The Warrior with the Pierced Heart by Chris Bishop

Author:Chris Bishop
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RedDoor
Published: 2018-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Learning of Arne’s treachery had helped to salve my conscience about the loss of my escort, but I still felt responsible for the death of both Brother Benedict and Aelred. Whether I was guilty on that account or not I cannot say, but either way I had little option but to accept my own fate and face it with as much courage as I could manage. The best I could hope for from Torstein was a quick death, something which the Vikings were more likely to bestow on a man who faced his end bravely. Therefore I knew that I needed to keep up the pretence of being unafraid of dying as best I could. Yet hiding my fear was easier said than done. I had seen so much of death in my short life that the prospect of actually dying didn’t concern me unduly; it was the manner of my death which worried me – and not only because of the pain. My pride required that I neither begged for mercy nor died pissing myself from fear as I’d seen many others do before me.

The strange thing was that although I hated Torstein for what he’d done to my escort, I also quite admired him. In some ways he reminded me of Sweyn, the merchant I’d met on my way back from spying on Guthrum’s camp at Chippenham. It was true that they both lived very different lives; Torstein was a warrior who commanded such respect from his men that they seemed never to question his leadership whereas Sweyn worked alone and lived in the shadows. Yet both used their guile and cunning to good effect and neither seemed to fear anything, despite the dangers they each faced every day.

As a fellow warrior, I would have liked to discuss this with Torstein more fully but, as it turned out, he didn’t speak to me again for the rest of that day. Instead, he concentrated on keeping his men moving, presumably anxious to avoid meeting the fyrd if they had indeed been mustered. With no prisoners other than me to guard, the Vikings marched in no particular formation, albeit they kept up a good pace and were ever watchful for an ambush or for the chance of further pillage. During this time Arne kept his distance. He seemed to struggle to keep pace with the column as he insisted on carrying his father’s sword which was much too big for him to manage but which he wore tucked into his belt. I knew Red Viper to be a very fine weapon and recalled Edwin showing his prize to Alfred during our retreat from Chippenham. Thus I regretted having returned it to the boy as it deserved to be better treated than having the tip of the blade dragged along the ground, but neither Torstein nor any of the others seemed inclined to help the boy with his burden.

Naturally, as we went I began to think of ways I might

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