they must hide until everyone had recovered from the wounds of battle. Hide. ... or be found and killed. Ingmar was an , experienced tactician who understood that unless Tabor were killed, he would return and seek revenge.
"I don't doubt that they despise him," Tabor said. "And I also do not doubt that he will kill everyone who wags a tongue against him." As he spoke, Tabor looked at each of his men directly. He was not talking to them as a group, but as individuals, reinforcing their belief that each life was valued by their leader. "We have our bellies filled with food. Soon, Ingmar's men will comb the countryside looking for us. They will find this camp and know that we were here. We must keep moving. ... we must find a boat large enough to take us far away. ... far enough away so that we can recover our strength and numbers. . . . and then, we will return to these waters and this land. . . . and we will have our revenge!"
"Although we are forced to flee from Ingmar's men now," Tabor continued, "the time will come when we can challenge the Norwegian and his bloodthirsty Vikings head-on." But as he spoke, the tenuous reservoir of Tabor's strength slipped away, and Tanaka saw the strain upon him.
They left camp, with Sven taking the first shift as advance scout, walking ahead of the main body of men by a mile or more. Twice they stopped at homes to ask questions and glean what they could of Ingmar's movements and attack plans. As they walked, Tabor and Tanaka said little to each other, though they never were far apart. And when the weary Vikings paused near a cool running stream to drink and rest, Tanaka sat so close to Tabor that her knee touched his.
They were still beside the stream when Tabor caught the smell of smoke. He searched the sky but found no signs of fire. Then, from the direction they'd just come, he saw the gray smoke staining the clear midday air. Tabor dispatched a man to investigate, and it wasn't long before the man returned.
"It was Ingmar's men," the scout reported. "They killed everyone — even the children." He didn't have to say it was the family that they'd spoken to earlier for Tabor and the others to know who the victims were. "They set the house and barn on fire. The cattle and sheep have been slaughtered."
A deep, low sigh escaped Tabor as he listened to the tale of pointless murder. What kind of warrior murdered children? It was horrifying for Tabor to ponder. Even worse was the knowledge that the family had quite likely been slaughtered because Tabor had stopped at their home. That offense alone, for which neither the man nor woman —and certainly not the children — were responsible, had been reason enough to justify Ingmar's slaughter.
"Are they following us?" Tabor asked.
"Nay. They are roasting a slaughtered cow. They are in no hurry."
Tabor shook his head sadly. "Then they killed just for the thrill of killing. The family told them nothing." Tabor looked from one man to the next, seeking answers that none of them possessed. "What kind of monsters are these who chase us?" He ran his hand through his hair, pushing damp strands off his forehead. "We can no longer stop at any houses. Everyone we come in contact with we put in danger," he declared, his heart heavy with self-inflicted guilt. He did not look at Tanaka, afraid she blamed him for the innocent deaths. The memory of the children, their faces bright and animated, excited because visitors were unusual in their sleepy, green valley, tore at Tabor. "We must press on until we find a ship. Then we must sail far away, refortify ourselves, and then return to expunge Ingmar and his men from this earth. To a man, they must all be held accountable!"
❧
Ingmar backhanded the messenger so hard that the sound of knuckles striking cheek was sharp and ominous in the tense evening air. When the messenger did not fall, Ingmar struck him again, this time with a closed fist to the stomach, and the young man crumpled to his knees.
"That
"I don't doubt that they despise him," Tabor said. "And I also do not doubt that he will kill everyone who wags a tongue against him." As he spoke, Tabor looked at each of his men directly. He was not talking to them as a group, but as individuals, reinforcing their belief that each life was valued by their leader. "We have our bellies filled with food. Soon, Ingmar's men will comb the countryside looking for us. They will find this camp and know that we were here. We must keep moving. ... we must find a boat large enough to take us far away. ... far enough away so that we can recover our strength and numbers. . . . and then, we will return to these waters and this land. . . . and we will have our revenge!"
"Although we are forced to flee from Ingmar's men now," Tabor continued, "the time will come when we can challenge the Norwegian and his bloodthirsty Vikings head-on." But as he spoke, the tenuous reservoir of Tabor's strength slipped away, and Tanaka saw the strain upon him.
They left camp, with Sven taking the first shift as advance scout, walking ahead of the main body of men by a mile or more. Twice they stopped at homes to ask questions and glean what they could of Ingmar's movements and attack plans. As they walked, Tabor and Tanaka said little to each other, though they never were far apart. And when the weary Vikings paused near a cool running stream to drink and rest, Tanaka sat so close to Tabor that her knee touched his.
They were still beside the stream when Tabor caught the smell of smoke. He searched the sky but found no signs of fire. Then, from the direction they'd just come, he saw the gray smoke staining the clear midday air. Tabor dispatched a man to investigate, and it wasn't long before the man returned.
"It was Ingmar's men," the scout reported. "They killed everyone — even the children." He didn't have to say it was the family that they'd spoken to earlier for Tabor and the others to know who the victims were. "They set the house and barn on fire. The cattle and sheep have been slaughtered."
A deep, low sigh escaped Tabor as he listened to the tale of pointless murder. What kind of warrior murdered children? It was horrifying for Tabor to ponder. Even worse was the knowledge that the family had quite likely been slaughtered because Tabor had stopped at their home. That offense alone, for which neither the man nor woman —and certainly not the children — were responsible, had been reason enough to justify Ingmar's slaughter.
"Are they following us?" Tabor asked.
"Nay. They are roasting a slaughtered cow. They are in no hurry."
Tabor shook his head sadly. "Then they killed just for the thrill of killing. The family told them nothing." Tabor looked from one man to the next, seeking answers that none of them possessed. "What kind of monsters are these who chase us?" He ran his hand through his hair, pushing damp strands off his forehead. "We can no longer stop at any houses. Everyone we come in contact with we put in danger," he declared, his heart heavy with self-inflicted guilt. He did not look at Tanaka, afraid she blamed him for the innocent deaths. The memory of the children, their faces bright and animated, excited because visitors were unusual in their sleepy, green valley, tore at Tabor. "We must press on until we find a ship. Then we must sail far away, refortify ourselves, and then return to expunge Ingmar and his men from this earth. To a man, they must all be held accountable!"
❧
Ingmar backhanded the messenger so hard that the sound of knuckles striking cheek was sharp and ominous in the tense evening air. When the messenger did not fall, Ingmar struck him again, this time with a closed fist to the stomach, and the young man crumpled to his knees.
"That
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