|| CHAPTER 8 – To The Death ||
(Series 1- Episode 5)
»»———- ———-««
The sea was strewn with the dead.
As Signe and Uhtred walked along the beach, a bird landed on a shield that sat in the water, peering curiously at the corpse that floated next to it.
Cresting waves reared their frothing heads and surged forward, pushing the debris of the wrecked ships and the men that had sailed upon them onto the sand.
Some bodies had snagged on the jagged rocks that ran along the coastline, and they bobbed in the water, unable to lay still even in death.
Ubba had indeed returned with his ships, but the winter storms had also come, and they had claimed a great number of them. If they were indeed God's storms as Alfred had claimed, then the one that had done this, had been sent without mercy.
Seagulls cawed, circling the wreckage on the lookout for food. And they were not the only scavengers picking at what was left.
A group of Saxons scurried around the dead like rats, grabbing any weapons or goods that could still be of use.
Signe watched, dumbfounded as a few men tried to drag an old sail out from a pile of wreckage. They were clearly trying to salvage it, but if they kept yanking on it like they were, all they'd achieve would be getting it ripped to shreds.
There was a man riding up and down the beach on a horse and seeing the futility of the men's efforts, he shouted down to them.
"Don't just pull at the bugger, you'll have it torn!"
"We should offer to buy his horse." Signe said as she watched him trot around imperiously.
"You mean I should" Uhtred grumbled childishly. "You have no silver."
"Neither do you. All of yours is actually Mildrith's." She pointed out, running her finger over the nasty scab on her cheek.
Every time she smiled; the wound stung. The gash on her temple had been more severe, but it bothered her less.
Signe was sent stumbling when Uhtred shoved her, her boots kicking up sand as she struggled to stay on her feet. He carried on walking, and she saw his shoulders shaking with laughter as she glared at his back.
Signe caught up with him quickly and tripped him up with her foot. He staggered forward, his arms flailing. As he righted himself, she acted as though nothing had happened and called out to the man atop the horse.
"How much for your horse?"
The man wheeled his mount around but didn't move any closer. He narrowed his eyes at Signe with hostility, her notable accent working against her.
"He's not for sale. Especially not to the likes of you."
"I'll give you twice its worth. In silver." Uhtred answered, stopping by Signe's side.
The man looked between them, clearly displeased. But the thought of Uhtred's offer, swiftly won out over his hatred of them-- or the sort of Danes he believed them to be-- and he rode over to them.
Only once Uhtred pulled out the pouch of silver and threw it up to him, did the man slide off the horse and step away so that they could mount it.
Uhtred put his foot in the stirrup lifted himself onto the saddle, holding his arm out so Signe could grasp it and use it for purchase. As she settled herself behind him, a few Saxons holding shields closed in, staring at them unabashedly.
"Have any washed up alive?" Uhtred asked, looking out at the sea, some bodies still floating as dark masses in the water.
"Not on my beach." The Saxon grinned darkly; his yellowed teeth put on full display. "Gods taken hundreds of the bastards. Though it's said hundreds more have landed safely, further up the shore....Friends of yours?"
"They are friends to no one." Signe said as Uhtred took up the reigns. "Stop picking over corpses and take your families to safety."
»»———- ———-««
The last thing Signe would have wanted to see as she walked through the door to Uhtred's house, when worn out and aching, was the bare, hairy arse of the farmstead manager. And yet that is the sight she was met as she stepped inside.
"By God, girl, better than barely!" Oswald cried out as he thrust messily into the young woman beneath him. "Better than barley!"
Not wanting to get even a step closer, Signe stayed right by the doorway as Uhtred stalked further into his bedchamber, his anger palpable.
He had been going mad during their journey, thinking only of seeing his wife and child and he had returned to find Oswald taking advantage of his absence instead.
The girl caught sight of Uhtred and Signe winced as her piercing screams filled the room. The man, perhaps thinking his prowess was causing cries of pleasure, kept going until the girl started to hit out against his chest.
When he did look behind him, he practically fell off the side of the bed as he scrambled to pull down his tunic and cover himself.
Uhtred stood still in his overwhelming fury.
Signe watched him carefully, not entirely sure that he wouldn't draw his sword on Oswald for the slight.
"Lord! Lord! Forgive me Lord, it's never happened before, I swear it'll never happen again." He cowered on the bed next, inclining his head towards his reluctant companion. "It was the girl's idea."
"It was not!" Her round eyes widened, affronted by the claim.
"Where is my wife?" Uhtred asked. He sounded calm and that was what worried Signe most.
The girl did not appreciate the weight of his anger and ignored his question, attempting to defend herself once more. "It was not my idea at--"
Signe heard him draw his blade before she saw it.
"Where is my wife and child?"
"Wait! Wait! Lord!" Oswald held out a desperate hand, eyeing the weapon in terror. "She's with Lord Odda the Younger."
"Odda?"
Uhtred's hand dropped to his side, the name hitting him like a blow.
Signe went to his side, not liking the direction the conversation was going in. The involvement of a man they both detested, was only going to stoke his distress into a frenzy.
"Yes, Lord." The man confirmed, looking to Signe pathetically, as if she might be urged to step in and help him. "He took the lady and your son. She went willingly, Lord, to protect the child."
Uhtred's head was knocked back as he took in what Oswald had said. Signe gaped up at him, her heart set to burst at the news.
Not long ago, almost their entire family had been slaughtered and then they had been separated from those who remained to them, but now there was a new life. Someone else to love.
Someone else to lose.
"My son?" He asked it like he couldn't quite believe it.
Oswald panted, a shaky smile appearing as he realised, he could impart some good news and perhaps make Uhtred look on him more kindly. "Yes, Lord, you have a son. Handsome little man he is. Looks like his father."
Signe knew elation would come for Uhtred, but in that moment without being able to hold his child in his arms and see his wife, the presence of Oswald in front of him kept his anger boiling.
"I should really take your balls for this, desecration." He curled his lip, waving his sword at the two bedraggled figures on his bed.
Oswald seemed to swallow his words before spluttering to bring them back up. "Yes....No, Lor....Please."
The begging did nothing but antagonise Uhtred and he lifted his knife once again and pointed it at the man who had begun to sweat profusely.
"I do not care for you; your wife, your children nor your whore."
"Lord, he made me do it, with the promise of a coin." The girl begged, glaring at the man next to her.
"You should have asked to proof of it first." Signe said looking at the man with a frown that tugged at the wound on her temple. "I doubt he has it."
"You are right, Lady." Oswald said, shaking his head at the girl. "It was a false promise."
The slap he received was not hard, but sent it sent his head whipping to the side anyway.
"I will need two horses, food and drink." Uhtred said, driving his knife back into its scabbard. He was as tired as Signe and disappointed to be without his family, he just wanted the two fools to be gone from his sight.
Oswald struggled to his feet. "Yes, Lord. Both your horse and Lady Signe's were returned, they are in the stable."
As the man rushed to get dressed, Uhtred walked towards him.
"My house is not your house."
"No, Lord. I beg your pardon, Lord."
Not satisfied that he had understood, Uhtred blocked Oswald's escape, pointing a finger at his face as he yelled at him. "My land is not your land! Treat me as a fool again and I'll kill you."
The sweaty man exhaled heavily, unable to look raise his eyes from the ground. "Yes, lord."
"I'll enjoy it."
Oswald risk a glance at his lord before he fled from the house. "I believe you would."
Signe stepped aside to let the man pass, as Uhtred's attention fell upon the fur-lined cot at the end of the bed.
"Time for you to leave." Signe urged as the girl, who looked no closer to moving.
"Y-yes lady."
Once roused, the girl moved with speed and was already gone by the time Signe stopped by Uhtred who had sat himself on the end of the bed, running his hand over the spot his son would have slept in.
"Uhtred...son of Uhtred..." He said longingly, his words a whisper.
"You are a father." Signe smiled, still in slight disbelief as her hand fell on his shoulder.
Uhtred's eyes remained set on his child's cot, but his own hand raised across his chest to lay on top of hers.
"What if I was not made for it?"
Signe sighed, sitting down beside him. "No one is made for it, Uhtred. But once your child is in the world, you make the choice to be all that they deserve. You love them. You try. That's all you can do."
It was all she had ever wanted from Kjartan and what had made his cruelty so hard for her to understand. Would it have been so difficult for him to restrain himself and tell her what she'd done wrong instead of lashing out with a fist? Of course, as she'd grown up, she had realised it was simple. He just didn't have love in his heart. He couldn't love. So, in his eyes, no one would ever be worth the effort of becoming better.
Uhtred couldn't have been more different.
He would try. She knew he would.
He looked to Signe, his bright eyes shining. "I am glad that he will have you in his life, Sig. You know how to love."
That almost knocked the wind out of her.
"So do you." She said, slightly choked up.
Uhtred kept staring at the cot, and as a dark thought crossed his mind, his hand closed to a fist on the fur blanket. "If Young Odda has touched Mildrith-"
"Uhtred, he is a snivelling idiot, but he would not lay a hand on her. He does care for her."
He hummed, unconvinced. "I will not be satisfied until I see them with my own eyes."
Signe stood up, grabbing his hand to pull him to his feet after her.
"Well then, you better get your lazy arse up so we can go and find them."
»»———- ———-««
As her horse galloped up the steep slope of Cynuit Hill, its hooves pounding into the earth and kicking up dust, Signe peered down at the land below that came into view.
The River Severn curled through the land like a snake moving through grass, and on its banks, she could make out Ubba's fleet, their sails scattered along the shore.
The storm may have stolen many men from Ubba, but enough remained to be a considerable threat to the half of the Saxon army that had ridden to meet them. The other half, led by Alfred, had gone south to face Guthrum.
As she and Uhtred rose higher, getting closer and close to the top of the hill, Signe could not help but notice how dry the ground was. In fact, it wasn't just dry, it was barren. Any moisture that came or rain that fell, would run right down the slope. If the Saxon's-- led by Odda and a man named Wulfhere-- tried to hold out for any substantial length of time, they would starve.
It was a position that was entirely unsustainable.
Uhtred had been riding close behind Signe, but as they crested the top of the hill, tents rose before them, and he forced his horse to overtake hers. When she saw the reason for his action, she groaned in anticipation of what he was about to do.
Odda and his son were walking to meet them, consternation written all over their faces.
When the truce had failed, the Saxons had killed all of their hostages, and they had every reason to believe that Guthrum had done the same. That he and Signe lived, would likely only cast suspicion upon them.
But Uhtred wasn't thinking about that, she knew. He saw only Young Odda; the man who had taken his wife and child and secreted them away.
Soldiers stopped their sparring to watch the approach of two Danes on horseback and they were rewarded with a spectacle when Uhtred slowed his horse, jumping down before it had even come to halt.
Signe was close behind but was still dismounting when Odda called out to them.
"Signe, Aelderman Uhtred, we feared you'd both been killed!"
"That you were not is a miracle, or something less godly-"
Young Odda's asinine remark was cut short when Uhtred pulled his knife from his belt and threw him to the ground.
"Where is she?"
Signe made her way over to Odda's side just as his son gritted his teeth against the press of the blade against his throat. She placed a hand on the older man's chest, and shook her head, warning him off getting any closer.
Uhtred was lost to reason, any person calling out to him in that moment would do no good. And she wouldn't try to quell his anger even if she wanted to. They had travelled for days, and she had felt his desperation in every minute contained within them.
"What? What?" Young Odda grunted beneath the force of the knee on his chest, squinting up at his attacker as the sun fell into his eyes.
Uhtred bent down closer and screamed in the trembling man's face. "Where's my wife and child?"
"She...she's safe!"
"You brought her here?!"
"She is safe! Did you not hear him!?" Odda pushed against Signe's hand as he shouted, but he did not try to force his way past her. "Signe, please!"
Upon the seeing the paternal fear in his eyes, she addressed his son.
"Young Odda, where did you take her?"
"I- I took her to safety, nothing more!" He insisted frantically as Uhtred's blade pressed in closer to his skin.
Exasperated at the fool's inability to help himself, she turned to his father for a clear answer. "Where is she?"
His answer was yelled over her shoulder and in Uhtred's direction. "Mildrith is with my own wife! On my land, in my house! Where she has lived happily in the past! Put away your dagger!"
Odda's impassioned words fell on deaf ears.
"Swear that you haven't laid a hand on her."
"I will do no such thing!"
"You idiot! Just swear to it!" Signe called over her shoulder as Odda became more distressed for his son and knocked her hand away from his chest.
Misguided pride was going to get the young man's throat slit.
When no oath came, Uhtred gave one more, resounding shout.
"Swear!"
Signe truly couldn't have told anyone where Leofric had come from, all she knew was that when she turned around, the towering Saxon was standing behind Uhtred, his sword resting on his shoulder.
She went to draw her own blade, but swiflty changed her mind. Adding another weapon to the altercation was not going to help. Besides, Leofric was quick; if he decided to strike her friend, no matter how fast she moved, he would likely do it before she could reach him.
"Lord, you will take your blade away from my Lord and you will do it now." Uhtred didn't move, so Leofric gave him one more chance.
"Arseling! You have my word that neither Mildrith nor your son have been harmed. I swear, do as I ask."
Uhtred looked to Signe and then slowly rose to his feet. Leofric's blade moved with him, holding it to his throat as he took the knife from his hand.
Having picked himself up off the grass, Young Odda materialised by her side to berate Uhtred.
"Treason...but what can we expect?"
"I expected you to have at least some intelligence, but clearly, I was wrong." Signe taunted him, affronted at how close he had chosen to stand to her.
He rounded on her, pressing his face close to hers. "At least I am not a Godless, heathen, whore."
"You're overusing those insults, Young Odda. They're becoming boring. But I suppose I can't expect an empty-headed worm to be creative."
"You-"
"Enough!" Odda shouted as he grabbed the back of his son's tunic and pulled him away from Signe. "Enough of this in-fighting and argument! Disperse...all of you! Now!"
Upon their Lord's command, the group of soldiers that had amassed as spectator's, broke off and walked back into the camp.
Uhtred was still panting with rage and exertion when Odda walked back over to him, Signe now by his side.
"Your wife remains my goddaughter. You should be thanking my son, not threatening him!" He hit against Uhtred's chest, his voice raising as he looked briefly to Signe. "Now you come to me when your thinking is clear. And you explain to me why the two of you are still breathing...and stupid."
Signe let out a breath, finding herself genuinely downtrodden at having been part of working a man like Odda into such a rage. Despite herself, she had come to respect him.
The vexed Lord grabbed his son by the arm and took him off into the camp. The two of them stood in tense silence until Leofric wandered over.
"You are back from the dead and unchanged." He said, looking Uhtred up and down. "All you had to was get down from your horse and ask, 'Have you seen my wife?'"
Uhtred grabbed his knife from Leofric's hand and placed it back I into the sheath at his waist.
The Saxon looked to her as if searching for an explanation, but she could only shrug and look away from him.
"That would have been the better choice, yes...." Uhtred turned around, a fresh smirk on his face. "But then Young Odda wouldn't have shit himself."
Signe laughed along with the men as they hugged, slapping each other's backs enthusiastically. When they separated Leofric turned to her.
"And you-" He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close, staring down at her mirthfully. "An empty-headed worm? Did you spend captivity thinking only of insults?"
"No. They just come to me in the moment."
He chuckled and reached out and tap her bruised cheek just below the scab that resided there, his eyes also flicking to the wound on her temple. "Who did you get into a brawl with?"
"A shield and then a wall." She winced at the memory the skin on her cheek tearing before her head hit the abrasive stone.
"Well, I am glad that you won." He said softly.
Her mouth twisted into a smile before she pulled away gently, trying to escape the fluttering in her stomach. Leofric watched her affectionately, his hands dropping back to his sides.
Uhtred had stood patiently, letting the two of them talk. But as soon as she stepped away from Leofric, he jumped at the chance to ask him about Mildrith.
"You have seen her? She's well?"
"She is well." Leofric nodded. The child however..."
"Sickly?" Uhtred's expression dropped and something In Signe' stomach twisted.
"Ugly." He informed enthusiastically.
Signe's unease fled and she rolled her eyes.
"Like his father?" Uhtred asked, smoothly accepting the teasing.
Leofric's smile was that of cheeky boy as he carried on the jest. "Worse...with the smallest pebbles for a penis."
"Like his father." Uhtred finished. He jumped at Leofric and pretended to swing a fist at him before backing away with a laugh.
"If you wish to seem him for yourself, arseling, I say you leave the way you came. Both of you." He paused as Uhtred looked uneasily over the camp. Signe, having a feeling she knew why he was suggesting it, waited silently for him to finish. "I'm serious. We are stuck on this hill and here we will die."
"The army is going to starve."
Signe had been muttering to herself more than anything, but Leofric heard and grunted in agreement. "The situation is dire."
"What does Odda say?" Uhtred asked uneasily.
"Odda is a decent man, but as a warrior, he has all the guile and menace of a sheep."
The three of them chuckled uneasily, glad to be reunited, but bothered by the trepidation biting at their heels.
»»———- ———-««
Ubba waited for them by the mouth of a cave that yawned wide in the white rockface. Storri stood by his side, his beady eyes almost lost amongst the black paint that he smeared over them.
As their group approached up the narrow path, the chieftain threw a rock in their direction. It went high and struck the side of the hill, some pale dust falling to the earth upon impact.
Why Odda had called for negotiations, when the last attempt had gone so poorly, Signe could not fathom, but there was also little else that could be done.
The air was colder in the shadows of Cynuit Hill, but Signe doubted it would do much to cool the man's temper.
"Lord Ubba..." Uhtred began, stepping the front of their party. "May I present the Lord Odda of Wessex."
"There never seems to be a meeting that the two of you do not attend." Ubba remarked, his eyes narrowing at Signe who was stood between Odda and Wulfhere. "Is she a sorceress, sending visions of you into our minds? Are your bodies elsewhere?"
"She is no sorceress, Lord." Storri advised sourly, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his dark robe. "Just a feral girl."
Signe chuckled, fingering the handle of her knife as she looked at him. "It is good to see you again Storri. Have you recovered from Brida shoving that stick up your arse?"
Odda gaped at her while Wulfhere winced at the thought. She could also clearly hear Leofric snigger behind her.
"That is a lie- she lies!"
As his sorcerer panicked, Ubba's eye twitched as he glowered at Signe.
Uhtred spoke up, moving the conversation along as if nothing had occurred.
"Lord Ubba, Odda's Alfred's most trusted general."
The chieftain looked to the man and scoffed. "I don't give a shit who he is, all he needs to do is to surrender."
Odda did not flinch.
"There will be no surrender."
Ubba chuckled, lifting his chin as if intrigued. "What will there be?"
"There will be no surrender." Odda repeated, enunciating each word with authority. "Though I do invite you to return to your ships. Guthrum may have broken the peace but there's no need for Ubba to do likewise."
The chieftain quirked one pale eyebrow, the lines around his eyes deepening. "We will not be returning to our ships."
"And I shall not be moving from this hill." Odda's words were stern, his tone unyielding. Ubba chuckled at him, but he persevered. "You have no business in Wessex."
"My business is to kill you."
"You may try."
Ubba took a step towards Odda and Signe found herself shifting closer to him, but Uhtred's words stopped the chieftain's advance.
"Guthrum's fleet's gone." Shock left the giant's mouth hanging open as Uhtred imparted the information with palpable satisfaction. "Njord reached out from the deep and dragged Guthrum's fleet down to the sea-bed."
"You're lying."
Signe had never seen Ubba look afraid, and it spurred her into rubbing salt in his wounds.
"After Guthrum failed to kill us, we saw the storm that wrecked the fleet. We saw it go under and then we walked along a beach where the bodies of his men washed up."
"Storri, what do you say?!" Ubba asked quiet in his desperation, his eyes never leaving Signe.
The sorcerer lifted his hands defensively, his voice unsteady. "Lord, I do not see for Guthrum, I...I see for you."
"He also didn't see that he'd have that stick up his arse." Signe mocked.
Uhtred grinned at her and then turned to torment the chieftain. "You are next to die, Ubba, I know it, I cast the runes."
"That's an even bigger lie!"
Storri's protest was not even acknowledged by Uhtred.
"Earl Ragnar the Fearless is with Gods and they are angry at you; you allow his death to go unpunished."
Ubba leant towards Uhtred, spit flying from between his thing lips as he refuted the claim. "Avenging Earl Ragnar is not my business! That's for his son!"
"You are next die, Ubba."
An animalistic yell erupted from Ubba as he threw himself forward. Uhtred and Signe reared back and when she made contact with Leofric's chest, his free hand landed on her arm to steady her.
When the volatile man began to shout once more, Uhtred smirked in the face of it.
"Then fight me! And you'll see who is next to die! Fight me!"
There would have been a moment when Ubba's anger had transformed into the desperation Signe saw on his face, but she couldn't place exactly when it had happened.
And then, Signe realised what Uhtred was doing.
If he could work Ubba up into a frenzied paranoia about his impending death, it would make him unstable, more vulnerable when the Saxon's did attack.
"Lord..." Uhtred began, satisfied that he had got into Ubba's head. "We're negotiating."
"You will not say another word!" Ubba turned his eyes to Odda, his face reddened under the strain of his fury. "He will not say another word!"
"He will not, no. Best not." Odda agreed quickly.
Ubba eyed Uhtred with disgust. "And I will not say another word. Talking is over. You piece of weasel shit! Storri!Storri!"
Ubba called for the man as though he were a dog and the sorcerer hurried to obey, forcing his eyes away from Uhtred and heading for his master.
As Storri descended the hill with his lord, one by one, the four Dane warriors that had been positioned nearby, followed.
Uhtred was wiping spit from his face when Wulfhere exhaled loudly and turned to him.
"What now? Where are we left standing? In shit?"
"Now we have time." Uhtred answered simply.
Signe had managed to forget Young Odda was even with them, but as the familiar whine filled her ears the bliss was taken from her.
"How? If it were possible, you've made them want to kill us even more!"
"All Ubba is thinking of now is his own death. It will serve you well." Signe said, still watching the chieftain disappear into the distance.
Uhtred nodded at her, and they moved to go, but not before he left Odda with some parting words.
"We should attack."
»»———- ———-««
Signe and Uhtred crept through the forest, careful to not so much as snap a twig as they approached the Dane camp. They weaved through the tangle of skeletal trees, crossing into patches of moonlight that dappled the earth.
Having grown up watching Kjartan labour to construct ships worthy of both his lord and the sea, and marvelling at it every time, something in Signe rebelled at the idea of burning even one to ash. But she forced the childish whimsy out of her mind.
The Saxon's were out of time, they needed to attack and the chances of them all being slaughtered, lessened substantially if the Ubba's men were otherwise distracted.
So, burning the ships it was.
As the trees began to thin, they slowed their advance, coming to a stop at the edge of the forest. Sounds from that from a distance had been a faint hum, turned into the contented chatter of the Danes.
At the centre of a web of tents a few men sat around a fire and Ubba was with them. They looked entirely at ease, almost like they were relaxing after a battle had already been won.
Signe looked to Uhtred and found him already frowning at the seeming complacency of the warriors.
When Ubba pulled a woman down onto his lap and reached out for another, Signe looked off the left where a lone man was patrolling the riverbank, the light from his flaming torch, spilling onto each ship he passed.
Dealing with just one guard would be simple, but to get to him they'd need to cross Ubba's line of sight.
Not worth the risk.
They would have to wait until the chieftain left the fireside.
As if her thoughts had willed it, Ubba threw his head back and laughed, before lifting the two women up off his lap and getting to his feet. When he led them away, presumably in the direction of his tent, the men he'd been sitting with got up too, leaving the fire unattended and their path clear.
Uhtred's hand fell on Signe's arm, and she met his gaze through the dense shadows.
"Do you want to do the honours?" Uhtred whispered, pointing in the direction of the Dane watching the ships.
"How kind of you." Signe deadpanned.
He smiled at her, but his words were sincere. "I will be right behind you."
"I know." She said, pulling her knife from her waist. "Don't drop the pig fat." She looked down in the sack in Uhtred's hand, nose curling at the memory of forming each individual fire starter with their bare hands and binding them in strips of cloth.
She'd certainly done more pleasant things.
Signe straightened up, adopting a calm demeanour as she wandered across the dew slick grass and over to the ships.
The guard was staring out over the river, so she was able to stop beside him before he noted her presence.
He turned and upon the sight of her sweet smile, amused curiosity changing his expression.
"Hello." She said, edging even closer to him.
He was caught for a moment in the pull of her striking eyes, but his expression fell when he noted the blade in her hand. But it was too late, he'd barely blinked before she was driving it into his heart. As it pierced his flesh, she turned his body, so his back was to the camp, blocking her from view.
There was only a small grunt from his mouth as she drew the weapon away. She stepped to the side, and as his body crumpled to the ground, Uhtred was revealed. He kicked the dead man and sent his body rolling down the bank and into the river with a faint splash.
Signe reached down and took up the still burning torch that the man had dropped and threw it into the nearby ship. She then jumped forward, grabbing onto the side of the vessel and hauling herself up over the edge and dropping down inside it.
She just got to her feet when she had to jump back to avoid being hit with the sack of pig fat. It just missed her before it thudded into the ship, Uhtred joining soon after.
"Where you trying to hit me?" Signe said moodily as she picked up the torch once more.
Uhtred widened his eyes exaggeratedly, as if this suggestion was preposterous. "It's dark Sig!"
"Not that dark." She grumbled.
Knowing they couldn't delay any longer, they both quieted down as they went about their plan.
Uhtred gathered what rope he could find and cut it up so that Signe could tie a piece to each individual bag of pig fat.
When that task was complete, Uhtred held out the torch and Signe dangled the first bag over it, only when it was consumed by flames, and she felt the heat of them on her hands, did she turn and look out over the fleet of ships.
She used the rope to swing the fireball around, letting it gather momentum as she took aim, embers flying off it and falling into the water.
When she released her hold on the rope, the incendiary projectile made a blazing arc through the night sky, before landing right in the centre of one of the far-off ships.
No sooner had hers been thrown, than Signe was helping Uhtred with another. And another.
As smoke began to curl up into the air, the fleet catching fire, they piled the last three bags into the centre of the ship they were on, laying oars and nets on them for kindling, before dropping the torch on top of it.
The two of them jumped out of the ship just as the fire caught, the heat of it chasing them as they dropped down onto the riverbank.
As the flames crackled and wood groaned, Signe and Uhtred made their way back into the camp.
"Ships afire! Ships afire!" Uhtred cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his shouts as he raised the alarm. "Fetch buckets and barrels!"
Danes rushed from tents and took up the call, oblivious to the two interlopers amongst them as they ran for the burning fleet.
And of course, when they tried to douse the flames by throwing water on them, the greas and fat reacted, the flames only rising higher.
Odda had given Uhtred his word that he would attack as soon as he saw the fire.
And they had certainly accomplished that.
The blaze became an inferno, pillars of noxious smoke rising into the sky that would be impossible to miss from the hill.
Signe and Uhtred had done their part. Now they just had to stay alive until the army came.
They headed for the woods with chaos at their backs.
Just they were about to walk between two tents, a warrior emerged to block their path. When he stepped into the light, the shadows fell away from his hulking form, revealing the axe wielded in his right hand.
When he stopped in front of her, Signe had already drawn her sword.
Uhtred appeared by her side. Neither of them moved as the warrior stared them down.
They both knew that to begin a fight in that moment could mean their deaths; unless the man fell with one blow, they would attract attention and she and Uhtred could be swarmed by the enemy in seconds.
"Uhtred." His name was a warning on her tongue, telling him they needed to run.
But they didn't get the chance to take so much as a step, before Ubba's voice found them, bursting through the panicked din with ease.
"You! Uhtred Ragnarson! You!"
The sight that greeted them as they turned, made Signe's blood run cold. Standing across the fire, still intimidating when bare footed and in nothing but his tunic and trousers, was Ubba. And at his back were countless Danes, every single one looking at her and Uhtred.
"Are you afraid of me?" The chieftain stepped closer to the flames, throwing his arms wide and basking in their light. "Man on man, I will make the square. Will you fight me? Are you the son of Ragnar the Fearless? Or are you a coward?!"
Signe saw the last word strike Uhtred directly. Being called craven was an insult he would not take lightly.
As more and more Danes closed in on them from all sides, all Signe could think of was the warning Ravn had given them when they were children.
'Never fight Ubba.'
When Uhtred began to move forward, desperation made Signe's hand shoot out and grab hold of his. She pulled him back to her, her brows drawn pleadingly.
"Do not do this." She whispered, her voice wobbling.
He gently, but firmly pulled his hand away. "I do not have a choice.
"Yes, you do! Odda is coming. We can stall for time."
Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true and her eyes stung with the arrival of desperate tears.
"This is stalling for time, Sig. There is nowhere to run. If I do not fight him now, he will strike us both down where we stand."
The resolve in his eyes made her admire him just as much as it made her want to scream at him.
From the moment she had met him, Uhtred had seemed invulnerable to Signe. Even though he often jumped head first into danger, he always found a way out. But for the first time, she truly feared that he was about to die.
And if he did, she wouldn't know how to navigate the world. He was her only constant. Her greatest friend and the person she loved most.
Without him, she would be ruined.
"You cannot die, Uhtred." She ordered him fiercely. "You need to meet your son."
"I am waiting." Ubba chirped eerily breaking up their fraught exchange.
Uhtred gave her a look that conveyed the strength of the powerful emotions warring within him, but he forced himself to turn his back on her and walk over to the fire.
"I will fight you Ubba, if that's what you want." Uhtred said, stopping a few paces across from him. "But you will die."
Ubba looked at Uhtred like he was a fly that he was about swat. "Fetch him a shield." Having looked to no one in particular, multiple men hurried to do as he asked. As they did so, his eyes looked to Signe. "Hold her, and do not let her move. She bites."
When one man wrapped his arm around her chest and placed a blade against her throat, another took her sword from her hand pulled the knife from her belt. Signe did not fight it, but Uhtred's face contorted with outrage.
"This is between you and I Ubba. No one else."
"Do not worry, boy. I will take very good care of her after you die." Ubba taunted.
A chuckle rumbled through the chest of the man holding her and when his fetid breath brushed the side of her face, she felt sick.
If Uhtred died and Ubba took her, she would feign submission until she could escape. She would avenge him. She would not let him become another loved one watching her from Valhalla and awaiting justice.
She felt like something was clawing at her chest just at the thought of it, but she had to prepare herself.
When the chieftain took another step closer to him, Uhtred looked down at his bare feet that trampled the grass.
"You are half naked, Lord, you might catch a chill."
"This will not take long." Ubba answered, his face split by a malicious smile.
Uhtred drew his sword from his back and number of nearby Danes were roused to do the same in response, but he simply stabbed his blade into the dirt and began to prepare himself for the fight.
The man holding her had not appreciated Uhtred's sudden movement and Signe felt a sting as he pressed the sharp edge of his sword further into her neck. Her breathing became more laboured as his hold around her chest verged on crushing.
"Was it you? The fires?" Ubba asked, watching as Uhtred divested himself of his belt and his furs.
"Must have been the gods...they're angry with you."
Storri appeared before Uhtred and handed him a shield, as two other men picked up his belongings from the grass and shuffled away.
When Ubba was handed his axe and a shield of his own, Signe searched the distant darkness for any sign of movement, but she found nothing.
Had Odda abandoned them to die? Had he used their distraction not to attack, but to instead get his army off the hill and away from danger?
Condemning two heathens to Ubba's clutches to prevent any good, Christian men from dying, would likely be an easy decision for him to make.
But Signe believed him to be honourable and he had given his word. There was some hope left within her.
The sound of Uhtred's sword being drawn from the earth brought her back to herself. He spun the blade around and rested it on top of his shield as he lowered himself into a crouch.
"First blood or to the death?"
Ubba responded with a roar that sent all of the Danes around him yelling, including the man holding Signe. He screamed in her ear and jostled her in his excitement. She hissed when his sword cut deeper into her skin, and she felt small rivulet of blood trickle down her neck.
Ubba swung his axe down and when it struck Uhtred's raised shield with a force that sent the wood splintering, she silently beseeched Tyr to give him strength and guide his hand.
The blonde giant swung out his shield which Uhtred blocked with his own, using the opening he'd created to swing his sword at Ubba's chest. But he was met with a powerful counter that forced his sword from his hand and sent it sliding through the grass.
Uhtred dove for his weapon, retrieving it from the ground and dropping back into fighting stance in a matter of seconds.
The men circled each other again before meeting in the centre of the circle. Like two rutting stags they struck out at each other, metal striking metal and producing an ear-splitting battle song.
Every swing that Uhtred evaded and every blow of the shield he ducked, drew a guttural yell from Ubba's throat. But eventually one came he could not stand against, and when the wood struck him in the chest, Uhtred was sent to the ground. He controlled his fall, rolling on his shoulder and jumping back to his feet as Ubba shouted at him.
"Get up! Get up!"
Signe was held by the horrific spectacle of the fight, but she had let herself get so lost in it, that she didn't feel the arm on her slacken, as the man holding her became more and more distracted.
Having been dropped to the ground by the Dane that had taken them, Signe could see her sword and her knife sitting on the grass, just out of reach. But they weren't the only weapons that she possessed.
Another violent cry rent the air as Ubba arced his axe down. Uhtred stopped its path just above his head, his jaw clenching against the strain as he pushed back with his sword.
Wood struck Ubba's nose as Uhtred managed to slam his shield into his face, but he answered with a flurry of relentless blows that had Uhtred stumbling backwards. Just as Signe thought he was going to fall again, her friend managed to dance away and slice into Ubba's calf, a deep crimson gash appearing beneath his torn trousers.
The chieftain groaned in pain and launched himself forward.
Uhtred only just managed to stop the axe cutting into his chest, before Ubba headbutted him and pushed him backwards.
Signe watched, her violent breathing causing her throat to ache as Ubba hit Uhtred's shield with twice more, causing a piece of the top of it to break off completely. And the onslaught didn't stop until the broken wood was knocked out of his hand and Uhtred was sent flying onto his back, his head landing barely three paces from her feet.
As Ubba closed in on Uhtred and slammed the edge of his shield onto his neck, Signe felt like she was suffocating. Try as she might, she couldn't take in any air and an unbelievable pressure began to build in her head.
She was about to lose him. Lose everything.
An attempt to reach for his fallen sword, only caused Ubba to push down harder and Uhtred's face turned a violent red. Just when she thought he might lose consciousness, Ubba threw his shield to the side so that he could heft his axe above his head.
And then Signe saw it. The jagged piece of wood that had once been part of Uhtred's shield, sitting right by her feet.
Without thinking about it, or the searing pain that came when she forced herself forward, Signe kicked the shard with the side of her foot. It lifted slightly in the air and landed just by Uhtred's side.
As though he had been expecting it to come, Uhtred hardly glanced at the piece of wood before he reached out to grab it and then drove it into Ubba's knee. When the chieftain stumbled back, Uhtred rolled to the side, took up his sword and sliced into the back of his ankles. The sound that came from Ubba's throat was inhuman.
Then, with one final swing from Uhtred, he fell to the ground with a fresh gash in his chest.
The whole crowd was struck dumb, gazing up the butchered body of the great chieftain.
Uhtred placed Ubba's axe in his hand, moved to stand over him and then raised his sword.
"Go to Valhalla, Lord..."
The blade pierced his chest and with one last groan, the great warrior's head fell back and he went still.
A jarring and sudden silence swept through everyone that was present. A defiant disbelief causing a delayed reaction.
Signe had known Ubba for longer than she could remember, but only in death, did she get to experience him being utterly silent.
Entirely flawed by what he'd just seen, the man who held her had let his sword fall away from her neck.
She didn't waste a second before throwing her head back, bone crunching as she struck his nose. He gurgled, choking on his own blood, while his fellow Danes remained in shock, Signe made for her sword and her knife that still sat on the ground. She swept them into her shaking hands and ran to Uhtred who was still staring down at Ubba's body, his face splattered with blood.
"Uhtred." She called out to him as she sheathed her knife at her waist, trying to bring him back to her.
When it didn't work, she shouted at him. "Uhtred!"
His eyes met hers, widening as he comprehended the danger that they were in.
He had beaten Ubba, but now they were surrounded by his stricken, wrathful men.
And Odda still hadn't come.
All at once, every Dane that surrounded them who bore a sword, took it into their hand. The night was filled with a chorus of drawing steel.
As the Danes closed in on them, Signe and Uhtred shared a look that said the goodbye that they would never have been capable of verbalising. They stood shoulder to shoulder as they raised their swords and began to back away, nothing behind them but unforgiving darkness.
At least she hadn't been made to wash him die.
He would not go to Valhalla alone; they would be together.
Like always.
Before she heard the sound of their thundering footsteps, Signe felt the force of the soldiers at her back. And then she and Uhtred were surrounded, swept up and protected in the mass of Saxon's that drove forward with swords and shields in hand. They were the rocks in a riverbed and the men the water that flowed around them.
"Shield...wall!" At the sound of Leofric's voice, Signe felt a laugh bubble up in her throat. "Now kill the bastards!"