For The Sake of Revenge

Chapter 6: Culture

As the days passed, waking up became a chore rather than an obligation. Everything was just so exhausting. I still couldn't get over the fact that Ivar had paid me the strangest compliment while simultaneously making me question my life's decisions. And it's been already a handful of days. But I didn't receive such compliments often, so as usual, I overthink these compliments.

Only with Ivar do you get this shit.

I had nearly forgotten about Alof. She did not linger near Ivar anymore. She left me alone. I was glad for it.

The next village they had gone to raid was empty. Word must have gotten to them early and they had already fled by the time Ivar's army had reached them. The idiots didn't take their gold with them. Thankfully, there was no need to camp outside. The Vikings have decided to stay the night in the village.

Ivar had gotten back from the raid that day, but he was not as bloody as usual. In fact, everyone was spotless.

"What is it?" I asked as Ivar squatted down and untied me from the tree, doing the same thing to Benedict, Alys, and Edmund.

"They had fled the village. I sent scouts to scour the area. These people had more sense than the last. We reside in their homes for now. Come, I have managed to secure us a bedroom."

My stomach dropped. I hoped he'd forgotten about that. Thankfully, there was no suggestive implication, now.

"Will there be anything other than meat?" I asked hopefully. I never thought I would say this, but I am sick of venison, game, and birds. I was craving vegetables and bread.

Ivar regarded me with humor.

"You are sick of meat? I can't seem to get enough of it" Ivar scoffed. "Go to the carriage with the rest of the slaves," he ordered, and I obeyed.

Of course, you wouldn't get enough of meat, I bet you like the taste of blood too, I thought a little viscously.

I followed Benedict and the children to the carriage. I wish he would make me sit there more often; it was much more comfortable than riding a horse.

"Why do they do this?" Benedict lamented sorrowfully. I wouldn't blame him; his own people were getting slaughtered.

"Your King killed their leader and dishonored a pact," I explained to him, Benedict shot me a sharp look, as though he only just knew about this. I wouldn't blame him, even Whitby didn't seem up to date with any of the latest news. I imagine half of Wessex wasn't aware of its King's errors.

"They are getting revenge," I offered lamely, and Benedict eyed me with some amount of disgust that I was used to by now. My time with Ivar had made him distrust me.

"It is always the people who have power who make it harder for us simpletons," Benedict finally settled on saying and then fell silent. It would be a long time before I heard from him again. The old man had slipped into a fragile state of depression.

As far as I could see, Ivar did not mistreat the old man, he provided for him and always sent me to him when his health needed tending too. But this patriarchy and nationalism made the old man hallow.

The ride to the village was short, Alys wouldn't stop chatting and occasionally her brother laughed, but he never spoke.

He laughed, that was good.

The men were singing and laughing, the other half of Ivar's army was in the village.

"Are you sure it is not a trick?" I asked Ivar once I was down on my two feet and he wrapped my wrists again, walking me to a small hut, which we were to share with Erik and another female who I was sure was named Herfna.