Chapter One
Enid
The doors creaked when they opened, a big, loud creak that spoke of how thick and old the wood in them was. Enid followed the others inside, her eyes unblinking as she watched each of the new faces in front of her and smiled. Those poor people. She’d been like them once too, so afraid of these giants that stood with her, so terrified by everything that they were and everything that they weren’t, and now they were scared of her too.
She laughed lightly, tapping her fingers on the head of her axe and watching all those English men scowl and those English women whimper, but none of them looked as strained, as horrified and outraged as that man sitting on the throne. Tyr laughed too then, his wide shoulders bouncing up and down, his long, thick bundle of braids flicking down his back.
“Why are you all wearing dresses?” he asked in English.
So many of their eyes went wide then, a few loud gasps echoing through the stone hall as the King gripped the arm of his throne, and Enid laughed again, this time louder, this time reaching a hand up to clutch at her side.
“This is King Alwyn,” a man near the throne said. “Show some respect.”
“King?” Tyr asked, taking a few steps forward from their group. “Shouldn’t you say Queen if he’s dressed like that?”
Enid watched so many men reach for their swords, grabbing them by the hilts and glaring at Tyr as he put a foot up on one of the steps leading up to the throne, but Tyr only leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee and taking a quick, short breath in through his nose almost like he was sniffing.
“Which one of you is your leader?” the King asked.
“What makes you think it’s not me?” Tyr answered, and the King glared at him, his face scrunching up in a fierce scowl, his hands clenching into fists.
“I’m told his name is Erik the Wise,” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Rude,” Tyr scoffed. “Are you saying I don’t look wise?”
He climbed the steps then, laughing at the guards who unsheathed their swords and pointed them at him, and then he stood in front of an old priest, the poor man shaking as he stared up at Tyr from his seat to the side of the throne.
“Get up,” Tyr said. “So the Kings can speak.”
The priest looked back at King Alwyn, his eyes wide and his thin, boney hands shaking, and then he stood, scampering to the side and behind some of the guards. Tyr smiled, a big, wide smile as he grabbed the back of the chair, and for a moment he looked like he would sit in it, his eyebrows shooting up in a look of surprised delight before he pulled the chair, dragging and scraping it down the steps, each bang and loud squeak making every English face grow paler. Their group parted then, Enid standing to the side and leaning against the chair, Ivar beside her, his hand resting on the head of his big axe, and then Erik sat down, his eyes unblinking as he stared at King Alwyn, a soft smile on his lips.
“It’s a nice place you have here, Alwyn,” he said in English. “Although I don’t like stone that much, too cold,” he smiled.
“Why are you-?” King Alwyn started.
“And it takes too long to warm up,” Erik cut in, shrugging his shoulders. “I have a lot of land, you see? So I don’t like to stay in one place for too long.”
King Alwyn gritted his teeth, his shoulders rising as he glared at Erik. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“No real reason,” Erik smiled, cupping his hands behind his head and sitting lower in his chair. “Just some light raiding. Although…” he nodded. “We’d be willing to raid elsewhere if you could make it worth our while.”
“What do you want?” a man beside the throne asked.
“Nothing unreasonable,” Erik smiled, his head tilting to the side as he studied that man. “Two thousand pounds in gold and silver.”
The room erupted then, loud gasps and outraged moans bouncing off the stone walls and floors as Erik sat there smiling, and Enid laughed again, that smile of her own now dangerously close to becoming a grin.
“You can’t expect us to-,” King Alwyn started.
“Of course, I’m willing to negotiate,” Erik cut in. “It doesn’t have to be gold and silver. I’d be willing to accept land, as a gesture and a symbol of our friendship,” he nodded. “In fact, there’s a village a little south of here, I heard it has good land for farming. We’d be willing to raid elsewhere, maybe even one of your enemies, if you would hand that village over to us. York, I believe it’s called.”
“York?” King Alwyn asked. “Why would you want York?”
“Because of her, Sire,” said a man then, taking a few steps forward from the crowd and nodding towards Enid. “She’s from York.”
There were so many loud whispers then, so many gasps and cries, but Enid only watched that man, her head tilting to the side and her eyes unblinking, and then she laughed, a big, loud laugh as she came to stand in front of him and grinned.
“Ah, there you are, Cormac,” Erik sighed, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t look at Enid like that, you have no idea how much she missed you in the beginning.”
