Silence Deep as the Snow » Sihtric || The Last Kingdom

Men of Coccham

Like my original saviors, the newcomers were a strange trio. The people to the east of my land were a mix of colors and faiths. Even Tola, a woman and a leader, was an anomaly.

From where I sat by the fire, the hood drawn low over my face, I peeked at them when I could. Thankfully, they were kin and old friends. I was quickly forgotten as I picked the sweet, white meat from the delicate bones of the lake trout.

Two were Christian. One was even a monk with a chest piece and a sword. The other spoke with an accent like those from across the sea. Iwerddon in my own tongue, Irland in common Saxon speech. He was a burly brute with a thick beard and a cross around his neck.

Then there was the warrior that I had encountered in the wood. Quieter than his Irish companion with the symbol of the Danish god around his neck. I had seen the same hammer symbol hanging around Tola and Ivar's necks. Turgan appeared to hold no allegiance to any known faith.

I didn't feel so strange with my own dual beliefs.

"Sihtric saw you a mile ago. At least he thought he did," the foreigner named Finan explained as he tore into a heel of bread with his canines. It made him look ferocious with the firelight flickering off his strong features. "It wasn't my idea to surprise you as such. Though I know that must shock you."

"I'm more surprised that it wasn't you catching our little princess unawares in the wood, Finan," Ivar commented where he reclined, tossing pinches of dirt into the fire with idle fingers.

"Princess?" Finan the Irishman turned his attention on me. I cut my eyes to my hands. "Of where?"

"A kingdom of Cymru, to the west. What did you call it, Princess?" Ivar asked.

"Ceredigion," Tola answered for me, giving Ivar a pointed look. "Leave the girl out of your conversation, please. It's been a trying day."

"I apologize," the one called Sihtric spoke. "I am sorry for frightening you in the wood."

I didn't look up. I couldn't understand why he had felt it necessary to scare me into revealing our identity. I was half his size in size in girth and without a weapon. It had been cruel. From the looks of him, he was used to savagery. 

"You could have asked nicely," I said with a sniff, eyeing the tattoo on his neck with distaste.

Ivar and Finan boomed with laughter. I pulled the edges of my cloak tighter about myself against the growing chill. 

"I'll remember that next time," he said with a snide grin, slicing a piece of apple with a vicious knife.

Tola caught my eye. "Seems you will have the benefit of a larger company to see you to Coccham. The princess seeks sanctuary in Wessex from murderous relations. I told her it would be best if she wintered under the protection of Lord Uhtred."

"How murderous?" The young monk asked, scratching his protruding chin and lowering his brow. 

"Her stepmother," Ivar answered.

"She won't raise an army to find me," I reassured them. "If anything, an assassination plot with poison would be the most she could muster. My father is still king."

I wasn't sure if I entirely believed what I said, but I was confident that I had disappeared swiftly and fully enough with only one living witness left. My odds were good. Especially if I made it through the winter and could find my way into the heart of Wessex. She wouldn't be able to find me there.

"Do you think Uhtred will let us join your number in Coccham?" Tola asked.

Sihtric grinned. "Are you done with your wandering, sister?"

"Yes."

"The way you just bested him, I wouldn't dare say no," Finan laughed, his mouth full of food.

Ivar nodded towards me. "And the girl? What of her?"

I noted the look exchanged between Sihtric and Finan. 

"She may present her case to him. After Alfred's death and the thin ice he found himself on... yet again... we'll see. They took his own children from him. For Uhtred to take in an exiled princess of an enemy kingdom could be risky," Finan surmised. "But we'll see, don't lose hope just yet, princess."

"What are you called?" Sihtric asked.

My gaze shot up to find him studying me calmly from the other side of the fire, the smoke blurring his countenance like a dream. My head swayed a little. I was beginning to feel woozy from exhaustion.

"Rhoswen."

"Perhaps another name for now, to keep your identity a secret," he suggested. "A Saxon name would be wise."

"I do not know any Saxon names."

"Gytha?" The monk called Osferth suggested. "It is common enough."

I shrugged, feeling somewhat saddened by this change. I was now leaving everything behind, even my name. "Very well."

"We shall keep from calling you princess as well," Tola stated. "Now I think it's about time we doused this fire. We leave at dawn."