Oath Bound: Day 13

Word Count: 78,320

Summary of Events:

Aðalbjörn reached the eastern shores of Gammelhjem, where he took shelter for the night in an isolated hut. Friðljót was given one of the brothers' hounds as a guardian for herself, for he had trained up a new, younger hound, wanting to retire the hound he gave to Friðljót so as to have puppies from it. Aðalbjörn arrived at the capital of Gammelhjem and was granted an audience with the king, whose aged, withered state was beyond what Aðalbjörn had imagined, while his wife was, physically, at least, highly attractive, but bearing of no resemblance to the princess . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

The woman leaned toward the man, who uttered indistinct mutterings that actually sounded quite alarming, and almost as if they were pleading, desperate, and distraught.

“What is your business?” the woman’s voice rang out clearly and almost angrily.

“I seek to know the welfare of the princess of Gammelhjem,” Aðalbjörn replied.

Again the woman leaned toward the man, who muttered again, sounding more subdued.

“Why seek you this knowledge?” the woman asked once the mutterings had subsided.

“That is not yours to know woman,” Aðalbjörn snapped indignantly. Even if she was attractive, he would’ve preferred that she not be present and he be allowed to speak with the king alone.

“Do you not know to whom you speak?” the woman snapped. “I am Eyhild, Queen of Gammelhjem, and in these times of incapacity for my husband I act as his regent.”

She sounded very pompous; it almost seemed to Aðalbjörn that she was only physically attractive, but as soon as she opened her mouth she became ugly.

“Grant me what answer I seek,” Aðalbjörn replied firmly. “And it shall be well with you.”

“The princess is dead,” Eyhild replied.

Aðalbjörn didn’t think he could’ve recoiled more if he’d been slapped by a white-hot piece of metal.

“She was given as a sacrifice to Vár and Valfreyja, in hopes that the former would pardon her for breaking her oath, while the latter would give us victory in the war we are now engaged in with Uppodlingland, as a consequence of the oath’s violation,” Eyhild continued, sounding as if she were quite pleased with what she was telling him.

Dead? His betrothed had been slaughtered? Rage surged in Aðalbjörn like when he had seen Marúlf’s body fall lifeless to the battlefield, an arrow protruding from the chest at the heart.

“May you be accursed by the gods!” Aðalbjörn shouted. “May Uppodlingland wipe all memory and recollection of Gammelhjem from this land! May this hall burn with fire! May you be tortured, flayed, rent in pieces, that no resting place may be known for your corpse, and no memory of you would be in existence! May Vár have her vengeance on you, for the oath which you have violated is far more severe than the oath which the one you have killed violated. May the royal house of Gammelhjem die in fire and hounds’ teeth. That you would kill a human in sacrifice to the gods. May they consume you more utterly.”

Turning, Aðalbjörn stormed out of the hall, drawing his sword immediately upon exiting and slamming it with both hands into one of the thick posts on which Marfrið of Gammelhjem’s banner was affixed.

He fought to wrest his sword free and succeeded after a time; then he surged down the stairs and spied a late-summer flower near at hand.

Using one hand, Aðalbjörn deftly flicked his sword so as to cut off the flower close to the ground, and it collapsed. Just like the princess.