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The small child sat in the corner of the nunnery’s kitchen, attempting to stay out of the way of the nuns who were preparing food for the men that had come to the Lady of Mercia's aide. Ethlyn as she was called, was a rather sickly and fragile looking child, pale and malnourished with the remnants of fading bruises littering her skin. She had to be close to 9 years old now but did not appear larger than a child of 5 or 6. Her dark hair made her look even more pale and her bright blue eyes glistened with fear and uncertainty. She spent most of the time staring at the floor and fidgeting with her shaking hands.
She had been given shelter here a few weeks ago after evading the Danes who had raided her village and murdered her father. The death of her father was no great loss to Ethlyn for he had been a rather cruel man. On more than one occasion he had told her that he was going to give her to the Danes. He would then proceed to describe in horrifyingly graphic detail what they would do to her. This threat was the usual follow up to the beatings he would inflict on her regularly.
In truth the morning that they came to raid her village she had thought her father had finally made good on his promise and so she fled to the hiding place that she had made in the wooded area that lined her village. The hiding spot was simply a hole that Ethlyn had dug in the ground and covered with brush. It was just big enough for her to curl up in so that she could pull the brush over her head.
She had stayed there all day and night listening to the terrified screams of her neighbors. In the morning, once she had guessed it was safe, she returned to the village and while walking among the mutilated corpses was found by troops sent to assess the damage. Frightened by the men, Ethlyn tried to flee but was caught and brought to the nunnery in a rather hysterical state, where the Abbess had welcomed her, looking after her and comforting her in the night when her father and the Danes haunted her dreams. For this reason, the elderly Abbess had told Ethlyn that she could remain in the kitchen if she was feeling uncomfortable with the Lady Aethelflaed’s company. Which she indeed was.
Given what Ethlyn he had seen of them, they were all rather large men, carrying a multitude of weapons, at least two of them looked like Danes which had caused spike of terror to run up her spine and she immediately sought to hide herself away from their sight. One of the other men looked like a Saxon but his voice was thick with an accent she did not recognize, it also looked as though there had been a monk carrying a sword. If not for the fear that was building in her stomach, Ethlyn would have laughed at that. As it was the fear was indeed growing and so in the kitchen is where Ethlyn intended to stay until everyone had left.
At least that was the plan until sister cow face, as Ethlyn had taken to calling her, had interfered with it. The women herself did not resemble a cow at all but was generally unkind towards Ethlyn, snipping at her and complaining that her crying was an annoyance, and so as children do, Ethlyn had given her the unpleasant nickname.
Now despite the Abbess's promise that Ethlyn could remain in the safety of the kitchen, sister cow face was demanding that she carry a jug of ale to the dining hall to refill one of the men's cups.
Thus, here she was, carrying a jug in her shaking hands while its contents splashed down the sides spilling over her fingers. She kept her head down, afraid to make eye contact with any of the men. Her stomach clenched with every step she took causing her to feel queasy, and while she made no sound, there were tears running down her cheeks. The nun had told her to fill the cup of the Dane at the end of the table. Of course, it had to be one of the Danes she would have to approach instead of the Lady or even the monk she might have been able to handle. She lifted her eyes from the floor just enough to see if she was close to the man, and hoping that perhaps the Abbess would see her, recognize her distress and send her back to the kitchen, unfortunately she had no such luck.
As she slowly moved closer to the young man, she was finding it harder to breathe. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt as though it might burst out any moment. Her shaking grew worse and as she approached the table to refill the man's cup, she was dripping ale all over the place. Some of it splashed onto the man's arm causing him to jerk it away, and that is when things went from bad to worse.
Ethlyn, upon seeing the sudden movement of the Dane, instinctively recoiled for fear of being hit, causing her to drop the heavy jug which spilled all over the table. The man on reflex jumped from his seat to avoid being drenched by the ale that was rolling over the table to spill over the edge right in front of him.
It all happened so fast and upon the man rising from his seat Ethlyn knew she was in trouble. Making a hasty attempt to put some distance between herself and her would be attacker, she tripped over her own feet, and fell to the ground, where she immediately curled into a ball wrapping her arms around her head while trying to apologize, but in her terrified state all that was coming was strangled whimpering. She laid in that position, her whole-body trembling, struggling to breathe with her eyes screwed shut tight waiting for the hard blows to begin, but they never came.
Instead what followed were gentle hands lifting her into a sitting position. Ethlyn was still in panic mode and was struggling to control her breathing. Her vision was unfocused, and she felt as though the room was spinning, but through all her panic she could hear a man’s voice whispering words of comfort softly in her ear.
“Easy. You’re okay.” Ethlyn became aware that the man had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and she opened her mouth to speak but no words would come, only gasp as she tried to fight back her petrified sobs.
“Shhhh, I am not angry. It was an accident. Just breathe”
The man took one of Ethlyn’s hands into his own and then placed it on his chest.
“Listen, I want you to focus on my breathing okay? Take a deep breath.”
As he said it the Dane demonstrated by taking a deep slow breath causing his chest and the little girl’s hand to rise.
“Now out. Good, just like that, now do it again”
And again, he did it with her, exaggerating his breathing to make sure she could feel the rise and fall of his chest.
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After a couple minutes the girl’s breathing steadied. Her trembling however, continued and Sihtric could tell her fear had not completely past yet.
“Come sit”
Sihtric helped the girl to her feet and got her to the chair he had been sitting in, the spill having been cleaned up while he had been comforting the girl.
In a deliberate attempt to avoid towering over the small child, he crouched down beside the chair she now occupied.
“Are you hungry?”
The girl was still unable to find her voice, but the Lady's handmaiden had brought an extra bowl for her to the table anyways, placing it in front of Finan who slid it towards Ethlyn, having the good sense not to say anything at the moment in case he overwhelmed her and threw her into another fit.
Sihtric was well aware by this point that his incident with the child had caused a scene and he knew everyone in the room was watching him interact with this frightened little girl, but he couldn't bring himself to care much about looking too soft in front of anyone. He was a warrior and he had more than proven that. Should any man question it he would have no problem sending them to Valhalla, but he had suffered at the hands of abusive men as a child and he recognized that damage the moment he saw the child flinch away from him. He may be a fierce warrior now, but he was also a father and he could not allow this child to cower in fear while he filled his stomach with food and ale. He wanted the girl to know that she was not in danger from him or any other man in this room. These men knew there was no honor in harming defenseless children, that was one of the reasons he would follow them to the ends of the earth.
Sihtric pulled another chair over to sit beside the girl.
“I am Sihtric”
As he said it, he took notice of the silent tears running down the girl’s cheeks. She was fidgeting with her hands and kept her eyes glued to her lap.
He looked up and noticed that at the other end of the table everybody, with the exception of the Abbess who was stealing glances in their direction, had gone back to their conversation, Finan and Osferth however, were still very much watching the child who had joined their end of the table.
Finan, who was sitting to Ethlyn’s left, had shifted to lean back in his chair, causing the girl to flinch at the sudden movement and subconsciously lean towards Sihtric.
“Hey, it is okay. We are not here to hurt you. You have my word that no man in this room will cause you harm”
As he spoke Sihtric stretched his arm out slowly to rest his hand on the girls back where he began to gently rub circles remembering that the gesture often helped to calm his young son when he was upset.
“We are here only as friends love. There is nothing to be frightened of. Except maybe baby monk over there. He's been known to nag a man to death for not saying their prayers.”
Finan gave her a broad smile and a wink. He had seen the way the child flinched from him and decided that remaining silent now would likely allow her imagination to run wild and cause her more fear.
Ethlyn had lifted her head up to peek at the men speaking to her and had witnessed the monk roll his eyes at the man with accent and then offer her a smile.
“This is Finan, and he is not scary as he looks.” Sihtric offered with a smile.
“he's wasted as a warrior. He would have made a great fool” Osferth threw in
Finan chuckled “and the baby monk is Osferth. Nothing to worry about there, he's more likely to hurt himself with his sword than he is you.”
Sihtric could tell that the banter between his friends was starting to ease the girl’s worries. Her tears had stopped, and she was no longer staring at her lap. She even appeared to smile a little as Finan and Osferth went back and forth. Then she turned her attention to him.
“My name is Eth” she paused and took a deep breath to calm her nerves “Eth…Ethlyn” She stuttered a bit and her voice was barely a whisper, but Sihtric had heard her all the same.
He smiled at her and then pulled the bowl that had been sitting in front of her closer to her chair.
“It is pleasure to meet you Ethlyn. Now, you should eat this before it grows too cold. It will make you feel better.”
Ethlyn remained at the table with the men for a while longer, clearly feeling more at ease as she began to drift off in her chair. The Abbess, noticing this ushered the girl to her bed.
A couple hours after Ethlyn’s departure Sihtric and Finan were still seated at the table when the Abbess approached them and spoke to Sihtric.
“I wanted to thank you for your actions this evening. Ethlyn I'm afraid has been through a lot in her young life, she frightens easily and the patience and compassion you showed her were truly astonishing. You are a good man and God sees that and he will bless you for it”
Finan who had seen the way the hardnosed Abbess had rebuked Uthred, gawked wide eyed between his friend and the older women.
Sihtric stared at the women and before he could stop himself the words spilled from his mouth as though he was confessing a deeply guarded secret.
“I am a Pagan. I've been told your God does not look kindly on me. That he damns me.”
Much to his and Finan’s surprise the Abbess smiled at him and responded in what was clearly sarcastic shock.
“A Pagan! You don't say! I never would have guessed! I assumed that hammer around your neck meant you were a carpenter, like our lord Jesus.”
If her humor was not surprising enough what she did next was beyond any shock Sihtric had experienced in his life.
The women placed her hand over his and softly began to speak
“I will let you in on a secret. While accepting the Lord is an important part of being a Christian what is more important is what is in your heart. Our lord wants us to show kindness and compassion for others. It is particularly important to do so when the people in question are weaker than us or when the situation that presents itself is hard for us. For instance, a warrior showing a gentler side while in a room full of warriors. Only the best of men can do that. You may consider yourself a Pagan but tonight I saw your heart and that is not a heart our lord would ever damn, regardless of which god you choose to follow while on this earth. What is in your heart if far more important than what beliefs we hold in our heads. Pagan or not when the time comes the Lord will accept you into his kingdom for you are more worthy of it than many priests I know.”
And with that the Abbess walked away saying something about prayer, leaving both Sihtric and Finan in a stunned silence.
A silence that was broken by the sound of Finan's laughter.
“you should see your face! It's as though you've seen a ghost. You look equal parts terrified and sick”
“Shut up Finan”
It was a few minutes before Finan spoke again, this time all humor gone from his voice.
“she's right you know.”
“About me going to Christian Valhalla?” Sihtric asked, almost outraged.
“I mean about you being a good man. You are a good man Sihtric. One of the best I've ever known.”
Finan said it because he meant it and because he felt Sihtric needed to hear it from someone other than a stranger. He knew that even though his friend had never spoke of it, his life before Uthred had been a rough one. Hell, it had been for all of them. That is kind of what bonded them after all. They had all walked their own hells, had felt the sting of loss, rejection, and betrayal, and it is what has tied them together not just as warriors but as family. Sihtric didn’t have to say anything for Finan to know that the words the Abbess had spoken to him had struck a chord with in the man, he could see it on his face.
Sihtric looked at his friend and gave him what was obviously a forced smile, but he couldn't muster much more of a response. He was too lost in his own thoughts. Which Finan had graciously left him to.
He was not sure why the Abbess’s words were causing these confusing emotions in him. He guessed it was the fact that this woman who did not really know him at all, had somehow seem to look right through him and into his soul. He had been called many things in his life but a “good man” in reference to anything other than being a warrior was not one of them. He was not sure he would even call himself that. How could he be a good man when he had watched his father torture and kill innocent people, including his own mother and he did nothing? Though those days had long since passed they still haunted his dreams on occasion and the man he was today often felt shame for the weakness of the boy he once was.
Yet here this woman was telling him not only was he a good man, he was so good that their Christian God, who supposedly hated his kind would look past his belief in Odin and Thor and allow him into the Christian Kingdom. That thought terrified him at first. He was a warrior and his place was in Valhalla with the Gods and other warriors. Was the Christian God going to intercept his ascent into the afterlife and drag him to his kingdom? Could he stop it? Did he really want to?
The more he thought of it the more he realized there were far more Christians that he loved in his life than there were pagans. Osferth, Hild, Finan, his own wife, in fact apart from Uhtred, everybody who was important to him was a Christian. He had never thought that these people might go somewhere else in their afterlife’s. That he would not be reunited with them in the halls of Valhalla. That was a thought that did not sit well with him.
In that moment Sihtric thought of all the times that Hild and Osferth had discussed their God with him. He thought about the importance of forgiveness in their religion. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a thought that he needed to forgive himself for not being able to stand up to his father sooner. There was a realization that came with that thought that the Abbess and Finan were right. He was good man. He would continue to be a good man even if it meant that he might end up with the Christians in the afterlife. Which he figured wouldn’t be so bad if it meant he could be with his friends.
He supposed there was really no use in fretting about it now. In the end fate would take him where he belonged. Until that day came though he would continue to be a warrior, a good man and a Pagan because there was no way he was about to start going to church and listening to priests’ drone on and on about prayers, sins, and fiery pits of doom. He had Osferth for that.