"A Viking's Tale" (closed)

Eric of Elwick
5'10", 195, muscular, fit, and strong
Brunette hair, long and straight to midback
Hazel-brown eyes
A multitude of scars


Autumn 898 AD:

Eric stood atop a hillock looking down upon the village of SortVand. At least, that was what it had been called when his people, the Danes, had lived here long ago. The town was now populated by the English, numbering perhaps 120, and they called it Blackwater. The two names, essentially translations of one another, had resulted from the murky highland swamps that surrounded the town's farm and grazing land on three sides, waters that drained to the Char Beck, then Dalton Beck, and further, reaching the Greatham Creek, the River Tees, and finally the North Sea, east by southeast of Durham, the throne city of the Kingdom of Northumberland. (Map)

SortVand had come to be known as Blackwater three generations ago after peace was found between the Vikings who had been raiding the coast and inland villages for almost a century and then-King of Northumberland, William the Wise. William had tired of conflict, as had many of his Viking foes. He invited any and every Danish Earl willing to speak of peace to Durham, and after a week of discussion and subsequent celebration, Northumberland and The Danelaw were no longer at war.

The village would have been a problem, though, as it was situated north of the border upon which William and the Dane Earls agreed. The Danes weren't going to simply give it up with no where else to go, so William gave them a new place further south and west to live, highlands with great pasture lands and clean rivers.

A new town would be built there, the labor paid for by silver given from William's treasury, and that town would come to be known as Elwick ... Eric's birthplace and birthright.

William had only demanded two conditions of the Danes for peace.

The first had been that they found peace with one another as well as with Northumberland. The Vikings had for generations been killing almost as many fellow pagans as they had been Christians. William would normally have been fine with Danes killing Danes: after all, the only good Viking was a dead Viking, and if the forces of Northumberland were no longer going to be killing Danes, their own slaughter of one another was the next best thing.

But William was a pragmatist. The English Royals and Nobles tended to rise to greater power slowly over the decades, through political marriages and the birth of mutually claimed heirs; while the Danes tended to take the rushed approached, eliminating their royal or noble opposition by the use of the sword and forcing the conquered citizenry to become part of their own.

If William could prevent war amongst the Danes, he could possibly prevent or at least delay the consolidation of power in The Danelaw by one Viking Earl, a leader who would become King of The Danelaw and, undoubtedly, then turn his might against Northumberland.

The second condition William had placed on the Danes was that they find a peace with the English Kings of Mercia, Wessex, and their Dependencies. William had abandoned his fellow Christian Kings by finding his own peace with the Danes. The English Kingdoms to the south had felt slightly by this. Some who might have been willing to find peace with the Danes refused to do so simply on principal, simply to deny William that second part of his peace with the heathens.

But the roadblocks to peace with the west and south were far more numerous than just the lasting hatred between Christian and Pagan. Some of these western and southern English Kingdoms had been involved in conflicts against one another that were decades, even generations old; some predated the arrival of the first Vikings in the late 8th century. To find peace with the Danes meant finding peace with one another, and the latter in many cases was found to be more difficult than the former.

Because of this, the fighting between the Earls of The Danelaw and the Kings of English Mercia, Wessex, and the Dependencies of the latter persisted for another generation before a relative peace was found. And this peace could have persisted for generations, even centuries, if it hadn't been for the murderous betrayal of an Englishman.

William the Wise was on his deathbed and about to hand control off to his long ago orphaned grandson when William's brother -- Horace, the Lord of Bamburgh --murdered a dozen men and women from his sibling's bloodline in an attempt to seize the throne of Northumberland.

Civil war erupted. Half of the Kingdom's Lords threw their support behind the only living member of William's direct bloodline, his then-6 year old great-granddaughter, Victoria, who was hidden away and in the care of William's most trusted Lords and Swordsmen. The other half supported Lord Horace, though many did so not because they felt him the rightful ruler of Northumberland -- after all, he had killed the king and most of his family -- but instead because they felt that a grown man with military experience was more likely to protect the Kingdom from the Danes than was a little girl who still played with dolls.

Northumberland's civil war deepened when the Earls of The Danelaw joined the fight. Many had had political, economic, and military associations with the English Lords of Northumberland, and they began taking sides and -- of course -- collecting silver and conquered lands in exchange for their service.

This, of course, began to pit Viking against Viking as their alliances with the battling Northern English put them to battle with one another.

Then the English Kingdoms to the west and south got involved. Most had not achieved full peace with the Danes, and some had continued to war with them outright. The war in the north was seen as an opportunity to push the Danes east away from the borders with Mercia or Wessex; and some English Kings and Lords went farther, even invading The Danelaw with the intention of expanding their own Kingdoms closer to or even all the way to the North Sea.

And last but not least, the English Kingdoms of the south and east that had never fully arrived at peace between themselves raised sword and spear against one another as well.

Within a year of William's death, the whole of the border between The Danelaw and the English Kingdoms was being reddened with blood, as were borders between English Kingdoms that had for so long yearned to join together as one and finally push the Danes out of England. English and Danes fought one another; English and English did the same; as did Danes against Danes. Across the whole of England villages, towns, and cities were raided and burned.

Eric was but 16 when this mayhem erupted. Despite having been raised to be a proper Viking warrior -- meaning with a sword and shield in his hands -- he had never known outright war and had only used his blades to protect himself, his family, and his village from the most common of criminals.

For the next six years, though, Eric's home of Elwick -- a walled town of 500 located near the frontiers of Northumberland and Strathclyde -- was on constant guard from enemies coming at them from every direction. Eric joined a patrol for a time, then -- after proving his worth in battle -- became leader of one. By the age of 22, he'd killed more than two dozen men, either in raids upon enemy forces or in the defense of the town during raids upon it.

Eric's father, Ulfred, yearned for peace, amongst the warring Danes and, in the long run, with the English to the north and south of Elwick. He was making inroads with his neighboring Dane Earls, but their loyalties were split between Ulfred and the Sven, the Earl of Lindenshire. A brutal Dane envious of Ulfred's power and influence, Sven was also worried that Ulfred's relationship with the House of William the Wise positioned Ulfred as a potential King of The Danelaw should William's house once again take and hold control of Northumberland.

Fearful of fighting for years against Danes and English, only to then become a servant to a King Ulfred, Sven gathered his allies and sent a massive force down upon the sleeping town of Elwick under the dark of the New Moon. Caught off guard and overwhelmed by the betrayal, Elwick was easily overrun. The town's structures were set ablaze, the majority of its warriors killed, and most of its women and children enslaved.

Eric, then 23, was injured early in the fight and withdrawn by other survivors to the safety of the nearby woods. He would spend the next seven months recuperating from his injuries while those who now supported him gathered survivors and supporters, arms and wealth, with the goal of seeking their revenge against Sven and, ultimately, returning Eric to Elwick as its rightful Earl.

And now, finally, it was time to seek revenge for the betrayal of Elwick. Sven's home town of Lindenshire was too far away and too well defended for Eric's force to attack. And after his betrayal against the otherwise well respected Ulfred, Sven had created a significant number of enemies who -- while not as powerful as he -- would have liked to see him killed and his army vanquished. For this reason, Sven kept himself surrounded by a loyal dedicated bodyguard and kept his town of Lindenshire on guard at all times.

If Eric was to seek any level of revenge against Sven, it was going to have to begin with smaller targets. And one of those targets was in the valley below Eric: SortVand. The English lord who now called his town Blackwater had provided troops to Sven in the latter's attack on Elwick; and over the last several months he had continued to work closely with the Dane to eliminate forces who opposed them.

If Eric couldn't get to Sven directly by attacking Lindenshire, he'd get to him by undermining his base of support, whether it be Dane or English, Pagan or Christian.

"There!"

The man who had been standing a bit left and back of Eric stepped forward now and pointed an outstretched hand down toward the village. A woman hanging laundry on a line did so with a specific arrangement of colors and movements such as to send a message to the men watching from the hillock.

"The warriors have left," Garan interpreted the signal from the spy. She was Garan's woman but had lived in SortVand for almost three moons, gathering information on the traitors. Garan continued interpreting the signals from the woman he hoped to soon have wrapping her legs around his waist, "Forty men, left to the north. Twenty remain."

Garan stepped closer to Eric, his face filled with excitement. "My lord...?"

"Signal the attack," Eric said softly, his heart beginning to beat faster. He looked to his only true surviving childhood friend and smiled. "No mercy."

"No mercy," Garan repeated with a toothy smile before rushing off to spread the word.

Erik mounted his horse as, behind and to his right, a fiery arrow lifted high and fast into the sky. A moment later, nearly a mile away to the east, a second burning missile rose; a moment later, another from the west.

Eric raised his sword into the air over his head, rose as high as he could in his stirrups, and called out, "No mercy!"



The attack was brutal ... and short. With the majority of Blackwater's warriors absent, there simply hadn't been enough men of arms to protect the wall-less village, and within minutes Eric's men were off their horses and making their way between the not-yet-dead to make them so. The survivors -- almost exclusively women and children -- were gathered in the center of the village and forced to their knees in the dirt.

"I am Eric, Earl of Elwick!" he called out over the 40 or so survivors. He made clear to them the reason for their punishment with a recap of their Lord's troop support of Earl Sven of Lindenshire, then told them quite honestly, "You belong to me now, you are no longer free persons, and you will do as I command ... or die"

As if to ensure them that his threat was real, Eric nodded to Garan. The warrior put the end of his blade to the back of a village's protectors who'd been captured with only minor injuries. With a fierce shove, the blade fully penetrated the man's body and emerged from his chest in full view of the assembled hostages. The man fell to his knees and teetered ready to fall. But before he did, Garan jerked the sword loose, swung it back, and swung it forward again, lopping the man's head off. It rolled through the dirt toward the gathered women and children, who responded in screams and cries.

"Lash them!" he commanded the men surrounding the prisoners. To others, he ordered, "Send out scouts to watch for the village's warriors. They will return once they see the smoke rising from their homes."



In less than an hour, Eric and his men were leading their bound slaves away toward the coast as SortVand burned in fury behind them. Regardless of where the village's warriors were raiding, they would undoubtedly see the pillar of black smoke soon enough and would return in haste.

But they would find nothing waiting for them but death and destruction. And the fast moving trek of warriors and prisoners would pass through the wetlands, then across a shallow stream, and finally to awaiting boats that would take them to and down the coast to the small wooded island Eric now unfortunately called home. By the time SortVand's warriors reached the beach, there would be nothing but sand and the decapitated head on a stick there to reassure them that their women and children were gone.

As they made their way through the forest, Eric took notice of a particular female hostage. She was young, perhaps late teens or early twenties; and despite now being filthy with mud caused by a rain that had begun pelting the trail beneath them, he could see that she had a beauty to her.

"Who is she?" he asked down to one of the only male survivors, a man who had shown great concern over the others as the trek continued. The man identified the young woman as the daughter of the Lord of SortVand, now dead back at the village. "She has brothers...? Men who will attempt to avenge her capture and enslavement...? ...to avenge their father's death?"

"No, m'lord," the man said, explaining that she was the Lord's only still living child. He added, "She is now the Lady of Blackwater, m'lord."

Eric slowed his horse until he was riding beside the woman. He looked down upon her for a long moment, ensuring that she understood that she had his attention, whether desired or not. After a moment, he looked for Garan, and nodded him forward. After his Lord gestured his attention to the woman, Garan dismounted, cut the woman's binding free from the long rope connecting the others, and swept the woman easily up into his powerful arms. Eric shifted back a bit on his horse and Garan manhandled the woman upward to sit before Eric.

Eric wrapped one arm tightly around the woman's waist, his hand barely below the round of a young breast. She felt good against him, and Eric wondered how much better she was going to feel against him without all this studded leather armor between them.

"I am Eric," he said once he'd made it obvious that she had no choice but to get comfortable with her legs parted about his horse.

Mylecent Hamlin
Only daughter of the Lord of Sortvand
5’5 Auburn hair, green eyes. Petite build with proportionate body. 18 years old. Unblemished olive skin.

In her lifetime there had been peace with the Vikings. She was the only child of Lord of Sortvand. Her mother had passed when she was only 14. About the age her father would have begun looking for a husband for her. Instead he was begotten with grief and hoped to hold on to his only child that resembled his beloved departed wife Gisele.

Most of the girls she had grown up with in the village were already on their second child. In some ways she felt ridiculous for not being wed yet; in others she was glad to not have to be forced into a loveless marriage to produce offspring. It had often been remarked that she was one of the prettier girls. She was a devout follower of the Christian faith and could often be found in the church praying or reading scriptures. Her father believed that the knowledge of words and writing would set her apart from others, and perhaps provide an advantage.

However, unlike the girls her age she had a curiosity which often left her being scolded by the priest as well as her father. She was supposed to just accept what they said like a good girl. But she often wondered how it was possible then for the pagans to have been so successful in getting their foothold in their country. If God truly was all powerful, how could he have allowed all of the raids and carnage to go unanswered? On occasion she had seen a Dane, and found their manners appalling. Most seemed to be savage brutish creatures that cared nothing but for coin and drink and stayed devout to their gods.

News had traveled that the raids followed the death of King William. He was a beloved leader to all people. She found herself interested in the tales of the past, never thinking that they would be once more. That was of course until the first screams reached her ears. She had been handing out bread to the poor as one of her charitable duties when the chaos began. People were running and screaming for their lives as the hoof beats pounded through the village as arrows soared through the air striking people down into the muddy streets.

As she was the only child she was also taught how to defend herself with sword. As she ducked and swerved to avoid the heathen riders she managed to pick a sword off the ground. It’s weight almost toppled her as she tried to regain her footing. Her mind was jumbled as she tried to help hide the children, then it hit her… her father. Rushing through she tried to make her way back to her home, her refuge. She found herself being grabbed by a Viking and she swung her sword at him like a heathen. It managed only to give him a superficial wound upon his face and not deter him in the least. She kicked screamed and scratched at him like a wild animal, only to loose and be hoisted over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Another shouted something to him and he uttered something back unhappily. It resulted in her being placed in a horse pen with other women that gathered around her as if it was now their duty to protect her. Not willing to be taken alive she looked actively for a way to escape. It was then she saw her father being dragged through the mud tied to a horse. He was beaten and bloodied and not long for this world. She knew better then to scream out for him and give away who she was. Instead she went back to looking for an unguarded way out. It was too late. They were now being tied and bound together like slaves. Her heart sunk as she realized that was exactly what she was now. No longer was she the lady whose hand had been sought after by many suitors. Now she would be no more than a Vikings whore.

Words from a deep sultry voice came to her ears drawing her attention away from her thoughts. So that was the leader. Her chin rose up in defiance as her green eyes bore up at him throwing daggers of hatred and ill wishes (Though he didn’t seem to notice.) After his speech of I am your owner, they were on their way.
Her people struggled as they were dragged through the forest. Sometimes falling and getting yelled at. She was quick to try to help them up glaring at the screaming Vikings. Something new had taken over her. It wasn’t fear of what would come of her, for she had every intention on either escaping or dying in trying. Something in her refused to let her be a victim in this. This was her land now, and her people, and she wasn’t going to sit idly and whimper like was expected.

The leader’s horse was now walking beside her she refused to look up at him. Her chin up and eyes forward as she continued to walk forward. She heard him ask another about her, then the man he was speaking to dismounted and cut her free. For a brief moment she had hoped she was being let go. She was ready to run. But before she could move she was being hoisted upon the leaders horse and his broad arm had her pinned against him.

“I am Eric” he said to her. “As you know who I am it will get you a better ransom if I remain untouched.” She said with a snobbish tone in her voice. “There are a dozen or so men that wish for my hand and lands. Though I’d rather you just let me go so I can avoid that all together, I do realize that you will be in need of silver to fund your rebellion or whatever it is that has caused you to take innocent lives.”

“As you know who I am," the woman sitting just before his partially swollen cock began, "it will get you a better ransom if I remain untouched.”

Eric laughed. She was right, of course. A raped Noble woman has about the same ransom value as an often molested slave girl. But, to further concern her about the future of her purity, Eric splayed his fingers wider upon her torso such that the upper edge of his index finger pressed into the soft curve of a breast as the thumb pushed into her sternum, and he pulled her rib cage harder to force her back into his muscular torso.

“There are a dozen or so men that wish for my hand and lands," she continued, seemingly unfazed. "Though I’d rather you just let me go so I can avoid that all together, I do realize that you will be in need of silver to fund your rebellion or whatever it is that has caused you to take innocent lives.”

Eric laughed again, responding quickly, "Innocent lives?"

They happened to be riding parallel to a shallow ditch, and with a shove Eric sent the young beauty flying off his horse and into the water with a splash. He brought his horse to a stop, staring down at her as she struggled to get back to her feet. Garan was passing by, and he too laughed at the sight.

"Drowned rat," he said loud enough for her to hear as he continued to ride onward.

Eric waited until the woman had recovered a bit before explaining, "Your father sent his warriors against my people. They rode with Sven, Earl of Lindenshire ... Christians riding with Pagans ... riding down upon my village ... my home ... killing my people ... killing my father ... my brother..."

Nearby movement caught Eric's attention, and he looked down to find one of his walking men passing. He ordered the man to reattach the woman to the line of hostages, and as the man fished her out of the drink, Eric continued, "My sisters are missing. Olga. Elsa. Just 14 and 13. Innocent lives. Innocent!"

A squeal erupted from her lips as he flung her into the water. If daggers could have shot from her eyes Eric would have been full of them. Her nostrils flared in protest as her lips pursed tightly together. Fire raged with in her, and she would see him burn.

Mylecent narrowed her eyes at Garan as he amused himself with making light of her predicament. she grabbed a stone in each hand as she began to rise. Eric went on to tell how his sisters were taken captive and brothers killed. For a moment she felt a tug at her heart string. For anyone to have to endure such a thing was awful. The bible did say an eye for an eye. However, does one set of eyes equivalent that of a whole village?

When the man began to approach her to retie her to the line she had though of smashing his face with the rocks. Instead she held up her hands and dropped the rocks with a splash back into the water. She would have to ponder why she didn't take that moment to try to escape. Perhaps it was because of the people he would kill if she did try as an example, or perhaps it was because she understood his reasoning even if she didn't agree with it.

She didn't however offer any apology for what happened to his family. After all her father was just killed and she watched people murdered for no reason other then being a part of the village. For this moment he could have a reprieve. Sticking chin up as she gritted her teeth she walked back to the line to continue the walk to wherever they were headed.

Eric hadn't wanted to harm Mylecent of course. He'd acted out of rash anger, something his father had spent years trying to teach him to control. Ulfred had wanted his son to grow up using brain before brawn when possible. And he did often. He simply hadn't today.

He watched Mylecent closely as his man bound her to the line again, noting how her gown now clung to her womanly curves as she moved. He contemplated ordering her back to his saddle again, putting that firm, curved ass against his now hardening cock.

Once Mylecent was secured again, though, Eric found it difficult to watch her. Just as she'd felt the tug at her heart strings over the loss of his family, Eric found himself feeling regret over what had happened to hers. It was an irony of warfare for Eric: so long as he only thought of his vanquished enemies as a whole, he never regretted his actions against them; but if he later looked at the survivors at individuals...

Eric dug his heels into his horse's side to spur it away toward the front of the procession. He remained there for the next couple of hours, talking to Garan about the attack that had already occurred and the sale of the slaves that was still yet to come. They would keep some of the hostages at their village -- women for sex and labor, children for labor and training as future Viking converts -- but most would be sold to fill the war chest and fund Eric's future army.



They took only a few breaks during the day, stopping when they located fresh water supplies. The hostages who couldn't keep up -- the sick, the injured, the young, the old -- were loosed from the line and gathered in a second, trailing group. They were guarded by men who had instructions to kill them all should the warriors from SortVand catch up. Eric hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but he wasn't going to let a dozen stragglers cost him two dozen worthy slaves.

Just before sundown, they arrived at the remained of a mostly burned out fishing village on a wide portion of a river. The hostages were herded into a building that had a full set of walls, guards were set, sentries took to the surrounding forest, and a fire was built. The Vikings were careful about taking a few people at a time down to the water to wash up or relieve themselves.

Eric intentionally had Mylecent held until last, then escorted her down to the water on his own.

"You may bathe if you wish," he told her, stopping short of the water. "It's warm for the season. And I won't watch."

He didn't mean it, of course. Eric had no intention of taking his eyes off Mylecent. His lips spread in a wide smile as he added, "You have my word."

There was a bit of relief when Eric went to the front of the line and left her with the rest of the captives. The journey was long and arduous. On the few breaks they had she lent her time to helping ensure everyone was resting and getting hydrated. By the time they made it to the fishing village she was mentally and physically drained. She was going to need to rest and recoup if she was going to escape.

At first she was worried when they took the first group, afraid they wouldn't be coming back. But as they returned and they continued to take them she found herself left. That was until Eric came for her. They walked silently down to the waters edge. 'You may bathe if you wish' he had said to her, followed by that he wouldn't watch.

The need to feel the warm water against her skin, to wash the mud of her skin, and to feel the relief of being clean. It was to overwhelming to pass up. Even though she doubted that he would keep his word. At least he had brought her here on his own and not left the paws of his underlings. Lowering herself to the ground she sat and undid her shoes.

Placing them to the side carefully aligned she then proceeded to roll down her stockings and placed them in her shoes. Standing up her toes scrunched in the mud as her fingers undid the laces on the front of her dress. Until it was loose enough to pull up over her head leaving her in just her tunic. Folding it up she placed it to the side carefully.

Swallowing her pride and modesty she slowly brought it up and over her head with her back facing him. Holding her breast she laid it down over the rest of her clothes. Quickly she waded into the water until she reached a spot to where she could go under. Crossing her legs she sank to the bottom contemplating not coming up again. Though if she tried he would probably come in after her. Growling in her mind she came up quickly out of the water keeping her back to him.

She rinsed her hair and washed it the best she could, then let her hands roam over body in attempt wipe all of the mud that covered her flesh. There was quite a bit thanks to Eric's earlier ditch tossing of her. It made her smile slightly that she was able to get under his skin so easily. Figuring he would be getting restless she went under and began swimming back.

"Would you please turn around until I can at least get my tunic on?" she asked still hiding her front beneath the water. "Thank you, by the way for allowing me to bathe alone."

Eric watched Mylecent as she began undressing, unsure of how many layers she would shed. He was pleasantly surprised to see her shed her dress, still facing her directly with a slight smirk as she stood there in her undergarment and dealt with her dress. But when she reached for the hem of that tunic and suddenly pulled it up over her head, revealing her otherwise naked body, Eric suddenly half turned from Mylecent and shifted his gaze to the distant tall reeds.

He wasn't the shy type, never had been and never would be, yet he suddenly found it uncomfortable to looking upon the nude form of the woman who was, legally, a Noble woman. When he was certain that her back was to him, Eric chanced a glance, then a lasting stare as she made her way into the almost still water. She was an incredible example of female beauty, with seemingly flawless skin and all the right curves in all the right places.

When she ducked entirely down under the water, Eric prepared to turn his head quickly for her breaking the surface again, recalling his promise not to watch. But her ascent from below the surface didn't come as quickly as he'd expected, and Eric found himself beginning to hurry toward the river with the fear that he himself was going to have to strip down and swim after her.


Then suddenly she burst upwards, and Eric came to a rapid sliding stop on the muddy shore. He half turned again, keeping Mylecent only in his peripheral as she began rinsing her hair and body in the relatively warm water. Eric was tempted to glance her way often, wanting so badly to see more of her. He'd gotten a clear, healthy look at her backside, a sight that had him contemplating taking one of the other, lesser hostages off into the woods later for some now badly needed release. Despite that incredible view, though, Eric was very eager to get an ogle of the accompanying front side of the Lady.

"Would you please turn around until I can at least get my tunic on?" she asked, ripping Eric from his lust filled thoughts.

He peeked out of the corner of his eye, saw beyond doubt that she was hidden well below the water surface, then looked at her directly though timidly. He was embarrassed, and he felt stupid for it: he was an Earl and a Viking, and she was his hostage, so he should be able to look upon her all he wanted.

"Wait, please," Eric told Mylecent, gesturing her to remain in the water. He turned and called toward the others some forty or fifty yards away. After a moment, Garan appeared with one of Mylecent's female villagers in tow.

"Thank you, by the way for allowing me to bathe alone."

"Of course, m'lady," Eric said without even contemplating whether it sounded too accommodating or simply polite. When Garan and the woman neared, Eric glanced again to ensure Mylecent was still hidden, then faced her and said, "Clean clothes-- cleaner clothes have been found for you. Your lady will help you dress."

Eric turned to find Garan eye balling Mylecent with a great smile. He punched the bigger Viking in the chest, garnering a growl and a laugh, then pushed him back toward the camp as he himself followed. He called over his shoulder without looking back, "We will leave you alone to dress ... but ... let me warn you that the consequences your people will face if you attempt to flee will be severe."

He and Garan returned to the camp, not looking back. Eric's friend questioned the sanity of leaving her alone, pointing out that she might be just fine with the others being slaughtered, so long as she herself escaped.

"I don't think she is that way," Eric reassured him, remembering how she had tended to the others during the breaks on the trail. He guided his friend back toward the fire, where a deer that had been killed alone the way was now roasting close to the small flames. "Let's eat."

Eric sat on an ancient, rotting log with a view of the trail leading to the bathing spot. He couldn't see Mylecent from here, but he hoped that at any moment she would once again appear. If not ... well ... that was going to make things far more interesting.

Mylecent was a little taken back by his request to 'wait'. Then listened as he called for what she assumed at this time was his second in command. With this she backed up a little submerging herself fully in water as his friend and one of the females from her village. He told her there were cleaner clothes for her and gave her a warning before departing. She waited until his friend finally turned away before slowly coming out of the water to the lady that was waiting for her.

The girl helped her get dressed rather slowly. "Lady what will become of us?"she questioned on the brink of tears. "Nothing we will escape. But it will take all of us to do so. I don't want to leave any of you behind. For those that don't think they can make it they will have to stay. When it comes time we will move and move quickly. They will drink, and they will sleep. That is when we shall leave. The structure they have us in isn't impenetrable. we will look for a weakness on the back wall and we will find a way through, or under it. Tell the others in hush tone when you get back. Now go."

The girl made her way back to the building and was frisked before she entered. Mylecent made her way up to the camp and found Eric at the fire. He invited her to sit and eat with them. "I cannot eat and let my people starve. If you're to get any money from us you should feed them. As he mauled over the idea she took the opportunity to scan the area. There were vikings everywhere, patrolling. It was safe to say they'd probably be in the forest as well. They would have to be careful.

Garan, as she heard him called chopped off a leg of the deer and took her to the building. Reluctantly he handed her his knife advising that he required it back. She nodded as the girls finished carrying the leg in setting it upon a wooden stool to begin carving it up. "The nights are cold, we will need blankets or fire to keep warm" she advised him handing him back his knife. She was hoping that he would have both provided. Instead he scoffed at her and walked away having them locked in behind them.

Immediately she had someone posted next to the door to listen incase someone approached. Not finding a weakness as she had thought would be there. Two at a time began to dig a hole. They had it arranged that if someone were to come in the girls would be huddled over and around the hole, and a few at the front. In the mean time Mylecent began to dig a pit in the middle of the structure for a fire.

Garan reported Mylecent's request for a fire, but -- recalling that he'd been treating her more like the Noble she was than the hostage his men saw her as -- almost an hour passed before Eric stood and order a pair of men to fill their arms with wood. They grumbled, wondering why they had to work to keep the women warm when the women weren't going to be keeping them warm. Eric had told his men that until he was sure the troops from Blackwater were not going to catch up with the fleeing Danes, those Danes would not be partaking of the pleasures of the female hostages.

"A dead slave is a worthless slave," Eric warned them about letting the English freeze to death. He picked a burning limb from the fire and carried it off toward the hut. Arriving, he told the man guarding the hut, "Open it."

Inside, Eric immediately saw the pit already being dug for a fire. Mylecent had predicted he would offer this, which made Eric smile. The men dropped the wood haphazardly into and around the hole before leaving. Eric looked around the small hut at the hostages. They were packed in too tightly for many to lay down, with many of the older women holding tight to the younger ones, whether they were their own children or others.

"We will bring you more wood," Eric told Mylecent as he watched a trio of women build a proper fire. He offered the burning limb, and a moment later the fire took hold. "There are no blankets, m'lady."

Actually, there were, but Eric's men had collected them all and weren't about to give them up without compensation. He smiled one last time to Mylecent and was about to depart, when he noticed that some women and a man in one corner of the hut seemed more nervous than the others. There was something about the way they were sitting that didn't match with the others.

Then it occurred to him what was going on. But he did nothing to stop it. He only smiled to Mylecent, turned, and left. Outside, he found Garan and informed him of the escape attempt he suspected was underway.

"What do you want me to--"

"Nothing," Eric cut him off. "Let them dig. It will keep them hopeful. And occupied. But..."

They returned to the fire, where Eric gave instructions. Several men went out to replace the sentries already on duty, but through the night each of the clan's members -- Eric and Garan included -- had an opportunity to lay down for a couple of hours of sleep.

Meanwhile, inconspicuously and quietly, a pair of men slipped around to the backside of the hostage hut, taking up positions a few yards from where the hole would most likely come up. That pair would be replaced by another a few hours later, and that by another if need be. Eric had no idea how long it would take the English to finish their escape attempt.

The girl at the door listening made the signal that someone was coming. They scattered into the huddles like scared mice. Mylecent stood in the center in front of the pit she had dug. She hadn't anticipated that he would actually comply with her request. But she had done it more as an inspiration that warmth would soon be here.

The torch lit his face well as the others that brought wood were less lit. She followed the light as he looked around trying to see it as he did. A smile appeared upon his face. "We appreciate the wood, and are grateful sir. We shall make do." She responded softly to his comment of lack of blankets.

A sigh of relief came from the lips of the villagers as the fire was lit and the vikings had locked them back in their cage of wood and stone. "Stop digging" Mylecent said softly and huddled them all together.

"This viking is not as stupid as I had hoped. But do not fear hope is not lost yet. I have another idea that may sway him. It may however require a few untouched to be willing to marry a viking. "Listen to me" she said in a commanding tone.

"Vikings seek land to call their own, they also seek sons. I have land, and you have wombs. I too will also be offering myself to their leader. Would you rather have a future as a slave and whore or one as a wife protected by the fiercest warriors?"

Matilda a peasant girl came forward. "I will". Soon five more came forward. "Thank you, i know that you all are terrified, but we have to make the best of the situation we can. A certain future, even if it's not one we would have thought of yesterday, is better then a future of uncertainty. In the meantime I will go speak to their Leader. Please finishing eating sit by the fire and pray."

Knocking on the door she stated that she requests an audience with Eric. She had anticipated more resistance, but instead they opened the doors and she walked toward where Eric sat. "If I may have a word sir in private." Garan mumbled and go up walking off on his signal.

"First I would like to offer my heart felt apology for the wrong my father has done to you. As i do not know his reasoning, I cannot defend, nor do I think there is one for ruining the peace that our home had finally grown to know."
she sighed lightly and looked at him in the eyes.

"I will not presume to know your plans for us. Though it seems you wish to keep us alive for sale as slaves i am assuming. But what if I could offer an alternative? Like you my first concern is my people. I own thousand of acres of land that would accommodate your people and even more to come. As your wife, you would own them by English law. I also have six untouched villagers that would of their free will marry your warriors to provide them with sons. Any children we had would be nobles by birthright, and their land would be safe. My only request if you accept this, is that the remaining villagers are allowed to return home to rebuild. They will also be able to spread the word their lady has married."

Eric wasn't at all surprised that Mylecent came to talk to him. He knew she was concerned about her future and the future of her surviving people. Yet when she presented her very bold offer, his eyes widened a bit with surprise. Was this English noble woman really offering up her land, title, and body to him in the hopes of protected a few peasants?

"This is a ploy to escape with your life and purity intact," he said after considering her words for a moment. Displaying an obvious intelligence and knowledge that most would not have expected from a Pagan heathen, Eric presumed, "You are under duress ... held against your will ... and no vow you make ... particularly of marriage to a Pagan ... no such vow would be seen as legal in your courts or in your Church. It is an attempt to fool me ... to delay the sale of your people ... the use of your untouched ... until you can either escape ... or be rescued."

Eric allowed Mylecent to respond to his accusation, and when she'd finished he found himself actually believing that she was being sincere about this offer. He believed her, yet still didn't believe it. He'd been raised believing that a Christian woman would rather cut out her own heart than willingly let a Pagan put his cock inside her. And marry...? Ensuring that he would do so over and over again under she was carrying his heathen child?

He stared into the fire for a long moment, then asked with a smirk, "Does this mean I can pull my men from their guard duty over your tunneling attempt, so that they, too, can sit by the fire and be warm?"

He listened to her response, smiling. Regardless of whether she admitted to the presumed digging or not, and regardless of whether or not she said it would end or not, his men would continue to sit quietly in the dark and wait. It was probably wasted time, energy, and shivers on their part, but Eric wasn't entirely convinced of Mylecent's vow.

"I accept your offer, m'lady," he finally said, looking to the Noble woman with a polite smile. "I have additional conditions ... though, they can wait until tomorrow."

He stood and slung the thick fur blanket from over his shoulders. Rolling it over just enough to allow for easier carrying, he offered it to Mylecent, then walked over to a pile of blankets that belonged to men on sentry watch and selected six more. He gestured her to return to the hut, and as they went he ordered Garan to fill his hands with more wood for the hostages' fire.

"We will continue onward," he told her, keeping to himself that their direction took them toward the monthly slave market, "and I will find better accommodations for your people ... and for you, m'lady ... a place where we can talk more on your offer."

Garan passed between them, again with a hard expression on his face. Of all Eric's men, Garan tended to have the most needy cock of all, and providing comfort to these female hostages without any in return was pushing him toward the edge. When Garan emerged again from the hut, Eric stopped him and spoke quietly.

"No! the old friend said firmly. But after Eric gave him a hard look, Garan rolled his head in dismay, shot Mylecent a look, and stomped away, grumbling about his cock, "It's hard, it's heavy, it's lonely, and now it's to be sober."

"Please make your people as comfortable as your can," Eric told Mylecent as he escorted her and the blankets inside. He looked about at the faces, and he could see from their expressions that the Noble woman had obviously discussed her offer with at least some of them. There seemed to be more hope in the eyes of some, as well as more hatred or at least fear in others. Although he wasn't entirely certain that this was the new plan, he promised them, "You will not be sold at market. Please, do not fear that fate."

He didn't know what else to say, less he begin making more detailed promises from which he might find himself retreating. Garan surged through the open hut door to thrust out four skins of ale before ogling a particularly well rounded hostage, grumbling, and withdrawing again.

"These will help with the chill and hunger, m'lady," Eric said of the alcohol. He was surprised when a nearby hostage grasped two of the skins and, after handing one off, began sucking on the second. The other two he offered out to whoever would take them, admitting softly to Mylecent, "I wish I could do more to make you and your people more comfortable."

Trying to be inconspicuous, Eric glanced off to where he thought the tunnel might have been under construction. There was only a bit of a whole there, which was quickly blocked by a villager who casually slid over to block his view. Eric smiled, then chuckled.

"If there is nothing more, m'lady," he said politely, nodding slightly to show the others that he honored her title.

Eric wasn't sure how much they knew about her offer, but if they thought he respected her position -- which he had and was now more -- then perhaps they would be less likely to act on their own and possibly bring harm to others ... or, if this offer was real, screw it up for him. In just the few minutes since Mylecent had spoken those words, Eric's brain had exploded with the possibilities of such a union. It wasn't anything he could have imagined himself. But if Mylecent was being honest and not simply trying to fool him, it was a victory like none he could have accomplished with sword and ax.

If she had nothing more to add, he would bid her a good night and promise her people safety and security through the evening before returning to the fire to contemplate his suddenly, potentially altered future.

"This is a ploy to escape with your life and purity intact," he said after considering her words for a moment. Displaying an obvious intelligence and knowledge that most would not have expected from a Pagan heathen, Eric presumed, "You are under duress ... held against your will ... and no vow you make ... particularly of marriage to a Pagan ... no such vow would be seen as legal in your courts or in your Church. It is an attempt to fool me ... to delay the sale of your people ... the use of your untouched ... until you can either escape ... or be rescued."

Slightly offended that he thought her a liar, and then amused that he he thought her that clever she responded.

"No Mi'Lord, it is not. We will go to a priest of a neighboring village who will see no hesitation or fear upon me. He will be witness that I and the girls are entering this of our own volition. Furthermore, our people will advise that you acted with kindness and that of a host rather then a capture. Under English law, it is acceptable to call out one that has done you wrong and take retribution. As you have with the village and we'll say for arguments sake, taken no more and no less lives then was taken by the act of my father. To make up for the loss' and wrongs that have been done to you, I offer myself to join in union with you so we may have a union of our people and peace."

She merely said "indeed" to his comment about the tunneling. Pleased with herself that she had read him well and didn't underestimate him. But she had made an offer and would not go back upon it.

"I have some additional concerns as well, but yes they can wait till morning to be discussed.

"Thank you" she responded with a heartfelt emotion as he handed her the blanket. It was more then a mere thank you for the blanket. It was a true feeling of gratefulness for accepting her offer, and being willing to listen to it. At this point she was close to breaking down. The day had taken it's toll upon her, being mentally and physically drained she was ready for sleep.

"I wish I could do more to make you and your people more comfortable."
"Mi'Lord we are most appreciative of all you have offered, considered and done"
Mylecent gave a look to the hostages and they all responded "Thank You Mi'Lord".

Taking his arm she walked with him a few steps to the door. "Good Night Mi'Lord, we look forward to our new tomorrow."

With him gone and the door shut they placed wood upon the fire and passed around what was left of the ale. "Tomorrow will be a new day" she said to the group. "He has accepted the offer in which I made, as well as you heard him say you were safe from being sold. There are still details that need to be worked out between us. I am not sure as to whether he'll let you choose your husbands, or if he has specific in mind. If you can not find it in your heart to forgive as our god demands, then step to the side and offer yourself for sale as a slave. Because that is your fate. I will not accept any betrayal or hatred into our new day. We can either move forward and forge a new tomorrow, or we can die. But ones actions could lead to consequences for us all. I will not attempt to stand in his way of deliverance if any of you choose to betray the pact I have made with him. Accept this, or move to the side. You have until morning to consider what i have said and make your choice."

She was very firm and committed in her speech to her people. It was clear enough that if there was anyone at the door they could have heard it.

Sleep came quickly to the worn out bunch. Her dreams were a complex mixture of war, and then the soothing feeling she felt at seeing her viking smile. The feeling of his arm beneath her fingers. The firmness of it. The way he smirked at his own cleverness. He was a heathen in his own right, but he was not the typical viking she had heard of. At any point he could have made an example of her, laughed at her or even had his way with her. All of which under their law was acceptable.

The morning came and the light shown through the cracks. The fire had burned down to glowing embers and still gave the refreshing crackle sounds. People began to stir, and she called for their answers. To the left of the holding all those that wish to be for sale, and to the right those that were willing to move forward and have hope of a new day.

To her surprise three women stayed to the left and the rest to the right pleading for them. Mylecent held up her hand to silence them. "As you have made your choice I will have no interference to your fate. We are sorry to see you go, but accept your choice. Opening the door she requested to speak with Eric, and asked that he bring rope. When he arrived she advised of the three that could not accept their marriage and chose to be sold as slaves. She then asked that he take them elsewhere as their negativity could be contagious and she wouldn't have it among her people.

With his invitation to join for the rest and given instructions that they may eat at the larger fire with the vikings, and that groups would need to go for safety to the reeds. She ushered her people forward into the light of the new day. For the most part everyone was on the best of behavior. Eric kept his men more civil and she kept hers less timid. It was an interesting sight to behold as some of the vikings had some girls smiling and laughing, and vice versa. She wasn't sure how it would work English and Dane combined. But it was looking favorable. It even looked as if some couples were forming.

For the most part Mylecent remained quiet during their gathering as she sat next to Eric who seemed to keep a watchful eye as well. When the time came to pack up and go, everyone worked together. Tying up the blankets and helping each other. With the exception of the three that were tied and treated as they wished.

On the road she road with Eric, as some of the other women did with the vikings they formed attachments with. Others walked with theirs.There was laughing and chatting a great deal of the time. She laid her head back and looked up at the trees as they passed under them. It was a serene occurrence that gave her the opportunity to relax and clear her head. "It looks as though we have a few more matches then i anticipated she said softly feeling his strong arm holding her against him.

Eric hadn't known what to expect the next morning when the hostages emerged from the hut. He knew there would some who would have no issue with following their Lady; and some who would follow her with reluctance; but would any deny her what she wanted, knowing that their fate would be slavery or sexual servitude or a combination of the two?

It would turn out that three women simply couldn't bear a future with the Vikings, and as Mylecent requested, Eric had them taken away to one of the other huts and put under guard. They were given water and food and offered ale, though none wished it. Eric feared that some of his more horny men might try to savage them, so he put a reluctant Garan in charge of them.

Sentries from the direction of Blackwater returned to report that they had seen no sign of the still living warriors from that town. That disturbed Eric a bit: the warriors who had once served Mylecent's father knew this area better than Eric's Vikings, and despite doing an excellent job of covering their retreat, Eric's men couldn't have fully hidden their trek from the English. He ordered a pair of his men to ride all the way back toward Blackwater until they saw or heard enough to know what was happening there.

What Eric couldn't have known and wouldn't for almost half a moon was that Blackwater was already being claimed by a usurper, Lucas, the illegitimate yet still recognized nephew of Mylecent's father. Lucas had been leading the Blackwater force on a two day trek toward a Viking village he wished to sack when Eric's forces attacked. As Eric had presumed, they'd turned immediately when they spotted the black smoke rising into the sky from the direction of Blackwater.

Lucas's cousin Mylecent was not found amongst the dead, and his proper response should have been to send his forces out to track down the Viking heathen and recover the new Lady of Blackwater, either dead of alive. Instead, after identifying his uncle's body, Lucas chose one of the female corpses, mangled its face to hide its identity, and -- with forced tears streaming down his face -- claimed it to be his cousin.

With the Earl and his heir dead, Lucas was next in line to rule Blackwater. And even before the sun had fallen, he had already sent a rider to the nearest Church to announce the deaths and ask for the Priest's recognition of him; while three additional riders -- that number to ensure the claim got through dangerous lands -- headed north for Durham to ask for the same recognition from King Horace, the Lord of Bamburgh, usurper of the Northumberland crown, and ally of Sven, Earl of Lindenshire, whose attack on Elwick had begun this turmoil.

(OOC: Just for the hell of it, you should know that I place Blackwater where the "A" in the word Northumberland is; Elwick due west of that near the border with the Strathclyde, and Eric and Mylecent's current position near the "D" in Northumberland. Jesus, I can be OCD sometimes!)

Once everyone was fed and the minimal gear was packed, the Viking warriors and their former English hostages and in some cases future wives headed out. They didn't head east toward the coast and slave market, however, instead heading west toward a pass that would eventually lead them north toward the remains of Elwick.

"I wish you to know that your women will be released," Eric told Mylecent quietly, nodding toward the three bound women who were, in fact, being led toward the coast by Garan. "I will not sell them. My man will set them free half a day's walk from here, when there is no fear of them following us."

What Eric didn't tell Mylecent was that he had given Garan permission to relieve his tensions deep in the warmth and wetness of as many of the women as he wished. Knowing Garan as Eric did, that meant that all three would be walking with difficulty for the first day of their trek back to civilization.

The trek west went well, far better than Eric could have imagined. Mylecent's control over her people -- or possibly their respect for her -- was far greater than he had imagined. This raid had been meant to be punishment upon a people he despised, not as Christians or English but as allies of Sven of Lindenshire. The result of the raid, though, was turning out to be far different than he could have expected.

"It looks as though we have a few more matches then I anticipated." Mylecent said from her seat on Eric's horse, just an inch before his up again, down again cock.

"But will they hold?" he asked, keeping his volume low so that the others before them couldn't hear. "Or are they acting ... for your benefit ... for mine ... for that of my warriors."

It was obvious that Eric still carried concern that this concept of union between the two peoples was going to easily. He wished it to be true: he hoped that Mylecent was being honest and that she and her people could be trusted. His mind had been working fast on the possible outcomes of a union with an English Noble woman who was also heir to land within the borders of Northumberland.

Blackwater and Elwick sat almost exactly due west and east of one another on opposite sides of the border between Northumberland and The Danelaw. With no other powerful Earldom situated between the two, having control over both recognized by both Dane and English, as well as by the crown of Northumberland and the Earls of The Danelaw, meant that Eric and his descendants -- presumably popped from the womb of Lady Mylecent -- would be well positioned both geographically and politically to be a major player in the politics of England.

Eric could never have imagined this yesterday morning when he set his swords upon Mylecent's people.

They traveled for the entire day, taking frequent breaks when ever fresh water was available or one of the hostages obviously needed rest. As the trek continued, more of the women ended up astride the Viking's horses. Near one village, Eric purchased a cart and ox with some of the silver taken from Mylecent's people, allowing some of the exhausted children to ride in it.

When nightfall neared, Eric turned them a bit east to a friendly Viking village. Mylecent was told that her people could feel free to wander as they wish, so long as she stayed close to him. He wondered whether or not she noticed two separate pairings of his men and her women slipping off to isolated locations to test their compatibility.

"My father was a friend of the court of William of Northumberland," Eric told Mylecent when they themselves found comfort in a small hut the village's Elderman offered. "That condition I requested of you ... I wish you to write a letter to Lady Victoria, great-granddaughter of William. She is still but a girl ... 15 or 16, I am unsure ... but she is the legitimate heir to the Kingdom of Northumberland. Our union will mean nothing to those who would try to take SortVand ... your Blackwater ... from you ... or prevent me from regaining my lands as Earl of Elwick. With Lady Victoria's blessing, we -- you and I -- will be considered legitimately bound to one another ... and our lands and people will be one and recognized by Northumberland and, in effect, by the English Kings of the south."

"I wish you to know that your women will be released," Eric told Mylecent quietly, nodding toward the three bound women who were, in fact, being led toward the coast by Garan. "I will not sell them. My man will set them free half a day's walk from here, when there is no fear of them following us."

"No" she responded rather quickly. "What i mean to say, is that although i appreciate your thoughtfulness and gesture of goodwill, their release will put what we're trying to accomplish at great risk." She held his arm lightly and continued.

"I am sure you are aware there is no love lost, not to mention a burning hatred within some Christians for your people. Some would prefer death over talking to, mating with, or even seeing others do the same. If they are freed they will tell the tale of our capture, they will tell the tale of how our union came to be in their words of hate and spite, instead of those of peace and unity. They will bare witness against us and give cause to any that wish it to find a reason to invalidate our union. I would rather see them put to death, then to ruin what we are trying to accomplish."

Taking a moment to consider her words she added "In our faith, it is a sin to lie, it is a sin to make false promises. I am not a sinner mi'lord. Yee have every right to doubt my and my peoples intentions. But despite the actions of my father, I am not him. I am an educated woman sound in her own mind and the ability to make my own decision. If I had wished malice, yee would have seen it by now." she gave a slight smirk.

Later he had made a comment about them acting on her behalf. "I know that you do not know me, but like you Mi'lord, my word is my bond. I could hardly be called a noble without it"

Once they reached the viking friendly town. They were allowed to roam with supervision as long as she was with them. She made her way to the church where she sought out the priest.

"Father Graham is that you?" she questioned with a grin happy to see a man from her youth."

"Lady Sortvand?, tis a pleasure, look at you you're all grown up, how is your father?" She lowered her head at the question.

"I am afraid father that he has passed do to some wrong doings. As the heir I have joined in union with the man it was against. He is an Earl, and a perfect match for a lady of my standing. Would you do the honor of providing the union tomorrow?" she questioned with a smile.

"It would be my honor, is he a good christian?" the father asked.

"He is a good honest man who has showed me the utmost respect and courtesy. He is of his own faith. Actually quite a few of my villagers have joined in similar matches and wish to be united as well of their own free will of course. Could you be persuaded to perform the ceremony so we may continue our travels with God on our side?" Adding quickly "Of course my betrothed would be more then happy to make a generous contribution to the church for the honor of being wed properly and keeping our souls in tact."

Money and the church always seemed to go hand in hand. The father, though a good man was still moved by it as any other.
"Of course would be my honor lady."

"Wonderful, we are so happy to have you be part of our special day. We shall see you in the morning then." The women and her knelt and had their moments of silence and said their prayers before leaving and finding their hosts.

When she found Eric, who was near by, he took her to her own lodgings. They sat down at the table sharing a meal and began to discuss the arrangement.

"My father was a friend of the court of William of Northumberland,That condition I requested of you ... I wish you to write a letter to Lady Victoria, great-granddaughter of William. She is still but a girl ... 15 or 16, I am unsure ... but she is the legitimate heir to the Kingdom of Northumberland. Our union will mean nothing to those who would try to take SortVand ... your Blackwater ... from you ... or prevent me from regaining my lands as Earl of Elwick. With Lady Victoria's blessing, we -- you and I -- will be considered legitimately bound to one another ... and our lands and people will be one and recognized by Northumberland and, in effect, by the English Kings of the south."

"That is an excellent idea mi'lord. It will be my pleasure. I do have a request if I may, I ask that you allow us to practice our religion freely. In return we will not ask you to change yours. Unless of course you wish to convert of your own volition. Also I would like to learn more of yours and if you wish i will be happy to share mine as well. Furthermore, I have arranged for us to all be wed tomorrow morning. I did however advise for his accommodation for the mass ceremony, that you would be making a contribution to the church. The good news is the priest has known me since birth, and will also i'm sure include a letter to Victoria confirming our happy union."

Eric was pleased to hear Mylecent agree to his request for a letter to Lady Victoria. Mylecent’s father, an English Christian Lord, had been aligned with Earl Sven, a Danish Pagan Earl, who himself had been aligned with the Horace, the usurper of the Northumberland crown and yet another English Christian. Religious and political lines blurred when there were land and other items of wealth to be claimed, whether legitimately so or not, so it was good to Eric to know he had Mylecent’s support on this issue.

When Mylecent began speaking of religion, Eric was relieved that the pair of them were alone and out of ear shot of others, whether they be her people or his. Eric had been raised a proper Viking Pagan, which meant a belief in the Nordic Gods. During today’s ride when Mylecent sometimes lowered from Eric’s horse to walk with her people, some of Eric’s equally Pagan men rode up to quietly inquire about the differences between the two peoples.

Eric had the same answer for each: deal with it in your own way, do not criticize those men who go a different direction than you, and -- most importantly -- don’t fuck this up by driving a wedge between him and Mylecent over religion or other cultural issues before he was able to wed her and -- through their future offspring -- lay claim to her lands and titles.

Eric found Mylecent to be a very attractive woman. She was young and -- from his memory of her backside at the river -- well shaped for pushing out Little Erics or Little Mylecents. She would make a wonderful mother, which every man -- English or Viking -- looked for in a wife.

Of course, it didn't hurt that she was a Lady, a Noble with rights and title to land. Some in the English community would not be happy about Mylecent wedding a Dane, particularly one whose actions had resulted in her becoming heir-apparent to Blackwater in the first place.

So Eric's mind was filled with thoughts of varying topics concerning the happenings of the past day. And these thoughts, of course, only became more crowded when sometimes Mylecent's movements or stance would bring Eric's attention to her wonderful form, causing a certain portion of his anatomy to take notice and show a total lack of concern for whether Mylecent was English or Christian or willing or reluctant or a lady or just a woman with a warm, wet hole between her thighs.

Mylecent broke Eric's deep thinking with, "Furthermore, I have arranged for us to all be wed tomorrow morning.

Eric went quiet at this, surprised by Mylecent's hurry to be wed. This is a good thing, his mind told him, quickly followed by a second voice asking, But why is she so anxious? Eric couldn't find any ill-reason for Mylecent to wish to be married immediately. She had nothing to gain from it except to perhaps further ensure that the Viking heathen with whom she was riding changed his mind: fuck her 'til she screamed, fuck others, kill the valueless, and sell the others.

But he was fairly confident that he had reassured Mylecent that she and her people were safe from such a fate. With a simple response, Eric told her over her shoulder, "This is acceptable."

A knock at the hut's door drew Eric to it, and after a moment of quiet whispering he apologized for having to deal with some other things. He followed one of his men to the edge of the village, where three mounted Danes were surrounded by a dozen of Eric's men, their weapons in some cases at the ready. Eric recognized the man in the center as Skar, one of Earl Sven's most battle hardened warriors, as well as one of the men Eric most wanted to see beheaded and drug through the streets by his own horse. It was Skar, Eric had been told, who had swung the sword that had killed his elder brother, and while others said that it had been Sven himself who had killed Eric's father, Eric suspected that it had been Skar who had been behind that horrific killing as well.

"You take a great risk coming to me with only two men, Skar," Eric said, conspicuously laying his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

"I bring a message from Sven, Earl of Lindenshire," Skar began, his tone polite and respectful, as he continued, "for Eric, Earl of Elwick."

Eric was a bit surprised to hear Skar call him by his rightful title. Sven and others of his ilk had refused to acknowledge Eric as heir to Elwick, and one Dane under Sven's direction had even occupied Elwick and -- as it's new Earl -- begun reconstruction of its structures and reinforcement of its wall.

"My Lord offers you free transit south into The Danelaw," Skar began his message, "guaranteeing you a peaceful exit deeper into Dane held territories."

One of Eric's men laughed, then went quiet at his own Lord's glare. Eric asked, "At what price?"

"You are to forego your claim to Elwick, give up your titles, and proclaim your allegiance and loyalty..."

Before the man could even finish, Eric's warriors were already laughing aloud and moving in closer, brandishing their weapons more conspicuously. Skar looked nervous, as did his pair of escorts, one of whom was slowly pulling his sword from its leather and stud scabbard.

"Let me kill them," one of Eric's men growled, as a second clanked his short sword against his small shield and added, "I like this one's horse. Can I have it after I gut him."

Eric warned the men back, then looked to Skar. He asked, "Why now? Why does Sven offer this to me now?"

The bigger of the three Lindenshire Vikings appeared as if unsure whether he was to speak about this or not. Eric was pretty sure what the issue was: Sven had thought Eric dead after the attack 7 months ago on Elwick, and only recently as word began to circulate that the Earl of Elwick was once again building a Viking army -- small as it might be -- the Earl of Lindenshire decided it might be a good idea to get the revenge-destined young Dane the hell out of The Danelaw's northern lands.

"Does it matter, Earl Elwick?" Skar asked. He reached to his belt, removed a leather pouch and tossed it through the air toward Eric, though it was a Dane standing next to him who snatched it out of the air. "The offer is sincere, and to show proof of this, m'lord has sent this pouch of silver to help you with your trek southward."

Eric looked to the pouched, opened for his viewing, and raised an eyebrow. It was a substantial sum, more than Eric and his men had gained from sacking SortVand the day before. He looked back to Skar and asked, "Your master Sven finds me a threat, yes?"

The Viking hesitated before feigning a confident smirk. Glancing about at Eric's small army -- some of which was out and about on sentry duty or engaged in a personal manner with their soon-to-be-wives -- he said, "With all due respect, m'lord ... you do not have the men to be a threat to Earl Sven ... to Lindenshire ... or to the whole of The Danelaw which will, one day, be ruled by men not of an allegiance to you and yours."

Eric reached into the bag of silver, removed the largest coin, and tossed it toward Skar, who caught it out of the air without hardly taking his eyes off Eric. "For you ... for coming all this way to bring me your master's message."

After a moment of hesitation, Skar asked, "And you will be heading south, m'lord?"

"I will not," Eric said, gesturing to his men to encourage the three Vikings to make their retreat. Eric shook the bag of silver, telling Skar, "Thank your master for paying the bride price of my upcoming marriage."

As the three Vikings pulled their horses back, turning and twisting them to stay away from the swords and spears taunting them, Eric called out, "Tell him I'll name my first child for him! Tell him that if I do not kill him soon myself, that my son -- his namesake -- will do it for me eventually!"

The three horsemen hurried their rides off down the trail, and -- on Eric's direction -- several of his men mounted their own horses to ride after and keep an eye on the men until they were well away.

Eric returned to the hut from which he'd come, gently snatched Mylecent by her hand, and led her out and across the courtyard. He only smiled to her as she inquired as to his aim, seeing their trek taking them to and up the steps of the Christian chapel. Inside, the Priest looked taken aback at the sight of the Viking leading his Christian betrothed in by the wrist.

"Wed us," Eric demanded, tossing the bag of silver to the Priest, who caught it, examined it wide eyed, then looked to Mylecent for help. "Wed us now, Priest."

(OOC: If anyone is following along, you may have noticed i accidentally left 2 paragraphs at the end of my last post that shouldn't have been there. They have been deleted.)

"Please forgive the intrusion father, it seems my betroth has become excited about the prospect." She gave a pleasant smile. "A word outside my love before we go any further." squeezing his hand rather firmly she gave a light tug and proceeded to head to the door.

Once outside she spoke softly but rather direct. "I did mention that the man has known me from childhood. My wish is that you respect that, and treat him with kindness rather then ordering him about like an inferior. Secondly, As you have agreed to wed tomorrow, and I understand for your desire of a husbands rights. I bid that ye keep his promise and not deny me my wedding day.

A woman's wedding is something that she dreams of as a child. It is something to look back upon in disparaging times. Although it will not be as grand affair as I wish, The girls have made quite an effort to make it as pleasant as it can be. Remember, we need his assistance with a confirming letter for Victoria.

Please swallow your pride and apologize for your abruptness say that you were simply over excited and hadn't realized I had made arrangements already. In less then 12 hours we will be here again, and then you may claim your rights to me. If your need is to great go to a brothel. But I beg of thee to at least allow me to enjoy my wedding and a bit of the after party first."

As Mylecent chastised him -- be it a very polite and respectful berating -- Eric's eagerness and energy waned quickly. She had misunderstood his reasons: sure, he was anxious to get between those thighs he'd already seen bared as they waded their way into the river the day before, but his true rush was to cement his union with the English Lady and take that first important step to possibly fulfilling his revenge against Earl Sven of Lindenshire.

"Forgive me, m'lady," he said with a respectful tone and slight bow, "but..."

He wanted to explain about her misunderstanding, but to do so would also require explaining his true reason for hurrying. And that, of course, would sound only as if he were using her for her title and connections to the English who he hoped would aid him politically and, possibly, even militarily. Neither reason at this point would make Eric look any better than the other, but letting Mylecent continue to think as she had -- that Eric had been acting as the male Viking any English woman would have expected him to be -- seemed to have the less long time implications.

"You are right, m'lady, forgive me," he repeated. "Tomorrow will do."

He took her hand and kissed it, something he'd seen English gentlemen do in the past, then backed a step and gave her a deeper bow. "Your wedding day should be memorable for other reasons than..."

Again, Eric stopped. What was he going to say: For reasons other than opening your legs to a man who just yesterday killed your father. He gave her another respectful nod, and before he turned away smiled to her and agreed, "Tomorrow."

As he hurried away, Eric caught the eye of one of his men, then another and another, waving them his direction. They headed for the horses as they talked, the men giving him occasional glances of confusion or glancing back at Mylecent as well. After some more discussion, a total of six men -- including Eric but excluding Karl, the first man's whose attention Eric had flagged -- mounted their horses and road away from the village.



Eric wasn't seen again for the rest of the day, but Karl made it known to Mylecent that he had been tasked with being at her beck and call until the Earl's return. He found a balance between sticking close to the Lady and not annoying her with his proximity.

When night fall arrived, he and a second man took post outside the hut that the village's Elder had offered her, explaining that while she had nothing to fear of the Dane residents, there was always the possibility that Skar and his men -- or even more men -- might contemplate making a second visit to the village to learn more about Eric's claim to be soon getting married, an act that in both English and Dane communities was something of which to be aware.



Just as Eric hadn't been seen the previous evening, he was again not seen the entire next day. Karl didn't know about the conversation between his Earl and his future Lady concerning brothels and the needs of a man, so if he was asked by Mylecent as to whether that was where Eric was, he would only have found himself too embarrassed to comment. He, of course, knew to where his Lord had ridden off and what Eric's mission was, but he certainly wasn't going to tell Mylecent. He only spent the day trying to avoid any such questions from his Lady while, at the same time, Eric's remaining men and the village's residents worked on the preparations for what was looking to be a more elaborate wedding than Mylecent had likely contemplated.

Finally, at just past sunrise on the second day, the first of the men who had ridden off with Eric returned. But he didn't return alone. Sitting both before and behind him on the back of his big horse were two small, excited children who were obviously thrilled about the unusual method of transport; and following behind the Viking were two men on horseback and a horse drawn cart with another older man and three women.

The group was a mixture of Danes and English, as would be the next group to arrive an hour or so later. An entourage of English led by Eric himself would arrive, and within a couple of hours the remainder of the riders would arrive, each with either English or Danes in tow.

Eric found the Priest, spoke to him a moment, then watched the man escort the newly arrived to a large communal building. It was then that he looked up to find Mylecent, crossing to her with purpose and a hopeful smile.

"Your wedding guests, m'lady," he began. He looked about himself at the guests, explaining that he didn't feel it proper for his betrothed not to have an audience of worth for her special day. Before he could go any farther, an Englishman, his wife, and their in-tow children approached Mylecent to show their respects and wish her happiness on her day. After they withdrew, Eric continued, "You deserve a royal wedding, m'lady, but ... this is the best I can offer."

More people, both English and Dane, would make their way up to Mylecent to offer their respects and congratulations as Mylecent herself responded to Eric's gesture. He wouldn't explain, of course, that while some were here out of duty to show their respect to Eric or Mylecent -- Danes or English, respectively -- others were here because Eric and his men had promised them silver or protection in the future to come. Eric didn't find that fact relevant to the moment

After his acknowledgement of her being right, the kiss upon the hand and the bow. Mylecent was overwhelmed with a new sense of hope for their future. Her gut instinct had been right about him, he wasn't different, and their children would benefit tremendously by having a father with his character. She watched as he went to talk with some of his men, when they turned back and glanced she smiled and gave a light curtsy. Leaving them to their business as she went back inside and explained to the father the miscommunication of when they were to be wed.

Father Graham took her hand and led her to a pew. "I can help you escape" he offered in a hush tone. Mylecent gave him a look of confusion. "He is forcing you isn't he?" "No Father" she replied with an honest tone. "What i said about him is true, he truly is the best match for me. Yes, he is a Dane, but he's more then that. Like me he sees a future with peace and harmony. Our marriage is more then about the way I feel about him, it's more then land and titles. Our marriage is a hope for peace between two peoples who have bloodied the lands for far to long. You just witnessed me taking him by the hand outside to chastise him for his lack of manners, yet you do not see a mark on me, nor heard any yelling or shouting. Together we make a better person." Some of what she said was bullocks, she knew that she respected him, and believed in their union. Though she wasn't quite sure about her feelings toward him in a romantic light. They had only just met, and had very little time together.

"He hasn't taken privilege with you then." Mylecent looked horrified at the question. "Of course not Father, he hasn't laid a hand upon me in anyway. I am a lady and he is an Earl, have faith in my judgement." she paused for a moment given the question he had asked. A letter of purity should be included as well, if anything to nullify any doubt that this was a legitimate marriage. "I shall bring you a letter of purity, so that you may honestly attest to the legitimacy of our wedding without question. Please direct me to where i may find a midwife or doctor qualified."

Father Graham was a bit taken back over all he had heard and nodded giving her the whereabouts of the midwife. "I will let you know if anything changes, but I still believe we are on for tomorrow morning." The father nodded and she left the church heading out to see Eric and some of his men had vanished. Instead a viking named Karl, stood waiting. He explained that he wasn't sure when he would return and that he was at her beck and call.

The first stop they made was to the tailors. Where she asked if he had any dress' that hadn't been claimed that she may purchase for her wedding. With great, almost incredible luck, he had one. It was a combination of light blue with white inlays that screamed her name. After being measure, he advised her a couple hours while he made some light alterations. Assuring him she would be back for it she then led the way to the midwifes. There she underwent a full embarrassing exam from head to toe, which she had documented. There were no signs of abuse, nor had her purity been taken. Three documents of the same wording were produced for her. One she would keep with her, the other would be given to the father and the third would be mailed to Victoria for safe keeping.

After picking up her dress, and stopping by the communal hall to give some more flowers to the girls for decoration, she headed back to the hut. Eric still had not returned. After her meal and the switch of guards for her, one of them let it slip that while weakly assuring her safety that "Skar and his men -- or even more men -- might contemplate making a second visit to the village to learn more about Eric's claim to be soon getting married"

She chose not to address him about this. It was clearly something Eric had chosen to keep silent about for a reason. Night fell and soon she was asleep. The next day when she awoke there still was no sign of them. Instead of dwelling on it, she made herself useful by notifying the father he was on call, and in the mean time they would continue to decorate the 'hall' as they started calling it, and making preparations for the feast and dancing that would follow. It was important to her that they also include some Dane customs in their wedding. So she pulled Karl to the side with a quill and parchment and asked for some that she may include. She found the toast of the loving cup symbolic, but also questioned if he could locate her fathers sword. They were to pass each other their rings on the end of it.

It was just after the sun had gone down that Eric arrived with a group of 'guests' for her wedding. It was a touching thought that almost made her wish to kiss his lips in public. "thank you" she said heartfelt. "But now i must get ready." she gave him a grin and headed off with a couple ladies to help her get dressed. She had instructed Karl to have everyone moved to the church for the service. The other girls had gotten married earlier that day. Upon entering the church he will have seen the wild flowers and ribbons decorating the pews. At the alter there was her fathers sword. Karl informed him that she had incorporated some of their traditions, so they would be exchanging rings on the tips of his and her sword. They would also be doing the loving cup at the feast.

Mylecent had also had a bridal crown created. It of course wasn't a true one that had been passed down, but she hoped that symbolism that it held would touch Eric, letting her know that she would be as much a part of his world as he would of hers.

Now dressed. She was surrounded and walked to the chappel as the doors opened, the girls separated themselves to reveal her in the center.

*Bard*

Travelling southwards along the coast, the wind bent the treelines and whipped the tops of various sand dunes into frenzy, as though stirred by invisible madcap creatures.

Spray drenched the invaders, stinging eyes that desperately strained for signs of attack and enemy scouts. Yet no alarm was being raised. No beacon lit. At least, not yet.

Though the decks heaved and bucked, only a few of the crew staggered; none fell.
All were experienced sailors, though there had not been enough time to pick ideal companions.
Nor, in truth, had there been sufficient numbers: Earl Ingvar Thorsson’s ill-fated plans 6 years ago had seen to that.

Despite the sea-foam crashing against the planks and overflowing the sides in places, ritual still had to be adhered to.
Wringing his hands clean from the sacrifice’s blood and conducting last checks in preparation to hit the shore, Bard Raul Ovesen -Jarl of the Oeslingen- stood and watched over the prow of the boat. His boat. Three similar craft sped alongside; also his.
All 4 broke apart the cresting waves with the same vigour and relish that the warriors inside broke shield-walls, spears and hearts.

The expedition had taken what seemed like an age to prepare.
Several of his lieutenants (sadly including Olaf and Gunnar amongst their number) still bore grudges that he had not followed their counsel to ally with Earl Thorsson, combine their forces and achieve multiple goals at once with the security of extra blades.

Such an offer had been tempting at the time.
With his diminished guards, it would have been even more alluring were it made now.
It was a quick solution to a problem which had lingered behind Raul’s eyes for years. Indeed, nestled into his bloodline before he was even born.

The Northern Jarls and Saxon Kings had been at each other’s throats for decades. Stories said for even longer than that.
The kind of overt warfare from his esteemed ancestor’s time had lulled, but both sides still tested the limits, looking for weaknesses to exploit when combat inevitably resumed.
Of course, the same also applied to any number of upstart brigands. It seemed that anyone with enough coin to buy half a ship of men was calling themselves “chieftain” or “warlord” these days and plundering wherever they willed, before being rightly put to the sword.

It was well known that the Northlanders had violent tendencies and impetuous natures (no matter their gender).
Whereas the people they now shared land with preferred to build dynasties and legacies.
Bard had always hoped there could be a third way for all to live in peace, rather than balanced upon the edge of an axe.
But to have such thoughts almost bordered on heresy amongst some in his camp, so he kept them to himself.

In quiet times, though, he wondered: Were these were a foretelling of things to come and an omen of destiny? Or yet another trick from the Arch-prankster, Loki, leading yet another brave soul into pride and defeat for daring to doubt the Gods and their holy works?
Now -as then- he had no answers.
The first response seemed to offer no greater comfort than the second.

With a series of thuds and horrendous hissing like a thousand crazed serpents…even the imagery still made Bard shudder…the boats breached the surf and ascended the beach.
As was their training, 3 warriors had already leapt from each boat before the impacts, training their bows and throw-axes upon the terrain, watchful for any indication of sentries amongst the bushes and reeds.

As the rest of the warband disembarked ever dutiful, Olaf lowered The Green Leaping Wolf Banner to the lips of the shaman -still coated in the sacrifice’s blood- and then to Bard’s: a final benediction for glory and combat. A sacrament binding together warriors, totem-animal and leaders.

With a hurried splash, the final members of the expedition crashed noisily through the water.
The protesting, bedraggled form of Brother Lucius was brought before his Jarl by the two youngest fighters, only just coming into their beards.
“The village: It still stands? And is it close by, priest?” Einar The Lawgiver shook him and questioned harshly. But he had good reason; this ‘cleric’ stood against everything he held dear. Einar’s disgust at having to even talk to somebody so unholy was barely suppressed.

“Jarl Ovesen knows the area better than I. He lived amongst these lands before his journeying, I merely passed through.
"But yes, it still stands. The long-hall and courtyards were taken over by the current Lord after…well, afterwards.
“I will say again as I said on the boat: No, I do not know where they are buried. But I recall that non-Christians aren’t even given what passes for ‘proper burial rites’ in these lands. It is likely they would have been flung into a shallow open pit, away from the settlement and left as carrion for the beasts. No brave warrior should have such an end.” Lucius’ fingers clenched in unconscious rage.

Perhaps tenderly, Bard reached out and opened the priest’s fingers, showing the indentations he’d made into his palms. “Perhaps there is more fire…more Norse…in you than you think?”
The warriors chuckled when Lucius looked crestfallen at his moment of anger.
Excepting Bard, the others laughed to see a ‘man of God’ beginning to doubt himself.
But Bard’s eyes held a slight smile, betraying the innermost thoughts when he was alone: perhaps the priest was finally becoming accustomed to their company and might join them fully? Not as an act of subversion against his own faith, but as an act of friendship?

A soft whistle came to them upon the breeze: a sighting of civilisation by the scouts, they raced up the sandy inclines and peered over the top of the bushes and dunes to see smoke rising from a sleepy village preparing itself for day ahead.