Drowning in Sin (heartlesskitten x Kuro)

[heartlesskitten]

The air of the chapel was thick with incense, candle smoke, and unwashed bodies. It was a familiar smell to him now, one that he had come to welcome as a respite from his labors, both the physical and mental. Cerdic, third son of Osric, closed his eyes as he murmured the rosary in his deep, rumbling tones, his calloused fingers rolling the smooth wooden beads as he progressed. His black hair was flecked with a bit of premature silver and it curled in the damp, cool air. A legacy of his mother, a Welsh Briton who could trace her proud line back to the ancient tribes as well as Roman blood. His grey-blue eyes and large stature were those of his Saxon father, Lord Osric of Hwicce, a man nearly as powerful as the King of Mercia or Wessex. As he murmured the repeated prayers, his mind drifted in memories. Of the feel of a sword in his hand, a good horse between his legs and the weight of his armor on his back. War he was trained for and yet here he sat amongst boys and old men, the few young hale men were off in the countryside seeking alms and souls.

He felt a hand on his broad shoulder and he looked up at the familiar sour face of the abbot. An ancient man he seemed but Cerdic knew he was only fifty. Cold and self deprevation aged a man fast and he could feel the bony fingers prod at him. Crossing himself, he stood up, taller than the Abbot by nearly a foot. It was not only his blood but the fact he had grown up in a noble household with access to much better food than the old man had. He was a bastard son of some cobbler he had heard, and rather than repair soles he now saved souls. His lips twitched at the joke whispered among the monks behind Abbot Carlton's back.

"I've heard you have not been to confession, again," the Abbot said, crooking a finger at him, "You're now a man of God, Cerdic. God before everything."

Cerdic merely bowed his head slightly and the old man fussed, "Get down, kneel in penance."

The real reason being that the Abbot hated looking up at the tall noble man, staring at the handsome, chiseled features whose direct gaze was an affront to the humble vows a monk took. He huffed a breath as Cerdic took his time moving to his knees on the stone floor, his rough wool robes sweeping around him.

“You’ve not shaved your tonsure, Brother Cerdic,” the Abbot reached up and yanked his short hair, “Why do you continue to defy our rules and God?”

“Your gold and high blood means nothing here,” the Abbot hissed, spraying a fine mist of spittle at Cerdic who stared at the man’s scrawny chest unflinching. “You are no better than your brothers here and you are less than me.”

He poked Cerdic again, “You will come to confession and you will confess all of your sins. Vows of silence do not include holding back from God!”

Cerdic’s flint colored eyes flashed at him, “Perhaps some of us should practice it more than others.”

“Enough of your insolence, the Devil still stirs in your blood, it is no wonder you shamed your family,” the old man’s lip trembled in rage. “You are now confined to your quarters and naught but bread and water. No fire.”

The big man stood up, pulling up his cowl as he glared but said nothing, obeying the command. His quarters were already away from the other brothers, to prevent, as the Abbot said, the corruption of the other monks. It was a stone hut, drafty and cold with a wooden bench to sleep on and moth eaten woolen blankets. He stared at it and tried not to remember his room at his father’s holdfast with the straw filled mattress and heavy furs that covered the bed. Cerdic entered and sat on the bench, rubbing his reddened hands together and blowing on them to warm them.

It was late spring but one would not know it up in this rock strewn island that the monastery perched upon. The ocean was grey and churning, the fog finally burning off as the sun started to rise. He could hear the other Benedictine monks out in the fields, cutting into the rocky soil to weed the cabbages, onions, and leeks that they grew. Cerdic reached up and fingered the silver cross around his neck, the one piece of jewelry he was allowed to keep, the rest of his wealth had gone into the coffers of the monastery as a donation once he took his vows. The monk stared out of the door, leaving it open to air out the dampness of his stone hut. The water calmed him the way he had once felt an inner peace looking at the rolling hills of his homeland to the south.

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[KuroTenshi]

The sun was bright in the sky, causing rays of light to glitter off the water like jewels. It was a breathtaking sight, as were the sunrises and sunsets. The reflection of stars in the sky in the darkness of the sea at night made it seem as though they were sailing through the night sky.

They were but a small dot in a vast ocean with nothing save the whales, dolphins and seals as companions.

As beautiful as it was, it didn’t make sailing any less miserable for Vigi. The constant rocking then the powerful jerks of the waves seemed to nearly always cause him to fly from his feet. Once he’d been thrown from his feet so violently by a storm that he found it amazing he hadn’t been swallowed into the sea.

The men teased him for being so thin that a mere lurch could make him stumble when they, the heavy oafs, could remain in place. They’d laugh until one of them inevitably threw up over the side of the ship for one reason or another. Then who did they turn to for something to ease their stomachs?

At least he was a capable enough sailor, thank the Gods Bui had the foresight to teach him months before they set out to sail. If he hadn’t been able to even do the correct knots he would have been ridiculed far more.

He moved through the crowded upper deck, looking to see if there was anything he could help with. He patted the shoulders of men he was friendly with and avoided the ones that sneered at the sight of him.

When the journey began he had been furious near constantly with the men that loudly objected to his being here. They believed it bad luck to have a man such as himself, that could hardly shoot an arrow, come on a raiding voyage. That it would anger Odin to have him anywhere near the battlefield, even though he would be their doctor and not a fighter. It had angered him and humiliated him to hear such things. After the months of stale food, little sleep and being knocked about like a small stone in a great river, the rage had long since dulled.

He admitted though, he was stunned just as everyone else had been when his mother told him to go. Somehow she had used her charm to convince the Jarl to send him off with the warriors. Try as he might he could not get her to explain her reasoning.

She merely smiled in her enigmatic manner and brushed her hand down his cheek. It was frustrating and more and more he and his brother were beginning to worry for their mother’s sanity. As of late she seemed to becoming more forgetful and when she spoke she did so in a lyrical and riddle like manner.

There were times she would become very quiet and stare into nothingness, sometimes in the middle of a conversation.

It was worrying and Vigi had done this more to please than him actually believing there was a valid reason behind it.

“Land!” He jumped at the bellow and quickly moved to the bow of the ship. He squeezed his way between two warriors to look out into the vast ocean. Sure enough there was the vague shape of land partially obscured by fog.

“Wow.” Vigi muttered, a sense of awe sweeping through him at the sight and the realization that he was about to visit a completely different country. He had heard so many things about the British isle’s, he couldn’t wait to explore and see how different it was.

A hand grasped his arm and he turned away from the sight of the approaching islands to look into a pair of pale green eyes much like his own. His brother, Sven and he were twins, birthed from the same womb at the same time; though they were as different as night and day. Fitting seeing as Sven was born at sunset and Vigi was born at sunrise the next day.

Where Vigi was lithe and almost frail looking, Sven was broad and muscular. Sven looked undeniably like a man, with his long coarse beard and scarred, weathered skin from many hours under the sun. Underneath the facial hair he looked far more like their father while Vigi took greatly after their mother. He walked a thin line between masculine and feminine with his unique features. Most assumed he was a woman because of how fair he was.

The mistake never quite lost it’s sting.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sven said, pulling him away from the bow and out of the way of the other men as they prepared to sail for the land in the distance.

“Oh? What am I thinking?” Vigi asked with a raised eyebrow and a small upward tilt of his lips.

“You are thinking of going off and getting into trouble.”

“I wasn’t going to go actively look for it.” Vigi laughed softly, brushing his hair away from his face as it wiped

“Nevertheless, it finds you.” Sven snorted, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “Loki enjoys mucking up your luck and you best not push it in a foreign land.”

The smile started to fade and he mirrored his brothers posture. “What are you telling me then?”

“Stay. With. The ship.” Sven said slowly as though he was speaking to a child and it caused Vigi to scowl outright. “These men may worship a weak god, but you never know what lays hidden in those walls. There could visiting warriors.”

Vigi stared at his brother blankly for a few moments. “You’ve any idea how ridiculous you sound? You are talking to me as though I am one of your children.”

Sven frowned at him. “You act like one sometimes. You are so thick headed and stubborn sometimes that when you get an idea in your head, you go and do it; ignoring all the dangers and consequences.”

The two men glowered at each other until Sven raised his finger and pointed it in his face. “Stay on the ship. You are here as a healer.”

The seidrmadr flicked his eyes along the length of the warrior before him. “I best go help.” He said, giving no emotion away as he let his arms drop down then walked away.

Sven stared after him and a short man with dark wild hair came to stand next to him. “You know you’ve just made it worse.”

Sven tightened his lips and gritted his teeth. “I know, Bui.”

The man shook his head, running his hand through his beard. “Let him be. He traveled the north alone since he was barely of age. If he survived that, he can survive this. I mean, tis only a bunch of men that worship a god that does not fight. They are all so young they ought to still be suckling their mothers teet or they are as old as dust. He can surely handle that.”

==

Vigi slung a quiver across his back, then his satchel before pulling on a dark cloak with a hood and then a wolfs pelt for added warmth. Most of the men were off pillaging the monastery with only a few manning the ship. He had given them a few hours to finish off the holy men inside, meaning they would now be busy looting anything of value, including gold and food to restock their supplies.

He had a number of excuses to use if he was seen by any of the warriors or his brothers, but he was not too concerned.

Strapping his saex to his hip he pulled on the hood of his cloak, hiding the bright beads of glittering stone and metal woven into his hair.

Picking up the bow he went above deck and seeing he was alone he quickly moved across it. A fast climb down a rope and he was off on the rocky beach. His breath puffed out in front of him as he ran toward the path that lead up the rocky cliffs to the monastery above.

He looked up at it with a grin, excitement rolling through him as he ran faster.

==

The gardens were absolutely massive. He did not think he had ever seen one so big before. So much so that Vigi found it easy to hide whenever he thought someone was walking by. He was enjoying looking and collecting all the herbs there were for this land to be pulled away now.

And if Sven saw him he’d surely try to drag him back to the ship. His brother could be such a mother hen and he did not understand why. They were not children anymore, he didn’t need him to come barreling in with his practice sword to fight off all the other children that picked on him.

He could take care of himself.

A soft buzzing met his ears and he perked up with interest, heading toward the sound that came from what looked like upside down baskets of straw. He could see bee's hovering around the small hole, crawling in and out of the man made hive.

Grinning he looked around for some wet wood so he could create smoke to put the bees to sleep. If he brought back wonderful fresh honey then Sven may be less likely to lecture him for wandering off.

Once he found a suitable branch he set fire to it with his flint and when the smoke was thick he waved it around and in the small opening to lull the bees to sleep.

He pulled his hood off when a bee became trapped inside then opened the small top and reached his hand in to start collecting honey combs. It wasn’t completely without pain, some of the bees did sting him but he ignored it and pulled out a hand sized piece of honey comb. He dusted off the bees still crawling on it and picked out as much of the larva and bee bodies he could.

Sitting down next to the skep he bit into the honey comb, humming at the sweet taste of fresh honey. He continued to eat, picking up stray drops of honey off his chin with his finger and licking it clean.

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic was in the middle of yet another silent prayer when he heard the first screams. His head jerked up at the ring of steel and the sound of shouting in a foreign tongue. Northmen. The big monk jumped up from his bench and snatched his oaken walking staff. He had no weapons anymore, monks were forbidden to shed blood and that meant no blades were allowed to them. He was a man of peace now, a man of God no longer in need of his martial skills. Gripping the staff, he ran toward the noise, noting some of the monks fleeing. His flint colored eyes flashed with rage as he saw the torches thrown into the monastery's living quarters, the doors closed tight and he could hear the muffled cries and prayers of what monks were unlucky enough to be caught.

The Northmen were in the Abbey, ransacking it for the treasures of the church. Silver and gold ceremonial goblets and platters, velvets and silks of the priest vestments were stolen. Cerdic paid it no mind and ran to the door that was barred, a heavy beam propped up against the door and he kicked it hard until it fell away. Yanking open the door, the monks were laying on the ground, crawling under the smoke. He pulled several of the younger ones out, coughing against the smoke.

"Run brothers, hide," he ordered as they scrambled to their feet, "The devils are in the Abby."

"Are you coming with us, Cerdic?" a young man asked, his eyes wide. "We need you."

"No, go now, to the town and get the guards," he gripped the staff and headed toward the tall Abby, relieved to hear an end to their pleas and a slapping of feet against earth as they ran away.

Cerdic walked quickly towards the sound of the raiders, unsure why he bothered and ignored the fact he was likely walking into his own death. The men were armored in boiled leather and some had mail, they all had axes and round shields, and a few of them had swords.

One of them was pawing through the shed, his back to Cerdic and he did not look up when the monk silently approached him. With a hard swipe, he hit the man in the backs of his vulnerable thighs with the staff. The Viking howled in pain and when he turned the staff hit him square in the face, the wet sound of breaking teeth audible as Cerdic pulled back and hit him again, crunching in his nose. The man fell, gurgling on blood as the monk continued to pound his face to pulp, blood soaking the thick golden beard.

Cerdic looked at the axe still in the man's belt and his red and white quartered shield. He was forbidden by his vows to shed blood but as he could clearly see, the staff drew blood as well as any sword.

He looked up at the sound of the Abbot screeching and Cerdic cursed, watching the scrawny man being physically thrown out of the Abbey followed by a tall blonde man who was laughing, his handsome face scarred and bearded. He could hear the man asking the Abbot something in Norse but the head monk only responded with a high pitched litany of Latin prayer.

"A furore Normannorum libera nos, Domine!" he held up his cross, made from gold and bronze that had been a gift of the Bishop.

"Why thank you, I'll take that, too," Sven said in his native tongue and reached down, snatching it off the old man's neck.

"Shut him up already, Sven," one of the other Vikings grumbled, "He whines worse than my wife."

"Very well, this shit hole doesn't have as much wealth as the one farther north did," Sven agreed, then casually ran his blade through the Abbot's throat, ending his life in a blink of an eye and a spurt of crimson.

Without thinking, Cerdic dropped his staff and snatched up the dead Viking’s shield and axe. He had no armor, but his anger at the brutality of the raiders drove him forward rather than into hiding. The hood of his robe flopped back as he ran at the first man who came at him, a short, stout Norseman who held a two handed axe. Cerdic blocked the first blow, the force ringing against the iron boss for the shield and up his arm with a jarring force. The massive swing had momentum turned the other man around, and Cerdic buried his axe into his side, ripping downward to spill his guts.

Spinning away from the dying man he faced another who slammed him with his shield, Cerdic’s arm felt numb but he held onto the axe. He shoved back with his shield, locked in against the other. he grunted and tried to overpower him. Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he gave the Viking a mighty shove and whirled around to face the tall blonde man. The monk now fought two, moving as fast as he could, unencumbered by heavy mail. He blocked and parried the big man’s sword, knocking him off balance for a second, buying enough time to move and bury his axe into the other man’s shoulder.

Sven cursed loudly as he stumbled back, not expecting that sort of force and skill from a Christian priest. Most only cowered and shat themselves while they wailed to their dead god. Cerdic lost his axe, it had bit deep into the bone and when the Viking howled and turned way the handle slipped from his hand. Now only with his shield he faced the leader of the raiding party who swung the broad bladed sword hard and fast. making Cerdic backpedal under the rain of blows. He felt a sudden tug of his robe and realized as he fell backward he had stepped on it in his haste.

Cerdic tried to roll out of the way but it was too late, the sword came down slashing deeply at his bicep, laying it open under the woolen robes. Sven pulled back and stabbed downward, burying the steel in the monk’s upper chest. The big Viking was about to take the monk’s head, when he heard more shouting from the back of the monastery.

“Saxon guards are coming!” one of his men called out.

“Grab everything you can carry, make for the ship!” Sven ordered, leaving Cerdic where he lay.

Once the Vikings had left, Cerdic rolled over, coughing and groaning in pain. He could feel the blood running down his arm and the pain that radiated from the chest wound nearly made him faint. Crawling forward, he reached for the stone steps to pull himself up. Stumbling, he made his way towards the herb fields and the bee skeps, in the back of his mind he knew the raw honey could be used to keep the wound from festering but at the moment is attention was focused on getting away from the raiders.

He floundered into the bee field, his head spinning and he felt faint from blood loss. His eyes focused on a figure standing near one, a tall slim figure with long pale hair. Cerdic stared in shock. A woman? A female Viking raiding the honey? Surely he was about to succumb to his wounds and he collapsed, hitting his knees, his vision blurring as the figure looked over at him. Cerdic coughed and blood trickled down his chin as he stared up at the sky.

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi looked up as he tucked away a clay jar he’d filled with honey comb, hearing the sound of labored breathing and cracking branches.

He made his way over to the fallen man and stood over him, blocking the sun from hitting him in the face. His breath nearly caught when he looked upon the man’s face. He was strikingly handsome, much more than he thought a man of a weak god would be.

“A priest are you?” He asked the man skeptically, though mostly he was speaking to himself. “You seem too big.” He observed, his eyes flicking over the man’s tall, broad frame. His gaze lingered on the wound. It was bad and without attention the priest would die in a matter of minutes.

Crouching down next to the wounded man he picked up his hand to study it. “Ah, you are a warrior.” He murmured, studying the callouses that told of a man able to wield a sword. “That makes more sense.” He set down his hand and plucked at the ugly robs the man wore. “Why dressed as a priest though?”

Vigi shift so he was sitting down next to the man and brushed the back of his hand against his cheek in a gentle caress. “Such a waste.” He scoffed, pulling his hand away and rubbing his hand over his mouth in thought.

He stared down into the man’s flint colored eyes as he struggled for breath. He felt a strong pull toward the man, though he did not understand why. He was a Christian priest after all, even if he did seem to have once been a warrior.

“Hmm, I do not think it is your time to die priest.” He shifted so he had easier access to his satchel and pulled out the jar of honey comb he’d just collected, a spool amber wrapped with silk and a bone needle. Unsheathing his saex he was about to cut open the robe so he had better access to the wound when he heard a voice.

“Vigi!” He looked up before standing to his feet.

“Here!” He called out, cupping his hand around his mouth. A moment later Bui came barreling out of the brush like a bull.

“The guard are coming! Come, we have to leave!” Bui panted, his face red from running and normally Vigi would have teased him for it but now wasn’t the time.

Vigi looked down at the priest and crouched before him. “Time is running short priest. Do you wish to die, alone in this field like a stray dog. Or do you want to live.” He said, speaking the man’s language as best he could. He’d learned it from the slaves that hailed from this land when he was growing up.

“Vigi-” Bui started to growl but Vigi looked up at him with a hard stare.

“I can save you. But if you want to live, you must get up to your feet and walk.” As he spoke tucked away the honey, spool and needle. He did not have the time to properly dress the wound. He produced a roll of cloth and quickly wrapped it around the wound to stop the blood flow until they could get to the ship. He stood up and held out his hand. “If you are truly a warrior, than rise to your feet or you will remain here in the mud and die.”

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[heartlesskitten]

A good Christian would die rather than be in the hands of the heathens, a man of God would embrace the light of heaven than the depths of the hell of slavery. But Cerdic had never been a good Christian and the robe of a monk fit him poorly. He also did not have the courage to die, as he should long ago. With a pained grunt, he grabbed the hand offered. He was still unsure of who the person was, fair faced as a woman but with a masculine voice, smooth as a river stone. Cerdic pulled himself up, gasping for breath as he felt the pressure in his chest increase. He had no weapon, nor strength to wield it, he had only God now. His eyes flickered over the man who spoke his tongue and he nodded. While there was life, there was hope and he had long clung to that thought.

Cerdic grit his teeth as he moved, finally speaking in a hushed tone, “Do you claim me as a prisoner then? As your own?”

His eyes moved nervously at the other man, the dark haired Viking who stared at him. Cerdic had killed two of their own and the one he wounded might be crippled if he lived. It was perhaps preferable to die among the bees than face the torture of a vengeful Viking. If this...man...claimed Cerdic, he would at least belong to one and perhaps if the man had enough standing it would keep him safe. Though he doubted the strength of the pretty faced young man and that worried him if he should live through his wound.

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi smiled as he helped the man to his feet. "Aye, you are now mine." He answered him. "Look Bui, would he not make a fine Thrall?" Vigi as the other Northmen in their native tongue.

"You're out of your bloody mind, but I don't care; lets go before your brother leaves us behind." Bui grumbled, waving his hand angrily for them to hurry.

Vigi merely nodded and pulled on of the priests arm over his shoulders to help him walk. With a pleased quirk of his lips at his wonderful they started for the shore.

==

Vigi hurriedly pushed the priest up the plank to the long ship. When his feet touched the wood he instantly saw his brother, his face like an angry storm. More alarming though, he saw him covered in blood. Not unusual but it could be hiding a serious wound.

He gasped and abandoned his new slave to run over to his brother. "Are you alright ?"

Vigi reached up to touch the wound and Sven slapped his hands away. "I'm fine, this isn't my blood but we were attacked and lost two men by the hand of that son of a whore!" He snarled, pointing to the priest with fire in his eyes. "Throw that trash overboard!" He roared. Two men rushed forward and grabbed hold of the priest.

"You will not!" Vigi shouted, stopping the men. His brother may lead this ship but very few went against a person of seidr. "I am taking him as a slave Sven."

Sven looked down at him with a frown. "While the idea of that bastard a slave amuses me, I do not think that you will be able to control him. There is a man in need of your care below deck anyway. That filth will die by then, best dump him now."

Vigi glared up at his brother, a tick forming in his jaw. "You are implying I am weak?" He asked through gritted teeth. "We may argue this later, I need to tend to the wounded." He turned back to the men gripping the priest and waiting for an order. "Take him below deck, where I sleep." Next he spoke to the priest. "Do not die while I deal with my thick headed brother here."

Sven scowled and punched his shoulder. "If he does not kill you, I will."

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic looked up sharply as the tall Viking came into view, a surge of fear and anger rushing through him. He could not understand their words but he knew the man with the sword must have been the raid leader as he had the best weapons and armor. Men rushed toward him and he raised his good arm, ready to try in vain to fend them off but the young man who had brought him raised his voice in protest. The word “thrall” was familiar to him, it meant slave, something the people of his land no longer practiced. Christians did not take other Christians as slaves, it was a savage and degrading practice. And it was now his fate.

Holding his wounded arm, he staggered into the cabin where the fair man made his bed. The dark haired Viking practically shoved him onto the pallet. He grunted and fell to his knees, too weak to keep his balance. Cerdic could feel the sticky blood drying on his skin and the robes clung to it as it coagulated. The big monk collapsed, rolling onto his back, coughing and gasping for breath. He stared up at the low ceiling of the small quarters, Here he would die, he thought in the pained haze, at least he would rob them of another slave if nothing else.

His hand reached up and touched the silver cross under his robes, stroking it as he mumbled a prayer under his breath, waiting for the young man that he had thought was a woman. Cerdic was unsure what was more disturbing, a woman raider or a man so beautiful that he would be mistaken for one. This was no smooth cheeked boy but a grown man who had no right to appear so fair to the eye.

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi frowned as he finished treating the axe wound that the Christian priest had caused. "It does not look good." He spoke to the injured man, running his hand gently over the white gauze that was already starting to stain red from the sewed up wound. "The hit went very deep into your shoulder, the joint is damaged."

The man growled and glared over at the cabin where the now enslaved man was placed. "Bastard. What Christian priest fights?"

"They do not even believe in drawing blood." A man working close by added.

Vigi shook his head and patted his arm. "Killing him will not heal your arm. Beside, wouldn't being my slave seem a more fitting form of revenge?" He asked him with a grin. The warrior huffed in amusement and some of the rage faded. "I will make you a charm for your arm to help it heal. You fought well today." He patted his uninjured arm then stood to make his way over to the small cabin, ducking inside and looking down at the man bleeding out on his bed.

"You've managed to raise many a temper." He said to the priest in his own language, walking over to sit down on the edge of the pallet. He noticed some blood had gotten onto one of the pelts lining it and made a sound in his throat, but didn't comment. He took off his satchel and set it so the side to go through more easily. "You fought well though," He stopped getting things ready to dress the wound and looked down at the man curiously. "Why is a skilled warrior allowing himself to waste away as a priest of a god who does not wish to even draw blood?"

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic could hear them jabbering in the rough tongue of the North of which he knew very little. The words Christian and thrall came up again and he assumed they spoke of him. He lay still when the pale haired man entered the cabin, his head spinning from loss of blood as well as the dip and swell of the ship as it bobbed. Above them he heard a few curt shouts and the sound of oars being lowered into the water. So it was, the guards had come too late and he was to be taken. Coughing and wheezing to take a deeper breath, he looked up when his captor spoke in English.

With a huff, Cerdic closed his eyes, swallowing thickly, "I'm not a warrior anymore nor a monk, so it does not matter."

His eyes flickered open, gazing intently at the pale green eyes in the man's beautiful face, hating him for taking him prisoner and himself even more for not being able to die like he should, "And you? Did God forget to put a cunt between your legs? Or the voice of a man in the throat of a maid?"

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi looked over at the man sharply, surprise at the insult quickly turning to anger. He reached out and dug his fingers sharply into the blood stained gauze that covered the man's wound. "Continue to speak such disrespect of me and I will keep you alive until you are are more than half alive just so I can throw you over the side of this ship. Then you can have a slow death being devoured by the monsters that lurk below the waves." He growled, leaning over to glare right into his flint colored eyes, putting more pressure into the wound.

"My name is Vigi the Seidrmadr, but you will call me Master." He sneered and removed his fingers from the wound. "A Seidrmadr is a man that performs powerful magic. I speak to the gods, not your weakling god that does not even draw blood and looks down upon his followers, but powerful entities that are mighty warriors and our comrades." He sat up straight and, a scowl still marring his fair features.

"I have the power to save you or kill you now, not your god. Me." He was sorely tempted to pack up his supplies and let the man die a slow death; but that would be too easy for the priest after such a grievous insult. "You chose me back in the garden. You could have laid there and died to join your god, but you chose to live and you chose me to save you. Do not go spitting in the face of my generosity. I do not like it."

 

[heartlesskitten]

Hissing between gritted teeth, Cerdic glared up at the man as he dug into the chest wound. He could not lift his right arm to fend him off as the torn bicep was cut down to the bone and the muscle did not want to work properly. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out in pain as the slim, hard fingers dug into the bloody gash. Cerdic snorted a laugh and winced, “Magic? A bunch of heathen nonsense but you say you’re a healer, can you do more than try to plug my wounds with your fingers?”

Cerdic raised his chin slightly, as if in challenge. The monks at the Abbey knew about herbs and healing, he had learned a little but nothing that would serve to save his own life. If he wanted to live, which he did, damn his craven heart he did want to live. He sighed in resignation, “Yes...master. I need your help.”

He coughed again, the pressure in his chest increasing and he wheezed, blood oozing out of the corner of his mouth. “My chest hurts, it’s getting harder to breathe.”

Cerdic gasped after, the sentence taking the wind out of him. He worried the sword had penetrated his lung and it was slowly filling with blood. An ironic smile crossed his face, there would be no need for his new master to throw him in the sea to drown, he might just do it right here in the boat.

 

[KuroTenshi]

He was going to have his hands full with this one, he could already tell. He forgot his anger when he saw the blood drip down from the priests mouth. "Seems your lung was stabbed." He reached over and pushed his hand hard against the wound. "Do you hear that wet, squishing sound? Tis your breath leaving your lung from the wound." He smirked. "So yes, I do need to plug it with my fingers for now."

A penetrated lung was serious though and he could not do this by himself. He turned and started banging his free fist against the wall of the cabin.

A few moment's later the door opened and a young man with barely a bit of scruff on his face looked inside. "Is something wrong?"

"Are you doing anything of importance out there?" Vigi asked the lad with a frown.

"Um, no."

"Good, come here. You are going to learn a fair bit of medicine." The fair faced man huffed and motioned him in with a crook of his finger. "I need help keeping this stubborn mule alive."

The young warrior's eyes widened and he looked between the giant man on the bed then at the seidrmadr with unease. "I-I,"

"Get in here." Vigi ordered, his face hardening as his amusement faded.

Jumping the young man shut the door and quickly rushed over to the bed. "See where I have my hand? I need you to press down here." The boy nodded and once his hands were in place Vigi had to go dig through his belongings to find what he needed.

After digging around in a few boxes, he founded what he was looking for; a hallow reed and a very small knife. "Help me get him to his side, facing me and keep your hand on that wound." Carefully the two of them rolled the man onto his side and Vigi moved his arm up by his head so it was out of his way. "Do not move that arm." He ordered the priest in his language. "I already have the boat rocking, I don't need you moving and making this harder."

He unsheathed his saex and started cutting away at the ugly robe so he could get to the ribs.

"What are you doing?" The boy asked with wide eyes while Vigi set a bowl on the bed then took up the reed.

"His lung is filled with blood." Vigi answered simply, holding up the small knife. "We are going to drain it."

==

Sven turned around hearing a loud bang and watched as Snorri, a young man on his first raid, run out of Vigi's cabin, to the side of the ship where he began to vomit.

He had been hearing screaming from inside of the cabin, but as it was not Vigi he had ignored it. However seeing the young lad rush out like that made him curious. Frowning Sven headed into the cabin and ducked down a bit to fit through the door. "What's going on in here?" He asked.

Vigi looked up from where he was finishing sewing up the original wound after, flecks of blood on his pale face and some staining the ends of his hair. Though that was nothing compared to his hands. They were completely encrusted with the Christian's blood. "I don't think that lad is meant to be a raider, he took off in a fit when I asked him to dump this bowl." Vigi huffed, nodding his head to the bowl that was filled with blood and other fluids. "Will you do it for me? It smells." He muttered, turning back to stitching up the skin.

"There." He cut off the loose thread with his knife and rinsed his hands off in a pot of sea water. Rubbing them dry he took out a piece of honey comb and crushed it in his hand so he could smear it over the wound and the cut he had made in the man's ribs. He muttered softly under his breath as he wrapped the wounds with bandages after washing his hands again.

Sven scowled down at the large figure of the priest but stepped forward to pick up the bowl. "Yes, the boy is the son of the carpenter. Seems he might handle carving up wood better than carving flesh."

Vigi hummed in agreement and stood up when he was finished, arching his back as he stretched. "Put the glare away, your face will get stuck like that. He's going to live." He reached down and brushed some of the unconscious man's hair from his sweaty forehead. "He's quite handsome when he isn't running that mouth."

Sven snorted and stepped outside to hand the bowl to one of the passing men. Without an explanation he retreated back inside and shut the door. "Is that why you insist on keeping him?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Vigi looked up at him with feign innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Stop." Sven rolled his eyes and Vigi dropped the look to grin. "You know that two men laying together is forbidden to them. Not just the one on that is submissive."

"Oh?" Vigi asked, intrigued as he had not known this. "This'll be fun then." He chuckled, placing his hands palm flat against one another in front of his lips. "But believe it or not, that isn't the only reason I want to have him." He looked back down at the motionless man, save for the rising and fall of his chest. "I think he'd make a valuable asset with things the way they are back home."

Sven frowned and stepped further into the cabin. "What are you talking about?"

Vigi raised his eyes to his brother and mirrored his frown. "Surely you are not so blind. With each passing day I feel the Jarl growing angrier and angrier. He hates the mere sight of me."

"Vigi," Sven sighed, bringing up his hand to rub over his face tiredly. "I think you are..." He trailed off as the slim man began to glare at him. "I don't think it is...as bad as you believe."

Vigi made a scoffing sound deep in his throat and turned away. "I do not expect you to understand. You are the perfect son, after all, the one he respects and loves; the one that turned out the way he wanted." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I need to wash this blood off me, please leave." He said icily.

He could feel anger and frustration radiate from Sven. He heard him breathe out like an angry bull then the door to the cabin opening before slamming shut.

Sighing Vigi forced his shoulders to relax and sat down on the edge of the pallet. He put his elbows on his knee's and leaned forward to rest his forehead in his hands.

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic held is breath, watching with eyes full of pain as Vigi bent to cut between the nerve rich cartilage between his ribs. A roar of pain escaped his mouth and he gripped the fur in his left fist tight enough that his knuckles showed white through the creases of dirt and dried blood. He kept as still as he could but the pain was exquisite, making him close his eyes tightly as he focused not weeping. He would not show weakness before this heathen devil torturing him. The boy, Snorri, put a stick between his teeth and he bit down against it after biting his tongue hard enough to bleed. He looked at the lad with some gratitude before clenching down on the wood, the stick crackling with the force as the healer pushed the hollow tube into his lung. The pain and his exhaustion combined to make his eyes roll back, even as the relief his of his lung expanding and filling with air hit him. Cerdic fainted into blessed unconsciousness.

In his sleep, he dreamed. Swirling smoke from villages put to the torch by raiding Norsemen when he had arrived too late with his men. Battles fought against the Danes and the Northumbrians, the vileness men could do to each other and to innocent people. His victories that once filled him with pride, now ashes in his mouth. And worse, he dreamed of the boy. He could see him standing there, just out of his reach, always just out of his reach. His fingers clenched convulsively as he reached for the child in his sleep. Darkness fell and he could see a beautiful pale face, with a mocking smirk that taunted him.

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He woke out of the faint, but kept his eyes closed as the pain throbbed through out his powerful body. He could hear voices speaking above him but he could not understand the words, save for a few. Cerdic was now less than nothing. How far could he fall in this world? First a third born son of a lord, destined to lead his father's men and carry his banner into battle, to live a warrior's life. Then the betrayal, it always came back to that did it not? His own stupid fault and the vipers that nested in his own blood. Stripped and given over to God, he still could not do that right. He could not bow his proud head low enough to accept God's dominion. And now he paid for his stubborn pride yet again. A slave, a lowly worm that would be at the very bottom of the society he was going to become a part of. He deserved no less but he was perversely stubborn and Cerdic could endure much pain, physical pain was nothing to what his deeply hidden scars in his heart could feel.

His grey blue eyes fluttered open, and he caught sight of Vigi sitting with his head down. Cerdic swallowed hard, his throat scratching from his screams. Beneath him he could feel the boat rocking forward and back on the waves as the rhythmic thrust of oars pushed them ever farther from the shores of Mercia towards Daneland. He reached up with his left hand and found his silver cross still on his chest, despite his robes being cut away. Cerdic was surprised it was still there, it was a precious item, nearly long as his large palm, inscribed with the fanciful scrolls and knots of his mother's Celtic people. In the center was a cabochon of white crystal, polished to a bright shine. It was on a silver linked chain and he remembered how many times the Abbot had eyed it with avarice despite his own gold and bronze cross, much smaller and tied to a leather thong. He also remembered the cantankerous old man was dead, as were so many of the monks that made their home at the monastery.

Hatred built back up in him, like fire catching in a hearth, it warmed him and drove away the pain and loneliness. If anything, he would have his hatred of these men as his constant companion. Cerdic looked at Vigi coolly and spoke in a rasping, deep voice, "Did you save your property?"

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi was startled by the voice and looked over to see the priest awake. "I have, he could be more grateful for it." He said, standing up from the bed. "I can give you something for the pain now, I could not dull it for you before because I've found alcohol and some herbs cause the body to bleed out faster."

He looked down at the cross laying on the man's chest. Curious he stepped forward to get a closer look. He hadn't noticed it before as he was more focused on saving the stubborn man's life. Seeing it now he was amazed by it's beauty and craftsman ship. "My, my." He muttered, reaching out to touch the crystal in the center. "This is beautiful." He murmured, running his finger over the inscriptions and designs.

He was tempted to take it for himself, it would bring him a lot of money, but a look at the priests face had him pull his hand away. He loathed to admit it, but Sven had been right. The man would be difficult to control, especially for someone such as himself. He did not believe in his powers and he would not remain this weak for long.

Vigi stood up straight and frowned down at the man. "That charm is precious to you, is it not? If you wish to keep it then you must hide it. Any of the other's see it and they will take it for themselves." He turned to look around the cabin and motioned to one of his chests. "You may hide it within my belongings, no one would dare look through it. But wearing it, you ask for it to be ripped off your neck." He raised his eyebrows. "Do not worry, I will not steal it from you. The charm of a lesser god is useless to me and my trade no matter how pretty it looks."

He reached under his tunic and pulled out a necklace decorated with dark beads and bone cared to look like claws, inscribed with powerful ruins. "Charms such as these is where true power come from." He let it fall against his chest then turned away to start removing the beads braided into his hair so he could wash up.

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic watched Vigi warily as the pale haired man touched his cross, the one his mother had given him before she died. His left hand flexed, ready to grab for it if the man tried to take it. To his surprise, the Dane left it alone. How very rare for a Northman to leave any treasure untouched. Cerdic nodded slightly, “I would be...grateful for something for the pain.”

Coward, he called himself. Since when did Cerdic, son of Osric need anything for his pain? When he took that arrow in the thigh at Stamford or when he broke his arm at The Wash when fending off a blow from a big Northumbrian. The monks had set pulled the arrow out and set his bones and he took only wine. That was when he had strength, he was someone. He was no one now, just another monk, now just a slave. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to Vigi’s reasoning and he was right. He would have no way to fend off a Viking if he wanted his cross, even if he was healthy unless he wanted to try to swim back to the shores of Angaland.

“You know nothing about the power of God,” he rumbled, “But it’s no fault of your own, you are a heathen savage.”

Cerdic took off the cross, slipping it over his head and fondled it once more, his fingers moving over the smooth crystal for the an unknown number of times. How many times before battle, while he prayed or when he was in his darkest moments did that white stone bring him luck? He held it a moment more, seeing his mother’s soft grey eyes and her black hair, her slim hands hanging the cross around his neck when he turned ten.

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“I thank you for keeping it safe, it was a gift from my mother,” he said stiffly, not wanting to let it go but understanding the need.

When Vigi touched the pagan charm on his chest, Cerdic eyed it suspiciously as if it might burst into flames. He wrinkled his nose and huffed a breath of disbelief. “How can you have true power with your false gods?”

He asked it without being combative, just a genuine question as he had grown up a Christian and everyone he knew was a believe in God and his Son. His ancestors on his father’s side had not long ago worshiped a similar pantheon of gods and goddesses but that was in the past, they belonged to the one True Faith now. He knew the Northmen had all sorts of bloodthirsty gods and goddess whores, some of which even demanded human sacrifice. Cerdic felt a chill, remembering the stories his grandfather would tell of Woden and Thunor, they were nearly the same as Odin and Thor that this magician worshipped. They were not real gods, merely fanciful stories. Just heathen trash, like the Muslims who at least believed in one God rather than an entire extended family. Cerdic sighed, tossing the beads off to the side of his pallet. He was in too much pain to debate theology.

The monk watched him a moment, unbraiding his long flaxen hair and thought once again how lovely it was, like gossamer strands of fine pale golden-silver. He had seen such a metal before, a Muslim trinket inscribed with squiggly worm writing that he did not understand but it had been quite beautiful. It was a small salt dish that was rare and expensive. Cerdic shook the thought away, it was a strange thing to dwell on and it was not as if he would ever see it or his old home again. Even before being taken by the shaman, he had been sentenced to stay at the monastery.

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi huffed listening to the man insult him, taking the comments in stride now that they were not aimed at his appearance. "I have spoken to my gods, I have received answers to my questions from them." He pulled free the last small braid and shook out his hair before running his fingers through it. "Have you from yours?" He asked turning to look down at the priest. He picked up a small jar from the floor and pulled out two dry leaves. "Chew these." He instructed, holding them out for the man to take. "I warn you now, they taste awful." He huffed, replacing the jar on the floor.

"I do not understand why you worship a being that looks down his nose at you for being human." He said, looking down at the cross and reaching out to take it. He gently lifted the silver chain from around the man's neck and carried it over to his trunk. He rummaged around in it until he pulled out a clay pot. "It will be in this pot. Though I would not bring it out until we are back at my home." He set the necklace inside the pot then placed it in the chest, hiding it under piles of clothing. "People tend to barge in here."

He shut it tight and stood up, taking off his pelt, then his cloak and finally his tunic.

"My power does not come just from the gods. We, heathen savages believe that every person can perform magic. Some are more gifted in it than others. For instance every woman, a wife and mother, performs small magic day to day. Such as when she makes clothes for her husband and children. She weaves magic into it with each thread that her family will be healthy, safe and warm." Vigi hoped this would put the idea in this man's thick skull that not all of what they did was dark.

"Yet your people would condemn her for this." He shook his head and walked over to the basin of cold sea water on the floor. "Do you know what it is I mainly do as a man of magic? I heal the sick and injured, I look to the future to see if a farmer's harvest will be plentiful this year or if he will need to make other plans to feed his family for the winter. I've even helped find children that had been lost in the woods."

As he spoke he cupped his hand into the water and leaned forward to pour it on his head. He did this a few times until it was good and wet, making sure to rinse out the ends of blood. He brushed some of it behind his ear before looking over at the priest. "How horrifying pagan magic is." He said with a small grin, tilting his head slightly. "What is your name? Or shall I continue to call you priest?"

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[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic listened, there was little else to do and he did have an active and clever mind. Curious about the heathen priest who was now his master he watched Vigi undress to clean himself. While the man’s face might have been fair as a maid, his body was that of a slender male of wiry strength. He held his tongue as Vigi spoke of the everyday magic and it dawned on him that they were not so different, though he served the one true God.

He chuckled, reaching up with his good hand to scratched at his head, giving Vigi a bemused smile,“Yes, quite terrifying."

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Cerdic gave him a look as if he had made a decision and girded himself, taking a deep breath, "You know that sounds very familiar. Do you know what monks do? We write, we copy down the Bible, the word of God Himself and other works of literature. We raise sheep and shear the wool and make cheese from the milk cows, we grow gardens and raise bees for food and mead. This we feed ourselves and trade for what we need and welcome travellers and feed those who would otherwise starve. We tend the sick and take in orphans and our sisters, the nuns, aid women in their birthing beds and the elderly who do not have family. Monks and priests are men of God, we comfort those in troubled times...those with no where else to turn.”

Cerdic paused at that, catching his breath and took a few moments of breathing to continue, “Men of God are men of peace, they do not shed blood and do not go to war. And yet your kind come and destroy all that good, steal and murder innocents because...because of greed and envy. Remind me one day to teach you of the seven deadly sins.”

The speech wore him out and he closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Vigi, “What you do for your people is commendable, but do not talk of it being harmless, for it is not. I will not claim that Christians are all good and practice what the Lord preached, for many are not. Men are fallible, I know this quite well.”

Cerdic shrugged and instantly regretted it, hissing in pain. He rolled his eyes back and grit his teeth. Slowly he spoke again, his grumbling tone returned with the renewed agony,“My name is Cerdic, son of Osric, Lord of Wessex, if he still claims me. Or Brother Cerdic, if you wish, as that was what I was last known by.”

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi was intrigued to hear what it was Christian monks actually did for their people. It was interesting and very different from what he had heard rumbled by men that were well traveled. It was...disconcerting to realize what exactly had been raided and burnt to the ground.

He shook his head and muttered, "It is weak to take such a path. It is a cowards path." He turned back to his washing, picking up a bar of lye soap when he heard a hiss of pain. He opened his mouth to tell him not to move when the Christian revealed his true identity. "The son of a Lord?" he repeated, dropping the soap and turning to better face Cerdic. He was the son of a wealthy lord, that would mean that they could get a fairly handsome ransom for the safe return of his son.

However... "If he still claims you?" He repeated with a frown, getting up and tapping the hand Cerdic held the leaves in. "Eat these for the pain you stubborn man." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So...does that have something to do with why a skilled warrior was wasting the prime of his life in a dusty church?"

 

[heartlesskitten]

“Third son actually, so don’t get too excited,” Cerdic said, taking the leaves finally and looking at them. A civilized person would have made it into a tea to drink but he could not be choosey, Vigi was after all an ignorant heathen and there was likely little water to spare for a slave’s pain. He put the leaves into his mouth, chewing them and making a face at the bitter taste and dry texture. Mixing with his saliva, the numbness began to spread and he found it harder to talk.

“He was not happy I became a monk, he could not understand,” Cerdic said and paused, “And I would not tell him.”

He gave him a churlish look, “As I won’t tell you either. It makes no matter though I wonder why one who serves his own gods would think it a waste.”

Cerdic’s flint blue eyes studied him for a moment, the slender reed of a man, his womanly beauty. It was unusual and it made him uncomfortable, he wanted to look away as Vigi washed himself but he found it difficult. Swallowing some of the leaf juice, he asked in feigned disinterest, “Do you have a wife?”

 

[KuroTenshi]

"Even if you serve a different god, we admire strength and skill in warriors; no matter where it comes from." Vigi answered, turning back to his washing while his mind turned over the information. So Cerdic's Lord father did not cast out his son? Perhaps that meant he would still pay a very good price to have his son returned to him; even though he left for mysterious reasons.

He wondered what those reason's were. He could not imagine a man, a warrior of any kind laying down his sword and vowing never to pick it up again.

"Hmm?" Surprised by the question Vigi glanced over at him. "That is sudden. No, I do not have a wife. I've never wed and no, I have no children either...Unless the few women I've been with had my bastards and I don't know of them." He muttered thoughtfully to himself while dipping the soap into the water and rubbing it to create suds. Making a face he shook his head. "No, I would know if they existed." He started to wash his arms. "I've only farm animals back home."

He paused his scrubbing to look at the priest again. "What of you? A wife or children? I can not imagine a man like you not having been married."

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic cleared his throat again, feeling the medicine start to work as the pain faded from his chest and ribs into a dull persistent ache. He had not laid his sword aside willingly, it had not been much of a choice. He opened his eyes and looked at Vigi, “It was a decision I made, for the greater good.”

He said it simply but his voice was tight with pain, but not the physical kind. In his mind’s eye he could see his oldest brother, his smile as he took his sword and promised he would take care of everything. Aelle, so clever and weasel slick, he should have known better. Cerdic glanced at Vigi, “I would have prefered to keep my place but it was the right choice to make.”

He listened, not surprised that Vigi was not married. Their own monks and priests were not forbidden to marry and father children, though many monks did not since they lived in monasteries. His own situation was more complicated and he did not want to dwell on the well of emotions it would bring up.

“I had no wife,” he said simply, then turned his face away, closing his eyes.

 

[KuroTenshi]

The man just created more and more of a mystery about himself. Vigi was curious but he would not pry just yet. He looked over hearing Cerdic trail off and saw the man had fallen asleep. He was surprised he had woken at all after he had to drain his lung. Turning back to washing himself he remained silent to let the man rest.

When he finished cleaning he dressed himself and went outside to help where it would be needed.

==

Vigi entered into his cabin when the moon was well into the sky, the ocean black as night around them. The day had been a tiring one, mostly due to Sven being in a horrible mood since their argument. Every time they caught each other eyes, they could glare at one another until something drew their attention away. When they spoke to each other it was in clipped voices. It was probably obvious to the men that there was tension between the twin brothers, it wasn't the first time over the course of this journey. They wisely learned to stay out of their paths of rage by doing what was ordered and not attempting to jest with them when they were in such foul spirits.

They had both inherited their father's temper.

He fought off a yawn as he took off his cloak, soaked from the swelling waves that crashed over the boat. He laid it over his trunk to dry and looked down at the large figure he could barely make out in the darkness of his cabin. He briefly considered kicking Cerdic off of his bed, mostly to anger the man and see his reaction.

Rolling his eyes at himself he shook his head and climbed onto the pelts and blankets that lined the hard surface. He buried himself underneath the soft, warm furs and shut his eyes to sleep. He found it came easier than he thought it would with another person sleeping next to him.

 

[heartlesskitten]

It was the middle of the night when his fever started, Cerdic felt the chills and shivered, curling closer to the warm body next to him. His teeth chattered and his dreams became strange and dark. Fire and smoke, the clashing of steel and the shouts of the dying and above all that the sigh of a woman and a cry of a baby.

In his dream, Aelle sat above him and watched it all, the persistent mocking smile on his handsome face. He stood in the middle of the swirling battle, his bloodied blade in his hand. Sweat blurred his vision and he felt the desperation of looking for something important and not being able to find it. He looked up at his brother who just smiled and reached his hand out, his other hand pointing at the middle of the battle field. A small boy stood and Cerdic dropped to one knee, his head bowed and he handed his brother the sword. He could hear Aelle laughing and feel his hand on his head, mussing his curly hair like he used to when he was a child. Cerdic tried to look again for the boy but his older brother blocked his view.

“Just once more,” Cerdic begged, “Let me see...”

The sound of his own voice woke him and he shivered violently with a chill, his eyes burning and dry. Something was wrong, the place where the sword had stuck him was on fire. Corruption, he thought, the wound is corrupted. He tried to speak but his teeth chattered again so he reached out and nudged Vigi, not knowing if the man was awake or asleep.

 

[KuroTenshi]

Vigi jolted awake when a hand touched him, blinking his eyes rapidly to wake up. He grumbled and pushed himself up on the pallet, swaying a bit with the rocking of the ship. He looked over a Cerdic and frowned hearing the faint clatter of teeth. He shifted closer and reached out to touch Cerdic's head. It was soaked in sweat and he felt hot to the touch.

"Oh no." He muttered before getting up to look through his cabin for his flint. He took a lantern from the wall and struck his flint to light the candle inside. He brought it over to the pallet and rolled Cerdic onto his back. "You can not make things easy can you?" He asked distractedly, setting down the lantern the started to unwind the bandages to reveal the sword wound first.

He swore seeing the inflamed skin around the stitched flesh that was also oozing puss. He checked the cut he had made to drain his lung, but found it was alright.

Sighing he covered it back up and turned back to the festering wound. "Hang on." He stood up from the pallet and went about collecting what he would need. He gathered a blackened steel pot and pieces of dried wood. With his flint he set a very small flame to the wood and with a burnt rod he carefully prodded and raked the wood until it was glowing embers.

He placed on a leather glove and carefully put several stones into the hot embers. While the embers warmed the stone he gathered dry elderberry flowers from his trunk and another smaller pot. Filling it with water from a skin he turned to the stones in the burning coals. He waited until they were hot then placed them into the water to boil it.

When the water was steaming he placed the some of the dried flowers into a cup, carefully poured the water into it. He stood up and swirled the contents to help infuse the water with the properties of the flowers. He sat down next to Cerdic and pressed his hand to his forehead to rouse him incase he fell asleep. "This should help with the fever." He explained, helping him lift his head and bringing the cup to his lips.

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cerdic groaned as he uncovered the festering wound, his eyes rolling slightly and he winced when Vigi began to examine it. He shivered, pulling at one of the furs up to his neck when the healer left to prepare medicine. The dream replayed in his mind and he tried to forget it, there was nothing he could do to change things. He lay still, wondering if anyone of his family even knew what had become of him? Would his father get word that he had vanished during the raid and send aid? Would he care now that he had forsaken his banner and name? Did Aelle think about him, did Mildreth? The boy would not think about him, he was likely no more than a distance memory of some stranger that was a small part of his brief life. He felt a sudden and very keen sense of loneliness and his throat tightened. He bit the inside of his lip, not wanting to spill tears and show what a cowardly wretch he was. When Vigi brought the cup and sat beside him, he turned to the healer.

Obediently he lifted his head and drank, recognizing the flavor of the elderberry flowers. At least that was a comfort, that the pagan shaman knew herbs. Swallowing it, he lay back down and his grey blue eyes were bright with fever and sadness. Cerdic reached out suddenly and grasped the man’s hand, squeezing it in silence. It was likely not a kindness, perhaps only concern that his new thrall did not die on the trip home, but Vigi’s presence made him feel a little less alone.

“Thank you,” he rasped, shivering again as another chill hit him.