Painted Blade || sihtric

71.

   A few birds chirped, sitting on high branches with the sky casted grey while Bemia slowed down her horse behind Uhtred's in a forest before quickly dismounting, crunching leaves under her boots.

"Is he there?" Bemia questioned, her white cloak blowing back behind her as she hurried over to Uhtred standing at the edge of a small cliff. And when she stopped beside him, she sighed in relief at the sight of Finan talking to Father Pyrlig below and Sigtryggr sitting on a horse near them with a few other men.

"Sigtryggr!" Uhtred yelled out, his voice echoing around them.

On his horse, Sigtryggr looked up, a smirk forming on his lips at the sight of Uhtred watching him while Bemia made her way down the small hill.

"Sigtryggr!" Bemia nearly tripped but quickly saved herself, reaching the flat ground and avoiding fallen logs, making her way toward the man who she had grown to love like another son. "Are you okay?"

Sigtryggr closed the distance between them, tightly wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he repeated, rubbing her back while she returned the hug. "Espen was fine when I last saw him."

They pulled away and Bemia let out a small gasp at the bruising and cuts covering his dirty face. "Son, what the hell have you been through?" she whispered, grazing her fingers over the growing lump on his eyebrow.

He gently grabbed her hand, moving it away with pity in his eyes. "Espen arrived with the news of your daughter," he dreadfully said, ignoring her question while her face dropped. "I am truly sorry, Bemia. We all knew how excited you were."

Guilt and grief filled Bemia again as she cleared her throat. "The Gods have their reasons," was all she could think to say.

Behind her, leaves crunched, and the pair looked over to see Uhtred walking toward them while the rest of the men made their way. "What news of Stiorra?"

"She was alive when I left," Sigtryggr informed them, "but Brida hunts her. There's no time."

"We will reach her," Bemia promised, squeezing his arms at the doubt in his eyes. "We will save her."

"She claims to act for Danes," Sigtryggr said, looking at Uhtred. "It is you she wants. It is you."

Uhtred stepped up to Bemia's side. "You have found me," he stated, clasping Sigtryggr on the shoulder. "You have done all you can."

"Then where is the army of Rumcofa?"

Uhtred dreadfully glanced at his quiet sister. "The lady would not offer them."

Sigtryggr's face mixed with anger and disbelief as he turned to Father Pyrlig. "I thought the King sent men."

Father Pyrlig straightened under his stare. "He has. I do not understand—"

"It does not matter," Uhtred firmly cut him off and all heads turned back to him. "I have sent word to the Saxon boroughs on your border."

"Why would the lady refuse?" Sigtryggr snapped, losing his patience. Bemia quietly swore, dragging a hand through her hair while taking a step back. "We have an alliance! For years we have had peace!"

"I know!" Uhtred agreed. "It is a betrayal."

Near them, Finan was nervously watching, rubbing his hands together while also keeping an eye on Bemia who needed to brace her hand on a tree to help her stand.

The Queen of Norway was fit to ride a horse but so far that was about as much as her body could handle after the stillbirth of her daughter only days ago.

"Is this Edward's decision?" Sigtryggr demanded.

"No, it is not," Father Pyrlig scoffed.

A few of the listening men parted aside, revealing Sihtric, Osferth, and Aethelstan who both marched toward the others, faces blank and giving no indicator of what they had found out.