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Eivor attends King Ceolwulf II of Mercia's coronation, only to discover Burgred had planned another attack.
Dialogue
With time to spare before the coronation in Tamworth, Ivarr asked Eivor to walk with him and she agreed. Together they made their way through one of the gates, along the wall of the fortress.
Eivor:Where to?
Ivarr:Nowhere in particular. I only want to celebrate.
Eivor:Didn't think you were the type.
Ivarr:You have drawn a dark conclusion of me, haven't you? That is all well and good. I have drawn some about you as well.
They reached an area where two men sat at a table set up under a canopy.
Ivar:Get lost.
The men quickly, if drunkenly, got up and stumbled away at Ivarr's order. After getting himself a tankard, Ivar sat and instructed Eivor to do the same.
Ivarr:Sit down.
The two looked at each other for a moment, then both took a drink.
Ivarr:I know I have been a cock. But you are a good fighter, I respect that. Let it be said that Ivarr the Boneless considers Eivor a friend.
He raised his tankard, as though in toast, announcing this to anyone who might be around to hear. Eivor took another drink.
Eivor:Who calls you "boneless"?
Ivarr:Some bacraut (asshole) I killed in Hibernia. Used his guts to shine my spear. Called me boneless because I move like a reed in the wind.
He swayed in his seat, as if to demonstrate.
Eivor:Not because you're always too drunk to plow?
Ivarr shook his head and both took another drink.
Ivarr:Valhalla. That is where I am bound. I can smell the blood and taste the mead. I will sit beside the high one with my axe in hand.
Ivarr:You would think, eh! Me, Halfdan, we'll be there. But Ubba... no... I think we are chasing the same victory. Not anymore.
Eivor:What does Ubba want?
Ivarr:To grow old and fat on a farm somewhere, with little Ubbas to chase about.
Eivor:He wants an heir. It's a common dream.
Ivarr:Not for a warrior! Not for drengir like us! He was different before. But this place, England... it softened him.
Eivor:What was he like before?
Ivarr:Like me. Ferocious. Wild.
Eivor:With respect, I don't think anyone is like you.
Ivarr:If that is a compliment, I missed it. All I mean to say is, things were easier some time ago.
Eivor:If it bothers you so much, why not strike out on your own?
Ivarr:Because he is my brother. I love him. And I will do what it takes to drag him back around to my way of thinking. We are warriors, all. And that is to the death.
The two continued drinking, well into the night, stumbling about Tamworth. In the morning, Eivor awoke beside a firepit, outside the fortress walls, and rose somewhat unsteadily.
Eivor:[groaning] Outdid myself again. Ugh. Did I miss the crowning?
Another man lay nearby, facedown in the grass.
Eivor:He's worse off than I am.
She made her way back into Tamworth and up the hill to the longhouse. Inside, a group of people were gathered around the throne, where Ceolwulf sat. She walked up to stand beside Sigurd, who said nothing but gave her a look. Meanwhile, Ceolwulf scanned the crowd from his seat.
Ceolwulf:Where is my son?
Nearby, a man stood in conference with a soldier. When they were done speaking, he stepped forward to speak.
Anglo-Saxon Man:We sent word to Repton, but we've had no word, lord. I suggest we carry on.
Ceolwulf considered this regretfully, then nodded, gesturing someone forward. At the other end of the hall, the door opened, and Burgred entered, escorted by Ubba and Ivarr. Burgred stopped some ways from the throne, considering the people gathered, and barely hid his scorn when he turned his gaze to Ceolwulf.
King Burgred:You sought me out, old friend. And here I am, standing before the throne from which I reigned not long ago.
Anglo-Saxon Man:You stand before us to accept this witan's unanimous decision. That you are unfit to rule and are hereby deposed. We demand the abdication of your kingdom and your crown to Thegn Ceolwulf.
The man gestured to Ceolwulf, who stood.
Ceolwulf:Mercia has spoken, lord. The crown...
He held out his hand, and Burgred once again barely hid his sneer.
Burgred:Is that you, old friend? Ah, yes, I see it now. Forgive me. The robes of righteousness sit so loosely upon your shoulders.
With faux-friendliness, Burgred approached Ceolwulf, patting him on the arms.
