Chapter 7: It is the Funeral of Erik Bloodaxe

“The Khan is to the north of this river,” the Magyar commander said, one morning, as we rode down towards a great blue river stretching wide across the land. “We will camp here and ride north in the morning.”

“What river is this?” I asked, always curious, for I was far beyond any land that our maps had shown.

“It is the Vlaga,” the Rus girl said. “I was captured here, see, where the two ships...” She hesitated, paling a little.

“Rus,” a Magyar warrior called, and it was the last word he spoke, for an arrow stood out from his chest, and he crumpled to the ground, and here was a sudden rush of great bearded men on foot, wielding spears and swords and battle-axes, and they fell on the Magyars in a sudden onslaught, and my horse was far from me, grazing the grass between patches of snow, for it was winter now.

Sword in hand, I stood trembling in fear as those around me fell, pierced by arrows, hewed down by sword or spear, and yet I remained untouched, as did my mei-mei, and the Rus girl called out joyfully to our attackers, and they answered her in her own language, and left us behind, sweeping past.

“They are of my people,” the Rus girl said. “They know my kin, and I am safe.”

She might have been safe, but I was not so sure of myself and my mei-mei, for two Magyar girls were thrown to the grass beside us. A voice barked at the Rus girl, and she nodded.

“You must stay here with me,” he said. “Do not flee, or they will kill you.”

They killed everyone else, they stripped the bodies of everything and left them for the ravens, and pleased they were with the chain mail, although it was too small for most, and one of the strange bearded warriors returned to look at me.

“Who is she?” he asked.

“She?” the Rus girl saud. “She is a Princess of far off Wei, in the land of the Han, and I know not who they are, but she is sent as a bride to a Khan, and the Magyars were taking her to their Khan.”

“A princess?” The man who looked like a pig smiled, and I did not like that smile at all. “A princess will be welcome, for Bloodaxe needs women, and a princess would be fitting. Kill the men, bring the women.”

Led away we were, myself, my mei-mei, two Magyar girls, the Rus girl who had taught me her language over those long weeks of travel, and that was all, for behind us the swords and axes fell, and the men died, and their death I did not regret in any way, but I feared for myself and my mei-mei, for I did not like the look in the eyes of that pig-man as we were led down the long slope to their rough encampment, with two small ships beached before it, and such ships I had never seen the like of.

“Share these two around,” the pig-man said, pointing at the two Magyar girls. “The men need some sport,” and they were led away, sobbing, while my mei-mei and I were taken into a tent within which a brazier was lit, and my armor and my weapons were taken from my, and my wrists were tied to a pole stretching above my head across the tent, and my clothes, and then my mei-mei’s, were removed from us.

Outside, one of the Magyar girls screamed, and then the other, and when their screaming became rhythmic, and I heard the grunts of men, I knew what was being done to them, and I was afraid.

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“It is the funeral of Erik Bloodaxe,” the Rus girl who had been a Magyar slave said in her own language, and I knew enough to understand her now, and even to speak with her in her own tongue.

“Why do they treat us like this?” I asked, and I was afraid, for I had been captured first by the Xiongnu and then by the Magyars, but never had I been treated in such manner. Always I had been respected as a Princess of Northern Wei, for even with Northern Wei fallen, our name was held in high repute, and a Princess of Northern Wei was a prize of high value.

“Do they not know who I am?” Afraid I was, and it was winter outside the tent, and even with the brazier burning within, I was naked, and I was cold, and I was not used to being naked before anyone but my maid, and the two Magyar girls were silent for a short time, but then they began to scream again.

“They know,” the Rus girl said, and her eyes would not meet mine, and my maid sobbed as she too was washed in turn, and the dust and dirt from our bodies had turned that water grey, and then brown, and glad I was that she had washed me first, however embarrassing the washing. “They know, and it is the funeral of Erik Bloodaxe, and he was a great and mighty chieftain, and now he is dead.”

She would say no more, and when she had finished washing my maid, she left the tent, carrying that bucket of dirty water, leaving the two of us hanging there by our wrists, and my young maid-servant, the one servant who remained to me from Luoyang, she was similarly tied and sobbing with her fear.

“Be brave, mei-mei,” I said to her, but it was hard, for I was afraid myself, and it was hard to wear the cold face.

“Here’s those two, everyone’s had a turn,” one of those warriors said, a great stinking bearded man, and his eyes were like unto a pig’s as he eyed myself and my maid greedily, dragging two girls into the shelter of the hut, and they were the two Magyar girls that had been with us, and I had heard their screams, and they were naked, bruised and bloody, and my heart sank within me, for it was more than obvious what had been done to them.

In their own way, they had been kind and helpful to me on our long ride across the steppe, and now they were afraid, weeping in terror as the pig-man fastened them by the wrists to the pole to which my maid and I were fastened, and with their fear I was in accord, for they had been unmarried and virgins before this day, as was I, and it was a fearful thing to be tied and naked before such a man as this, and the worst had already happened to them, and now I feared for myself and my mei-mei.

“Wash them,” he said to the Rus girl, and after she had scurried from the tent, he eyed me, and his gaze was one of such lust as indeed terrified me.

“Please,” I said, in his language. “What is to become of us?”

He eyed me, and smiled. “You are the one that said she was a Princess, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied, ashamed and embarrassed by my nakedness as he eyed me, for his gaze was lascivious and I felt unclean merely from a look, and I dreaded my fate, for I knew this man was one of their chieftains.

He shrugged, saying nothing, and he left, but only when the Rus girl returned, and she would not say a word, but after the Magyar girls were washed, she sat in a corner of the tent, watching us, and it was clear she was there to watch over us and prevent us from attempting to free ourselves. Through the thin walls of the shelter we were held within, the uproarious noise outside grew ever louder, singing, chanting, a single voice chanting a song of praise to this Bloodaxe, and when I asked the Rus girl, she shrugged.

“It is Yuletide Eve,” was all she said. “And it is Bloodaxe’s funeral.”

Long it was, that chant, on and on and some of the words I recognized, some I did not, and then the great pig-man entered our shelter with four other men.

“Bring them out,” he said. “All of them.”

Two men took the ends of the pole to which we were tied, and dragged us stumbling from the tent and into the clearing, in the center of which a great fire burned, hot enough that naked though we were, we were not cold, winter though it was, and while the snow lay on the ground around, here the dirt was clear, and at the other end of the clearing, there was a funeral pyre shaped as a boat, with a bed lying on it, and on that bed there was a man of these Rus, and this must be their Bloodaxe.

Around the clearing were gathered the Rus, and there were three score men, and I knew from the Rus girl that these were the crew of the two boats drawn up on the riverbank, and one boat had been Bloodaxe’s, and the others was this pig-man who stood beside us.

“Now we give Bloodaxe his women,” he cried in a great voice. “Send them to Bloodaxe with your love and blessings.” He turned to us, and he pointed to my maid. “Take this one first.”

She struggled as they untied her, weeping in terror, and I myself was weeping, and I pleaded for her, but my words were as if they had been spoken into thin air, for all ignored me, and the two Magyar girls hung by their wrists, weeping in terror.

“Mei-mei,” I cried out as they dragged her into the tent, and she was screaming and wailing with fear as she disappeared from my sight, and all the men about began to beat on their shields with sticks as their shaman was blindfolded and he spun and pointed, and the man towards whom he pointed smiled, and strode into the tent, and even over the beating on the shields, I heard my innocent maid’s screams as she was defiled by that man.

“Mei-mei,” I sobbed. “Oh Mei-mei, oh little sister, I am sorry,” for had I but known her fate, I would have taken her life painlessly myself with my dagger ere we were captured, and knowing that I was likely to share her fate, I wished that I had also taken my own life while the opportunity had yet remained for me to do so.

In time, the man emerged from that tent, his clothing in disarray, and another man entered the tent, and my poor Mei-mei’s screams rose to a new crescendo, on and on, and even over the beating of the sticks on the shields I could hear those pig-like grunts, and when he was done, there was another man, and another, and another, and yet another, and another, and then there was the pig-man whose eyes had defiled me, and now my mei-mei’s screams were shrill and piercing, on and on, until they died away in sobs and he walked out, breathing hard.

“Take her and give her to Bloodaxe,” he grunted, and the two men who had dragged her into the tent dragged her out, but now she no longer struggled, and her eyes were wild and dazed as she hung from their hands, and she was no longer a virgin.

The chieftain whom they called Bloodaxe, he lay dead on that rough-hewn bed on the funeral pyre they had built in the shape of a ship, and the two men dragged my mei-mei to that bed and flung her on it beside the dead man, and one sized her wrists, and one seized her ankles, and they pinned her to the bed as the Rus girl who had washed us walked slowly to the pyre carrying a length of rope, and her eyes would not meet mine.

“The Angel of Death,” a man beside me whispered, making a sign on himself, and the pig-man joined them, taking the rope from the girl and looping it around my mei-mei’s neck and pulling it tight, his great muscles bulging, and I wept and struggled against my bonds as my poor mei-mei bucked and struggled for breathe, her eyes bulging as she sought air, and then the pig-man stabbed her to the heart with his knife, and she bucked once, her head lolled, and her eyes looked upwards blindly and she was dead.

The first of the two Magyar girls was brought forward, and I had seen them being taken from tent to tent for these men to use, and I had heard their suffering, but now they too shared my Mei-mei’s fate, taken into that tent, first one, then the other, defiled once more, by one man after another of this Horsa’s, laid on the bed, struggle though they might, and then there was the rope, the dagger, and death, and when three bodies lay on that bed beside the man they called Bloodaxe, I knew I was next and last, and my fear and my despair grew, for this was such a fate as I had never in even my worst nightmares envisaged.

“A ship, a ship comes,” a man cried, and on the river bank, another ship of these people nosed against the shore, and it was larger than the two already there. Men jumped from the sides, many men, swords at their waist or spears in their hands, and they strode towards us, and the man at their head was a great golden-haired giant with eyes of a sparkling blue, and a voice that boomed out to be heard by all, and his words I understood.

“Greetings, Horsa. You are still alive, I am glad to see, for my sword longs to drink your blood. Up to your usual tricks, of this I have no doubt, for I see that you are wasting beautiful women on a dead man. Could you not find a couple of old hags from somewhere? It seems Bloodaxe is dead and he will not know the difference, and a pig would do for you, you whore’s son.”

“What do you here, Harald Grims-son. Welcome, you are not.”

Harald, for that it seemed was his name, he shrugged, and his eyes gazed at me, met mine, and it was as if a blow had struck me, and left me breathless, and his eyes narrowed.

“Welcome I may not be, but it is the Yuletide Eve this night, and the only night on which you and I may meet without shedding blood, Horsa Önundarson, for the Yuletide Peace is in place, and yon Bloodaxe owed me a debt, and I came to collect before he died. I see I was too late, so take this one I will, in repayment. He already has three, he won’t miss her.”

They were standing almost beside me, and this Horsa, the pig-man, with him my fate was certain. I knew not why the other, this one who was called Harald Grims-son, I knew not why he wanted me, but it was more than obvious that he disliked this Horsa, and perchance there was hope.

“She is to serve Bloodaxe in death,” Horsa grunted. “And she is mine to give, for my men captured her, and she is my slave, to do with as I will.”

“Do as you will, for I am tied here and unable to defend myself, but defile me yourself you will not,” I spat, and I drew on every ounce of strength I had within me, and perhaps more, for also I prayed to the Buddha to aid me, and trained as I was in the Shaolin Temple, I kicked him in the testicles with all the speed and power I could muster. My kick could smash through wood, and I had not ceased to train on the long road to this place, and I was now eighteen and not fifteen, and I was stronger, far stronger, than I had been when I had departed my father’s palace in Luoyang, though still I was as slender as a maiden of fifteen summers, for I had grown taller, and perhaps a little womanlier, for now I had a woman’s breasts, although small, where I had not when I departed Luoyang.

This Horsa groaned and staggered, and as he began to double over, mouth working, I kicked him once and twice more, each kick delivered with everything I had, and surely I had pulped his testicles. His face purple, eyes bulging, he sank to his knees before me, and now I kicked at his face, smashing his nose flat, and I had intended to drive his nose into his brain and kill him but at the last moment, he jerked his head a little aside and it was enough that my kick did not kill him.

“You devil-bitch, I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, and you’ll plead for death before you die this day,” this Horsa choked out, rolling in the dirt, spitting blood and teeth, and terrified though I was, I laughed and spat at him.

“Give me my sword, and I will show you devil-bitch and teach you to fight,” I said, and my voice was loud and clear, and I spoke their language, understandably, if but poorly. “For you are a nithing, afraid even to fight a woman, and perhaps now a man without balls also.”

“I’m going to cut your tits off, stuff them down your throat, gut you, and strangle you with your own guts while I fuck you with my knife,” this Horsa choked out, and he was on one knee, his dagger in his hand, but his other hand clutched at his balls, and his face was still purple, and his words were choked out, not spoken.

This Harald laughed, and laughing, his knife flashed out and cut the ropes that tied my wrists to the pole above my head. “I wouldst see this devil-bitch fight,” he said, and a gesture to one of his men, and my sword was there, before me, and where and how his man had found it so quickly, and how he had known it was mine, I knew not, but I took it with gratitude, for I had seen these Rus fight, and slow they were. Powerful, but slow, and I flexed my arms and my wrists, and my sword was in my hands.

“You break the Yuletide Peace, Harald,” this Horsa growled, one hand still clutching at his balls, and he was as yet unable to stand upright.

“Not I,” Harald said. “My sword is not drawn, no insult have I offered. Merely I assist this devil-bitch to offer you a little resistance, for you are such a man as enjoys resistance from a woman, Horsa, for charm them you have never been able to do, that is certain, and gazing at your face, even less so now.”

He laughed, and his laughter was such as was infectious, for it brought a smile to my face, and I was not in the mood to smile. “She seems to think she can fight you, and she has certainly not sworn to the Yuletide Peace, and given your intent for her, it would be wise for her to consider this not.”

And now he smiled, but his smile was not friendly. “You are no friend of mine, Horsa, and I will not break the Yuletide Peace, but neither will I stop any who seek to do you harm, and indeed, I will encourage them and assist them, in so far as I may without breaking the Peace, and your blood I will drink one day, and your skull I will have made into a drinking cup for my pleasure.”

“So that’s how it will be,” Horsa grunted, and one of his men passed him his sword and then his shield. “Die then this devil-bitch will, screaming in agony.” And he swung his sword, shrugging his shoulders, but he stood with his legs more than a little apart and no doubt his balls were damaged, for they were softer than the wooden planks I had kicked every day since I was three years of age.

“I would call hólmganga, but against a devil-bitch there is no honor, so kill the bitch I will, slowly, and there are no rules in this fight, for she is a woman and a slave.” He smiled. “Slowly indeed, and you will beg to go as those three bitches went before I am done, and on Bloodaxe’s pyre you will go, still breathing when I light the flames.”

I held my sword sheath in my left hand, the hilt in my right, and I turned to he who was named Harald. “I thank you for this chance, Lord,” I said, and I bowed my head, for he had given me at least a little hope.

“Hold,” this Harald said. “She is naked, and it is winter, and even with the fire it is cold, and you are clothed and with sword and shield, Horsa. ‘Tis only fair if she has clothes at least.”

Horsa spat on the ground. “Makes no difference to me,” he snarled. “Dress her as you will, Harald. Give the bitch a shield if she wants one. Give her rings and necklaces too if you wish. I will cut her to pieces and fuck her with my dagger as she dies and throw her on the pyre still breathing, to warm Bloodaxe with her screams.”

He looked around, and his men and Harald’s men had formed a circle around us, a wide circle. “No-one is to interfere. This is to the death, between me and her, and her death will be long and painful.”

Harald nodded. “I give my oath before all that it will be just as you have asked, Horsa,” he said. “No-one is to interfere in this, and it is to the death, however that death is given, for no mercy is to be given or asked, and no man may interfere until one of you two is dead.”

And he eyed me as he stood there, and now his eyes were alive with interest, for with my sword in my hand, I was no longer afraid, and perhaps he saw that in me, and that I knew my sword, and indeed, I had trained with that sword every day in those three and a half long years since my father had placed it in my hands as he bade me farewell, and before then I had trained for twelve years with the Masters of Shaolin, and this sword was as an extension of my hand, and in that three and one half years, it had killed many men in my hand.

“Good luck in this, girl, and you have a blade now. Perhaps best you kill yourself, I can do no more for you,” this Harald said, and Horsa spat on the ground between us and laughed, as much as he could laugh, for he winced also.

“Luck I do not need, Lord,” I replied. “And kill myself I do not need to, and you have done all that is needed. You have given me the use of my hands and my feet, as well as my sword, and that is all I ask, and it is a Yuletide Gift beyond price, and for that, I thank you, Harald Grims-son.”

My Rus was broken, but he understood, and he did not smile, but he nodded.

Now, sword in hand, I was content, for at the worst, if I saw I was to be defeated, I could indeed kill myself quickly with my own blade, and in the way of Shaolin, I centered myself and my breathing, and now I smiled, for my clothes had been brought to me. My trousers and my tunic in the Magyar style, but my boots I handed back, for were not my feet as iron, and they were not the delicate feet of a Han maiden, but this Horsa was not to know that.

Not yet, although the pain he felt from his crushed balls and his nose squashed flat might have been somewhat of a clue, but perhaps he thought that was luck on my part, and that terror had given me strength, and indeed, perhaps it had.

“I will hold your sword while you dress, girl,” this Harald said, taking my sword from me, but his eyes and the eyes of his men watched this Horsa and his men, rather than me, as I donned my trousers and tunic. “But tell me first, what’s your name, girl? For after you die, I will sacrifice for you.”

“I am the Princess Yuan Fan of Northern Wei,” I said, proudly now, for I was no longer naked before their eyes, and I held my sword. “I was to be bride of the Khan of the Western Rouran, but they whom you call the Huns captured me, and killed my escort, and the Magyars captured me from the Huns, and this fat nithing who is now ball-less captured me from the Magyars who were taking me to their Khan as a bride, for a Princess of Northern Wei has some value as a bride to the tribes of the great grasslands.”

Even if she has no dowry, but I did not say that, and who knew if the Khan of the Magyar’s would have taken me as a bride, but I did not say that either, for that was the only value I could offer, and I did not wish to die, although it looked probable that I would, and it was never a good day to die, but if die I must, I would die sword in hand, and honorably join my ancestors.

“You see, Horsa, you are indeed a fool,” Harald said, smiling as he handed me back my sword. “You were about to sacrifice a Princess who would no doubt command a high price hereabouts, thus depriving your men of their share of the gold she would without doubt bring, and she is a beauty indeed, though exotic. Myself, if I was you, I would have taken her to Miklagard or south to the robed people to sell, or perhaps even paid my men their share of her value and kept her for myself.”

“Instead, you wanted to kill her as an offering to a dead man who will not know the difference, and Bloodaxe was never fool enough to have done the same for you,” he added, and he laughed. “Bloodaxe would have dressed some old hag in her clothes to trick the gods, and kept her for himself. You’re as much a fool as you always have been, Horsa Önundarson,”

“For your words, I will settle with you next, Harald Grims-son,” Horsa said grimly. “Fuck the Yuletide Peace, for you are a nithing and worse than a nithing,” and he flexed his massive arms. “But her I will deal with before you, and seeing as you seem so taken with her, a long slow death she will endure, and for this she may thank you.”

This Horsa smiled at me, and indeed, it was not a friendly smile. “Come and die, bitch, or run away. It makes no difference to me, for I will catch you in the end, and it will not be quick, for I shall take my time with you and enjoy every scream.”

Now I smiled, walking forward to the center of that circle where he stood, and still my sword was sheathed, but I had seen him fight, and he was powerful but slow, and had I not kicked him in the testicles thrice and flattened his nose before he could move, and I tied to the pole. Now? Now I was no longer tied, and with my sword in hand, one of us would live, and the other die, and while I was afraid, I thought that perhaps I could win, for had I not won against men in contests at the Shaolin Temple, but this was to the death, and I was afraid, a little, but in these last three long years on the steppe, I had fought men before, many times now, and I was yet alive, and they were not.

“I will take your own guts...” he began, but I did not wait for him to finish, and before he could move I sprang into the air and kicked above the edge of his shield, hammering my heel into his broken nose, and his head jarred back, and he had not been expecting that.

I fell to the ground and swept his feet from under him with mine own, for he was off-balance and my attack unexpected and unforeseen, and I was on my feet in an instant, and his shield was mere wood, with no metal surface, and hard though it might be, I was Shaolin trained and my feet were as iron hammers and they had not softened, and I kicked at his shield, once, and my kick hammered through a plank of that wood, shattering it before I leapt away, and still I had not unsheathed my sword, and he lay there, half-stunned, and in that moment I knew I could kill him.

“Come, lard-guts,” I said, and now it was my turn to spit, but not on the ground, for my spit was aimed at his face, and my aim was true. “Wipe away your tears and climb to your feet, and as you are fat and clumsy, I will permit you a little time to recover.”

“Bitch-luck,” he snarled, on his knees and then his feet, and his nose was flatter yet, and streaming blood and two further teeth were now missing.

“You were ugly before,” I said. “But no woman will look at you with longing now, for you make a pig look handsome.”

He said nothing, but the men of Harald Grims-son laughed, and furious at their laughter and the insult I had offered him, this Horsa rushed at me, and his fighting had no artistry. Sought he to overwhelm me with his size and weight and strength, but this was a disadvantage a woman faced at all times, and I had trained all my life against men, for my Shaolin masters had been wise in this.

A woman did not face other women in battle. She faced men, and men were larger and stronger, but there was nothing new to me in this, and I was fast, but I would not close with him, for that would be foolish, and it would be death, and the men who circled us around were distant. His arms were larger than my legs, and once he held me, I would be finished. As he charged, I slipped aside as an eel slips, spinning behind him and I was not foolish. I spun away, knowing I could have taken him then, from behind, and still my sword was sheathed.

“Fight, you little bitch. There’s no point in running,” he snarled as he turned towards me, and indeed, he was correct in this observation.

“As you wish, you whose breath stinks as a dog’s shit stinks,” I said, backing away as he chased me around the circle, and indeed I could keep such an evasion up all day, and I smiled, for I could run backwards as fast as he could lumber forwards, and I stayed far enough away from those who watched that none could trip me.

“Slow you are, indeed, braggart,” I said. “And you pant like a man who fucks sheep, but alas, your balls are pulped and even a sheep would laugh at you now, for you are unmanned and dickless and a nithing, and all men now know this.”

And I said this loudly, so that all this Harald’s men laughed, and indeed this Harald himself smiled, and with every second of time that passed, I knew this Horsa’s abilities, or lack thereof, better, but I would not become over-confident, for one mistake would be my death, but I laughed as his sword swung and swung and swung again, and every swing I let slip by me, the blade almost brushing my clothes, and every time he thought he had me, and every time he did not.

“She’s teasing him,” I heard this Harald say, as I rolled backwards, and sprang to my feet, still running, and I smiled, for I was, and Horsa in his rage and anger, and no doubt the pain of his crushed balls, knew this not, for he kept trying, and I could keep this up all day, for on the steppe, had I not often run at the side of the horses, and run I had all day, day after day, and every day I had run backwards for an hour or two or three, day after day, pacing the horses, but now I did not want to tease him. I wished to humiliate him before I killed him, and for some reason I trusted this Harald’s hate of this Horsa to ensure no other would interfere, so draw this out a little I would, and at last I unsheathed my sword.

Not in the that blindingly fast draw of the Iaijutso school of Yamoto that I practiced daily, but slowly, and with deliberate clumsiness, so that the sheathe was in my sword hand, and my sword in my left hand, and now my sheath darted out, and I tapped Horsa’s shield, hard, and hard and hard again, and broken as it was, I laughed as he hid behind that broken wood.

“You are a nithing who needs a shield against a girl,” I called. “See, I am a girl, and I need no shield against you, man with no balls.”

“Gaaaagghhhhh,” he roared, and he ripped his shield from his arm and flung it at me, and thought to charge me behind his hard flung shield, but such a trick was nothing new to me, whose teachers had used every trick a warrior knows on me, and I threw my sheathe from the circle, my hand seized that shield and I spun, the shields weight giving my spin such power and momentum as I could not, and that spinning shield returning unexpected, and took the pig in the guts, and doubled him over, for it was indeed heavy, and not such a shield as I myself could have carried into battle, but it sufficed to knock the wind from this fat pig, unexpected as its return was.