I could barely move, and I yell getting angry, “Move!” I just had to see my mother. And unfortunately, no one hears me, too busy worrying about their own selves.
I clench my teeth, shoving back and trying to slip and wedge myself past the others blocking my way. My struggle with the crowd ends, though, when I hear a scream from a man.
I whip my head in that direction, and what I see makes my limbs shake and my heart almost stop.
A bunch of men and even women walking slowly had appeared at the end of the chaotic mass of townspeople swarming toward the church and they were definitely not citizens of the kingdom.
They were dressed oddly, like savages, and they carried weapons and shields. Their hearts were definitely not mared by cowardice but excitement instead, their lips upturned in smiles and grins.
Not all these strangers wore armor, though a few of them did—these strangers who were more likened to giants than men. Then those who carried shields banged them with their swords, spears, or axes making a beat similar to drums but not at all pleasant like the music in dining halls.
Many of their faces were painted blue with the devil’s mark and in the hair of a lot of these savages were jewelry and bone weaved in. They most surely were the gifts from the devil himself. And like their excited faces they shouted in a foreign tongue, joyfully. As for the townspeople and me, we could only stare in awe and fear.
So these savages must be the so-called “Vikings” that the ladies would gossip over when working needlework and dining on cream and honeyed cakes.
They were indeed as frightening as their stories which I thought were only told to scare me into obedience. What they told couldn’t be truer, they really were like giants. They towered over us, and one now loomed over the man who was the first to scream.
This townsman’s head is turned, as he watches Vikings who are practically breathing down his neck close in on him. The townsman is unsuccessful at his escape, falling and landing on his hands and knees, being separated from the fleeing crowd I was part of like a wounded animal.
The man I had the pity of God for is yanked up from the ground by his hair by a Viking man with short cropped blond hair and a long, decorated beard the same color.
This blonde Viking man laughs, at what I can only guess is the townsman’s feeble resistance and before I know it, a sword is plunged through the screaming man’s chest. The man’s screaming ends with gurgling blood spilling from his mouth.
I start to feel sick, and I do the sign of the cross praying for the man’s soul to reach heaven. I do not have much time to pray as I feel myself being shoved around, the crowd more in an uproar after one of our own has died brutally by their sword.
After the blonde Viking committed a killing, the rest follow, some of them bellowing out what sounded like a war cry. Their faces remained ecstatic and now I can only guess that they enjoyed our confused and terrified faces.
I notice one Viking readying a bow, lifting it and stringing an arrow, getting ready to shoot in the crowd I was in. And just like that, I hear the whiz of an arrow flying past my head at ungodly speed before embedding itself into a man’s skull just in front of me.
It almost hit me, and I pale. I barely dodge past the man’s body which crumbled immediately to the dirty street. I don’t even have a chance to pray for him, more concerned for myself because I do have to admit I almost joined both of them by tripping over a rock.
They would have gotten me, or I would have been trampled by those behind me and I am left with a haunting visage of death, the last sounds from the dying man to the earthly kingdom is a pained gasp before his eyes roll to the back of his head.
Fearing I would be leaving this world soon too, I keep my head lowered knowing more arrows would follow after the first, so that God fearing man didn’t die in vain.
I glance back seeing the Vikings charge forward, mixing with the townspeople and slaughtering them one by one, the deaths not always quick. Some were impaled in the stomach, their guts spilling from their bellies and then left for the reaping angels to carry them to heaven while they had to suffer on his earthly kingdom for a little longer.
I lift my head and my eyes search for a way out of this slaughterhouse. I then see a skinny and sly looking man. And just like me, he must be looking for a way out of this crowd but unlike me, he had seen a way out. He slips into a narrow alley just ahead of me melting into the shadows of neighboring buildings. I pursue his lead and swim through a shoving and pushing crowd of frightened townspeople.
I free myself from the crowd and I enter the narrow alley, not exactly running but not walking leisurely.
I keep my eyes open, fearing if I close them for the briefest of seconds savages born of hell would be in front of me dragging me to the infernos with them where they were spawned by our sins.
I crouch lower to the ground hoping to melt as well to the shadows as the man in front of me and as I watch him about to enter the light of our father, his head is taken off his own shoulders.
I quickly cover my mouth as I see his shaven head fly up into the air and out of my view as his body drops to the dirty street like so many men before him.
I thought the street parallel of the one I was on would be safe, but I was sadly mistaken. At least I was not gravely mistaken like this man.
Blood pools from his neck onto the dirty street and hooves from a prancing horse splashes and splatters the blood.
The blood bay horse is ridden by none other than the savage devil who beheaded the man, his sword in hand dripping with fresh blood and reins in the other.
My eyes widen repeating a verse of the Bible in my head. “When He broke the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, ‘Come.’ And another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it was granted to take peace from the earth, and that men would slay one another; and a great sword was given to him.”
The priest was right, the sins of our fathers and the fathers before them were coming back and the four horsemen would be the bringers of doom. War honed the skin of a savage upon a stolen charger, the visual horrifying as it were beautiful.
He doesn’t carry or hold a shield like the rest of the devils, only a sword, but he wears their clothing like his own—armor, pants, boots, and all. Though, a black fur coat hangs from his shoulders giving him a flashy appearance compared to the savages he leads to destroy our holy lands.
I can’t tell the features of war pretending to be a man, but I can see he has a long dark mane styled in a single braid much like a woman before bed.
He then tilts his head down and I suppose he is staring at the man he has slain in such a cowardly manner. He pulls the reins of his horse which prances around in almost a complete circle around the dead body before stopping at the end of the alley causing me to be trapped.
Before he can spot me, I quickly push my body behind a barrel which stank of rot. My breathing is quick and heavy against my palm and I felt I would suffocate by my own doing, but it was the silence that sickens me to my stomach despite the cries of battle surrounding me.
Although my mouth is covered by my hand, I fear above all else War will hear my breathing because my heart and breath sound so loud to my ears, so why not his?
I felt I would be the next one to have my head removed from my shoulders by that sword he held in his hand. So, in my head, I pray to God to save me, to have mercy on my soul hoping he would hear and spare me.
I hear the gallop of the red horse going in another direction and I sigh into the palm of my hand. God must have heard my prayers. I must have a greater purpose, or I will be helping someone with a greater purpose.
All I wished is stay hidden in this very spot I chose to hide in, to keep safe, but I would be discovered sooner or later. God would not want me to be a coward after my life has been spared. I force my shaky legs up, and I start to slowly approach the end of the alley where the sly man had met his end. I hesitantly peer out, and it seems no one is there not even War and his red ho
rse.
I was so close to the body, the blood so near my shoe, but the worst was the smell of blood so strong I could taste copper in my mouth.
I am revolted by the sight, smell, and the sound of the blood pouring from his neck and I can’t help but note the details of everything, including the spine sticking from red fleshly meat. I want to vomit my breakfast, but I keep it down forcing myself forward.
Before exiting from the safety of the alley, I look both ways checking the whole street and upon seeing not a living soul I leave the alley.
I look at the decapitated man once more and see a dagger he held in his hand that I passed over the first time I saw him. I see the dagger is bloody, and I can only guess he had hurt one of the savages.
I don’t pass the dagger up and I quickly lean down, prying the dead man’s blade from his still warm hand, taking it for myself.
I grip the blade, the handle still warm from his dying flesh and as I walk into the open, the street barren of all life, I begin to feel vulnerable.
I walk forward trying my best to hear anything behind me and I am constantly looking over my shoulder and to the right and then the left of me. My grip on the dagger tightens within my trembling hand, getting prepared to attack any savages, devils, or horsemen if necessary.
I regret more than anything for causing my poor mother trouble by running away after my baptism.
She must be worried to death; if only I had just stayed with her like an obedient child. I would also be within the safety of the castle walls not having to worry about outrunning devils.
As I continue walking forward at a good clip, I hear someone running up behind me and I turn quick on my heel holding the dagger out ready to charge the person, whoever they may be.
But much to my surprise, I find the patter of shoes on dirt belonging to one of the townsmen. He is a very wealthy one from the looks of things, as I watch his fat belly bounce up and down as he runs.
He holds a box of things to his chest as sweat pours down his cheek and forehead. Perhaps he was a merchant or something like that since I see beads and chains from necklaces swinging from the box, threatening to fall out at any second.
I stop, stepping to the side and letting the fat merchant run past me. I then watch as he runs on his short plump legs ahead and I start walking again watching his sweat-soaked back, not wanting to be the first one to run into the savages. It seemed everyone who ran blindly was now dead.
It was not long until I hear the man resembling a pig who just crested the top of the hill beg for his life. “Have Mercy!”
And then, the one he begs to spare his life is the devil with none other than the blood bay horse. And just like he was before he sits atop of the horse, though his face is no longer clean of his crimes. It is now covered in the blood of his victims—poor innocent souls.
Now he has the head of another man, he holds it by the dead man’s hair, but he doesn’t hold it long. The dropped head rolls down the hill towards me bouncing across the bumpy street like a ball.
I walk backward before he could notice me, my eyes not tearing from the man that must be War on his red horse. He doesn’t listen to the man’s pleas like I expected, and he drives his sword carrying the life’s blood of many good men through his chest.
The rich merchant chokes on his own words, probably more begging, and blood slips from his mouth in a stream. The sword does not only pierce the man’s chest but also the wooden box he was huddling quite close to his being.
I then hear not only his blood spilling to the ground but his coins, silver, gold, and jewelry as well. The box breaks on impact, spilling the contents.
Coins bounce and some roll away and some necklaces stuffed in the box snap, specifically ones with expensive beads. They bounce and roll away much like the coins. My heart pounds more loudly than the noise of the box splitting in pieces.
I release a small and feeble whimper but unlike the last time, the man notices me, his dark blue eyes not passing over me but burning holes into my skull.
His eyes were transfixed on me and I could now hear the pain and panicked screams of townspeople more clearly, but he makes no move to pursue and kill them, more interested in me for some reason. And upon everything else, he also bears an odd marking on his forehead resembling the crescent moon.
He slides his sword from the fat man’s limp body, the blood reflecting the sun rays from the glossy red color.
I turn on my heel once again, preparing myself to run as this devil had a much longer sword than my dagger with its small reach. I also didn’t have the leverage of a horse. As I am about to flee, I bump into someone else from behind me.
More accurately, I had bumped into a blue wooden shield. The force I had run into knocks me back almost making me fall over.
I look up, holding the dagger, working up the courage to stab this person I had no doubt was a savage because it was the same shield that he held in his hands.
I see above the shield a blonde man sitting on top of a white horse with bow and arrow fastened to his back, and he was very similar to the one with the dark hair. He also wears a tilted gold crown on his head making him look ridiculous. He certainly was no king.
He smiles at me, but his smile is more like a mocking grin and he jumps down from his horse. And then instead of his braid running down his back he has it tossed to the side while a dark blue sun is tattooed on his forehead.
The man on the blood bay horse had a similar tattoo on his forehead making me suspicious if they were related to one another. This new savage wore casual battle clothing and nothing fancy, but he also had a white fur coat contradicting the other man in a clash of colors.
The longer I stare at him, the more I think of the four horsemen and the verse in the bible about the rider of the white horse. ‘Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, ‘Come.’ I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.”
I swallow—the world was ending and even if I attempted to stab Conquest donning savage skin, the red horseman was still nearby.
I was trapped by demons, two related demons from the looks of things, springing to life just as the Bible foretold. The strangest thing though was how the two men show no signs of attacking me or I am sure I would have been long dead.
My eyes focus on the blonde as I hear him speak but his words are foreign and unintelligible to my ears.
“What are we to do with this young one brother?” and as he finishes his words it sounded almost like a question, his voice giddy and mocking. He sounded quite youthful leading me to believe he was the younger horseman.
But I wonder what he had asked. Were they discussing how to dispose of me?
The other man sitting atop his blood bay horse replies in the same tongue and I hear his horse’s hooves on the dirt path growing closer. “Don’t harm her. Take her to the boat, along with any other children you find. We can sell her as a slave to the Easterners.”
They were definitely discussing what to do with me. The two options I concluded from the gossip of the ladies in the castle would be either “kill her,” or “sell her.”
I had no way of understanding their deviled tongue, but I sure didn’t want to stay and find out. So, my eyes leave the white horseman searching for any way out.
I needed a quick escape because the red horseman was approaching me fast from behind. I then see a pile of wooden crates stacked up against a wall of a nearby building.
It leads to the building’s roof and If I was quick enough, I could escape to the rooftops. I think I could make it, judging the distance and I had always been fast on my legs.
Once the blonde Viking approached, I decided it was either now or never and so I dart out of the way before he could grab me.
I run towards the wooden crates, my heart racing like my legs and I can swear I heard one of them click thei
r tongue at me, if not both, at my escape.
However, I don’t look back. I refuse to turn around, as I might be staring at my impending death. The seer didn’t predict the horsemen, she had only predicted the bells, so perhaps the wolves wouldn’t come until much later.
I haven’t even heard one howl, or seen a glimpse of any wolf-like creatures, that was unless she confused these savages with wolves. They did wear furs like one.
As soon as I reach the pile of boxes, I quickly start to climb all the while having a tight grip on the dagger.
Climbing the boxes was difficult while holding onto the knife but I was managing, fear pushing me along but before I get halfway up the boxes, I am snatched from them.
I am ripped away and I am hanging over air, the cotton dress I’m wearing cutting my underarms and threatening to rip from my weight.
I thrash, kick, and scream trying everything possible to be difficult and the dagger in my hand was hard to keep with my hand being so sweaty and slippery. I can’t let go of it. I have to prepare myself mentally when and where to use it. I can’t lose this weapon, or I have nothing to protect myself with.
I continue kicking up a fuss as I’m held feet above the ground. I am thankful the horse, always so prancy when I saw it, had stopped moving making the fall to the ground seem less dangerous, and then the red horsemen holding me speaks.
But by the sound of things, his words are directed toward the blonde Viking and his tone sounds angry. “Why didn’t you go after her when she ran!? Did you plan to just let the brat escape?”
The blonde Viking chuckles, and he says something walking away holding his horse’s reins giving us his back, but again the words are foreign and unintelligible to me. “I wanted to see how far she could run before being caught by one of the others but now you can bring her back to the boat. I have better things to do besides babysitting a wild thing, for instance,” He stops talking momentarily to wave his pointer fingers at the castle before it lands on the wood door sealing the interior from the town before speaking again, “breaking in that well-guarded castle. They must be keeping the good things there.”
Wolves Among Danes Page 2
