Burn Your Village || The Last Kingdom

|| CHAPTER 8 - To The Death ||

|| CHAPTER 8 – To The Death ||

(Series 1- Episode 5)

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The sea was strewn with the dead.

As Signe and Uhtred walked along the beach, a bird landed on a shield that sat in the water, peering curiously at the corpse that floated next to it.

Cresting waves reared their frothing heads and surged forward, pushing the debris of the wrecked ships and the men that had sailed upon them onto the sand.

Some bodies had snagged on the jagged rocks that ran along the coastline, and they bobbed in the water, unable to lay still even in death.

Ubba had indeed returned with his ships, but the winter storms had also come, and they had claimed a great number of them. If they were indeed God's storms as Alfred had claimed, then the one that had done this, had been sent without mercy.

Seagulls cawed, circling the wreckage on the lookout for food. And they were not the only scavengers picking at what was left.

A group of Saxons scurried around the dead like rats, grabbing any weapons or goods that could still be of use.

Signe watched, dumbfounded as a few men tried to drag an old sail out from a pile of wreckage. They were clearly trying to salvage it, but if they kept yanking on it like they were, all they'd achieve would be getting it ripped to shreds.

There was a man riding up and down the beach on a horse and seeing the futility of the men's efforts, he shouted down to them.

"Don't just pull at the bugger, you'll have it torn!"

"We should offer to buy his horse." Signe said as she watched him trot around imperiously.

"You mean I should" Uhtred grumbled childishly. "You have no silver."

"Neither do you. All of yours is actually Mildrith's." She pointed out, running her finger over the nasty scab on her cheek.

Every time she smiled; the wound stung. The gash on her temple had been more severe, but it bothered her less.

Signe was sent stumbling when Uhtred shoved her, her boots kicking up sand as she struggled to stay on her feet. He carried on walking, and she saw his shoulders shaking with laughter as she glared at his back. 

Signe caught up with him quickly and tripped him up with her foot. He staggered forward, his arms flailing. As he righted himself, she acted as though nothing had happened and called out to the man atop the horse.

"How much for your horse?"

The man wheeled his mount around but didn't move any closer. He narrowed his eyes at Signe with hostility, her notable accent working against her.

"He's not for sale. Especially not to the likes of you."

"I'll give you twice its worth. In silver." Uhtred answered, stopping by Signe's side.

The man looked between them, clearly displeased. But the thought of Uhtred's offer, swiftly won out over his hatred of them-- or the sort of Danes he believed them to be-- and he rode over to them.

Only once Uhtred pulled out the pouch of silver and threw it up to him, did the man slide off the horse and step away so that they could mount it.

Uhtred put his foot in the stirrup lifted himself onto the saddle, holding his arm out so Signe could grasp it and use it for purchase. As she settled herself behind him, a few Saxons holding shields closed in, staring at them unabashedly.