Vikings-The Trick Of The Gods

Thirteen.

I opened the door slightly and slipped back into the main building before turning to see now all four of the boys sitting together, locked in heated conversation. One of the middle children clocked me first and tapped Ubbe who silenced the group apart from, assumedly, Ivar. I couldn't understand most of what he said but the language sounded cruel and explicit though no one now paid much attention to him. Ivar followed his brothers eyes and as he saw me he scoffed slid to the ground and crawled off towards the bedroom. Ubbe waived me over and I went and sat where Ivar had once been. I was handed a small cup of mead and I immediately starting thinking of 101 ways to get out of drinking it.

"I think you know i'm Ubbe," he began, "and you'll have to excuse Ivars behavior, I'd love to tell you he's not normally like this but..." He forced a smile.

"I'm Hvitserk!" exclaimed one of the boys. His eyes were bright and stared fervently into mine. He thrust his hand into my direction and I placed mine into his as he shook it enthusiastically.

The third boy rested his hand onto Hviskerk's arm gently pulling it back down.

"And i'm Sigurd."

"Now we've all been acquainted... Skål!" Ubbe said as they raised their cups and started to down their drinks. I quickly tipped mine into the empty cup Ivar had left and as the boys set down their cups on the table I quickly returned their giddy smiles. We talked nonsense for hours all the while we could hear Ivar shuffling about in the other room which turned the topic of conversation onto him.

"Why is he so angry at me, he doesn't even know me?"

"He's angry at everyone!"

"He's in pain a lot too which doesn't help."

"Pain?"

"You must have noticed he doesn't walk."

"Of course I noticed."

"Well he was born like that..."

"A cripple."

"Dad even tried to kill him once."

"He left him in the woods."

"What happened?

"I don't know."

"We don't talk about it."

The conversation drifted to other things: like the raid on England and when they would get to fight with their father so they didn't notice me grab a cup of mead and plod off towards the bedroom. I opened the door quietly and slipped into the room. It was warm from the fire in the other room and it's own small fires lit in corners casting a warm glow through the empty bedroom. Empty. After hearing so many noises from here I was confused as to where he had gone. No where had windows including this building and unless he was under the bed...

I sighed and turned to rejoin the others but as I faced the door out something caught my eye. I looked down and saw him sat slumped sideways against the wall, probably hoping I'd miss him, as if he'd been listening in to our conversation. He saw I'd saw him and he turned his back to the wall sighing in contempt. I sank to the floor next to him and offered him the mead, a peace offering. He scoffed. I sat the drink down between us and now it was my turn to sigh.

"What is your problem with me?" I asked, irritation laced into my voice.

He turned his face away scowling.

"Fine." I stood to leave.

"My problem?" He began, "You think you're as good as us because you're with Lagertha and she happens to be an earl now. You're nothing. I know and you know. You're not even her child."

There it was, envy. The fear that I would be valued more highly that him due to his condition. That he would be forgotten about, become obsolete. I sat back down beside him and placed my hand on his leg. He flinched away from me but I kept my hand in place until he relaxed. I couldn't think of what to say so I just sat there with him. After some time he snatched up the cup and drank the mead.

He turned to me and though I didn't intend to I flinched thinking he was going to spit the drink back into my face. Seeing my reaction he smiled, he thought I was afraid of him. He put his hand on my leg now trying to intimidate me. Cold and icy his eyes bore into mine with a savage strength. Mine bore back into his.

"Brothers!" He bellowed without moving his body or face so the warm air of his breath wafted into my face. He smelled like honey and alcohol. "I think it's time we sleep," he paused to look at me, "the girl -"

"Her name is Gwenllian!" a voice hollered from the other room then the door opened and the 3 traipsed in.

"- yes, well," Ivar continued, "she can sleep in the bed next to mine."

His teeth bared in a vicious grin and he slunk towards his bed, his shoulder blades popping out and becoming defined though his linen shirt with every strained movement.