The Son Of Ragnar

439  Bishop Wilfrid

Hagen was fast at work, repairing the gate he had damaged with the help of the other Vikings.

Even the Christians were amazed by how proficient he was in this craft, it was like watching a master at work. He fixed what they couldn't fix but in their defense, they were also guarding against a potential enemy attack.

Hagen could do so easily because he was the one that was destroyed and hence knew the root of the problem, they didn't have time because he knew that there would be resistance from beyond the wall so the best thing they could do was fix it.

This would increase their chances of survival, the bodies that Tyr had left at the shore were seen by the returning party.

They noticed that Bishop Calvin was missing alongside the massacre that took place on the other ship so they returned to Northumbria.

They correctly guessed that the Vikings must have made their way while this might be good news because there was now something that could transport them out of here.

It was terrible news because it only strengthened the enemy's army but luckily, Northumbria fell before this.

Tyr knew that they had to move fast and so did Ragnar, time was the enemy and every second counts hence why Ragnar did what he did.

He knew that it would force everyone to react swiftly or risk losing him.

They may be at odds with one another but they knew the implication of losing Ragnar.

Not that his sons would ever allow it in the first place but sometimes these things couldn't be avoided.

The warriors at the shore saw the state of their dead Bishop, it was surprising that the Christians didn't offer them a proper burial but instead chose to leave them in that state.

Even though the warriors on the boat met some Christians looking after the shoreline to make sure that the enemy didn't have any more surprises coming from the sea.

This wasn't the time to mourn but they were taken down from the spikes in which they were mounted and arranged in line.

The graves had been dug but they were yet to drop the bodies inside.

"Bishop Calvin!?" A warrior screamed at the top of his lungs, the sorrow in his voice resonating with how Calvin's men were feeling.

"The devils did this…" A man with a shovel muttered but they didn't need to be told twice.

"The devils came from the sea, I don't know how they managed to take Calvin and get past you but they did," The man with the shovel continued, pushing the blame at their incompetence.

If they had noticed this a lot sooner or Calvin was guarded a lot better, there was no way that they would have survived a battle on the sea with the boats that they came in.

"Say that again…!" The man mourning wanted to confront the one holding the shovel but a man appeared that brought this building conflict to a halt.

"That is enough…" His deep voice echoed and everyone that just arrived looked surprised that this man was present.

"B-Bishop Wilfrid!" The man who was about to beat the individual with the shovel muttered.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say this was the most fearsome warrior Bishop in Northumbria.

He rarely partook in battles because his strength was never matched on the battlefield, he always slayed his enemies with a single hit and this earned him the nickname, The Sword Of The Divine.

They immediately stopped their bickering and gave the Bishop the respect he deserved.

"I bring you all bad news but it isn't just Bishop Calvin that has fallen," Wilfrid began, he didn't address them as his inferiors but gave them the same respect he would have given anyone else.

"Northumbria has fallen as well," Wilfrid delivered the news and everyone froze because this shouldn't be possible with the numbers that they saw.

Northumbria should have easily gotten rid of them if anything but to say they fell was something that shouldn't be possible.

"There is no time to bury the dead, I know they won't forgive us for putting them to rest when the Kingdom they died to protect has fallen," Wilfrid said, providing an answer as to why he didn't bury them.

"We will make a promise to the dead before us, that we will give them a befitting burial once we reclaim Northumbria," Wilfrid said and this acted as a prep talk, giving the warriors around him a new reason to believe.

The belief that God was on their side, the belief that this was a test for them to overcome.

Wilfrid walked up to a horse that had a unique helmet on it, before mounting.

It was a black horse that had a fiery look in its eyes but this was the only horse that Wilfrid had ridden ever since he became a Bishop.

Wilfrid had slicked-back black hair with a slender body frame, begging the question of how he was able to kill his enemies with one strike, was this an exaggeration by his people or was this truly how strong he was?

He was small and had a rather average height of 5' 9, the man was in his early twenties yet already had such a name for himself.

Everyone believed that if he was in Northumbria when the Vikings took it over, they wouldn't have succeeded.

Wilfrid looked at the dead one last time before doing the sign of the cross, he knew that they were cut down before their time but he also knew that God's time was the best.

There was no fighting against it for God's will is supreme but this angered Wilfrid.

The fact that people thought they could come in here and do as they liked?

"Tyr…" Wilfrid muttered under his breath, he knew the sons of Ragnar were a target but something told him that Tyr was the most troublesome of the sons.

Wilfrid had decided that Tyr would fall on his sword and no one else.