Scandinavian Viking War Paint
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“I think I’m going to need more than the four-inch blade that you gave me,” I said. “This is a bigger job.”
He smiled, showing his missing front teeth, and said, “That’s okay; it will be easier if I cut through your clothes too. And we’ll see how long you last once you’re naked.” He grinned again. The man had no idea what he was asking for.
His wife stood behind him. She didn’t say anything but she looked worried. It seemed odd; why would anyone worry about me? I felt like they were trying to keep secrets from me or something. They both wore their hair in braids as most people did in this region of the world.
Her hands were tied with rope, and her arms were bound so tightly that they had bruises on them. The ropes also went up over the back of her neck and then across her forehead. She hadn’t been able to get them off herself. A guard held a spear close to me. This wasn’t going well at all.
The guard moved away while his wife leaned forward toward me and whispered, “Please let us go. We have nothing to do with what they want from you; we just don’t want to die tonight.”
“I can assure you I’d never try to kill myself,” I answered. “If I wanted to die, I’d have done it already. Now please let my friend go and I promise you I won’t hurt any of you.”
She shook her head. “They’ve been watching me since yesterday morning. If I don’t cooperate, they’ll make me watch my husband die and then they’ll kill me. It will be worse if I resist. Please understand; we don’t know who these men are.”
Her husband nodded and said, “We’ll wait here until you’re out of sight. You have our word.”
“Thank you,” I told him, then turned to leave.
He grabbed my arm before I could walk far enough. I tried to shake him off but he clung tightly; his grip was so strong it caused pain. His breath was hot against my face when he spoke. “You may not care about us, but you should consider our daughter.”
Oh god. I felt sick to my stomach and dizzy. “What daughter?”
“My little girl, she’s only two years old. These bastards took her away last night. They killed her mother after they raped her.”
I stared into his eyes without saying anything. My throat suddenly ached as the reality of the situation hit me in full force. He didn’t have time to continue. One of the guards came around the corner and shoved him aside.
“Keep quiet!” the guard barked at his prisoner.
I turned and walked down the road and left behind a father who would never see his child again. No matter what happened next, I knew one thing: I’d made some mistakes today.
***
As I got farther and farther away from the prison, I wondered what I should do now. Where was I supposed to go? I had no idea where I was; I was lost. But there was a certain sense of peace inside me that had not been present for quite some time.
It was as if I was being drawn somewhere, guided by an unseen hand. Maybe that was just my imagination; I couldn’t help but feel that there might be someone else involved in this whole mess beside myself.
Then I noticed a light coming from ahead of me. Wasn’t there a small farm near here? Perhaps it belonged to the man who ran that store that sold weapons and supplies to soldiers. I followed the glow of the fire and soon saw the place. I stopped and listened to hear voices, but none sounded nearby.
I pushed open the door and stepped into the dim room. The walls were lined with shelves filled with everything from pots and pans to weapons and tools. In the center of the room, a fire burned in a large fireplace. An elderly man stood at a table, working on a jigsaw puzzle, which he kept propped up on top of another box to prevent it from tipping over.
The old guy wore a thick sweater with a wide collar that covered his white beard. He looked up and squinted at me in confusion as if I was an unexpected visitor. Then I realized it must be getting late at night and the old man was probably asleep.
I said, “Hello?”
No answer. He returned to his puzzle.
“Excuse me,” I said again and this time he finally turned to look at me.
“Well, hello, stranger! What brings you out here at this hour? Do you need something?” He spoke slowly and loudly so as not to miss a single detail, just like every other old-time farmer.
It seemed odd to me, considering his age and the fact that he was sleeping, but maybe he always talked loud to cover up the sound of his snoring.
“Uh…no, actually, I’m looking for someone.”
“Someone? Well, who is it?”
I hesitated, wondering how much this old man knew about the outside world. I figured I might as well tell him. I was too tired and hungry to think straight anyway, and he would have no reason to share his secrets with me even if he knew any of them. So I took a deep breath and blurted out my story. When I finished telling him what had happened, he stopped picking at his puzzle and stared at me.
“Do you mean to say you’ve escaped from prison?” he asked. “And you’re not alone?”
“Yes. As it happens, I am.”
The old man’s face softened as he looked at me with kindness shining in his eyes. He leaned back on his stool and said, “I knew this day would come. That’s why I started building this place all those years ago.
There aren’t many people out here anymore—just me and a few friends, mostly old men and women whose children are gone and who can’t afford to stay in town. Some folks think they’re crazy old coots when I tell them what’s going on in town, but there will come a day when they’ll wish they hadn’t ignored my warning.
You know, we don’t have much food right now, so I’ll ask that you join us for dinner tonight.”
I could barely stand, let alone walk around or cook anything for myself. And even though he’d offered me a bed for the evening, there wasn’t anywhere to put it. I told him to feed me and take care of me as best he could until I got my feet under me again.
He laughed at my predicament. “You’re joking!” he said, shaking his head. “But wait here and I’ll get some wood and bring a kettle of water to boil.”
I nodded as he disappeared into the shadows behind the wall and then went back outside to sit on a stone bench to keep warm while he gathered the needed supplies. I had a good view of the road and could watch as a group of young guards came riding along from town.
They were armed and armored just like their fathers, but they didn’t seem as concerned with what might lie ahead. I watched as they passed by and wondered if I’d ever make it home again.
While waiting, I heard the clank of iron chains being removed from their hinges. A man stepped through the doorway leading to the cell block and approached me. He was dressed all in black and carried a scimitar sheathed across his back, along with a heavy cloak that hung down to his knees, obscuring most of his face.
“I assume you don’t want to spend another minute in that dungeon,” he said, smiling and speaking as if I should already know who he was. “I can understand why. Let me show you out.” He held out his hand to help me up.
I grabbed it and climbed to my feet. “Who are you?” I asked.
“Just my name, really. But I suppose you must know something about me.”
“Not exactly. I’m not sure how to describe what you are.”
The old man emerged from the shadows holding a bucket full of water. I saw that he was wearing a sword strapped to his left side.
“Ah, you see? This one does,” he said, nodding his approval. “Come with me.”
We walked toward the gate in the middle of the road, which was covered over with boards to protect it against weather or attack. It was made of oak, sturdy enough to stop most arrows, and the old man lifted his hand to knock on it.
There was a loud crack and the boards parted. The old guard stepped aside, revealing two large wooden doors set into the earth at either end of the road, one for each direction. I followed the man through the gap in the boards and found myself in an underground tunnel leading out of the center of town.
He stopped at a low door and gestured for me to enter, so I did. After a quick look behind me, I realized I wasn’t alone; a dozen other guards stood around the corridor, watching my every move. I had never felt safer.
We arrived at a single room that seemed to have been dug straight from the rock. There were three more guards stationed inside, as well as an elderly man sitting on a chair in front of a long table. I took off the cloak I wore and handed it to one of the guards. He threw it on a pile by the door and then pointed me to a stool. I sat down and looked around at my new surroundings.
It was dimly lit by oil lamps that hung on hooks on the walls; each burned only a small flame and they were scattered in such a way that their light spread in all directions. A fire blazed in a hearth at the far end of the room and there was a thick rug laid out on the floor for us to sit upon. The smell of roasted meat filled my nose.
“So,” I said. “What am I doing here?”
“Your business is mine,” he said. His voice was deep, gruff, and hard to decipher. “But we’ll get to that later. You’ve got your health and your freedom, so you’re in pretty good shape right now. We just need to talk before we go any further.” He smiled, then glanced at his companions as they entered from the other rooms behind him. “Well met, friends.”
They nodded to me as they moved past into the next chamber, where they could be seen preparing food for our meal. One of them brought over a pot and ladled me a bowl of beef stew. As we ate, the old guard leaned forward. “How’s the leg today? Any better?”
“No, it isn’t.”
He nodded. “Good. Good. Now, listen carefully; I won’t waste any time.” He turned to the old man standing beside him who was chopping carrots and potatoes into thin slices. “Make yourself useful,” he said.
When he had finished speaking, the man with the knife turned his attention to me. “Tell me, how did it happen?”
I paused briefly, thinking about where to start. “Well, I had just returned home one morning after finishing work for the day. When I stepped inside, I found my wife in bed with my brother-in-law.”
The old man looked stunned. “Really?”
“Yes, I guess it makes sense that they would do something like that now, doesn’t it? It happened the same night my father died. I came back from the funeral and she was gone. She left me a note saying I deserved better than her.”
“Why did he take the blame?”
“Because everyone knows that my brother-in-law is lazy. I was too embarrassed to admit that I was wrong and that my wife was sleeping with someone else. And I was afraid my mother might lose face and my whole family would suffer for it.” I looked away and shook my head slowly. “That’s the truth of it anyway, though God knows I can hardly believe it anymore.”
“You know, you’re a lucky fellow,” he said, smiling. “Most men come to this place because they want revenge. They’d give anything to put their tormentor in chains if they knew how. Yet you, despite being the victim of terrible abuse, instead sought justice.”
I didn’t feel much like talking about my personal life. “And yet here I am, still chained up,” I said.
He shrugged. “We all make choices.”
We talked a while longer and eventually ended the conversation, leaving me wondering what I was really going to do with my time.
After a few minutes, the guards returned and escorted us into another chamber, which I assumed served as some sort of living quarters for the guards. I was shown a small stone room with two beds. There was a small table and an empty pottery jug on top of it. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring you more water soon,” the old guard told me. Then he walked off without waiting for me to answer him.
There were no windows and the room was dark, but I could see a faint light shining from outside through cracks between the stones in the wall. The air in the room was dry and smelled strongly of urine, but at least it wasn’t cold. I stretched out on the bed and fell asleep quickly, but my dreams weren’t peaceful.
I dreamed of death and destruction. Men in black cloaks rode horseback along the streets of Paris and set fire to houses. Women ran screaming from burning buildings. But it was my father and his brothers who caused all the suffering.
The End