The Viking Slave

Chapter 4: Long Talks

856 Oliefsborg: Eleven Years Later

"It must be done!" Erick's loud voice echoed across the room, slamming his cup of mead onto the table where he stood at the very end, gaining the attention of those around him.

Astrid glanced up from the linen cloth she was embroidering, located in the corner of the room, at the group of rugged men siting around the large feasting hall chattering about the upcoming raid that was being planned. Each man held a cup or a drinking horn in which they were enjoying the refreshing mead which was Astrid's responsibility to keep filled.

"You do understand, earl, that we cannot go without additional forces." Knute added, looking up at Erick, whose face was now turning a dark red from anger. "We do not know what powers they have in France. If they are powerful then we stand no chance of winning, all of your men will die. That risk cannot be taken, sire."

Knute arose from his chair that sat to the right side of Erick, turning to face him calmly.

"Sire, do you understand that." Knute's calm voice said, placing his hand upon Erick's fox fur-covered shoulder.

Erick nodded his head slightly in agreement.

"I understand, Knute." He looked over at Astrid, who was staring at them. She quickly averted her eyes away, fearing she would offend him more than he already was.

Erick turned his attention back to Knute, whose gaze never left.

"Where will we find those additional forces?" Erick questioned, raising the small wooden cup to his lips and drank a sip from it as Knute looked around, thinking of a response for the earl.

After moments of thinking Knute opened his mouth to speak. "What about your son, Bard? He has lands in Sweden." Knute proposed, watching a frown come quickly upon his face. "It is only an idea, sire."

"My son," Erick paused. "My son does not want to see me. If he had wanted to be with me, he would have returned years ago, but he did not. We will raid into the northern part of France whether or not I have allies. If you can by chance get my son to raid with us, then he is more than welcome."

Erick rushed away from the table into a side room which was separated only by a black sheer, linen curtain. Astrid closed her eyes, letting out a sigh as she pondered on if it was her duty to go after the earl. She hesitantly arose from the stool, on which she sat on in the corner of the large room, and laid her embroidery down. As she walked by the large group of men they began making obscene comments and gestures towards her. The room smelled of mead and the body odor of the drunken men, making it hard for Astrid to keep her head high as she hurriedly walked through the mess.

Once she made it to the thin curtain divider, she stood still for several seconds before entering inside. The room was where Earl Erick slept at night. It was smaller than the feasting hall but it was large enough to hold a big bed with a heavy, wooden, dark brown headboard carved with dragons and swirling patterns. In front of the bed was a small fire pit, resembling the one that was inside the hall. Beside the fire was a wicker chair that Erick was sitting in, staring intently at the orangish-yellow glow of the burning fire.

"Sire," Astrid mumbled, moving closer to the disheveled earl. "It is summer, you do not need a fire."

He looked up annoyed, arising with the means of intimidating Astrid. "I can burn a fire if I so desire. Tell me why could I not, slave?"

He turned his head around quickly, slinking around Astrid.

"You can do as you please." Astrid spoke calmly, focusing her eyes on the room's wall, away from him.