DIVINE [HVITSERK RAGNARSSON]

17: A PROPOSITION

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — 'A PROPOSITION'

Hvitserk and Ubbe rushed out of the tent, looking around again at what the Saxons had caused at their camp.
"Where is Ivar?" Ubbe grumbled to one of their men, who automatically shrugged his shoulders and pointed somewhere behind him. The two brothers walked until they found Ivar, surrounded by men whom Hvitserk couldn't even name. They'd been hanging around Ivar a lot recently, Hvitserk recognised the white-haired man.
"Ivar. We need to talk." Ubbe announced their arrival which made Ivar turn around and smirk.
"Yes, brother, but don't you think I already know? All about Hvitserk's poor woman being alive out there somewhere?" It was like he was mocking his own brother and it made Hvitserk's face morph into an expression of anger.
"For all we know, little Asta ran right into the middle of a dirty Saxon town and they killed her anyway."
"Shut up, Ivar." Hvitserk sneered. Ivar opened his mouth to speak again but Ubbe cut him off.
"Look, we know the Saxon's tricked us. They had that army, so that we would leave the camp and attack them. Then they sent half of their army here when we were gone, and this is what they did to us."
Ivar and Hvitserk looked at their brother, listening to what he had to say.
"We have to get our revenge. It's what we do. What if they took Asta? We may find her when we tear them all to pieces."

The brothers sat for a while, discussing their options by the small stream and deciding whether they would make their move on York. They disagreed constantly, until they spotted Erik Stensson walking briskly towards them which made them become silent.
"Ubbe, Hvitserk." He nodded his head at them, completely ignoring Ivar's presence. "Need to come see this." His face looked solemn, and Ubbe shot Hvitserk an unsure look. They rose from the stones on which they were sat and began following Erik who was making his way back towards the front of the camp.

Hvitserk spotted what Erik had seen straight away. There were men outside the barracks of their camp, two of them mounted on horses and a small group of soldiers behind them. They were Saxons. One of the men looked like one of their religious people; Hvitserk had seen them dressed like that before. He had an awful smirk on his face, like he held no fear that he was about to enter the camp of Northmen. The other man, who looked like he was in charge, dressed nobly and moved his horse in front of everybody else.
"We wish to speak with the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok." He announced loudly, as his horse could no longer walk any further without risk of the archers shooting him or the sharp points of the barracks impaling him.

Nobody spoke for a few seconds as they evaluated the situation.
"We know you are there." The man said again, raising his eyebrows impatiently.
"Let him in." Ubbe exclaimed loudly making Hvitserk shoot him a look. "Take their weapons. Their men stay outside." He turned and began walking towards their large tent in the camp, preparing himself for the conversations ahead.

Hvitserk entered the tent behind everybody else, perching on the edge of a stool just behind Ubbe.
"Who are you, and why are you here?" Ivar got straight to the point, his familiar smirk plastered across his face. Erik and Arvid were in the tent too, stood next to Hvitserk with their arms crossed and impatient looks in their faces. The two of them, along with Hvitserk, were praying to the Gods that the men's arrival had something to do with Asta, or at least the raid on their camp.
"We see you are recovering from the devastation we caused your camp." The smartly dressed man spoke up, interlocking his fingers in his waist. Hvitserk snorted at the remark and raised his eyebrows.
Ubbe let out a sigh. "So you are here to claim the attack."
"Of course," the man nodded, "I am Earl Wilfred, and this is Bishop Heahmund." He used his hand to signal to the priest-looking man next to him who kept his face stern the whole time.
"We don't care about your priests." Ivar sneered, "what do you want?"
"We were watching you for some time, Northmen." The Bishop suddenly spoke up. "When you Vikings come to our shores, you kidnap our people of note, do you not?"
Nobody responded to him, instead wondering where he was going with his words.
"A princess, or a King. So that is what we did to you." He smiled as if he was being kind.
"What?" Ivar scoffed, not understanding. "Our most important warriors are right here with you."
Bishop Heahmund laughed at him. "Then you are forgetting a Princess."
Ivar furrowed his eyebrows at the Englishman.
"The girl." Earl Wilfred signalled his hand towards Hvitserk. That was enough for him to understand fully. Hvitserk Ragnarsson lunged forward from his seat, his hands reaching to his waist where his dagger sat as he tried to pounce at the Bishop or the Earl. But Ubbe rose from his stool and threw his arm in front of Hvitserk, holding him back and forcing him back down onto the stool. Erik lunged forward too, but Arvid was smart enough and mature enough to hold his younger brother back. He knew that they had to get their sister back alive, and fits of rage wasn't the way to do it.
"What did you do to her?" He sneered, still being held back by Ubbe.
"She is not a Princess." Ivar cleared his throat. What was he trying to do, infuriate his brother further?
"You are Princes, are you not? Therefore if the girl is with him, she is a Princess."
"She is not with him," Ivar waved his hand, "she is just a girl."
"A fine shield-maiden, at least." Earl Wilfred said.
"It doesn't matter what she is." Ubbe sighed. "What do you want with her?"
"A ransom and your promise to leave the shores of Northumbria."
Ivar let out a laugh. "A ransom. You are ambitious."
The Bishop cleared his throat to speak up. "May I remind you, Ivar the Boneless, that your shield-maiden sits in chains in our dungeons being tortured  so often that she has no choice but to give us information about your armies."
"You pi—" Hvitserk lunged again at the information that Asta was being tortured, yet once again Ubbe held him back.
"Hvitserk! Enough. We will get her back." Ubbe turned his head back to the two Saxons. "What is your ransom price?"
"200 pounds of silver and your ships departing by this time next week."
"We will need more time to gather a ransom."
The Earl sighed. "Fine. You have three days to consider our offer, we will meet again then."
Ubbe nodded, trying his best to be a peacekeeper in the situation. He was a Viking of course, and he wanted nothing more than to kill the Saxons there and then. But Asta was their priority, even he cared too much about her to give her up.

The two Englishmen rose from the seats and turned their backs to exit the tent.
"May I remind you," the irritating Bishop turned around again, shooting an evil smirk at Hvitserk, "that if you do not adhere to our rules, the girl will be returned to you. Dead. Do not doubt me."
Nobody responded as Arvid pushed him out of the tent with a hard shove and escorted the pair of them back out of the camp.