Unfortunately, the army was still hungry for blood after the disappointing raid of King Ecbert's Wessex, and they were much too eager to travel to York. Apparently, men do have a threshold for killing and pillaging and the Great Heathen Army had yet to satisfy that need. Bounding up the banks, looting and rioting at every possible settlement, Lhyrie thought there was no way a major city like York wouldn't be expecting an attack as the rumors would undoubtedly spread of their pending arrival. She hoped the vicious behaviors some of the men partook in wouldn't affect their efforts at securing a proper settlement after the capture of York, as well as ruin their surprise.
"How are you feeling?" Ubbe asked her, as she stood at the bow of their boat. The winds were howling, rocking it back and forth a little too violently for her taste. She must have looked green.
"I'd appreciate if the storm either came or went," she told him, trying to choke down the bile that started to itch in the back of her throat.
The clouds had been lingering over them for quite some time, bringing the terrible winds but no rain. She prayed to Thor that it wasn't punishment for the men's behaviors, except she seemed like she was the only one bothered by the rough conditions the stalled storm brought the group. She then prayed to Freya, in case this torture was for what she did to Hvitserk, who still wouldn't look her in the eyes, even as he approached his brother and whispered something to him.
"The riders haven't come back," Ubbe told her, after Hvitserk left them, without saying a word to her. They had sent three riders out to scout, as the boats stayed back on the river. They thought they must be close to York by now. "He forgives you, you know," he added, as he followed her gaze to where Hvitserk plopped down on a chest near the back of the ship.
"I wish he would talk to me about it," she told Ubbe, drawing her attention back to him. "Instead of you."
"I let him punch me and we made our peace," he said with a chuckle. "That was the extent of it."
"Oh, that's were that black eye came from," she teased, but quickly gripped the railing tighter as the winds rocked the boat once more.
She wished she could talk to anyone besides Ubbe about the situation, but the remaining group seemed to be alienating her, despite the larger role she now played in its army. She missed her friends, especially Sigvi and mourned for Ellisif. Her heart dropped when someone finally had the courage to tell her of Ellisif's and Vik's deaths at the hand of King Harald – but only after both him and his brother parted ways from the camp. What a coward, she thought, to comment on her friends right after killing them like he had did by the fire. Next time she saw him, she would love to put an arrow in his back.
"Do you think the men are lost?" She asked, turning her attention back to their immediate problem.
"Erik is one of our best trackers. He wouldn't have gotten lost." Ubbe leaned on the rail and rubbed his forehead.
"So, killed? Captured even?" She gulped against the shaking ship.
"What use would they be captured? They don't speak the language and these people wouldn't know Norse if Odin was laying in bed with them."
"To get us to leave."
"Ivar would sacrifice half our army before he would be convinced to leave."
"Thankfully, you make decisions together," she tried to muster a smirk.
"Don't worry," he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead to soothe her from the increasing rough. "We will make it to York before the storm sweeps us away and Ivar plans our demise."
"That's not very reassuring," she bellowed against the gusting winds. It seemed that Thor took Ubbe's words as a challenge. Her hair was flinging in all directions as the rain started to pellet them. "Did you have to say that?" She asked, as one of the men propped up a makeshift tent and they hurried underneath it.
"What better way for the storm to come?" He cheeked.
"I would have liked it better not to come," she pipped, feeling the nausea start again in their confined space. Sitting down, she let her head fall into her hands, willing the nausea to leave. Ubbe joined her, placing an arm around her in comfort. It made her much too warm but didn't move him away, maybe his weight would steady her.
No one bothered them as the winds blew outside and curled the edges of the sheet in on itself. Perhaps, the group they rowed with didn't want to walk into anything they might regret seeing. Ubbe was still very much in the honeymoon phase of their wedding fortnight. Lhyrie, however, preferred to be more private with their affections, but a boat full of men was hardly private. This was a rare moment of privacy and quiet since they left the camp.
Ubbe ran a hand through her hair and smiled softly to himself. "If I kiss you, will you throw up on me?" He whispered.
"I can't guarantee anything," she said quietly.
The boat rocked again violently as he leaned into her. Ubbe smiled and placed his forehead to hers. "Maybe not," he laughed. "I think dry land suits us better."
"Yes, please," Lhyrie groaned, as the tempest raged on.
"Tomorrow we will go by foot and see if we find York."
"Solid ground," she dreamed, instead of the rocking platform they've been on for days.
"And perhaps we can escape the pack and find a meadow," he nuzzled onto her shoulder. "It would be quiet –,"
"– and wet," she interjected.
"- but quiet and we'd be alone," he finished.
"We're alone right now."
"And you are going to be sick."
"And?"
"And that is not romantic."
"Since when are you the romantic?" She looked over at him, nestled on her shoulder. He looked pretty vulnerable then, curled next to her.
"I think coming to your tent soaking wet was fairly romantic."
"That was stupid. You could have gotten ague."
"And making a ring from the arrow you shot at me," he said, taking her hand and rubbing the small band of silver on it.
"I will give you that small piece of romantism." He smiled at that. "I didn't shoot at you; it was only near you."
"It grazed my ear," he said as he furrowed his brow and tugged at the wounded appendage.
"Will you hold that over me forever?" She asked poking him lightly in the stomach.
"Yes, I think I will."
"Well it's better than the last thing you couldn't forgive me for." She could feel him tense slightly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up."
"No, no," he muttered. "That is over now, yes? We are married, after all." He paused for a moment and then quipped, "That's all I wanted from you, anyway," he added cheekily.
Lhyrie poked him harder, but the smile only grew on his face. It was so natural, she couldn't help but join him, and for a moment her seasickness seemed to dissipate as she tickled him again. Ubbe pulled her close and into his chest, pinning her hands down and away from his stomach. He was surprisingly ticklish.
"It's almost sundown," he whispered into her hair, the smiles still on each of their lips. "Sleep, and tomorrow we will be on land."
"You don't have to tell me twice," she answered and adjusted herself slightly. She fell asleep listening to his heartbeat, the nausea finally squandered as the storm finished outside.