Vagabond | The Last Kingdom

Fifteen

"Great job on being a horrible husband,"

"Finan, I swear to you, try to touch me one more time, and you will regret it,"

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

Uhtred's distress was palpable, his worry etched deeply into the lines of his face. He harboured a burden of guilt, blaming himself for his son's plight, his mind consumed by the relentless refrain that if he had killed Brida when he had the chance, none of this tragedy would have come to pass.

I attempted to console him, offering words of relief, but deep down, I couldn't deny the truth in his self-reproach. His anguish mirrored my own, and together, we shared the weight of uncertainty and fear.

The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with anticipation as the men stood vigilant, their senses heightened, poised for any sign of impending danger. It wasn't until news arrived of Eoferwic's fall that a sense of urgency gripped us all, the realisation dawning that Stiorra was now also at risk.

Seeking aid from Aethelflaed proved futile her refusal to lend assistance left us with little choice but to take matters into our own hands. With a small contingent of warriors at our disposal, we set out on a dangerous mission to aid Stiorra.

"She's practically sentenced us to our deaths," I muttered bitterly, mounting my horse as we prepared to depart. "That title she received after Uhtred denied it? What good has it brought us?"

Over the years, my admiration for Aethelflaed had deepened, rooted in her unwavering dedication to her people. Through countless shared moments, primarily due to our connection with Uhtred, she had become not only a trusted ally but also my closest female companion.

Yet, her absence in our time of need left a bitter taste in my mouth, betraying the bond of friendship we had shared.

While Uhtred seethed with righteous anger, Finan remained oddly composed, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling around us.

"I'll save my daughter myself," Uhtred declared, determination flashing in his eyes as he spurred his horse forward. I followed suit, trailing behind him as we journeyed north.

Our path intersected with Father Pyrlig's advance force from Wessex, dispatched by Edward to reinforce his sister against the expected attack on Eoferwic. Amidst the grim news they brought, Sigtryggr emerged, his appearance bearing witness to the brutality of Aethelhelm's decree upon the Saxon towns.

"How do we proceed?" I questioned, my gaze searching for answers amidst the uncertainty. Though Uhtred remained silent, Sigtryggr stepped forward with a plan.

"Roman sewers," he proposed, eliciting a grimace from me and vocalized concerns from Finan. Despite my reservations, I knew we had no other choice but to press on.

"I'll go first if anything happens to you my daughter will kill me," Uhtred said leading the way, we descended into the dark, putrid depths of the sewers, the stench overwhelming, the water rising with each step. Fatigue weighed heavily upon us, exacerbated by Finan's incessant fretting and my growing impatience.

"Finan one more word out of you and I will hurt you before these ghosts get to" I warned as he kissed his cross upon hearing my threat.

At a particularly engulfed point in the passage, I found myself submerged up to my neck, the water's chill gnawing at my resolve. "How much farther?" I demanded, prompting Uhtred and Sigtryggr to glance back, their expressions betraying surprise at the depth of the water I was in.

"We're almost there," Sigtryggr assured.

Emerging from the murky depths of the sewers, our senses heightened, we moved with silent purpose, our breaths held as if any noise might betray our presence. Sihtric's hand rose, a signal for silence, halting the murmurs that threatened to escape the nearby house.