Ease The Dawn

Chapter 12

"I will trade Aethelswith for Lord Burgred."

"We call her Aethelswith now?" Hvitserk asked looking up with a mouth full of chicken.

Grimacing, Ivar said nothing, looking back down at the ax in his hand.

"For what purpose, Ivar? You cannot believe he is going to get us territory?"

A smile crept over Ivar's face and he looked back up, cocking his head to one side.

"No, but our men must....for now," he shook his head, "You know nothing of negotiations."

"I know that you no longer dine with your men. You retire early and squirrel away in your tent each evening with candles burning late." Pausing, he gulped from his horn. "You race back to camp as quickly as you can anytime you are away, even designate men to handle tasks you would have never trusted to anyone before. What is going on?"

"Careful!" Ivar snapped. "I command this army Hvitserk. It involves study and strategic planning. Your little brain could not begin to fathom the intricacies involved. Do you think the leader of the Heathen Army must also hunt to feed his warriors? Hmm? Go on every raid? Am I charged with those tasks as well?" Lifting his ax, he pointed it at Hvitserk as if to scold. "I will not be questioned by you."

"You are enamored by her, Ivar."

"I am not!" he spat.

"I understand," Hvitserk carried on. "She is a rare beauty. Gorgeous! With a figure begging to be..."

Swoosh!

A rush of wind passed and Hvitserk felt the ax fly, narrowly missing his temple and embed deeply into the wooden post of the rain canopy. Knowing Ivar never missed, it was a warning to silence him. His eyes shot wide with disbelief and he only hoped Ivar did not want the kill of yet another brother as a stain on his legacy.

"Leave," Ivar ordered, running his hand over his dark slicked-back hair.

Glaring, Hvitserk trudged away, his anger was obvious in his expression and stiff movements.

Shifting his focus, Ivar picked at the callused skin that ran along the inside of his finger. He felt strange. Jittery. Was he getting sick, he wondered? Leaning his head back against the tall wooden chair, he closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. Her face was there, imprinted on his mind...as usual. How could such a small woman make him feel so weak? Holding her ransom was proving to be capricious... a distraction. She seemed content to simply sit quietly across from him drawing childish pictures or playing games.

Pulling his legs to one side, he sunk deeper in the chair, elbow propped on an armrest and chin resting on his hand. Still...she was unlike anyone he had ever met. The corners of his mouth lifted into a subtle smile thinking of the way she would laugh at her own witty remarks. The thought made him sigh as more images of her rolled through his mind. He could tell her things, personal things and she never wavered. She possessed a gentleness that made him feel...well, like a man. His legs and fractured form never an unwelcome barrier. Groaning under his breath, he rolled his eyes. Did she make him feel weak or strong? Would his mind ever know peace again? Perhaps after she was traded, then he could return to his life before her. Wait..his brows furrowed... how was his life before her?

Grunting, he barked at a passing thrall for a cup of mead, settling back into his thoughts. That was the scale of her disruption. He could not even picture his life before her. Who did he used to speak to? Scoffing, he took a deep drink from his now full cup of ale. He felt anxious. Flustered. Pulling himself straight in his chair, he grabbed his crutch and pushed up out of his seat, off to find the healer; get a tincture or some remedy to cure this illness in his mind.