Blood Eagle
“The execution was planned for the following nightfall, and when the time came, we all gathered at a large field by the seashore, in a circle lit by torches and high tallow candles. King Ælla lay facedown, spread in a cross, his arms and legs tied to wooden poles hammered into the ground. No one had gagged him, and his bloodcurdling screams rose and carried over the sea.
“Björn Ironside emerged from his ship and stepped onto the shore. He walked towards us, taller than any man alive, and all I could do was stare. A long cape of reindeer fur hung from his shoulders and trailed the ground behind him. His forearms were covered in heavy golden and jeweled bracelets, and in his right hand he held a small axe. His face was painted all black, save for the rune for ‘serpent,’ bright red on his forehead.
“His long hair, falling from the single spot on his head that was not shaven and tattooed, was bleached to a pale golden shade, brushed with the fragrant lavender oil he had brought home from a trading visit to Constantinople, and woven into a single braid that reached down to his knees. But it was not the simple braid he normally wore—this time, the skulls and bones of small rodents were woven into the strands.
“A necklace of small bird skulls hung around his neck. At the tip was the skull of a goat, with the horns still attached.
“King Ælla raised his head to look at him. For a moment, the screams stopped. And then, he screamed as no man had screamed before.
“A few Vikings at the edge of the circle started beating out a rhythm on small drums. Slow, and then faster and faster. The shieldmaiden Lagertha raised her voice in a song. Halfdan joined her, and so did Ivar. Soon, all sons and daughters of Ragnar were singing, a song of the great hero Ragnar Lodbrok, descendent of Odin himself.
“Björn walked to King Ælla and knelt by his prostrate body. He raised his small axe and struck.
“The scream that tore from the king’s lips was enough to split the sea in two. Björn broke off a rib and tore it out of Ælla’s back to toss it aside. Then he struck again and broke off another.
“The captive miraculously stayed conscious. He screamed, biting his own tongue, and blood gushed out of his mouth. Björn broke off another rib. The smell of blood rose heavy in the air and awoke my hunger. I licked my lips. Patience. Many other prisoners still awaited their quicker and simpler executions. I could have my pick among them soon enough.
“Björn rose his axe and struck, again and again. He broke off each one of the king’s ribs, then smeared the blood over his painted face and cried, ‘I now give you wings to fly to Niflheim!’
“A flock of black ravens flew up and rose into the cloudy sky. Björn reached into Ælla’s chest and pulled out his lungs, spreading them out in a grotesque pair of wings. The king was no longer conscious. The Vikings untied his body from the poles and hung it from a tree for all to see. He hung there, like a pitiful eagle of blood and viscera.”
Myra stole a glance at Sissi. The girl was pale as a sheet, and her lower lip was trembling. “Vlad, I’m honestly confused. You want to convince us that this was a respectable culture worth preserving, and you choose to tell us this story?”
He looked at her, his eyes cold amber under the firelight. “I am not trying to convince you of anything. I am recounting the facts as they happened and omitting nothing. Perhaps one day, when the war is won and we have more time for stories, I will tell you of my time with the Inquisition, or with the Conquistadors. Maybe then you will see that the Viking culture was no more terrifying than any other. But for now let us return to this windy Yorkish shore.
“‘Our father is avenged!’ Björn cried. ‘He watches us from Walhalla and raises his horn of mead to toast us and to honor our deed today. The blood of our enemies has soaked and nourished this land, and it is now ours! York is now mine!’
“‘A well-deserved prize, brother,’ Ivar said. ‘But you forget that I also brought warriors into battle, and it was my strategies that secured our victory. Surely, I deserve a prize as well.’
“Björn’s blue eyes narrowed, and he looked down at his brother, sitting shriveled in his chair. ‘What do you want, Ivar?’
“‘Not much,’ Ivar said. ‘Just a small piece of land, where I can grow cabbage, onions, beans and peas.’
“Björn tilted his head to the side, and his eyes narrowed even further. ‘Small? How small?’
“‘As much as fifty cow skins can cover,’ said Ivar. ‘Surely, I deserve as much.’
“Björn’s face relaxed. ‘You deserve this and more, brother. I will give you a hundred cow skins of land.’
“Ivar grinned. ‘You are generous, Björn. Maybe I could even plant an apple tree.’
“Björn looked around. ‘Bring me a large cow skin!’ he called. ‘Let us measure my brother’s land.’
“A few Vikings left and soon one returned with a roll of cow skin. Ivar nodded at one of his men, who stepped forward and took the skin in his hands. He unrolled it on the ground and took out a knife.
“Björn frowned when the man started cutting the skin into very narrow strips. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.
“‘Following my master’s orders,’ the man said.
“Björn whirled around, facing his brother. ‘What trickery is this?’
“Ivar grinned. ‘He is simply preparing to take the measurements.’
“The servant finished and tied the strands into a long rope. A few more servants joined him and they walked towards the town that rose in the distance.
“‘A hundred of these ropes will easily encircle the castle,’ Björn spat. ‘Ivar, you want York. I never agreed to this.’
“‘But you did, dear brother,’ said Ivar. ‘You agreed to give me as much land as a hundred cow skins can cover.’
“‘You know this is not what I meant,’ Björn growled. ‘This is cheating.’
“‘Ivar is right, Björn,’ I said. ‘You did agree to this.’
“Björn stared at me, his mouth slightly open. ‘What?’
“‘You and your brother had an agreement. You need to honor it. What you call cheating is nothing more than his wit. The wit he inherited from your mother.’
“Björn took a step towards me. His reindeer fur cape trailed the ground, and the skulls in his necklace swung and jittered as he moved. His painted and bloody face was a mask of rage. ‘What do you know of my mother’s wit?’
“‘Ivar told me the tales,’ I said. ‘Ragnar had heard of her wit and wished to test her. He asked her to come to him neither dressed nor undressed, neither fasting nor eating, and neither alone nor in company. She arrived dressed in a fisherman’s net, biting on an onion, with only a dog as a companion. Ragnar could have easily called this cheating, but instead he chose to reward her and marry her. And you were born out of this union, as were many of your brothers. So much good came out of Ragnar’s decision to reward wit. And so much good will come if you give York to Ivar.’
“Björn’s blue eyes were wide. ‘This is nonsense. What would you know of this—you, a stranger with no understanding of our ways? Why should I listen to you?’
“‘You should listen to me,’ I said, holding his gaze, ‘because I am blessed by Odin.’
“He frowned. ‘What?’
“‘The festival at Uppsala is coming soon,’ I said. ‘I volunteer as a sacrifice.’
“Björn’s jaw dropped. ‘What are you saying? Are you insane? You volunteer to be hanged? You don’t even worship our gods!’
“‘Oh, but I do,’ I said. ‘After I came to your lands, I saw enough to know that Odin indeed watches over us all. I want to honor him and to give myself to him.’ I raised my voice so that all could hear me. ‘I want to go to Walhalla and sit at the table of the gods! I want to drink mead from curved horns and tell Odin stories of our adventures and the battles we have fought to bring him glory! I will give myself as a sacrifice at Uppsala!’
“Loud murmurs rose from the crowd. Björn stared at me for a moment and then drew his hand across his face, smearing it with paint and the King’s blood. ‘Ivar Ragnarsson,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘York is yours.’”