quite sure she was deliberately avoiding him to an extent. Because while Tove was obviously, and fairly so, still grieving it seemed like since their return from Fearnhamme she had scarcely been in the same room with him for more than five minutes. This lastest disappearing act being only the most recent and when they were together she hardly spoke to him.
The silence between the two was suffocating in a way; at least to Tove it simultaneously pressured her to come up with an answer the longer it went on but she was unwilling to admit the truth out loud and least of all to him.
“So, what if I do,” she managed finally in a slightly snappish tone.
Finan was almost flabbergasted at her response, but then he remembered who exactly he was talking to. This was in the same young woman who had retreated to the woods rather than discuss her troubles. Feeling a frustration bubble up inside him, Finan threw up his hands in a huff.
“Fine. Goodnight Tove. I hope that you find what you’re looking for over those waters.” Finan responded in much the same tone.
Tove stiffened and though she was tempted to watch him leaving she mastered the impulse and instead turned defiantly toward the river. Spitefully she wondered if he would go back to the alehouse and leave with the barmaid. That thought only made her more irritated though not only with him but with herself for being jealous about it in the first place because there were no excuses, she could fabricate for the burning annoyance she felt at just the thought of what she’d seen back at the alehouse.
Sighing heavily, Tove stalked to the end of the wharf and sat down along the side where no ships were moored. Taking out her seax she looked down at the finely forged blade, running a finger along its back as she wondered about the gods and whether they were amused with her. After the raids she had carried out alongside her brother in Ireland and her lack of interest in suitors she’d had over the years, it would be a damned Irishman who made her feel this way. Tove sheathed the blade and began to sing a Norse ballad softly to herself as she often did. She had a thought to go check in on Stiorra as she’d intended to earlier, but it was growing late, and Tove decided she would go in the morning instead.
Summer began to wane into autumn by the time they received news of the date set for the baptism of Haesten’s family which was promised to be an impressive celebration. In the meantime, he, his crews, and family had taken up residence in none other than Beamfleot of all places. Tove might have had an opinion on that were it not for her focus on keeping herself busy rather than worrying about the business of men like Haesten. She spent much of her time either with Stiorra and Osbert or else training with Osferth.
Ever since Gisela, Tove had grown to prefer Osferth as a training partner as opposed to any of the others for his temperament. Unlike the others, he did not pressure her to banter back and forth with him which Tove appreciated greatly. His steadfast presence was a balm to her bruised spirit. She even stuck next to him on the ship when they went to pick up the hostages from Haesten when she would have normally seated herself beside Sihtric at the oar. However, if either Sihtric or Osferth noticed they wisely said nothing, but what certainly couldn’t escape their notice was that Tove and Finan had not spoken since the night she’d left the alehouse in a rush. Neither of them was sure how or whether they ought to broach the topic with Finan or Tove, so it went unaddressed.
Alfred arrived ahead of Haesten’s of course just as the cold and wet weather was beginning to set in for good which made the mission Tove had been assigned an unpleasant one. Though with the mass influx of priests, monks, and the like it was preferable in some regard even if the wind had turned chill and it led her to sleep in a swamp. If she hadn’t known Uhtred better, she might have thought it a punishment to be sent on the scouting mission to keep an eye on Haesten, but she was an obvious choice. After having spent months living in Beamfleot before coming into Uhtred’s service she did have an advantage when it came to knowing the fort. So, she had been able to pick a location out of sight where they would have the best view to monitor the comings and goings leading up to the day of the celebration. Thankfully they were only to be there for half a fortnight.
So, Tove, two others, and Rypere sat at their camp early on the morning of the day the supposed baptisms were to take place. All four of them were awake as Tove had roused the other two as soon as she’d caught sight of movement coming from the fort. It appeared Haesten truly did intend to make an appearance -not that she had truly doubted it too much, he had much to gain from this.
They were only waiting for good visual confirmation before Alwin and Wilfred rode to inform Uhtred. One of the two had been the messenger back and forth all week, but she was sending both with this news so they wouldn’t have to miss any of the celebrations such as they were. She would’ve sent Rypere as well if he hadn’t argued against it and she didn’t care enough to fight against him.
As first light broke the horizon, they were able to see undeniable signs of an impending departure from the fort so with her assent they were off. Leaving her with Rypere to watch Haesten. They would be there half the day at least so as not to give themselves away. With the other two gone silence set in quickly. Not that any of them had spoken overmuch the past week anyway aside from some chat during mealtimes, but this was more awkward.
“I’m sorry.”
Rypere turned sharply from counting the helmets on the rampart to gaze at Tove.
“What?” He asked.
Sighing, Tove gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m sorry. For how I spoke to you.”
Momentarily, Rypere was too stunned to speak. It felt so long ago that he’d foolishly attempted to give her the runestone and she had rejected him. They had hardly spoken since until they’d both been put on this mission and even then, it wasn’t like they were discussing that.
“Water under the bridge.”
“Perhaps.” Said Tove. “But it was unnecessary of me.”
Rypere nodded his understanding. He wasn’t quite sure what else there was to be said. A curious part of him wondered still about her and Finan, but he hadn’t seen them together in months. So perhaps he had been wrong all along and ruined his chance for nothing by making the implication. It didn’t matter now, he supposed.
“Did it help you?” Tove asked.
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“The rune.” She chuckled, though it was a tad awkward. “Did it help you sleep?”
“Ohh!” Rypere had almost forgotten about the thing. He’d stuck it under his pillow and forgotten about it. “I forgot about it. So, I suppose so.”
Tove gave him a half-smile and nodded. She turned back to observing Haesten’s party on the hill then, but Rypere was still looking at her. With the fresh sunlight casting a glow about her skin, he saw again what had drawn him to her, she was lovely despite the few visible battle scars. None had marred her face which spoke further to her skill as a warrior as well. And he was reminded that whether or not she held a candle for Finan, she did not hold one for him and so it would be better to let his own burnout. Perhaps then once the feelings passed, they might be friends.
They spent the rest of the morning in semi-silence, only talking once in a while to comment on what they saw. Between the two of them, they made note of all Beamfleot’s current defenses, the manning they could see, and the number of ships moored in the river. While they were at peace with Haesten now, Uhtred did not expect that to last, and Tove thought that a wise bet on his part.
By the time Tove and Rypere made it back to the city the feast was about to start and apparently, Haesten had already left. All that watching and waiting just for a few hours’ visitation in the city, but neither of them could complain. She hated the man, so it was no great loss in her eyes.
With the Danes gone, there was little to worry about at the feast and they would all be able to enjoy it. Tove had been informed that Alfred’s feasts were poor affairs though at the very least the food would be hot which was a step up from what they ate in the field. However, even that did not end up being the case as not a moment after the king entered and everyone was seated did the bishop get to his feet and start praying. Erkenwald the long-winded, Tove had thought spitefully as the man went on and on talking his God’s ear off until she wondered why this God did not simply smite him just for a moment’s peace. But the nailed God must have enjoyed the bishop’s exaltations because that, unfortunately, did not happen, instead, he did eventually finish, take his seat, and they were all allowed to eat. Grumbling to herself, Tove looked across the table catching the eye of lord Uhtred who momentarily exchanged a look of deepest boredom with her before his attention was drawn away. Leaving her to almost make eye contact with Finan who was seated next to him, but Tove ardently ignored that he was there. Even though her subconscious could not help noting the way his sleeves in that particular tunic were tight enough that she could easily see the outline of his muscled biceps.
“Stupid,” she muttered to herself under her breath.
Not quietly enough though because Osferth who sat beside her subtly elbowed her in the side. From the reproached look that flickered over his face, it was clear he thought she was referring to the bishop not her own thoughts. Considering that was also true, Tove didn’t bother to correct him.
The hopes she’d had for the feast were soon dashed when the food was brought out moments later. Glancing around she saw very little mead or ale to accompany the food which cause her brow to furrow. But the real nail in the coffin of anything that might approach a good time though was when several monks traipsed out and began to sing. It took some effort on her part to keep her expression from twisting at the sound of their chanting.
“I forgot; you haven’t been to one of these before.” Sihtric chortled once the monks finally finished their song.
“I think next time I will not be in as much of a hurry to return from scouting,” Tove said mildly though it elicited a further chuckle from Sihtric all the same.
If it weren’t for all the churchmen around, Tove might’ve vocalized her complaints that the whole affair could hardly be called a feast at all. As it was though, she didn’t fancy being berated by a sniveling priest at the moment should one overhear so she kept the more scathing commentary to herself.
Perhaps that was why Haesten had declined to stay. For the first and certainly only time ever, Tove felt a modicum of envy for the turd. The feeling only intensified when their next so-called entertainment was introduced, some monk called Godwin would be singing. Tove was prepared to tune him out as best she could just as she had the chanting monks when sudden movements caught her eye. Turning sharply, Tove watched the squat, blind man jerking back and forth. Her lips pressed together in a firm line to disguise her horror as some of the Christians crossed themselves.
“He’s touched in the head,” Tove muttered.
Beside her, Osferth shook his head. And a few places down, Steapa spoke in awe. “The spirit talks through him.”
Tove almost snorted at that but managed to cover it with a little cough. Though that didn’t spare her from the stern look Alfred sent in the direction of their table. With that everyone fell silent just as the mad monk began to yelp in such a way that dogs outside responded to the racket. The inhuman sounds continued until they reached their apex at which point, she heard Finan whisper to Uhtred just before Godwin let out a wild scream that caused Tove to jump. Osferth put a hand on her arm to steady her in her shock, but his gaze remained fixedly on the spectacle.
“Praise God.” Said Alfred when the scream died.
The monk was mimicking the pose she so often saw their nailed God depicted in and for a second Tove thought it might be over. As he began to relax though, Godwin began to speak though it was in a strange voice and no language she has ever heard. Instinctively her hand rose to the hammer hung about her neck. It was haunting. Even as the words clearly became English, Tove found herself struggling to keep up with the gabled syllables.
All she could rightly discern were words like Alfred, Wessex, God, Babylon, and then strangely whore. Godwin changed the word several times as he turned about the room as if searching.
“The whore! The whore! The whore! She is among us!” Sobbed the monk as he went down to his knees suddenly.
He stayed there for a long moment during which nobody moved, and nobody spoke.
Then just as suddenly as it had all started, Godwin spoke the word again drawling it out into several long syllables as he turned to face Alfred. And somehow, strangely the despite the outburst, he looked rather normal.
“The whore is among us, lord.” As he spoke to the thing his voice too sounded entirely normal.
“The whore?” Alfred asked uncertainly.
“The whore!” Godwin screeched again before reverting to sanity. “The whore, lord, is the maggot in the fruit, the rat in the granary, the locust in the wheatfield, the disease in the child of God. It saddens God, lord.”
Tove frowned. “What’s Babylon?”
Osferth answered in an undertone. “A city that was once part of an ancient empire.”
“Before the Romans?” Tove questioned, interested.
He sighed. “Yes, but they were wicked. And so, God destroyed them.”
She scoffed but was cut off from asking any further questions by Godwin who had begun to chant disjointedly. Then dissolved into speaking so quickly again that Tove struggled with his words though she was sure the ramblings were still about the supposed whore. But when he shouted at the harpist to stop, the king kindly attempted to soothe the mad monk. It did little though and a mousy-faced bishop called Asser asserted that this whore could destroy them -Wessex presumably. And to that Godwin responded with another raving rant which Alfred eventually interrupted.
“What whore?”
Tove swore she was hearing things when the blind man hissed his response.
“Gisela.”
But then her mouth went dry, and she turned to Uhtred, deafened by the sound of her own blood in her ears. He was standing and vaguely Tove saw Finan beside him his mouth forming the word no, but it had no effect. Stunned, Tove followed the lord’s progress as he strode determinedly up to the monk, and just as he reached him the sound seemed to come back to her.
“You. Lie.” Uhtred annunciated each word dangerously.
“She was filth!” Cried Godwin and he began hitting Uhtred in the chest. “Your wife was the devil’s whore, hated by God, and you are his instrument, heathen! Devil, whore-husband, sinner!”
Tove was ok her feet instantly. Rage burning in her chest. She was going to kill the little turd. She’d flay him alive, crack his ribs, and rip out his lungs. Perhaps the blood eagle wouldn’t even be enough, she haphazardly thought, but her frenzied thoughts were interrupted by several pairs of hands grabbing her and holding her back. Furiously, she turned to see who was holding her and came face to face with Finan. He was giving her a stern look that stilled her attempt to shake off the hands. It was the closest they’d been to each other in weeks if not months and his face so close to hers seemed to steal her breath away. Slightly she deflated though her anger still boiled under the surface but seeing her contained at least Finan withdrew leaving Osferth still gripping her other shoulder.
“Whore-husband,” said Godwin.
The word brought Tove’s attention back to him just as Uhtred hit the monk for what she would realize later to be the second time. In the moment she didn’t even register the blood seeping from Godwin’s mouth as he fell limp into one of the braziers. His hair fizzled and burned, but Godwin didn’t scream because he was already dead. The strike had snapped his neck.
And then there was even more uproar than before. Alfred demanding Uhtred be arrested, Erkenwald that he be killed, and Alfred’s wife wailing. But no one moved to arrest Uhtred as Finan took the lead in hustling Uhtred from the hall and the rest of them followed.
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A/N: So sorry this update is late! I meant to post this past Friday, but it was a hectic week and when I went back over the chapter that morning I didn’t like it so about half of it had to be rewritten first. So, I hope you enjoy this update. Oh also, since this was so late I’ll be posting a scene that was originally in this chapter on Friday, but that was removed. It’s just a short little thing but I thought I’d post it since the next part won’t be ready by this Friday either. And a quick reminder please forgive any mistakes in punctuation or grammar this story is not beta read. As always any scenes or situations paraphrased or otherwise that resemble the books or show belong to the original IP creator. Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope everyone is well and safe.