York was larger than she expected as the late spring sun shone brightly on the high peaks and roofs of the city. It was larger than any city she saw in Frankia, with high walls surrounding its majesty; she worried if they had enough forces to take it successfully. She would hate for them to ruin her too much in the seize; the city looked so peaceful in the morning sun, with the fog rolling out, leaving the glistening dew sparkling in the air.
Lhyrie joined the three brothers scouting behind the tree line, hiding behind the damp brush that cooled her skin. They were crouched down low, to be hidden from sight, even though they were near a mile away from its walls.
"I say, we attack tomorrow," Ivar grumbled. "Before they know we are here."
"We should wait for a feast day," Ubbe told him. "Just like Father said." Ivar rolled his eyes at his oldest brother. "Then, they will either be at Church or drunk."
Ivar grunted in a defeated recognition and turned to move away from the sight of the city.
"How do we find out?" Hvitserk added.
"We'll find a way," Ubbe breathed, as just then the gates opened. A collected breath was drawn, but soon relaxed as two young boys skipped through its threshold. "Our way," he smiled, slapping his brother on his back. Ivar turned to see the boys, and a smile that Lhyrie didn't like formed on his face.
"They're just children," she pleaded.
"What do you think the Saxons would do if we had children," Ivar spit at her.
"We don't kill children," Ubbe glared toward his brother, who responded once again with a grunt.
"And when they give away that we are here because we didn't kill them…?"
"I did not say we would let them go."
Lhyrie mouthed 'thank you' to Ubbe, but her fears were still there for the two boys now heading toward the western edge of the surrounding forest. Ivar did what he wanted, no matter the consequence and he slithered back into the retreat of the woods.
"I don't like this plan," she told Ubbe, who was adjusting the top of her dress more than she wanted him to. They had followed the boys to a creek, where they were playing and fishing. They had situated themselves just enough away from them in the shadows and were now lurking for their plan to start.
"We'll be right here," Ubbe reassured her. "And they're hardly men, you can take them if they try something."
"I don't like being bait," she clarified, adjusting her top again, as to not show as much skin. She was supposed to be lost in the woods, not half-naked.
"You distract, we ambush."
"I understand the plan, Ubbe. I just don't like being bait." She knew they were only young teenagers; they looked like they were barely blistered from a long days' work or roughened from the sun. Nevertheless, even young boys showed strength when they needed to, or wanted something – hopefully not her. They were much skinner than that man by the lake, they hadn't put on muscle yet, but that didn't qualm her fears.
"It's not like that day," he sensed her discomfort. "We all have weapons, and we out number them. Yes?"
She gave a heavy sigh. "Yes."
"Your hair needs to be messier," he said, reaching to roughen it up.
"Am I not also to be pretty?" She asked, swatting his hand away.
"You're a woman lost in the woods. I could put Hvitserk in a dress and they would still drool at him."
"Thanks, brother," Hvitserk quipped, looking up from picking his sword.
Ivar growled in his spot and flipped over to look at Ubbe and Lhyrie. "Can we do this, or just attack." He snapped more as a statement than a question.
Ubbe raised his eyebrows in question at her. Letting out another heavy sigh, she lifted her dress up and began walking closer to the clearing the boys were at. The three brothers dipped below a fallen tree for cover, perched for their role.
The boys were laughing and flinging water at each other, unaware of someone coming near them until Lhyrie stepped on a branch and it sent an echo through the woods. Stupid boys, she thought. They have no guard. They snapped their heads toward the sound and her, as she played up breathing heavy and looking distraught.
"Excuse me," she gasped in her best Frankish. "Can you help me?" She threw on slight limp too, and flung her hair away from her face, revealing her bare shoulder Ubbe uncovered before she set off.
The two boys seemed to be taken aback slightly, a little curious, a little confused, but did not move from their spot in the creek. That lessened her fears somewhat. Viking boys would most definitely come to a random woman that came up to them.
"Please," she begged, moving closer. "I need help." Contemplating, she then cradled her stomach. Perhaps a pregnant woman would illicit a response from them. One of boys stepped forward, but the other placed a hand on him to stop him. He looked around the clearing, checking for a trap. That one is pretty smart, Lhyrie thought. "Please, I am all alone." But as she said those last words, the snap of a stick resonated past her and the boys.
She felt like she was a terrible actor, but the worry of a botched plan tried not to show on her face. She begged again, rubbing her stomach more and giving a slight groan of discomfort as though she could possibly be in labor. The boy that had first stepped forward began to walk toward her again, the other boy protesting from his spot in the creek.
"Thank you," she gasped when the boy was nearer. "I am lost."
He was hardly eleven, she guessed with innocence behind his brown eyes. Dirt caked his face and rips dressed his clothes. He was the one that looked like he was lost in the woods, not her. He said something to her she didn't understand.
"Do you speak Frankish?" She asked him with the sweetest smile she could muster. Again, an answer she didn't recognize. If they couldn't communicate with them, how were they to know when the feast was?
The other boy reluctantly stepped from his spot and made his way to them. They must be brothers, Lhyrie thought. They looked nearly identical, but this one was a year or so younger.
"Come, come," she told them, turning them away from where Ragnar's sons were lurking. "Where is your town?" She could see Ubbe poke his head through the foliage.
"Hu- hurt?" The older boy squeaked out in broken Frankish. Hvitserk was now visible in the shadows.
"Yes," she answered quickly. "And lost." Both, Ubbe and Hvitserk were creeping up behind the boys now. She tried not to stare at them but smoothed the boys' hair in front of her. "I need help," she said again. They lurked closer, silently, and, thankfully, the boys' focus stayed on her. The older one's gaze was glued to her bare shoulder. "Can you help me?"
"We can," Ubbe sneered in Norse as he and Hvitserk were right behind them. The boys let out a scream that curdled in her blood. Lhyrie's heart tugged for them, for betraying the small slice of charity they were trying to extend. The youngest one especially looked like he was about to faint in front of her.
"I'm sorry," Lhyrie switched to Norse, as Ubbe and Hvitserk wrestled with the boys and tied their hands. "You didn't have to scare them like that," she shot at Ubbe.
"How else were we supposed to grab them?" Hvitserk asked her, shoving the boy he was holding a little to roughly to Lhyrie's liking against a base of a tree.
"See, that was not too bad." Ubbe said, putting his boy down next to his brother. Lhryie adjusted her dress and tried not to look at the two shivering boys at the base of the tree. It would have been better if they were slightly older. These two are just too young, she thought. Crossing her arms, she waited as Ivar crawled his way toward them. Their eyes widened like their devil was coming right toward them. They began to whimper.
"It's alright," Lhyrie told them in Frankish, crouching down in front of them. "We won't hurt you." Hvitserk laughed behind her and she shot him a look that silenced him.
Ivar stopped before the boys and swung his legs around to face them. He started to speak to them in their tongue.
"I should have put Ivar in a dress," Ubbe joked, lightly punching Hvitserk in his surprise.
"Did you know he spoke Saxon?" Lhyrie whispered to Ubbe.
"No," he said, rubbing his forehead, "I am glad for it though."
"He keeps too many secrets."
Ivar held up three fingers and looked over his shoulder to his brothers. Ubbe nodded his head in acknowledgement, and Lhyrie could tell he already started to think of an attack. Ivar ruffled the hair of one of the boys, the older one and turned to slither away from them, visibly excited for not having to wait too long to attack the city. She was slightly relieved too: hopefully this last battle would satisfy the men.
Hvitserk, however, was the only one not comforted by the news. He was twirling one of his knives with a blank look on his face.
"Come on brother," Ubbe told him, turning to leave the boys where they sat.
"What are we doing with them?" He asked, his voice flat.
"Three days will not be enough time for the new King to send help to York. We can let them go," Ubbe said, resting his arm on his brother's shoulder. Hvitserk shrugged it off, the strange look still on his face. Ivar stopped in his path and sat to look at his brothers.
"Hvitserk, it's okay," Lhyrie added, trying to shake him away from the boys. She didn't like this look, it reminded her of the blood thirst some men got. He was going to do something stupid and that's why Ivar stopped to look.
Before anyone realized, one of the boys cried out in pain and Lhyrie noticed Hvitserk wasn't playing with his knife. Turning toward the boy, she saw Hvitserk's knife in the youngest boy's shoulder. Ubbe shoved him to the nearest tree and punched him square in the nose, breaking it with a gush of blood flooding from him. Lhyrie rushed to the crying boy, his brother starting to cry now as well.
"Shhh," she tried to comfort both of them. She grabbed the end of her dress and tore off a piece of dry cloth to press against the wound. It didn't seem to hit any major vessels of his arm, which was good. "Ubbe, where is my bag?" She called to him, without taking her eyes off the boy, still trying to calm him. Her bag appeared over her shoulder and dropped in her lap. Ubbe went back to his brother.
"What was that?" He shouted at him. "We weren't going to hurt them! Don't you start," he warned. She could hear Ivar laughing in the background.
She hurriedly pulled ascaria out from her bag, popping a piece in her mouth to grind it while still applying pressure to the boy's arm. "This will sting," she said in Norse and in one motion pulled the knife from his shoulder and forced the ascaria in its spot. The boy cried out again and tried to squirm from her. His brother said something to him, and he tried to remain still, but still shook in his spot.
Applying pressure and the boy slightly calmer, she looked over her shoulder toward Ubbe and his brothers. Hvitserk was slouched against a tree, his nose still pouring blood with Ivar saying something to Ubbe she couldn't quite hear, but a wicked smile plastered on his face. Ubbe looked tired and uncertain. It took too much out of him to control his brothers and the army.
Lhyrie lifted the cloth and saw the bleeding had stopped. "See?" She told the boy in Frankish. "Better before you know it." She grabbed a fresh piece of cloth and ascaria and warning the boy again, changed the bandage and tied it in place. He whimpered again but looked more relieved that he wasn't going to lose his arm or bleed out.
After the boy was settled, Lhyrie turned back to the Ragnarssons. Hvitserk was standing now, hanging his head. What had he been thinking? She felt a jolt of anger toward him as she pulled her supplies back into her bag. The feeling grew more as she heard the brother behind her comfort the other one. They didn't deserve this.
Securing the bag on her shoulder, she pushed past Ubbe and punched Hvitserk as hard as she could in his stomach. "What in Hel's name was that, Hvitserk? I expect that from Ivar, but you?" She spat at him. Her breath came ragged, but it made her feel better.
"Do you see who you married?" Ivar looked up at Ubbe. "She attacks your brothers."
"Shut up."
"Ubbe, and Ivar," she started, taking a deep breath, and trying to hide any malice in her voice, "May I speak to Hvitserk alone, please?"
"Come on," Ubbe said, dragging Ivar nearer to the boys. "We can take them and get them good and lost."
"I'm not doing that," Ivar said, instead planting himself near the tree and adjusting his leg braces.
"I guess I will do everything myself," he huffed and pulled the two boys up, the injured one clearly wincing but trying to put on a brave face. "Tell them I am only taking them deeper to the forest and then they can go home," he demanded of Ivar.
Ivar said something to them in their language, but they began crying again. Clearly he didn't say what Ubbe wanted him to. "What did you tell them?" He sighed.
"That you would skin them and eat their eyes out."
"Always the help, Ivar," Ubbe rasped, visibly dragging the boys away from their spot. "No, I'm not going to do that," he told the boys in a hushed tone.
Lhyrie turned her attention back to Hvitserk.
"You're not going to punch me again, are you?" He asked, meekly looking up from the ground, he seemed to be shaking slightly.
"Was that just misdirected for what I did to you?" She asked back.
"I wish you would have just told me. About him."
"Hvitserk," she sighed. "I'm sorry. It was a terrible thing for me to do."
"I have been so angry lately."
"You didn't need to take it out on innocent children. In three days' time you can kill however many Saxons you want to."
A small smile creeped on his face. It was the same one Ivar got sometimes and that rattled her. "I didn't think of that."
Lhyrie reached out to tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his eyes that Hvitserk made no move to fix. "I am very sorry." She said, keeping her palm on his cheek.
"I thought I could have possibly loved you," he said quietly and defeated, eyes still plastered to the mix of mud and blood at his feet.
She felt all the air leave her lungs. "Hvitserk," she whispered, pulling his gaze up to look at her. "I will always care for you."
"But you don't love me."
"I have known you since we were born. I think we shared diapers," she chuckled. "Of course I love you. But I know I have also always loved Ubbe. Ivar – not so much," she added quietly. That made Hvitserk laugh weakly.
"After York, I am going back to Kattegat," he told her, a little stronger than before. "So you two can be happy."
"We'd be happy with you here too," she told him.
"But I won't be."
Lhyrie gulped to bring back any moisture into her mouth that seemed to instantly dry from his last comment. By the Gods, it felt like he was physically punching her with his words. "You can marry Margrethe," she said softly.
"The almost you…" he said without looking at her.
Another blow she felt tug at her heart. She completely ruined him, didn't she? "Hvitserk -,"
"I know," he said, pushing past her but not looking at her. "You're sorry."
The air didn't come back into her lungs until Hvitserk stopped by Ivar to pick up his knife Lhyrie flung from the young boy's shoulder. He kept walking the direction toward camp, wiping the blood from the knife onto his trousers.
"I would like it known," Ivar glared at her, once Hvitserk was out of earshot. "I am not the one tearing us brothers apart."
Ivar hadn't thrown a knife, but his words seemed to cut into her anyway. She leaned against the tree and slid down to its base, curling her knees into her chest in comfort. She didn't begin to cry, but certainly wanted to. She wasn't comfortable letting that much of her guard down in front of Ivar. His verbal knife could easily turn into a physical one. To her surprise, Ivar stayed with her until Ubbe came returned, both unmoving in their spots.
"What happened?" He asked, shooting his gaze in the silence from Ivar to her.
"Hvitserk went back to camp," she said weakly, standing up and brushing her hands on her dress.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he hung himself," Ivar added starkly. "You can threaten me again, sister," he leered at her.
"Shut up, Ivar," Ubbe told his brother. "That is not helping."
"It wasn't meant to help, brother," he said, turning over to crawl back to camp.
As Ubbe came to her side, she felt the weight of the conversation she had with Hvitserk fall onto her, and the tears welled into her eyes. "I think Ivar will kill us all," she told her husband, as they watched Ivar get further in front of them. "Or plan our demise."
"I just hope he waits three days. What did you say to Hvitserk?" He asked as they started walking slowly.
"I just talked with him," she sighed, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "Perhaps I should have let him give me a black eye."
"No, that wouldn't suit you," Ubbe reassured her, placing an arm around her and pulled her close. "I think we need to build some ladders. For the walls," he added after she gave him a confused look. "I was thinking of ambush tactics on my walk back."
"Ladders to scale the walls."
"A few will climb them and open the doors from the inside."
"Who would you trust to do that?
"Myself, of course."
"You will be careful, won't you?"
"Lhyrie, it's me."
"That is why I ask."