Sons of War
"I bet they write a song about us," Egil told his brother as they crunched across the snow-clad field outside the White River Castle.
Einar snorted. "Songs are for the high born, not for us. I'll wager old Duke Roundbelly will take all the credit anyway."
"His bard was writing something when we brought in the prisoner. Maybe it was about us," Egil insisted.
"More likely, he'll sing about the murdering bitch and her felonious ways," Einer grumbled.
"Fancy words. Felonious. Do you even know what it means?"
"It means you should mind your own business for once."
***
Just a few days earlier, they had been encamped off the road a day's hard ride from the siege at King Rience's castle. They were bringing news to the Duke that reinforcements were needed.
Twice the King's guard had tried to break out of the encircled castle, and twice they had been repulsed by the brothers and the Duke's surrounding army.
The losses had been great on both sides. Worse, sickness had been roving through the Duke's army, and desertions were rising. Einar and Egil had been chosen to deliver the unwelcome news.
"You two are ferocious enough that the Duke might not execute you after he hears how shitty things are," Lord Kesril had quipped. "But get your hairy arses back here right quick, ya hear?"
In their snowy camp the next night, something roused Egil from a deep sleep. Einar snored gently beside him, his breath a faint cloud of white mist that drifted up to their small tent's canvas roof.
He heard it again. A faint jingle. Horses? It sounded like they were coming from the south, from the seige.
Einar must have heard it this time. He stirred and sat up.
"Horses," they both said.
They were camped well off the road. Years of scrapes with impoverished gamblers, angry fathers, and jealous husbands had trained them to keep a low profile.
Now indistinct voices joined the jingle of harness. One voice sounded feminine.
"Come on," Einar said, rolling out of his sleeping furs and wrapping his thick woolen cloak around him. Egil also bundled up and followed.
"...be serious, my lord," a female voice said with a hint of jest in her voice. "As far as anyone knows, I am still at the castle with my beloved husband. We can go anywhere we want, and that horrible seige can last forever for all I care."
"Aye," a man's gruff voice answered. "But the seige will end one day. They all do. Pray, what will you do when they discover the king's rotting corpse with your knife in his beloved chest?"
"That was a nice touch, wasn't it?"
Egil looked at Einar. Both men's eyes were wide with surprise. The queen was on this frozen road with just one retainer? How had she gotten out? And Rience was dead? The war was over!
"It was foolish," the man growled. "And you have given the prince another reason to hate you."
"I'll worry about that if he survives. Another stupid sally to take on the Duke's army may find him missing his head. If the Northmen don't do it, his own starving troops will."
"Perhaps. I hear they are eating rats and boiled shoe leather."
As the two clopped past, Einar motioned Egil to follow. They had no time to get back to camp for swords and noisy armor. Belt knives would have to do.
"You take the man, I'll take the woman," Einar said.
"Typical," Egil groused.
***
The bards did write songs about that night. As usual, they did not worry too much about the facts.
The losses had been great on both sides. Worse, sickness had been roving through the Duke's army, and desertions were rising. Einar and Egil had been chosen to deliver the unwelcome news.
"You two are ferocious enough that the Duke might not execute you after he hears how shitty things are," Lord Kesril had quipped. "But get your hairy arses back here right quick, ya hear?"
In their snowy camp the next night, something roused Egil from a deep sleep. Einar snored gently beside him, his breath a faint cloud of white mist that drifted up to their small tent's canvas roof.
He heard it again. A faint jingle. Horses? It sounded like they were coming from the south, from the seige.
Einar must have heard it this time. He stirred and sat up.
"Horses," they both said.
They were camped well off the road. Years of scrapes with impoverished gamblers, angry fathers, and jealous husbands had trained them to keep a low profile.
Now indistinct voices joined the jingle of harness. One voice sounded feminine.
"Come on," Einar said, rolling out of his sleeping furs and wrapping his thick woolen cloak around him. Egil also bundled up and followed.
"...be serious, my lord," a female voice said with a hint of jest in her voice. "As far as anyone knows, I am still at the castle with my beloved husband. We can go anywhere we want, and that horrible seige can last forever for all I care."
"Aye," a man's gruff voice answered. "But the seige will end one day. They all do. Pray, what will you do when they discover the king's rotting corpse with your knife in his beloved chest?"
"That was a nice touch, wasn't it?"
Egil looked at Einar. Both men's eyes were wide with surprise. The queen was on this frozen road with just one retainer? How had she gotten out? And Rience was dead? The war was over!
"It was foolish," the man growled. "And you have given the prince another reason to hate you."
"I'll worry about that if he survives. Another stupid sally to take on the Duke's army may find him missing his head. If the Northmen don't do it, his own starving troops will."
"Perhaps. I hear they are eating rats and boiled shoe leather."
As the two clopped past, Einar motioned Egil to follow. They had no time to get back to camp for swords and noisy armor. Belt knives would have to do.
"You take the man, I'll take the woman," Einar said.
"Typical," Egil groused.
***
The bards did write songs about that night. As usual, they did not worry too much about the facts.
When they mentioned the "brave men of the north, bosom brothers, without fear" who were "tall as young trees" and prone to "maketh the ladies swoon," the Northmen did not complain.
When they sang of "the bloody fight to save the realm for the honorable Duke, the rightful heir" and "the dastardly queen, a murderer most foul, almost escaped," they shrugged. It was close enough to true. She had kicked Einar in the shoulder and slapped dainty heels to her mount, but Einar had grabbed her reins and that was that.
Egil, however, did have a "bloody fight" of sorts. He pulled the queen's companion - a member of the dead king's inner circle - off his horse, and the fool landed badly enough to break his neck. As he had fallen, his spur grazed Egil's cheek, leaving a small cut.
A day later, they had presented their royal prisoner to the duke along with the information they had overheard.
A week later, the war was over. After a parlay under a truce flag to quietly share the queen's treachery, the king was found dead, and a secret escape tunnel was found leading well outside the walls. Demoralized and abandoned by their murderous queen, none of the starving defenders had the fortitude to continue the fight.
When they sang of "the bloody fight to save the realm for the honorable Duke, the rightful heir" and "the dastardly queen, a murderer most foul, almost escaped," they shrugged. It was close enough to true. She had kicked Einar in the shoulder and slapped dainty heels to her mount, but Einar had grabbed her reins and that was that.
Egil, however, did have a "bloody fight" of sorts. He pulled the queen's companion - a member of the dead king's inner circle - off his horse, and the fool landed badly enough to break his neck. As he had fallen, his spur grazed Egil's cheek, leaving a small cut.
A day later, they had presented their royal prisoner to the duke along with the information they had overheard.
A week later, the war was over. After a parlay under a truce flag to quietly share the queen's treachery, the king was found dead, and a secret escape tunnel was found leading well outside the walls. Demoralized and abandoned by their murderous queen, none of the starving defenders had the fortitude to continue the fight.
The prince, the queen's stepson, was allowed to assume the crown. The Duke deemed him malleable enough. The new king's first royal negotiation was to ask, ever so sweetly, for his stepmother's return. That negotiation was still brewing.
The bards wasted no time making sure everyone knew it was the queen's foul deed, not some dishonorable assassination by the Duke, that had ended Rience's life.
After a month of fame and free drinks (and a few more jealous husbands), the world turned again, and Egil and Einar faded into the mists of legend.
The bards wasted no time making sure everyone knew it was the queen's foul deed, not some dishonorable assassination by the Duke, that had ended Rience's life.
After a month of fame and free drinks (and a few more jealous husbands), the world turned again, and Egil and Einar faded into the mists of legend.
Egil and Einar, sons of war
Laid siege along the river's shore
To see the Duke's great justice done
And seize the spoils and honors won.
Egil and Einar, sons of war
Justice done, an oath they swore
Egil and Einar, sons of war
Justice done, an oath they swore
They heard the queen, blood on her hands
Fleeing crimes 'cross sleeping lands
She boasted of her wicked deed
The sons of war now knew their need
Egil and Einar, sons of war
Justice done, an oath they swore
Egil and Einar, sons of war
Northman's sons, strong as a boar
They sprang upon the hate-filled queen
Subdued her guards, all seventeen
Bloody rage coursed through their veins
And so they brought the queen in chains
Egil and Einar, sons of war
Justice done, an oath they swore
Egil and Einar, sons of war
Justice done, a queen no more
///
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