"Trust not him whose father, brother or other kin
you have slain, no matter how young he be,
for often grows the wolf in the child."*
…
Lagertha felt pride in her heart as she took a few steps toward the beginning of the new road that had been cleared up to make way for a new and modern kind of marketplace in her new home, Ribe.
Ever since she had been elected Jarl of this village, Lagertha had taken it upon herself to breathe life into this growing village. She knew that Ribe could flourish easily with a few changes, especially regarding the structure of the village.
The village already held a fairly great harbor and many fields around it for growing crops and raising cattle. However, the earlier Jarls had not had enough men nor riches enough for expanding neither the population nor the territory.
But with the help of her ex husband, Ragnar Loðbrók, Lagertha now saw how the village bloomed before her eyes as the many men Ragnar had sent with her down here to the South of Denmark eagerly moved and muzzled to comply with the orders given by their king. To rebuild and grow strong this new territory that he had claimed for his growing kingdom.
When Ragnar had asked her to become Jarl of Ribe, she had been wary of accepting it at first. She did not know at the time whether she wanted a responsibility like that once more. However, as Bjørn had married princess Ingeborg and moved to Götaland with her, she had felt herself wanting to birth something and let it grow.
And while she knew that she would not birth any more children, Lagertha had finally felt her heart open to her fate, and even if she wished it or not, her fate was linked with Ragnar's in some way. She had just never imagined it to be this.
Herself as the Jarl of Ribe, another village in Ragnar's expanding kingdom.
Lagertha smiled to herself as she thought about how far her ex husband had come since their marriage together. How he had grown from a simple farmer to a famous warrior, and now, a king of vast areas, cities and villages in Denmark.
She also felt a sorrow pinch her heart when she thought about their past together. Even though she was so very proud of him and herself for everything they had accomplished, she still felt a longing for the past. For simpler times, when he and she had but a small cottage in the outskirts of Kattegat. Two simple farmers with simple lives. She remembered how Bjørn and Gyda would run around the small cottage, fighting playfully with wooden swords, while Ragnar let their sheep behind the small fencing around the back.
Lagertha shook her head subtly with another smile on her lips, as she let the pictures within her head fade back to the past, while lifting her eyes to gaze upon the road of markets that slowly grew before her eyes.
On her left, the fisherman Gunnar had already set up a small wooden stall with a longtable filled with salted fish and other meats. On her right, another stall had been built for the venture of herbs and spices, the exotic fragrances caressing her nostrils ever so lightly.
Gunnar greeted her respectfully as she strolled past him, and Lagertha waved back at him, complimenting his great work on the stall.
The new marketplace was really coming along.
Soon this broad road would be filled with all sorts of different market stalls that would all hold their speciality. And the villagers would easily be able to find whatever their hearts desired now that the market was stretched out upon this diagonal road, instead of the old marketplace that had been cornered and crowded into a small and narrow area, like a confounding maze.
The sounds of hammers on nails, villagers speaking together, children laughing roamed around her, and Lagertha let a sigh escape her lips. She finally felt at peace here. She knew that her fate was here. That this was the will of the gods.
Lagertha heard a low rumble from above, and she looked up to the sky that was darkening with a thick layer of dark gray clouds rolling over them as if they came from beyond the sea.
She thought to herself that it might start to rain soon. Even though the air was still warm around her, the roads here in Ribe had not yet been covered by wood shapings, so if the rain would fall heavy, she would have to clean mud off her boots tonight.
And she would rather spend her time planning with the other villagers.
Lagertha heard another rumble above, and she lifted one of her brows as she heard some of the villagers around her starting to yell out to each other to prepare for the coming rain. She did not know whether it was the yells of the villagers preparing for the coming rain or just from the darkness of the clouds above them, but she suddenly started to feel an uneasiness spread in her stomach.
She could sense a wetness in the air.
Somehow, there was something foreboding in the air. She could feel it on her skin.
A quick flash of light thundered in the dark clouds above, and she felt the first raindrop land on her cheek. She knew that she had to turn around soon if she was not to be drenched, as she had made her way to the end of the market road.
All of a sudden, a gush of cool wind sailed over her face, swirling around a lock of her hair that had escaped the braids on her skull, and she raised her eyes in the direction of the wind, her face turning towards the entrance of the village.
And that was when she saw them.
A feeling of confusion and fear spread in her blood as she saw men on horses galloping speedily towards her. As if angry.
At first she could not tell them apart. They just seemed to be a dark dangerous mass that angered towards her with the speed of the lightning above her, the sound of their thundering hooves soon making its way into her ears.
Were they being attacked?
Lagertha felt something hardening in her stomach as she stood there, squinting her eyes as to see their faces.
She noticed that there were about a dozen men on horses, and one of the men was in a small sort of wagon. The guards at the entrance to the village yelled out at the strangers, asking them to slow down before entering the village.
Or were they yelling as a warning?
Lagertha could soon make out that the strangers did not have any flags with them, so she knew that they were not here to attack the village.
Right?
Lagertha strained her eyes as the best of possibilities before she let out a huge sigh of relief. She recognized a certain famous braiding on top of the head of the man in front, and she felt the knots in her stomach loosen when she realized that the group of riders was led by Ragnar.
She soon recognized others of the riders: Rollo, Torstein, Leif, Hans and Erik…
She was surprised when she saw that young Ivar was the one sitting in the small wagon. She knew that Ragnar did not bring him with him too often, but she felt happy to see these men again.
The rain had started to fall down around her, but Lagertha stayed in place to greet the familiar faces coming her way.
It was not long before she could see their faces, and she felt a bit bewildered when she noticed the faces of concern and wild eyes staring at her.
She opened her mouth to greet them, but was quickly interrupted.
"What has happened?!" Ragnar growled in a thundering voice, as his horse came to an abrupt stop almost just inches from her.
Lagertha looked at him, startled, still with her mouth open.
"Where are they?" Rollo roared next to him, throwing himself down from his horse.
The villagers close to them started humming in panic, as Ragnar and his men all had come to a stop in front of the new Jarl of Ribe.
"Uh, what?" Lagertha was finally able to whisper confusedly. "Ragnar, where are who?"
She saw Ivar scanning the area like a hawk, his blue eyes soon traveling to lock with hers. She felt a shiver run down her spine.
"Guthrum's men," Ragnar snarled in an angry voice, taking another threatening step closer to her, his air wild and rushed.
Lagertha shook her head in confusion.
"Guthrum's men?" Lagertha whispered confoundedly, as she wondered what Guthrum and his men would be doing here in Ribe.
As if stupefied, she watched Ragnar turn around with a hiss to look back at his men, and she took a step closer to him. She wanted to ask him what was going on.
Before she could ask, she heard Ivar's voice next to her: "A messenger came to Kattegat, telling us that Guthrum was moving an army of men to Ribe to attack you and take back his land. We came as quickly as we could."
Lagertha furrowed her brows and returned her widened eyes to Ragnar that stood with his back turned against her.
"Did you not send a messenger to me?" he asked in rushed words, turning his head slightly with his eyes on the ground before her.
"No," Lagertha quickly responded.
She watched him close his eyes, his lips tightening into a quiet snarl, his hands tightening into hard knuckles. Behind the leather that covered his back, Lagertha could sense his muscles tensing up, as if his entire body turned into stone.
The rest of the men from Kattegat seemed just as confused as her, looking at each other with disbelief in their eyes.
Ragnar soon tore himself out of his stone hard posture, and in a swift and elegant movement, he was soon on his horse again. Lagertha could see the horror shining from his eyes, as the realization set in.
Because the yellow shields of Guthrum's men had not traveled South, as the messenger had informed him. They had gone North and were now marching closer and closer towards the gates of Kattegat.
"We have been betrayed."
* Old proverb from the Fljotsdale Saga