Ease The Dawn

Chapter 8

Ivar had little patience for the discussions around the fire. The updates on Alfred's army and their feeble attempt to push Ivar's men back but he had heard little of the last few moments of back and forth.

Finally making his way down the path to the tent, he wondered how she would be occupying her time. Perhaps, sitting by the fire having a glass of the mulled wine he brought back from a recent raid, or maybe using his desk for beloved sketch work.

Shuffling forward he was anxious to see her response to the small jar of skin oil he had left, placed inside a linen pouch, on the log table beside her bed. It smelt of roses and she had mentioned that the cooler air left her skin feeling dry. He savored receiving her humble appreciation for his simple offerings. It was nearly effortless to please her, keep her amenable. Sad really, he thought, as he picked up his pace, hurrying toward their tent, stopping at the entrance and pulling back the flap.

"Princess, should we..."

He stopped dead in his tracks. The tent was dark and the fire was out. Where was she, his mind raced, his chest filling with panic.

"Slave! Gussr!" he roared, realizing he had walked past an empty stool when entering.

Stepping out of the tent, he hollered again for attention. The air was still and no one acknowledged his calls. Dread began to spread through his body. Where was Aethelswith? Where was she? Snapping his head to look in all directions, he scanned the surrounding tents, finding the area void of men. With the evening meal already underway, no one was left mulling around. Lifting his ear, he listened for sounds above the moving air, searching for rushed voices, horses, metal colliding but all was quiet.

Shuffling in the direction of his men, he stopped and turned, hearing the sound of her squealing voice.

"My Lord! My Lord!"

Glancing again towards the river, he heard her cries, frenzied and distant, her voice muffled by the wind. Rushing forward as rapidly as he could, his right hand dropped to his ax and his left squeezed his crutch. Nearly dropping to the cold earth to crawl, he saw her racing towards him. Hurrying, she clutched the hem of her dress in one hand and waved her other arm high above her head. Following behind was Gussr and Brana, moving at a less vigorous pace. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the area of the river beyond to find it empty of threats.

"My Lord, look!" she cried.

In her hand, raised in the air to show him was a small fish, dangling on a string. Her face was alive and she was smiling brightly with excitement. As she grew near, she stopped still on the path, seeing the look on Ivar's face.

"WHAT do you think you are doing!" he screamed loud enough to startle all three of them. Aethelswith's eyes grew wide and her head shot back as if she had collided with a raging wind.

"You were not in the tent! You are always in the tent when I return. I thought someone had taken you. Gussr!" be barked a warning over Aethelswith's shoulder.  No trace of the previous smile remained on Gussr's now worried face.

"And you!" Ivar's head turned to look at Brana. "I returned to a dark tent, an unlit fire and no evening meal! You will be punished for ignoring your dut..."

"Please, my Lord," Aethelswith cut in. "It is my fault. She stayed upon my request to show me how to clean the fish."

"Quiet!" Ivar roared, his eyes cutting into Aethelswith's. "You, too, need to be reminded of your place. You have had too much ease of movement and it stops now. You will also be punished."

Aethelswith's chin began to tremble at the ferocity of his words and she dropped her gaze to the grass poking up between her leather shoes. Gussr stepped closer, standing directly behind her.