Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

EIGHTEEN

☾

Brynjar looked as though he slept.

Saga had braided his hair and weaved the bones of a rabbit through it. She had washed his face and added colour to his cheeks with berry juices. 

He looked as though he slept in a hole in the middle of the forest, and I was happy to convince myself that was the truth.

Rain still poured over us every other hour or so, the damp smell of soil covering our skin; the Saxons were finally leaving the camp. The mud had stiffened somewhat.

"How much longer will she stand?" Olav's distant mumble caught my ears.

Saga's prompt smack answered him, and my lips twitched upwards.

I crouched, digging my fingers into the soil underneath me. "Where you are now... it is a good place." I stood up, holding the soil in my hands. It was cold. "But I am selfish," I smiled bittersweetly, looking down at my father again, "I do not wish for you to go."

A calm breeze pushed passed us, only just swaying the tree branches.

I sniffed from the cool air, "I know. I will let you go." I raised my hand over the grave, engraving the scene in my mind as best as I could.

He was just sleeping.

"Kiss my mother for me." I let go of the soil, letting it cover the white cloth he had been wrapped in.

The others shifted behind me, finally coming closer.

"We will finish covering and follow you," Henrick mumbled, his hand grasping my shoulder softly.

"I will sing for him," Olav sniffed quietly, "so that the Gods remember his body is here and bless this ground."

"Try not to kill any birds with your songs," Saga joked half-heartedly, patting his back as she lingered behind, waiting for me to come to her.

I shut my eyes, Brynjar's sleeping face painting my eyelids. "I am ready."

"Okay," Henrick whispered, lowering his hand to my elbow, pulling me back slowly. One step, two steps, five steps.

His hand was replaced by Saga's a moment later, and she looped her arm through mine, turning us around in the other direction.

I opened my eyes again, catching sight of the many Saxon warriors going up the path, back out to the fields, on their way home to Wessex.

Uhtred and his men lingered at the opening of the trees, waiting for us. The boy king was with them.

"Shall we go?"

Henrick had rode to us on Helios, and my proud stallion snorted at the Saxon men, flicking his tail at any that got too close. He was a gift from my father.

"We shall," I mumbled, letting her lead me through the forest, the sound of soil being broken with shovels lingering behind me.

Sihtric slid off his horse as we got closer, picking up Helios's bridle and coaxing the horse forward with gentle, Danish whispers.

"Your horse reminds me of you, Lady," Finan cleared his throat, a small smile lifting his face, "he scared all the other horses in the stables, stole a few apples."

I snorted softly, reaching my hand out to stroke Helios's soft coat, "He is clever."

"Lady," Sihtric murmured, letting go of Helios's bridle, to hold his hand out to me.

I smiled at him, accepting his hand carefully and slipping my foot into the stirrup, grabbing onto the bridle with my other one and lifting myself up.

Sihtric held onto my hand for a little longer as I made myself comfortable, his free hand stroking Helios's mane gently. He'd braided a few sections of my horse's hair away from his eyes.