Querencia \\ Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Chapter 19: Saxon blood

Bjarke and Hvitserk had made it to the other part of the battlefield.

They charged at the Saxons and joined the fight. They'd lost each other within seconds.

It didn't really matter at that point. Bjarke would be fine on her own. It was only later that Hvitserk saw his mistake.

Soon, many men were approaching Bjarke at the same time. She would not be able to fight all of them.

"Seize her!" Bjarke heard the prince shout. "Just seize her and get her out of here!"

Bjarke tried to fight them off, but there were at least twelve men and there was only one of her. She could never win that fight, but she tried to either way.

A sword cut a wound in her stomach. Bjarke screamed in pain (or in anger), but continued to fight.

Calm down, she kept telling herself.

However, the longer she fought, the more wounded she got.

Only a few moments later she fell down to her knees. She did not give up fighting until she lost consciousness, but that happened only seconds later.

---

"Save yourself! Save yourselves!"

At first, Hvitserk didn't notice that Bjarke was being captured by the Saxons. That's what made him feel even worse about the situation when he finally did.

"BJARKE?!?" He shouted. No answer.

"No, no, no! This isn't happening," he mumbled.

He looked up from the ground and saw her. There she was. Unconscious, on the back of a horse.

"Bjarke!" he shouted, but Hvitserk was too late. Within seconds the Saxons were out of sight.

"I need a horse!" Hvitserk shouted. He looked around to see if anyone responded, but no one did.

"Ivar!"

"What is it, brother? Can't you see we've won?" Ivar said as he got to his brother.

"It's Bjarke. They took her. The damn Saxons took her!" Hvitserk angrily said.

"Then let's go get her."

---

Bjarke woke up in a room that was filled with bright light. She covered her eyes and sat up slowly.

"Ah, you're awake, finally."

She looked up to see an old man. Grey hair and a white beard.

"Why don't you tell me your name?" the man asked.

Bjarke did not answer. She did not know who he was, so why should she tell him her name.

"Of course, I had not expected your response to be any different," he said. "My name is King Ecbert. I am the king of Wessex."

"Bjarke," was all she said.

"Well, Bjarke, I think I should tell you why you're here, don't I?"

"Maybe."

Bjarke took a look around. The room was filled with wooden furniture and red cloth.

"Well, Saxon blood flows through your veins, Bjarke. Your father was my nephew."

Bjarke knew her father was English royalty, but something felt off.

"How did you know it was me?" Bjarke asked.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"First of all, don't call me sweetheart. I'm not as sweet as I look. Second, there were lots of people there. How did you know I was the one?"

"Oh, Bjarke. You have to understand that everyone is willing to talk or spy if they're rewarded for it."

Bjarke was still confused. She'd never told anyone present in England right now who her father was. However, she decided to let it pass.

"Why did you take me, then? I'm Viking, there is no changing that," Bjarke said.

"I know that, and I've accepted that. I just wanted to have a conversation with a family member,"  Ecbert said.

"You and I will never be family," Bjarke said. "You made sure of that when you pulled your weight in my father's death."

"What do you mean, Bjarke? It was your fathers choice to-" "I'm not talking about your nephew. I'm talking about Ragnar Lothbrok."

"I see. I thought I recognized some of his wisdom in you. You have to understand that I am sorry about Ragnar's death too. He was a friend of mine," Ecbert said.

Bjarke lost her temper. "What you've done is inexcusable! Being his friend makes it even worse!"

"Bjarke, your father knew he had to die when he came here."

"I know that! But him knowing so and it actually happening are two different things."

---

Bjarke had shared some wine with King Ecbert and the bishop. However, she was the only one sober enough to hear them coming.

She went outside and sat down on the stairs of the podium.

They were very close now. She was only seconds away from being reunited with her real family.

The gates flew open. There they were. The Vikings.

"Bjarke!" Hvitserk exclaimed as he came through the gates.

"Hvitserk," Bjarke said while getting up.

He ran towards her and embraced her as if he'd never let her go ever again.

"I love you," he said right before he kissed her.

"I love you too," Bjarke smiled as they parted.

Other Vikings had started to explore the town.

"You will not find a lot of people," Bjarke said. "They've all gone."

Hvitserk wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder.

Before Bjarke could blink things were already set on fire. The Vikings took anything that was worth something in gold or silver and didn't leave much behind for the Saxons.