Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

NINE

☾

"Tell me again," Henrick demanded of the priest whimpering at his feet, "I still do not understand."

The priest sniffed harshly, "What is there to not understand? We have one God."

I ate the salted fish across from Saga, tearing off bits of it to pass to Hild and Edwin's six year old daughter who had joined us for breakfast in the hall.

We had been in Coccham three days now, and it was a calm place, steady and built on strong roots; I liked it here.

Olav had had to build a pit in the forest behind the fortress, and he had sacrificed birds, fish, and a rabbit he had found continuously for half a day before I was able to wake. It turned out that more than the displeasure of the Gods, I was suffering from an infection of the lungs, from the cold.

According to Saga, Hild had prayed over me for two nights and burned herbs in my room to help me recover. I was weak still in body, but my mind was once again sharp now, and the words of the Gods were no longer fragmented when they spoke.

"Henrick," Hild called out to the warrior, making him look to her, "I will explain it to you later. For now, eat with us and let the priest go and pray."

"Will you strike me down if I don't?" Henrick taunted, pushing the priest away and turning back to the table, taking a cooked fish to eat.

"Perhaps," Hild smiled thinly, "I am crafty with a sword. You should be careful."

Saga burst out laughing, her voice bouncing off the walls, "I like this one! She has a sharp tongue."

"I like you too," Hild mused, her face amused, "and I will continue to like you as long as you help to recover our winter stock."

"You are using us," Saga grinned, her smile razor sharp and wide. She looked menacing, with her hair freshly washed and braided, her armour cleaned and polished. "I admire that."

"You are using us too," Hild shrugged, "it is a fair exchange."

I covered my smile behind my fingers as I rested my chin into palm, watching them talk.

Olav was by the back wall, prodding the 'King's army', as Edwin had called them, with a stick and making mocking pig snorts.

The three of them alone had managed to subdue the soldiers present and force the priests back into a small church. Not everyone had been obedient, so Derya and Arya had been allowed to eat at last, but no one protested. The locals were happy for our skills and our protection.

"I understand," Hild caught my attention, "that you are gifted."

I lowered my hand, taking some berries off my plate, "Yes. I have the gift of sight."

Hild nodded slowly, "I knew of someone like you once, a long time ago. Her name was Iseult. She was very gifted... and kind."

I lowered my gaze to my food, "What happened to her?"

Hild sighed heavily, picking at her own food, "What happens to many people these days. She was killed."

A pang of sympathy for the abbess shot through me, and I placed the berries I was holding onto her plate wordlessly.

"Thank you," Hild smiled, "could you tell me more abou—"

"If a Dane owned these lands, why is there a cross on the ceiling?" Olav's curious voice called out.

Hild sucked in a short breath before clearing her throat and smoothing out her dress, "I put it there."

Olav turned to her grinning widely, "Why?"