Beware of Jezebel

11. The Torment

"Bjorn and Lagertha are still restless," said Ubbe. "Our scouts have noticed their people close to Kattegat once again. They seemed to be looking around, assessing our forces and protective measures."

They had only returned to Kattegat a day ago, after having touring Ivar's settlements across the East Anglia, and Ivar wanted to hear everything he had missed at time of his absence. Ivar, Mary, Hvitserk and Ubbe where seated in the main hall, and the mood had dampened quickly: threat of Lagertha's attack overshone settlements in England.

Ivar looked at Mary for assurance before responding to Ubbe. "We've seen some forces moving in England." 

"I doubt Lagertha can get more soldiers in England. The most that the King will do is allow her to stay there and regroup," Mary added. "Whatever happens, it can only be a battle between Vikings, you don't need to worry about English forces supporting her."

As Ubbe and Hvitserk were walking out of the hall, a man rushed in past them and stopped in front of Ivar.

"Ivar, a messenger just arrived from England," said the man and coughed twice. "King Aethelwulf had died. It is said he was stung by a bee. Alfred was declared the new King."

Ivar didn't reply to the messenger and looked at Mary instead. She had paled so much even her lips were white. Mary didn't say anything, but mechanically courtesied in front of Ivar and left the hall.

Ivar didn't wait and stood up to follow her. He moved much slower than the woman and by the time he entered her bedroom, Ivar found Marry staring solemnly out of the window. The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence before Mary's grief-ladden voice cut through. She spoke quietly and lacked the usual cheerful spring and playful bite.

"I know he was your enemy, and a murdered in your eyes," she began, "but he was my father still." Mary paused, exhaling shakily. "And he loved me. He wanted to be a good man, a good Christian, a warrior, and make his father proud."

She bowed her head and hugged herself tighter. Ivar looked at Mary's hunched form and wanted to comfort her, so he limped closer and extended his arm as if to embrace her, but hesitated at the last moment and withdrew. He knew Mary will dodge him, like she always did. It had been long since he had stopped being suggestive to her or to make her uncomfortable and skittish. It just didn't bring joy anymore, but Mary still avoided physical contact at all costs. He remembered how she had explained it to him as being part of her vows, and he laughed at her, and only intensified his teasing for days. Ivar rapped his fingers on his crutch uneasily, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Didn't he want to marry you off?" He asked.

Mary nodded.

"Yes," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow, "but that was mother's wish. And Ecbert agreed. Daddy had no saying. It made sense—the marriage, I mean—when you think about it. So eventually, he caved in as well. But he always loved me."

Ivar couldn't hold back anymore and put his hand on Mary's shoulder. Her breathing hitched, but she didn't turn back to look at him.

"I loved him very much. Mother did not love him. But he loved me and my brother. He even loved Alfred," Mary wispered and her voice cracked. Unexpectedly to both of them, Mary suddenly wrapped her arms around Ivar's shoulders and pressed her face into his chest. Ivar stood motionless, then began stroking her back. His caress was strong and firm, but turned more gentle when he noticed he was pulling Mary's veil off. He couldn't see her face, but Ivar deducted Mary likely wasn't crying- her breathing was even and her fingers on his shoulders didn't flex. She slowly slid her arms to his biceps and held them there. When she spoke again, Mary's voice had returned to regular loudness once again, except for sorrowfull undertone.