A Whisper to the North

Chapter XLIX ✠ To the North

Una was riding on her new horse, a mighty but beautiful beast. It had a pale mane and tail. Its grey and white body were dappled all over with long feathers at the fetlocks like Gwen. They could get it cheaply, and Alaric noticed it had speckles of blood in its mane, showing it had probably been a runaway horse from the battlefield. Una wishes she had Gwen, but she knew that horse had lived its best life. Going off to battle one last time with Una would have been the most valiant end to the great beast. She had carried Una's father for many years and Una when she wasn't using Roosa.

"Keep your hood down!" Alaric whispered to Una as he rode up next to her.

"Why?" Una asked.

"Do as I say." He demanded.

Una did as she was told and quickly covered her head with her dark green cloak. They bought very modest clothing, nothing to catch the eye of a passerby. They didn't look grungy enough to be vagrants but not wealthy enough to be higher than a commoner. They looked like humble peasants. Una was careful to hide her pendant again, and Alaric hid the saddlebags beneath thick wool coverings on the saddle.

"Góðan aptan," Alaric said softly to tell them good afternoon.

"Sæll." A deep and raspy voice replied to him, saying hello.

Una lifted her head to have a peek. A row of terrifying soldiers rode by. Their hair was bizarre. There were long fringes of hair in the front, and it was cropped short in the back. Some of the men had gruesome tattoos on their neck and chin. Some had bare faces. Others had forked beards with beads in them. They held axes and swords that were made of gleaming steel. It nearly blinded Una reflecting in the sun. She suspects they did this on purpose because they laughed as they rode by. Some of the men's teeth were stained blue or red. It made Una shutter in fright. These were men that Una didn't need to acknowledge. She feared they would hurt her since she didn't bring her sword along since it bore the Wessex army's trademark pommel.

After they rode awhile longer, Alaric rode next to Una again.

"Who were they!? I've never seen Danes look like that before!" Una said.

"They weren't Vikings, at least. They didn't attack us." Alaric said

"Well, at least you look like a nice Dane. Perhaps that's why they didn't bother us." Una laughed nervously.

"You can't look nice, or they'll strip you to your socks. They'll take advantage of everyone who spares them kindness, so what my father and mother said. That's why we moved. They kept pillaging our village. We had nothing left. There are far scarier Danes than the ones that passed us earlier. Trust me." Alaric said with a hushed tone.

"How long did you live in that village?" Una asked.

"Until we ran out of money, then on the way to Sussex, my mother fell ill and died. We were rather prosperous at the beginning until my father squandered his mill by bartering and ran into debt. Then they came for us and my father's head. It feels like a distant memory now, only comprising of blurbs. However, I will never forget the Vikings that attacked us. We were Danes, technically their own people. They didn't care, though. A few generations before I was born, my family hailed from Danmǫrk. They came over with the Vikings, looking for a new life. All they found was poverty, hopelessness, and darkness." Alaric continued as he rode alongside Una.

"Danmǫrk?" Una smiled.

"Yes," Alaric said, looking at Una.

"I hear that's where the meanest of them come from," Una said, braiding the long mane of the horse as she rode.

"We were only cruel because our kingdom was impoverished, our tribes decimated, and our only hope was our last hope," Alaric said.

"What about your people?" Alaric asked.