Northumbria ✓

21

The house was eerily quiet as Aethelthryth stood outside with the two tall men. It was still early, the sun just barely started to rise, and she didn't remember ever waking up this early. Fog rose from the woods covering the small hut comfortingly.

"I should stay here with Ronja!" Gorm spoke quietly yet urgently. Arne rolled his eyes. He clearly did not like the older man underestimating him.

Aethelthryth shook her head, "She lost a lot of blood and shouldn't travel right now. We need you to get Ivar and come with some of his men here. We will wait here, it seems safe, and it is much safer than traveling right now." She whispered back, folding her arms. It was cold, the front of her dress covered in blood. Elfreda gladly wrapped the small child, but she did not have the stomach to clean the blood. So while the two men searched the village to steal horses and a cart, she cleaned the blood. Now Aethelthryth looked like someone who stepped out of slaughter. She massaged her temple as Gorm protested.

"We can't travel with her right now, but we need Ubbe to know that the castle had been attacked so they won't return. We also need them to know that we survived if they already know about the attack. You'll take the horse and ride to Newcastle!" Her voice left no room for discussion, and Arne grimaced, "I would listen to her if I were you."

He raised a brow at both of them, not believing the brunette could be a threat. Then he let out a frustrated sigh through his nose, "I will leave now and ride until I reach that damned city." Aethelthryth nodded at him in relief. For selfish reasons, she asked Gorm to ride. Arne made her feel more relaxed when around him.

It didn't take long for Gorm to pack a small bundle with bread, and then he was hoisting himself on the horse. She had no idea where they found these animals and the cart, but she didn't ask. A sigh escaped her lips as she walked back into the house. Arne was sitting by the window, staying on guard. Ronja was sleeping, and Elfreda was cooing at little Ragnar. Aethelthryth wasn't sure why she named him after Ivar's father, but she and Ivar probably talked about it. She found the woman Aebbe sitting at her table in a makeshift kitchen that separated from the bed with a cloth hanging from the ceiling. The woman was cutting some meat and Aethelthryth's brows furrowed.

"Is that a common pheasant?" Her voice was surprised. These animals were hunted by people of much higher status than this woman. "It walks freely," was all the woman answered before going back to whatever she was doing.

"I have some dresses you could try on. It won't be good for you walking around in noble dress covered in blood." Aethelthryth nodded. The woman was right. But then again, all she had to do was open her mouth, and people would know she wasn't a peasant. Her pronunciation and articulation were much different than those around her. She fit more into court.

She gave Aebbe a thankful look before opening her patch of coins and putting two at the table. The stycas glinted on the table, the woman assessed them. The stycas were commonly used in Northumbria, and her father's name on it made her nod. The woman pocketed the money swiftly. Soon all of them are sitting at the table eating. Aethelthryth brings the food to Ronja, who gives her a grateful look.

"I heard you sent Gorm to Newcastle," the woman states, cradling her child to her chest. She bounces him a few times before cooing when it nuzzles into her breast. Ronja immodestly starts feeding him to Aethelthryth's surprise. She could guess that in Norway, they have different customs. In England, no woman would pull out their breast and feed her child before anyone.

Aethelthryth nods, looking at the wooden wall, "Yes, Ivar will probably waste no time in getting here." Ronja nods, but her words are anything but positive, "If Gorm gets there."

*

They spent the day together, Aethelthryth listening to Ronja's adventures. And the woman had many. It was already past midday when they heard banging on the door. Aebbe opened the door, and Aethelthryth gazed at the door hiding behind the cloth.

"Mistress, we are here to check if you're harboring outlaws!" The mighty male voice speaks. The two men barge inside without even asking. Outlaws, Aethelthryth mouths the word under her breath. This reminded her of her escape with her mother. Her eyes focus on Arne, who gives her a nod, his hand on the knife laying on the table before him.

Aebbe smiles at the men, "I can assure you, kind men, that no outlaws remain in my house." One of the men raises a brow at Arne, who by far looks nothing like an English man. His eyes move to Elfreda, and he gives her a once over.

Then his eyes rest on her, "What is behind that cloth woman?" Aethelthryth raises an eyebrow at his tone. As if she could ever be beneath him. So she stepped before the cloth, her chin raised, "My sick mother, she is very old, my Lords." She did not know how to address them. After all, they were probably all peasants who were aligned to the Lords. She doubted they were highly trained soldiers.

The other man who stood between the door gave her a grin, "We are looking for a pregnant woman, a Northerner, and a Lady." Aethelthryth feigned confusion, making her forehead furrow for a dramatic measure.

"We had not seen any pregnant woman or a Lady." His grin widened, and he stepped further into the room. His hand resting threateningly on the hilt of his sword. Her chest tightened at the look in his eyes. Her hands gripped the cloth behind her. If they pushed it apart, they would for sure recognize them. After all, not many women could be walking around this part of the village just after giving birth.

He laughs, "I would recognize that posh tongue anywhere, you Northener whore!" Then he pulls out his sword. 

***

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