Borderland Village of East Anglia/Wessex- 10th century- the following day after the assault...
The half Saxon, half Dane warrior known as Uhtred Ragnarson and Uhtred of Bebbanburg rode with his men on horseback into the village that had overnight turned into a village of ash and smoke. The men that accompanied the infamous Dane Slayer were a small party consisting of the warriors Sihtric and Finan, a young monk and royal bastard by the name of Osferth, and the priest whom the warrior Uhtred had known for much of his life, Father Beocca.
This band of ragtag warriors and misfits rode towards the village on their way home to Cookham (which had been regifted to Uhtred by King Edward following the great battle of Saxon vs. Dane). The group had hoped to restock on their provisions and to find much needed rest and reprieve in this encroaching village before continuing their journey onward; and were needless to say quite dismayed upon the discovery of the village's sudden destruction.
The village they now found themselves riding towards had mostly been set ablaze and completely destroyed; save for a few scattered buildings here and there; and it was suffice to say now nothing but a hollow and pale comparison of the image of provinciality and normalcy it had once been prior to the invasion. All that remained was a burnt-out skeleton of its former self, the Danish raiding party had seen to that.
Uhtred and his men after spending many a month on the road and in the wild post the great battle had very much needed comfort and a semblance of civilization that a village such as this would have ideally provided- but alas, it would now appear given the rising smoke and the current outpour of refugees, that they would unfortunately be finding comfort and civilization in short supply within this parts.
"Well, there goes me enjoyin' a pint and a woman..." the Irishman known as Finan remarked.
"Yes, it appears much of our plans have quite literally gone up in smoke." Replied Father Beocca.
"Aye, real fuckin' perceptive of 'ya Father."
Beocca rolls his eyes. "Or perhaps the village was merely making itself ready for when a devil like yourself rode through."
"Nah, I still expect women and ale in hell Father...even for a devil of my like." Finan replies with a wink.
Sihtric snorts and chuckles.
"Danes, you think?" Posed the young monk Osferth.
"Most certainly. I imagine many bands have fractured off following the last battle." Father Beocca replies.
"Did you think we defeated them all with Edward?" Uhtred says with a cocksure grin.
"No, of course not. I'm just surprised to see them so near the border of Wessex." Replied Osferth.
"Aye, bold little shite's these ones." Remarked Finan.
"They merely do what Danes do. That or they seem to be testing our young king." Shrugs Uhtred.
"Should we be concerned?" Questioned Father Beocca, his face serious and his brows knit with worry.
"No, it matters not...let it be Edward's concern." Stated Uhtred, affirmatively.
"Should we not learn of what transpired here while passing through though?" Osferth asks rather hesitantly.
Uhtred sighs. "There's no harm in that knowledge alone no...but, I tire of cleaning up the messes of Wessex and it's king- the boy will need to learn to carry the weight of the crown on his own now. I am done being Wessex's obedient dog."
Beocca stares at the Dane Slayer gravely seemingly in disapproval. "Uhtred..."
"Oh, don't start with that priest. I care not for the affairs of some boy king or some backwater village I've never been to- and I desire for nothing more than to return to Cookham and to my children...and with luck and the Gods favor smiling upon me hopefully I can rid them of the taint of the Christian God that Alfred had forced upon them..."
YOU ARE READING
The Maiden Who Fell Through Time
Исторические романыIn the 3rd century there is a story which tells of a man whom had carried a child across a river; a child unbeknownst to him, who was later revealed to be a savior. Time is fluid. It flows like the stream of a river, and also grows like the tendril...
