Berserkers

Part 3: The Danes

Axl looked around the long house. Never he had seen so much food, nor such variety of it. A whole ox roasted slowly on the central fire, it's grease dripping in the red coals and making it hiss. Slaves passed plates with sweet smelling oat cakes, basins full of stewed deer, mugs full of mead, ale and to his utter surprise, vine.

He saw how others tried it, only to spit it on the ground cursing the gods. He took one ornate silver cup and drank it slowly, all his senses savouring it's liquid, his mind many miles away from the rowdy noise going around him.

The Danish king had a mighty funeral. A boat richly covered in red velvet carried his soul away to Valhala, the only noise the ones the flames did as they devoured his body and the gold, silver, arms and to his and Steven 's horror, his favourite slave, burned alive with his masters corpse, to serve him in death as he served in life.

-I'm so pleased I'm not a king. Or a duke. Or nothing more than I am.- Steven said, looking at the boat as the current carried it's contents to the sea.

-You do not wish for the riches of a king then, Steven?- Asked Izzy, placing his hand on his friends shoulders tenderly.

-I don't mind the riches, Izzy. If I was a rich man, with gold and silver, I could buy my brother's freedom.- He said looking at Saul, that was standing beside Michael, their backs to them. - What I don't wish for is the responsibility that comes with a tittle.-

Axl smiled. Steven wasn't as dumb as he made himself to be, and that was good news for all of them. But he was kind hearted. His eyes met Izzy then, and the smiled faded from his face, for he was sure Izzy was thinking the same. A kind hearted man was a liability. Always.

When the solemnity of the pyre wore away, so did their sorrow, and they drank and ate heartily.

-How come,- Saul asked, -these people live so well? I mean, look around us Izzy. When was the last time we ate so well?-

-Much too long, I think.- Izzy answered, his mouth full.

There was a bitterness to his words that didn't pass inadvertently to the others. Harold was getting old, and too proud to admit it. They were being reverted to farmers instead of traders, and so become to rely on the gods and their generosity rather than rely on their selves. But the gods took away as much as they did, Izzy thought, cleaning his hands. It was time to take control away from them.

The new king made his entrance on the house then, and all the assistance took on their feet to salute him with a thunderous roar, bashing their cups on the tables.

He passed each committee slowly, and each pleaded their alliance to him. He stood then in front of them and they all bended in one knee but Axl.

Lars Ulrich wasn't a tall man, but his stare could bring a bear down. He stood in front of Axl.

-You do not bend to your king?- He asked.

Axl looked into his green eyes. -I bend to no one.-

-Not even to your own prince?- Lars pointed to Izzy, that gave Axl a pleading look.

-If my prince asked me, then I would. But he knows me well enough not to.-

-I see. Raise, son of Isbell. - He flicked his bejeweled hand at Izzy.

-So this is your foundling of the woods, Isbellson? -

-Yes.- Answered Izzy.

-Yes what?- The Danish king turned to Izzy.

-Yes, my lord. - Izzy's face was calm, and his lips didn't curl as he worded it.

Lars looked at Izzy's calm contenance, and at Axl's crimson face.