Chapter Text
Ragnar poked his head into the small temple and slowly entered, Leif and Erik following him quickly and all three of them immediately focusing on the gold and silver cups and bowls and candlesticks that lined the room. Ragnar crossed the room in a few strides, glancing up at a wooden carving of a man on a cross before picking up a bowl and examining it carefully.
"I do not understand." Leif was still staring around the room. "Why would they leave such treasures unprotected? Is there some...some spell? Or some magic which protects them?"
Erik glanced at his son before walking over to a small table and picking up a candlestick, pausing for a moment before turning back to the other two, a small grin on his face. "It appears not."
"Maybe they think their god protects them..." Ragnar mused, still studying the bowl he was holding.
Erik scoffed and studied the wooden carving above Ragnar, gesturing to it with his axe. "If this is their god, then he is dead," he announced dismissively. "He is nailed to a cross."
"He cannot help anyone!" Leif sounded close to laughter as he joined his father. "He is not alive like Odin, Thor or Freyr!"
The three of them chuckled together before a soft noise, like a knock against wood, sounded from behind the large altar at the end of the room. All three men were immediately on guard, gripping their axes tightly as they turned towards the noise. Perhaps Leif had been right after all and there was some kind of magic here...
Ragnar crept silently towards the altar, his axe raised, and finally dived down behind it, reaching out with his hand...and pulling out a small child. He let out a small grunt of surprise and dropped the boy onto the floor. He glanced round at Leif and Erik and they looked back at him with identical expressions of shock and trepidation. The boy remained lying where he had fallen, gazing up at Ragnar with tear-filled blue eyes beneath a mess of brown curls. He clutched a book that seemed far too big for him to his chest as though it would protect him.
Ragnar eyed the strange object the boy held and grabbed it from him, flicking through the pages and studying the writing and illustrations he discovered inside it. As soon as the book was torn from his grasp, the tears that had been building in his eyes spilled over and streamed down his cheeks, and he waved his hands towards the book, wailing. Ragnar raised an eyebrow and quickly pressed the book back into the boy's hands, remembering how attached Bjorn had been to the wooden boat Ragnar had carved for him when he was younger. He sighed as the boy instantly calmed down again and he glanced again at Leif and Erik, silently asking them for guidance. They tried to avoid killing women and children on their raids wherever possible, but if Ragnar just left this little one here, it would be as good as killing him. There was little choice left but to take him with them. And besides, Ragnar found himself being reminded of Gyda when he looked at the child in front of him. Wordlessly, he grasped the boy's robes and lifted him up, sitting him on the altar to look at him properly.
At that moment, there was a clatter as the temple doors were flung open and Ragnar turned to see his brother striding in, casually cleaning blood off his axe. "This is a strange place indeed," Rollo remarked with a bemused smile at Ragnar. "We have been everywhere and we have found no women. Just these strange men." He turned and gestured to the small crowd gathering outside. "Take what you can. This is what we came for." He grinned at Ragnar and strode forwards, but suddenly stopped as he came close enough to see over Ragnar's shoulder. He stared at the boy, who was busy watching the flood of Northmen enter the temple and take all the bowls and plates and candlesticks. Ragnar glanced back at the boy, feeling a touch of sadness at the traumatised look on his face, before turning back to face his brother who was glaring at him. "Where did you find this one?"
"He was hiding. Behind this altar." Ragnar spoke calmly, ignoring his brother's glare. "I am taking him back to Kattegat with us. If necessary, we can sell him as a slave."
"There is no room left on the boat," Rollo countered quickly. "And besides, no one would ever take such a runt for a slave. We should just leave him here."
Ragnar's eyes turned cold and he stepped closer to Rollo, subtly making him move away from the boy. "I forbid it," he said simply.
Rollo glared at him and bared his teeth a little in a snarl. "How can you forbid it, little brother? We are equals..." His voice was dangerously quiet and his eyes glittered as he looked down at Ragnar.
Ragnar ignored his brother's confrotational stance and merely tilted his head. "Does it really mean that much to you, brother..? He is too young to live here on his own... You would kill a child younger even than your niece?"
Rollo glared at Ragnar for a moment longer before the quiet sound of the boy's sniffling and crying reached his ears. He sighed heavily and looked away from Ragnar, his gaze lighting on the carved figure on the wall. Gripping his axe tightly, he strode over to it and with two strong swings of his axe he cut the arms of the cross clean off. Breathing heavily, he stormed over to the trembling child and gripped his thin arm tightly, growling in his ear. "This is what we care for your god! If you cause any trouble on the boat, I will toss you over the side myself."
His threat made, he turned on his heel and stormed back outside, pushing past Leif roughly. The others slowly filtered out after him, and soon it was just Ragnar and the child left. The man sighed deeply and shook his head at the sound of the boy's continuing sobs, and he carefully picked the child up off the altar and held him close, gently pressing the boy's face against his shoulder so that he wouldn't see what had become of his home and the men who had shared it with him.
As they went out into the courtyard, one of the captured men sitting on the ground leapt to his feet as he saw Ragnar emerge from the prayer hall with his prize. Arne and Torstein immediately grabbed the man and forced him to his knees again. When the boy lifted his head from Ragnar's shoulder and met the eyes of the man, he quickly began wriggling to get free. Ragnar knelt down and set the child on the ground, scared of dropping him (again), and watched with curiosity as he trotted over to the kneeling man who immediately scooped him into his arms, looking at Ragnar fearfully.
Ragnar frowned slightly as he watched the two of them. Maybe this was the child's father...it would be a shame if he was; Ragnar had been getting quite attached to the little one. To take his mind off it, Ragnar quickly began ordering them all back to the ship. Ropes were fitted around the captives' necks, including the child's even though both he and the others cried and shook their heads, and they were dragged up and through the broken gates of the shattered monastery, the child's sobs providing a vocalisation to all of their feelings as bits and pieces of their home were carried away with them by grinning Northmen, all happy with the way things had turned out.