To reach the cliff top is not this easy or quick; Rollo does not speak but Athelstan knows the long haired Norse is raging inwardly. Frankia! Whatever is the name of the Emperor, his troops show no mercy to Danes not that Danes are his friends. Frankia, a rabbit warren of Christianity! It has not escaped him everybody is wearing and showing a cross. A large rock half-loose makes him stumble and only sheer luck along the tail end of a spear quickly grabbed prevents his fall. The Frankish soldier smiles approvingly; whatever he says, he has saved his life… Not that it will change his fate; if he needs to kill him later, the gods 'will is not his to oppose.

Finally, they reach the top and the sea which has broken them free from the Viking invaders is dancing under the sun in the distance. The two women are standing near horses, immobile chatting about mysterious things that no doubt Athelstan will translate later.

"Rollo, my friend, I have explained why you do not understand or speak Frankish. In your North… the land of the Scoti, the Picti… (They wear tattoos like you) you have about no contact with the Empire… I also explained that you were baptised as Charlemagne rules no pagan is allowed to live in his realm… Live and stay alive if he is to remain a heathen… but you practise differently… as being from the North… from the North."

Now as he can see them more clearly, he realizes the dresses the females wear are different from the Saxon women he has met… not that he has met a lot of them. Like every Christian, they wear a veil on their head; but the difference stops here. The girl's is shiny like… like the fabled silk of the East and her head circlet is made of gold unless it is copper. Her side hair is free with a long plait in the back and … she waits. Rollo looks at her clearly interested as Athelstan prays at his friend stops at ogling the women: they do not need to affront the Franks.

Horses are quietly chewing whatever grass manages to grow on the sandy cliff top; and nobody moves. The Viking is going to get restless when two young lads younger than Bjorn when he first met him run to catch the horses' reins. If the Viking is not impressed at the laziness of the Frankish women, he is almost eruptive when he realizes that the boys are bending to allow the ladies to climb into a weird looking saddle. Unlike Lagertha and the women of his far off land, Frankish women do not ride astride. They sit sideways, and warriors are used to lift them up! ... And probably down on arrival. What a cumbersome saddle.

The girl mumbles whatever things which make everybody laugh including Athelstan as they take the direction of the church in the distance. Rollo does not like it but does he have a choice? There are too many Frankish soldiers to even the odds in his favour. He smiles; what else can he do?

"Ask them if … if they have seen our long ships… any long ship?"

If the question seems to have used few words, the answer is lengthy, involving more arms waving and the agitation of the old crone.

"Dorestadt was raided but the attackers could not get further inland than the piers. The Emperor was very angry. In retaliation, he ordered all the criminal … pagans … not only to be beheaded but … their hands were cut off as they were just … miserable thieves … which was … cruel? … As they died pagans. The lady says one should have tried to convert them first… once converted, they would have seen the error of their ways. Don't cough, Rollo. Smile. Remember, you are a good Christian from the North!"

Though long, this is not the answer he is looking for to his question. The Norseman pushes for more.

"If the Danes are raiding without sufficient warriors, it's their problem; not mine. Are we far from England? How far are we from the nearest harbour? Have they seen other ships like ours?... By Odin, why is it that it is a mere female who is lording over warriors? Are Franks so weak they allow their women to speak on their behalf? This is but a chit of a girl!"

Rollo may have intended to whisper but the tone of his growl is unmistakable. The Franks start pulling out their swords while Athelstan is wondering how to conjure a sword out of nowhere though with Ragnar's brother he feels quite confident the outcome of the fight may not yet be written in advance.

The old woman darts looks at them like when somebody has farted in the middle of a banquet. But all gets quiet as a ring of laughter explodes followed by more Frankish words. If Rollo still gets black looks from the soldiers, the maid's relaxed attitude about what must be looked as a trespass on polite behaviour has lifted up the atmosphere.

The Viking is not impressed; certainly he would shoot an answer back but he cannot and the minx knows it. Athelstan, always the diplomat born chatters as she grants an answer.

"Berenger Jarl - that's her father – says she talks too much … and she says she knows you should get along with her father on this subject! To answer you, they have seen no ships, these men you mention they live too up North like in your land… of the Scoti!"

"If Siggy was to ever bore me with such endless talking, I would … I would do nothing. Siggy is now Horik's bitch. Much good it does to him!"

Berenger's daughter does not reply though the glint in her eyes gives out that she must have understand somehow where the Viking is going at. She looks at him up and down, smiles like a cat and laughs some more. Rollo may wish to grab her and give her a spanking but Athelstan imperceptibly says no. Viking men can express physically their disagreement with their women; Franks seem the type of hapless fellows who suffer in silence. Lagertha, now that is a real woman, would scorn as such display of male weakness.

Regardless of the distress of the two shipwreck victims, the lady heels her mare and rides fast in front of them, veil flying in the wind. Sand flies all over along a veil, soon flying away from its owner. If he could, he would pull down to ground the crone and saddle in hot pursuit to this shameless girl. Disrespect. That is what it is. Plain disrespect. Yes, that's it. Disrespect. This country is made to be raided; deserves to be raided!

Further down the large path, a soldier picks up the head circlet. Unbeknowst to him, a Viking has pocketed the torn fabric of the veil. It is indeed silk. Silk! For this insulting girl, it is a flogging she deserves! Along chains!

Athelstan smiles and discusses more with the soldiers the whereabouts of the village and the church. Importantly how pagans are regarded in Neustria.

"This is Neustria, my friend. Its main city is Paris. A young city… compared to Rome. Still, it was the capital of the Empire not so long ago. Its kings are buried there. And there are old palaces, full of… treasures."

The last word is pronounced with regrets. Here, they are two castaways, saved by kind strangers yet all they do to thank them is to plan pillaging. Rollo, on the other hand dreams of gold, bullions, and the famously exotic pearls which must surely be found in the southern kingdom. Yes, treasures and a slave for his hall. A Frankish slave who will be personally earmarked for him!