Stealing the Valkyrie

Fool's Errand

Rollo wasn't sure who tumbled through the door of Ragnar's longhouse shouting, "fire!" Because as soon as he heard the word, his mind became consumed by only one thing.

Edithe. Was she safe? Was it his home?

The entire future he'd planned for them seemed to suddenly hang in the balance. A stark reminder of how fragile life could be and how painful it was to allow yourself to care for another. Losing Edithe on the very same day she'd agreed to be his wife would be a cruel twist of fate. But misery was more familiar to him than happiness. So perhaps that was why he felt so much fear.

Scrambling from his seat, he piled outside with the others, ale still clutched in hand. His eyes seeking only one answer and relief loosening the tension in his chest when he found it. It wasn't his home. But it was someones. So with the fear of losing his woman still coursing through his veins, he dropped his cup and ran. Chasing the smoke until he found its source.

The building was already lost, that much was clear. But the people who lived inside were alive. All of them standing in the street, watching their small pocket of the world burn to dust. At least they had each other, he thought. A sentimental notion which would not have crossed his mind some months ago.

"Get the buckets," Ragnar commanded, somewhere in the distance and soon the street became a flurry of activity.

People poured from their houses to help and Rollo joined them. Taking bucket after bucket to douse the surrounding buildings while the fire spat and crackled, blisteringly hot to anyone who dared approach it.

In between the mayhem, he managed to find Haedde and ordered her to go check on Edithe and, more importantly, check on Rolf. It might have been selfish, but he did not want her left unattended. Even if stopping the fire from spreading needed all the help it could get. Spending a brief few seconds worrying about her safety had been enough. It comforted him to think of her tucked in his bed with a guard outside the door.

So when Haedde reappeared at his side, he didn't notice her. He wasn't expecting to see her again and by now, the smoke was so thick he could barely see his hand in front of his face.

"She's gone!" Haedde screeched, worriedly wringing her frail hands together but her words did not sound above the commotion which surrounded him.

Men, women, children, slaves. All of them working together, passing and throwing an endless stream of buckets while the fire sang a furious tune. A lone voice was like a whisper in the chaos.

"Edithe's gone!" Haedde shouted again, grabbing his arm to force his attention and this time the words burrowed into his brain like the edge of a blade. Yet even upon hearing them, he continued throwing the buckets, the words not quite registering as they turned over in his mind.

Edithe couldn't be gone. Could she?

He paused, his blood running like ice in his veins as he glanced to Haedde. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, her face alarmingly white in the thick black smoke. "She's gone!" she repeated and his bucket of water fell to the ground in favour of his axe.

Of course she was gone. She wanted her freedom. Had she not always told him so?

Haedde flinched at the sight of his weapon but it was not for her. It was for Rolf. By the Gods, he'd have his head for losing Edithe. Then he would hunt his stubborn Saxon down with every last breath in his body. He only hoped he would not be too late. These lands contained all manner of savage things and he would be surprised if she survived a single day on her own.

He'd been teaching her to defend herself but she didn't know these woods, she didn't know how to find food or shelter. She didn't know the tracks of a dangerous animal and sooner or later she would come across the most dangerous ones of all, men.