9 Truth

The shocked crowd just stared at me. Hrothgar gazed into my eyes and announced, "The Gods and Goddesses have spoken. Let no one speak of Frode as a traitor from this day forward." He seemed to consider me for a moment, then turned and headed back into the war tent. Vilhelm raised an eyebrow at me, then gave me what I assumed was a nod of approval. He then followed his brother. I wondered why they said nothing to me.

All of this registered rather hazily to my increasingly fuzzy brain. I moved my left hand up to cover the wound on my arm. I was too tired for fear, but as my blood seeped through my fingers, I did recognize that it was a lot of blood to be losing.

"Now what have you gotten yourself into here, Agatha?" came a voice from the crowd. "I believe I told you to find yourself a husband, not get in a fight with a giant!"

My eyes were having trouble focusing, but I thought I recognized the voice.

"Rebekah?" I asked hopefully.

"Aye, the very same," she said. "What have ye done to your arm, girl! I'll need to use almost all my catgut* on you if we want to close ye back up again."

(*Author's note: Catgut is a type of thread used for sutures or stiches. It is made of finely woven sheep's intestine. It is reabsorbable by the body and relatively strong.)

She hauled me to my feet, and I stumbled after her. She was surprisingly strong. Throwing my left arm over her shoulder, she half dragged, half carried me. She brought me into a tent and sat me down on a bed roll.

"Alright there Agatha, sit ye down and I'll fix ye right up." Her voice seemed to anchor my consciousness to the earth. "Here we go." She pressed some powder to my wound. It stung a little, but I didn't really feel like reacting to it. "Ah good. Now that's not bleeding so much. let me clean it up a bit." She handed me a cup and bustled over to remove a pot that was boiling on the fire. "I've always found that adding fire to water - that is, boiling it - before you clean a wound makes the fire of Fever stay away." She turned back to me "Everything in balance... Drink up now, dear."

I stared down at the cup. It seemed to contain some kind of tea.

Rebekah sighed, then sat down next to me. "Agatha, you need tending to. The tea will make you sleep while I work."

"How do you know... can you fix it?" Am I going to die, I thought to myself. I knew I should be frightened, but all I felt was exhaustion.

"Well now then dear, I will do my level best. I will surely do. My mother is the village midwife. As her second daughter, she has trained me since I was big enough to boil water. I have stitched up many a woman - and in much more delicate an area!" she laughed to herself, then gave me a gentle look, "But you need to sleep. Drink up." She lifted the cup to my lips, and watched with satisfaction as I drank it down. She bade me to lie on my left side, so that my right arm was up. She dipped a cloth into the pot of water, which had cooled to just slightly under boiling. She cleaned the wound very gently, but it hurt like a motherfucker.

As she did so, she hummed to herself. It was the soothing melody of her voice that finally lulled me into semi-unconsciousness. My mind found peace, although vague notions of pain still muddled through.

When some of the haze was lifted, it was nighttime. I blinked the blurriness from my eyes. I realized that I was not in Rebekah's tent now, but Hrothgar's.

"There you are." he said. "I did make sure not to fall asleep this time. No telling what you would be up to."

I tried to sit up, but his strong hands pushed me back down into the bed. I sighed as I snuggled down into the feather mattress. I lay on my left side. My right arm was bandaged. He sat on the bed next to me "Why do I keep waking up here?" I asked.

His eyes were unreadable in the darkness. "I find that I don't want you sleeping anywhere else." He shook his head. "What kind of woman are you? What possessed you to challenge Gregor to fight? And how in blazes did you win?"

I laughed at that. "Firstly, I didn't know how big the brute was when I challenged him." This comment earned me a smile from Hrothgar. "Secondly, he didn't know how to fight someone left-handed."

He considered this. "It still seems impossible... that a girl could beat such a man."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I have reached eighteen years this summer. I am grown, and father taught me all I know of fighting. I don't understand what is confusing." I tried to sit up again, and this time he let me. "I have been alone since I was fifteen, and have fought for my honor - and killed for it - before this."

His eyes glittered in the darkness. "I find I am glad that you did. It would have been a shame to brand you..." He lifted a hand to my cheek.

I caught his hand. "Yes, because I am such a pretty girl, I'm sure." I glared at him disapprovingly.

He sighed, not meeting my eyes and staring at where my hand held his wrist. "I have been king since I was six. When Gregor said Frode killed my father, no one disagreed, at least not in front of me." He looked into my eyes then, "I am glad the Gods and Goddesses have found it prudent to reveal the truth through you. Now the question remains... Who did kill my father?"

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