King's Gold
The rolling hills, the blue sky, the endless sea beyond, all were blotted out into darkness, dissolved from vision and replaced by rage brought on by battle-blood. Edric gripped his shield tight, feeling the mace of the saxon slam down on his shield again, and again. Edric counted twelve of them, and once the vikings were in their shield wall there was little hope of the Saxons withstanding for long.
By the time Edric turned the final blow and made ready to lash out with his axe, the saxon was already dead, his face impaled with a spear so that only bits of bone and flesh were visible where once there had been a face. Surveying the battlefield, Edric could see that the other saxons had met a similar fate. He cursed under his breath. His axe was not sated, yet he supposed it would soon enough.
Edric moved forward from the shield wall, Skuli and Hafr close behind him. Young skuli grinned at Hafr, wiping the blood from his axe with a linen cloth.
"Hardly noon and already fell a saxon warrior to my blade," grinned the young huscarl.
"The battle was over too quick," hafr complained. "If this is the best the saxons have to offer, my axe will be sorely disappointed."
"There will be more to come, rest assured," Edric replied.
Several vikings lay strewn before the church, cut down by the Saxon blades. "Bring the valiant dead to the beach, we will speed them to Valhalla."
"As you say, my Jarl," Skuli saluted. It has been nearly a year since Edric was ousted from his throne at Vestfold, yet his huscarl's had difficulty seeing him as anything other then their jarl.
During the battle, most of the Christian monks had fled, but some were caught within the grounds just outside the church, some skewered and screaming, and others clasped with ropes and irons to be made thralls. Edric was more interested in what lay inside the smoldering temple. He stepped inside, flanked by his huscarls.
The priory wasn't a large building. There was a modestly sized chamber, long and wide, with rows of seating that led up to an alter, where a cross, a symbol of their god, dominated the room. Behind the main chamber was living quarters, at least Edric assumed as much, but it all lay in ruin, consumed by smoke and fire.
Behind the alter lay the object which the Saxons had been so intent on guarding. Poorly hidden under a blanket, Edric barked for Skuli's help, and together they lifted the heavy chest and hauled it out of the burning Christ-den and outside in front of the church. Smashing the lock with his axe, Edric pulled the chest open, revealing the contents within to all the vikings gathered outside. The gold coins within shimmered from the noon sun.
It was a treasure fit for a king.
