Of All Roman Things...
oneiriad
Disclaimer: Vikings does not belong to me.
When Ragnar finally comes, Athelstan finds himself distraught - oh, not at the thought of rejoining his family, his people - his Earl. Not a day has gone by when he didn't long for them.
But the library - Ecbert's secret library, the treasury of pagan Rome. His library, as he has begun to think of it, in his heart of hearts. The thought of leaving that behind breaks his heart.
If things were different - if Ragnar had come a conqueror, taking the throne and settling (and perhaps one day he will and oh, but that day is not today) - but he has come a raider and Athelstan is packing, preparing to sneak out during the cover of night.
He wants to steal it all - but even if his bag had been the size of one of Floki's sleek ships, oh, it would barely begin to fit. And he cannot afford a heavy bag nor does he need it - he just needs to make it to the Northmen's lines, to Ragnar. Most of what he needs is the food he has bought at market and his arm ring, of course, dug out from where he's been hiding it, buried in his straw mattress, safe from hostile eyes.
He wants to steal it all.
He walks along the shelves, fingers brushing against the scrolls - still so many he has barely touched, still so many he has not even opened yet.
At a whim, he says a prayer - "Oh Lord of Lords" - and closes his eyes. Reaches out and snags a scroll (and then has to scramble to save the pile he manages to unsettle from falling to the floor).
He hears steps approaching and hurriedly puts the scroll in his bag, pushes the bag behind a statue of a naked woman embracing a swan, and stands to attention as young Lord Aethelwulf enters, a moment's disgust sliding across his face at the sight of the pagan treasures of the room - or perhaps the scowl is simply from being used as a simple messenger, being one of the few trusted with his father's secrets.
"My father wants you."
Athelstan bows respectfully and follows.
Later that night, after the moon has set, he sneaks out. Three days later he is sitting by a fire, Ragnar snoring against his shoulder, and he finally thinks to unroll the scroll.
In the light of the fire, safe among his own once more, he starts to read:
Germania omnis a Gallis Raetisque et Pannoniis Rheno et Danuvio fluminibus, a Sarmatis Dacisque mutuo metu aut montibus separatur…
A/N: For those unfamiliar with it, the Latin bit at the end is the opening part of Tacitus' Germania.