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The darkness began to settle outside, the warm candlelight flickering around the room as Iris scrawled down words on her notepad. The ink of her ballpoint pen was almost gone, and Ivar watched curiously as she tapped it against her knee in the hopes to produce more ink.
"Do you know how to use a sword?" He asked, searching her silently in an attempt to discover whether she had a weapon on her person.
Iris nodded calmly, watching as he looked over at her. "I do, but it's not much use when I don't have one." She laughed. "And I doubt I'd be any good in a battle."
"That's not the only time that you may have to defend yourself." He answered, touching the hilt of his knife as the blade jammed into the table. "Can you use a knife?"
She shook her head, smiling gently. "Not on a person." She pulled a face. "Maybe on a fish."
"I doubt you'll be attacked by many fish." Ivar interjected, summoning her closer. "Here, I'll teach you."
"Wicce." The man scolded as I dropped to the ground. My plan was simple, clear and simple. I would fall down, as though I was unconscious. He would let go of me. And that would give me enough time to act. All I had to do was escape him, and I could make my way back to York. We'd only been walking for about ten minutes, and it was a straight path back.
"You aim here." Ivar moved my hand, his knife still firmly in my grip, towards a certain area on his throat.
The cartoid Artery." I responded, making him look up at me with furrowed brows. "They'll bleed out." And at this, he gave a simple nod.
"Keep my knife with you, it's yours now." He shrugged calmly, closing my fist around the blade. "If you use it, make it a kill shot."
I nodded understandingly. That one artery running through my mind.
When I felt the hilt of the blade in my boot, my heart leapt out of my chest. Finally, I could reach it. The man approached, a fatal mistake, and I lurched forwards with the knife in my hand. As it plummeted down into his throat, blood began to spurt from the injury. It drenched me, particularly as I put my hand over his mouth to muffle his dying murmurs. The rather large man toppled over, falling onto the ground, as I stood shaking.
Ivar's knife fell from my weak grip onto the floor, my hands convulsing. I watched as the life drained from this man's eyes, all at my hands, and I didn't know how to feel. In a way, I was glad he was dead... But at my hands? I'd never killed someone. Not even an animal. I'd gutted dead fish but to actually take a life? That was something different entirely.
My knees became weak as I fell down, head a mess with a million thoughts. For some reason, all I could hear was that song by The Supremes. How did it go again?
It's his love that makes me strong Without him, I can't go on.
I'd watched them sing on the TV just before we left for York all those weeks ago. And it had made me want to plan a roadtrip. I'd always wanted to travel. I just didn't realise exactly how far my travels would take me.
Slowly, I picked up the knife and walked back. My eyes were still focused on my bloody hands, never leaving the horrific sight as I strolled mindlessly. I walked straight back to the main gates, knowing that they'd all know who I was. And, by the grace of God, they let me in without question - perhaps with large murmurs between them though. What had happened to me? Why was I covered in blood?
I asked myself the same question. But as I walked back with that Saxon, wanting to throw up each time I glanced over, I knew that no one was coming to save me. I had to save myself. And so I did.
"Iris?" Hvitserk's voice made me look up, but my mind still wasn't there. It was buzzing with other thoughts, nonsensical thoughts. The Rolling Stones, that man on top of me, The Flintstones, blood. Blood everywhere. "What happened to you?" He questioned, concern evident in his voice as he wrapped his cloak around me. I was cold. Too cold. And, though I wanted to reply, my mind couldn't form the words that I needed.
"I did it." I whispered, passing him the knife as I paced back and forth. "I did it."
I could see people staring at me, but I couldn't shake it. I couldn't shake the trance I was in. Like when you're on anesthesia for an operation, and you say and do things in a daze.
Gently, Hvitserk put his arm around me and led me away from the large crowd that was emerging. I could see that he was worried about me. I understood it perfectly well. But I couldn't do anything. I was in shock. I knew that much.
"Ivar?" Hvitserk yelled, making me jump. As his guards got in the way, Hvitserk only shoved past them, leading me inside. I was grateful that he'd found me. I wasn't sure what would've happened had I been left alone in such a state.
When Ivar saw me, his expression shifted from a look of anger to a look of concern. Without even a moment's thought, he dismissed the few men inside and all of them left in fear of what he may do if they didn't. Hvitserk sat me down, hand on my shoulder reassuringly.
"What happened?" Ivar demanded, and I could hear the anger returning to his tone. "What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know." The older brother answered, placing his little brother's knife down on the table. "She won't say anything."
"I killed him." I spoke up without thinking, my voice lifeless - as if it was I who'd been at the end of that damn blade. "I- I've never-"
The two of them shared a look, Hvitserk quickly returning to my side - a comfort that I sorely needed in that moment. As soon as the words left me, I couldn't help but cry. Cry for myself. Cry for what I'd done and what had happened to me. I felt like some part of me hand broken.
"Iris?" Ivar's voice made me meet his gaze. His blue eyes burned with something that I couldn't specify, but I knew that his anger was not directed at me. "What happened?"
But as I looked at him, I didn't even know if I could say the words. What had happened? Everything. In one brief day, my whole world had changed forever.
