Blasphemy [Finan the Agile]

CHAPTER x. 'A Man Called Osbert'

ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

CHAPTER x. 'A Man Called Osbert'

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              Freydis and Finan stayed with Osferth until the healer arrived and tenaciously removed them from the tent so they could work on patching the monks' wounds in silence. When they left the sun had begun to set, King Alfred had willfully retaken Beomfleot and the wives and children of Danes were forcefully removed from the premices' in chains. Freydis watched with a frown as a woman struggled to hold her infant, her mealleability restrained from the shackles trussed around her wrists. The Irish rogue took a step forward and the woman flinched at the sudden movement,carefully, Freydis held her hands out for the baby, a safe and reassuring smile on her face. Reluctantly, the Danish woman handed her baby over and Freydis held the sleeping infant in one arm as she gestured toward the woman's chains with the other, "Push them up your arm as far as you can," she instructed, "it will help with mobility. Also, when you can, tuck your sleeves under to prevent chafing." The Dane did as instructed, sighing in relief as her wrist bones were given rest from the persistent steel of shackles. When the woman was more comfortable, Freydis carefully laid the baby back into its mothers arms; "I bid you luck, miss," truthfully told the freed-woman, "you shan't suffer too much, King Alfred as I have heard is much kinder to his prisoners of war than your folk."

"Thank you, Lady," the Danish woman spoke, her voice raw with grief; she had lost a husband and two sons within the Battle of Beomfleot. "Truly. May Odin bless you in your adventures."

Freydis smiled kindly, watching the Dane off as her line of incarcerated wives were forced to move as they traveled unwillfully to a lifetime of servitude within the walls of Winchester. The Irish rogue flinched when a hand was placed on her shoulder, she turned to find Finan looking down at her with a small smile, "I didn't know you were still here," Freydis sincerely stated, "your wound, it's not yet cared for."

"I tried searching for a healer but they are all busy with the mortally wounded," he said, "does yu'r elbow still bleed?"

Freydis had truthfully forgotten she had a cut on her elbow, the woman quickly glanced at it to find it unbleeding and plastered in dried blood. "We will take care of our wounds in the city, I doubt Sihtric had his cleaned either, do you know where he would be?"

"Alehouse," Finan snorted, "c'mon, I'll show yu'."

Freydis nodded, allowing the Irishman to take her hand and direct her into the captured city. It was much better well-kept than Dunholm, nevertheless, Freydis could tell it had been formerly Dane due to the overaccumulation of Odin statues and piked goat heads outfront homes for protection. The decorations had not lasted long as Alfreds men destroyed and burnt whatever heathen-decoration they found, drunk with the reward of a won battle. A few soldiers nodded to Finan as they walked by, but the Irishman ignored their gestures as he opened the door to an alehouse with one hand and allowed Freydis through with the gesture of another. "Why thank you, kind sir." Freydis mused, courtsying at his playful bow.