VIKINGS || GYDA

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟑 *

"I want to ask you something."

Fathers head turns in the tub as he looks to Bjorn.
I too look up from my spot on the fur chair in the corner in which Ubbe and Hvitserk lay beside me asleep.

"What is a blood eagle?"

The words cut through the silence of the room. Father had announced to the town that this was the punishment Jarl Borg was to receive. Bjorn and I shared curiosity about it, for we had never heard of such a punishment.

Father looks to the ceiling above him as he reminisces,"The offender gets down on his knees. His back is opened with knives and then with axes," His body floats closer to the edge of the wooden tub, his rough hands tightly closing in on the edges.

"His ribs are chopped away from his spine," He uses his hands to gesture something along the lines of a something popping, "And then his lungs are pulled out of these huge bleeding wounds," His hands bend back and rubs the flesh of his back in demonstration, "And are laid upon his shoulders so they look like the folded wings of a great eagle."

He sits back now.

"And he must stay like that—Suffering until he dies."

Feeling satisfied with the terror in our eyes he turns away from us, relaxing in the steaming water.

"If he suffers in silence, he may enter Valhalla. But if he screams...he can never enter its portals."

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DAYS LATER

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My fathers haunting words were nothing compared to what I was witnessing before me. I stand between Bjorn and Nels as I watch my father dig into Jarl Borg's back. Every swing he took was filled with fulfilment but nonetheless rage.

I watch the Jarl's face—watch the suffering in his eyes. Yet as we all watch on he doesn't sound so much as a yelp of pain.

When it got to the stage of father pulling out his ribs, the blood sprays on father and upon us all who surround. I gasp in fright as the warm blood hits my cheek.

I couldn't bare to watch another second. I turn my head swiftly into the shoulder of Bjorn. He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me forcefully up again, holding my face in plain sight of the horrific scene that play in front of us. His hands peel off me as he whispers to me.

"You must watch—for his sake."

I feel myself shake as I watch on. I could see that I wasn't the only one horrified. All around me were folk who refused to look or better yet couldn't bare to. There were women who even wept, unable to conceal their pity for such a harsh punishment.

As father digs his hands into his insides I hold the urge to scream for mercy. Jarl Borgs eyes are wide and stricken with blinding agony. His lips raw from his teeth biting into them. More blood sprays onto my feet—my hand takes an immediate tight grip to whoever's wrist was closest. It only tightens with the gory sounds of the Jarl's flesh.

Nels touch is gentle as he guides my hand from his wrist to be joined with his own hand. I thank him with a look as he holds me to him. We were both frightened but we had to watch on in respect for the Jarl.

In the background of the flames lit upon this gathering, the ribs of Jarl Borgs body has spiked out, his crimson coloured skin stripped away from his back and hung out like wings.