The woods, how did I get here?

There were armored men, most likely Saxons, huddled around a steel cage that hung above the trees. For the first time, I stepped forward without any pain, but I still needed my crutch. Approaching the cage that hung up high, I took in a sharp breath. My father was inside the cage.

'Father!' I shouted, pushing the Saxons out of my way.

How was this possible? How was he still alive? His bloody face sliced with the cross symbol on the forehead, and his right eye was swollen shut.

'Father, Ragnar, it's me, Ivar, I'm here!' I shouted at him waving my arm. He never acknowledged me. Instead, he grasped the steel bars of his cage. I turned around, trying to see who he was focusing on. King Ælla! He was alive, too, watching my father hang high up in a cage.

'It gladdens me to know that Odin prepares for a feast,' said Ragnar. 'Soon, I should be drinking ale from curved horns. This hero that comes into Valhalla does not lament his death! I shall not enter Odin's hall with fear.'

'No father, please, I'm here!'

'There I shall wait for my sons to join me, and when they do, I shall bask in their tales of triumph. The Æsir will welcome me! My death comes without apology! And I welcome the Valkyries to summon me home!'

'No! I'm here. I can help, father!' I shouted.

'Deliver me O' Lord from my enemies.' said King Ælla.

'Shut your mouth!' I shouted.

My father fell from the cage into a hole. I cried out shoving the Saxons out of my way. They began filling the hole with snakes.

'No!' I shouted trying to reach my father.

My crutch had disappeared, and all I could do was crawl. I fell to the dirt hastily crawling to the hole. Reaching the hole, I cried out as I extended my arm out to him in vain. He laid beaten and getting stung by dozens of snakes.

'Someone save him!' I shouted, 'save my father, father. Ragnar, someone save him!'

'Be ruthless, my son,' said Ragnar in a distant voice.

I shot up awake. My mouth was dry, cursing myself because I was most likely shouting in my sleep. Bishop Heahmund stood above me, who appeared to have been shaking me awake. There was moisture over my cheeks that told me I was crying. I quickly brought a hand over my face.

'Leave me, Christian.'

After the door shut, I dropped my hand down to my wrist. Clenching my grip around my father's sacred arm ring while tears I could no longer control continued falling down my face.

Getting my whereabouts and emotions under control I unwrapped the splint on my wrist. It was still tender, but I needed to look like a warlord today. Leaving my house, I was greeted by the sight of dozens of Northumbrian villagers walking through the streets. They were carrying what looked to be offerings to their church's direction. I hadn't forbidden the villagers from entering Yorvik, but it was strange to see so many willingly walked into a town filled with Danes. Skul and Egil walked towards me. Egil clenched onto his Thor hammer amulet, staring at the church in distrust.

'The priest, he's been at it all morning decorating that church,' said Egil.

A family walked past us carrying pelts of hides, a little girl walking with them turned staring at my leg braces. I didn't mind knowing children couldn't help their curiosity. She had stopped and faced me, walking hesitantly in my direction.

Rolling my eyes, I'm not in the mood for these Christians today. The girl looked up at me with a grin stopping in front of me. She leaned toward my knee, kissing my legs.

'May the good Lord Jesus Christ take your pain away and heal your legs,' she said in a high pitch voice.

I gasped rendered speechless all I could do was stare at the little child. She unbounded a pink ribbon from her hair tying it onto my leg brace. After she had a knot, she dashed back to her parents. Her mother took her daughter's hand, giving me a friendly smile as they continued walking to their church.

'Lord Ivar, you'd make a great father, who would've thought,' said Skul smiling smugly.

'I'd feel bad if he had a daughter, the poor girl wouldn't get married. Could you imagine, the man would have to offer Lord Ivar a kingdom in exchange for his daughter's hand,' said Egil.

I gave both of my housecarls a menacing look as I unlaced the ribbon and stuffed it in my pocket. I was only holding onto the ribbon because if the Christian god could grant these so-called miracles, I wanted every hope of the one that little girl just wished for me.

I wish I could have children, though. I'd have a horde of them wreaking havoc over the Christians. Egil was wrong, though, because there'd be no way I'd ever let a man near my daughter.

Leaving the Northumbrians to their Christmas, I walked with my housecarls to the front gates. My army was divided into three groups. That morning I had recited the routes with the other earls leading their groups. I also made sure Bishop Heahmund and Father Judd knew. Both were upset I was making them go. They'd receive a warmer welcome than my earls would.

Standing in front of the army in my leather and chain mail armor, my breath showed in the air. I refused to show I was bothered by the cold weather.

'Remember,' I shouted. 'We're going there to collect the horses. No damaging their lands, raping their women, and no stealing their wealth. We need the Northumbrian's support to take Mercia here soon. Let the priest and bishop help with our peace terms. No harm will come to them. They are worth far more alive. Let's head out and gather back here before nightfall.'

As we departed Yorvik, our men split in three directions. I lead a group of around fifty warriors and shield-maidens along with my housecarls. Most of my men were walking, so I kept the pace slow. We were heading to Ripon. I had placed White Hair and Skul out ahead as scouts to verify the route was safe. Scouts were important. They were the overview eyes. The eyes I needed so I would have a warning if we were getting ready to walk into trouble. I had to be cautious since we were traveling light. I also had two families with me that I would assist in getting settled in their new lands. This trip would've been easier if we sailed, but it was nearly impossible to get a Viking on a ship in the winter. None of us wanted a cold, wet ass after all.

Egil had been singing one of his newest songs of our last battle at Yorvik and the end fate of King Osberht. Egil was a man I was starting to like. He was undoubtedly loyal. White Hair had recommended him from his village. Egil was living up to every expectation White Hair had promised back then. He was also one of my best archers in the army. He could even shoot with a longbow.

After Egil had finished singing, Leif threw a rock at him.

'Egil, save these poor warriors and shield-maidens from the off-tone noise you call singing,' said Leif in a burst of roaring laughter.

I cracked a smile at his jest. Skul was riding her horse back towards us, bringing her stallion alongside mine.

'There's a ford up ahead. Do you want us to split and skim the area, lord?'

'No, I don't want to risk our horses getting injured. Just keep a lookout.'

'My lord, you have been distant. Does something trouble you?'

'Only the thoughts of you tying me down in bed and having your way with me,' I said with a smirk remembering her suggestion a month ago. Skul gave me a cheeky grin laughing while she rode her horse ahead.

Later that afternoon, we arrived in the village of Ripon. The villagers were hesitant to come out of their houses, but slowly the doors began opening. I dismounted from my chariot, walking to the town's center where a priest stood to greet us next to a stoned cross. The Romans probably made this. The priest was an elderly man dressed in fine robes, most likely for their Christmas ceremony.

'Greetings, Northman,' said the priest in our Danish tongue. 'Welcome to the village of Ripon. The horses you have requested are over pass those houses there in the stables.'

The priest pointed in the direction I could make out some wooden rafters suggesting it was the town's stables.

'Thank you. You speak our tongue?'

'Oh yes, many years ago when I was about your age, I was a missionary to your lands. Yes, across Frankia too,' said the priest smiling.

I nodded my head at his explanation. Although I did not care too much about the Christian religion, I respected those who left their lands to adventure to new ones. It was the Viking ways, and anyone to throw themselves in that life had my respect.

'I brought two families that will be staying here. Where will their land be?'

The elderly man smiled, looking back and waving at a house to the left of us. A man around my age walked out. He was wearing a robe and cloak. The clasp of his cloak was made of gold and had an expensive jewel attached to it. The man noticing I was eyeing his clasp, tucked it inside his clothing.

'This is the ealdorman's son of Ripon, Lord Calder. He'll be the one to show you the land for your people.'

'Where's the ealdorman himself?' I asked, still in my Danish tongue looking at the man.

'He's ill, I'm afraid, but with God's help, our prayers will relive the illness and bring our lord back to full health,' said the priest confidently.

I listened as the priest explained to the ealdorman's son, Calder, that he was to show me the land for our people. Deciding to keep the fact I knew how to speak their language to myself, I followed Calder, who waved at me.

We walked across the town in silence. He kept looking back at me as if he were afraid I'd stab him in the back. We came up to a broad pasture of flat land that was good enough to be divided between the two families. Nodding my head in approval, this was good land.

'The river is just beyond those woods, the land is good, but we do receive poachers from time to time,' said Calder in his English tongue.

I nodded my head again, which was received by a smug smile from the man.

'Not that you can understand a word I'm saying heathen piss,' said Calder smiling.

Wait, what did he just call me?

He was waving for me to follow him back to the village.

'A crippled heathen, you probably can't even get a woman, huh.'

Clenching my teeth, I gave him a forced smile while walking back to the town.

'I hope,' I said in the English tongue, 'for your sake, you've prepared a feast for my men, Christian.'

Calder stopped but, I continued walking past him. His face was red from embarrassment.

'I, I, uh yes, a feast has been prepared. You and your men are our guests.'

'Good, and I'm Ivar the Boneless, you'll call me lord.'

'Yes, lord,' said Calder submissively.

I smiled at the young lord. Oh, the fun things I have planned for you. Coming back into view of my men, I saw that the villagers did bring out a barrel of ale and plates of food. Nothing like our feast, but it was a hot meal for this cold day. A fire was made in the town center where some of the army huddled around.

The Northumbrian women were trying to talk to the shield-maidens, pointing at their hair and clothes. Skul was handing her sword to a girl who could barely hold it up. From the girl's grin, she probably thought she was a fierce shield-maiden as well. For some reason, women over here never fought in battles. The reasoning was stupid because you just cut your army numbers in half. Ironic us heathens treated our sisters as equals, but the Christians treated theirs as servants.

I had my men help the two families set up their halls while I walked with White Hair observing the horses. Each person would ride one while holding the reins of the extra horse. The horse's hooves were good from what I briefly saw. Saddles placed on the horses my men chose to ride.

Leif was standing in the front of the town square, holding onto Calder with a grin. Walking toward him, he began trembling over his fate.

'Boy, who am I?' I said in the English tongue, smirking at him.

'Oh Lord, Jesus Christ, help me! You are Lo. Lord Ivar the Boneless,' said Calder in a panic.

I rolled my head, measuring him with my gaze. I walked up to him, snatching the golden clasp from his cloak. The man released a quiver as his robes got wet from pissing himself. Stuffing the clasp inside my pocket I looked to Leif waving my hand, letting him know he may proceed.

Calder was tied to a post where my men were given orders to relieve themselves onto him. Since he had called me heathen piss, the punishment seemed fitting. I would've tortured or killed him, but I had to maintain the peace.

After the two families had the foundation for their new halls, I assembled my army at the stables getting ready to depart the village doing our final checks on the horses. A short, stout man followed by seven others wearing brown robes approached my chariot.

'My lord, if it's not any trouble for you, may we travel behind your men to Eoforwic for safe passage,' said the stout man bowing at me.

'What business do you have in Yorvik?'

Looking over them, they appeared to be monks. As if Yorvik didn't have enough damn Christian priests roaming around my village already. The short man looked up, meeting my eyes excitedly. He turned, facing his men, having them gather closely around him.

'Lord, we are a choir, and we wish to sing praises of our savior for Christmas,' said the stout man turning back to his man, moving his hand up and down. 'Lord, we shall perform a piece for you.'

Nothing could explain what retched noises that came from these men next. The sounds of high pitch singing caused my entire army to stop what they were doing looking at what that noise was.

'Mouths open wide, round your vowels,' said the stout men as his choir sang.

'Stop! Stop. Stop. By the gods, I'll sacrifice each of you, not another word!' I shouted, feeling a headache coming on. 'Grab a horse and stay in the rear. If I so much as hear a sound from any of you, I kill you myself.'

We rode back to Yorvik without any issues, arriving by early evening.

Smoke! There was smoke coming from within the town's walls. Grasping tightly over my stallion's reins I raced back to my village. Rushing into the town, I slowed down, wary at the sight of dead bodies littering my streets. They were Northumbrians who had gathered here for their Christmas ceremony. My army followed closely behind me as we rode up cautiously to the town center.

Rage washed over me from the sight of the little girl who had tied her ribbon on my leg brace this morning. Her tiny body soaked in blood, dead, discarded on the side of the road. I was holding onto my reins so tightly my fingernails began piercing into my skin. I was shaking with anger that was overcoming me. With my tightened grip, I guided my horse onward.

The stoned church was in flames as we approached the town's center. Members of my army who had stayed back were cheering as they threw parchments into the fire. Getting off my chariot, crutch in hand, I walked towards them. I was a dangerous threat ready to strike. A man seeing us shouted at the men in warning of my presence.

'Which cowards take it upon themselves to slaughter children. To attack villagers during a peace treaty that I, myself, gave them safe passage!'

A man stepped forward from out of the crowd walking up to me.

'Or what, Boneless? Are you going to kill me too, just like you did to the men who called you a cripple? Nah, you're not fit to lead this army,' said the man turning back towards the crowd. 'Ivar Ragnarsson has gone weak like his father. The Christians have poisoned his mind!'

Grinding my teeth, I glance at Egil, giving him a nod. Egil releases his arrow, striking the man in the chest in a quick motion. He gasped for breath falling to the ground holding onto the arrow.

'Others had led this attack and if they feel the same, well, step forward,' I shouted. No one moved, but I couldn't control my anger as it consumed me. 'I'll find out regardless, stay hidden cowards, but I'll find out. I gave my word to these villagers that they had safe passage. Now they're dead. My word means nothing now! We needed these villagers as allies. Is it not their horses, crops, and livestock we receive to support this army in our efforts to conquer further south? Now thanks to idiots, we can expect retaliation from the villages.'

Furious at the crowd of cowards in front of me, I look back at my men who rode with me.

'Shield wall, archers in the back, surround them,' I said.

My men acted instantly, pulling their shields up and forming a line in front of me. They circled the crowd, weapons at the ready. Archers drew their arrows, holding aim at the group.

The crowd screamed and shouted as they tightened into a pack.

'All I want,' I said slowly, 'is the ones who went against my orders. If I don't get them, every person who has stayed back can leave the village and never return. You'll live as outlaws, lord-less. You will never fight under my banner again.'

The crowd argued amongst themselves and slowly began shoving men out of the circle. I stared at the men who the crowd had betrayed, the men who had betrayed my orders, the cowards.

'Seize them, take them to the prison. For those who stayed back, take the bodies to the trenches we had dug out during our last battle and bury the dead. The ones that just rode in get the horses to the stables.'

I retreated my steps walking back over to the little girl's corpse body. Bringing my body down slowly onto the bloody snowed ground, I picked up the girl holding her in my arms. Ignoring the pain, I remained in that position cradling the child's body into the evening.

I lost track of time, but I figured all the Northumbrian villagers had been buried by now. I could hear my men shouting and cheering drunklike inside their homes and at the hall. No one dared to walk near where I sat. Footsteps tracking through the snow started getting closer to me. I refused to acknowledge whoever was approaching.

'Archbishop Wulfhere and Father Judd helped with the last sermon for the deceased,' said Bishop Heahmund.

He crouched down beside me. I didn't want to look at him. I knew he was disappointed in me. I was surprised to hear Bishop Wulfhere had survived the attack. I nodded my head in acknowledging the information the Christian gave me, still staring at the girl's body.

'Who was she to you?' asked Bishop Heahmund.

'She gave me a ribbon this morning from off her hair. She wasn't afraid of me,' I said, feeling stupid for saying that after the words left my mouth.

'Children have that effect on us. Their innocence is a blessing, a shield to their naivety. We should bury her. I'd like to give the child her last sermons, for she has arrived at the gates of heaven and is with our savior Jesus Christ now.'

He reached over me, slowly unclasping my grip from the child as the Christian brought the girl into his arms. With the girl no longer in my hold, I blinked as if awakening from my thoughts. I grabbed my crutch, pushing my numb body up off the snow.

I followed the bishop as we walked to the trenches. Father Judd stood next to the hole carrying a lit torch. Egil, Skul, Leif, and White Hair stood behind them, holding shovels. Bishop Heahmund gently lowers the girl into the dugout trench. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the ribbon and placing it in her tiny hand. Bishop Heahmund gave his sermon as they had an inscent going, and they flicked water over her body. Once finished, my housecarl's gently covered the girl in soil. I nodded in gratitude towards them as they walk behind me back into town.

That night I laid in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The fire was going in the house, and I could see Bishop Heahmund himself was awake as well. We laid silently because of what was there to talk about after everything happened this evening.

'It's been seventeen years now,' said Bishop Heahmund.

I thought he would continue, but he just laid there silently.

'Well, don't leave me in undying suspense. Seventeen years till what, Christian?'

'Seventeen years since I buried my son, he was perfect, a handsome boy with beautiful brown hair and blue eyes. He was only an infant when the illness took him. My wife had passed during childbirth. I begin to think during times like these that maybe God loves having children for he takes them most.'

I stared over at him unsure what to say to that. So, the Christian had a son, no wonder he's so miserable all of the time.

I couldn't imagine having to bury a child of my own, not that I'd ever be able to have children regardless. I had tried only one time, and it was with Margrethe, our slave. It ended in a disaster. Too fearful from ever attempting that again for what would men think of me. I'm a crippled, and apparently, everything below the waist couldn't work. I would never have children of my own. The truth hurt me because I wanted a legacy like my father had. Now I learned the Christian had lost his legacy. I sympathized with him for that.

'And would he have been a bishop too?' I asked.

'No,' said Bishop Heahmund smiling at me from his bed. 'He would've been a warrior, the man who would've given me your boneless head.'

I grinned at that response laying my head back down on my pillow. I might've lost Floki, but at least I have this Christian around.