A golden-furred hound paced out of the cabin like a lord, and the sailors were already familiar with this proud beauty, whose master, Father Elfwin, was a lovable fellow, who always liked to claim to have the blood of an ancient prince.

"Juana, come here!" The priest's fingers hooked slightly, revealing a serpentine black jade ring.

The day before yesterday on the shore, Elfwin passed by the ruins of a village, a "Norman legacy" that could be found everywhere on the southern coast, with no trace among the ruins, just like the areas destroyed by the plague. It was here that Juana was gone, and Elfwin frantically searched everywhere, followed by a mercenary who followed him to collect herbs, with a leather helmet around his neck and a spear for nothing.

In the end, it happened that the mercenary whom Edward had sent to him found the priest's dog, which also proved the truth of God's preference for drunkards, when he was holding on to a dead tree to "water", Elfwin was sweeping on the other side like a lonely ghost, and the mercenary looked up, and there she was, lying quietly among a cluster of sunflowers in the abandoned garden.

For the rest of the day, both the priest and the mercenary were moved by the peaceful scene in the ruins of the soldier, and the two men stood in the garden, their spears and shields lying on the ground.

After this, Elfwin mingled with the soldiers, and everyone on board, including Captain Edward, liked to hear him read his own poems, and Edward had always thought that the priest had brought too many scrolls of paper on board, and even thought that he had brought all his books from the parishion.

"We went to war with the Danes, not with the bishops." Edward complained at the time.

However, the captain soon discovered that, although it sounded similar to Iason, Ulysses, and Mardoon, Elfwin's scroll was entirely his own work, and was about his own ancestors.

“Fela bi? on Westwegum werum uncú?ra, wundra and wihta, wlitescéne lond...", a poem about a lost road, in which one of Elfwin's eponymous ancestors originally wrote about the now-mutilated past, which Elfwin perfunctory into a long poem of three thousand four hundred and ninety-one lines:

Elfwin the Traveler said that in the West, there are all things magnificent and strange that are unknown to mankind, and that the territory is extremely beautiful, and it is the homeland of the elves and the blessed land of the gods. The ancient world was closed to mortals, and no one knew what their desires were.

Elfwin sometimes spoke a peculiar language, completely different from the language of the northern world, and he called himself "Earendil", just as he called his distant ancestors, Elfwin and Elendil meant the same thing: Friend of the Elves.

The priest first told the story of his ancestor, Elfwin, the son of Edwin, who followed Edward the Elder's Elder Orda the Elder to the Sagas in Ireland. Later, the poem mentions that one night when the Danish ships were attacking, his ancestors captured a Knoll ship and crossed the ocean on an expedition in search of the legendary kingdom of King Scheafa.

At the edge of the world, where all boats and birds fell, the Danish ship sank while his ancestors woke up on an unknown coast.

Elfwin described the overseas fairy island in a longing tone, where the trees grew in Iresia, and when the sun receded from the green roof and the twilight descended into the forest, the song of the Noldor race resounded through the ancient halls.

"My lord, all the races and wars I have told are true, and those bloodlines are older than the Saxon ancestors Mertin and Merpdin told of the ancient poet Videsis, and among the heirs of Elendil is my bloodline, King Hengist."

"Lord Elfwin, we are only mortals, and we don't know anything about what you say, but it is glad to hear you tell these stories, if one day I can pay off my debts, maybe we can go to the West, I have been sailing the Icelandic seas in the past, and I have heard many legends, and the red-haired Eric's Vinland is the most western name I have ever heard, and your dreams may be there."

That night, the two were drunk in the cabin, leaving the war behind, Edward's gray beard flickering in the candlelight, and the priest and his dog cuddled to sleep.

King Edgar is remorseful, he is not a man who is used to betraying, although he has had a lover or two in a previous life, but it is only a pastime during the war. Maybe it's an old illness this time? Edgar didn't want Emma to know about this woman, maybe it was just an unrealistic fantasy, the wife was a Frank and didn't like the war, but after all, this was a man's domain, and if Emma wanted to start her own war, this one in bed would be the best object.

Bertilda woke up just in time to see the whale oil lamp not burned out, which made her eyes a little blurred. It took a long time for Bertilda to fully awaken from her blindness caused by the white light, and before she could regain her sight, a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders.

The intense pleasure immediately pierced her, the hot suffocation, the fingers that swirled on the surface of the wet slit, she resisted the urge to wring her legs, embarrassment and lust intertwined—too long, the last time Eric ...... Besides, Eric had never touched her body like this, she felt the weight and warmth of the other man's thighs, and her long hair was once again scattered, obliquely covering one side of her breasts, and the other half was covered by his palm.

When the king re-entered Bertilda, the sound could be heard almost throughout the camp.

Prince Eric didn't care much about his wife sleeping with the king, at least on the surface, and when he found out that the English were really preparing for a big war, he had sworn his allegiance to the king, and a reliable Danish king was what all England wanted to see, so Eric gained a lot of "friendship" in the camp of the English king.

"What are they doing?" Prince Eric asked the Northumbrian curiously.

"Oath." Count Volsiov had a solemn expression, and the count had no contempt for the prince, and patiently explained, "We Saxons are to make a wine oath before our comrades and blood relatives before war, and you can listen to your lordship if you wish." ”

So the Danish prince heard the famous oath that his ancestors had heard in the English banquet hall:

“I? swere befōran ?isse dryhte ?? t i? tō?? m dēa?e fōr mīnum cyninge feohte.? if mīn cyning o?? e mīn eorl ācwele， i? nime his stede and feohte swā swā hē fuhte.? if ?ni? man hēr sēo mē mid wācode heortan and iernende on we? hē mē?emanian sceal ?? t ?es ā? hēr befōran mīnum cynne dōna w?s.”

(I swore before my teachers that I would fight for my king.) If my king and my lord fall, I will replace him with my body, and the bloody battle will not stop. If anyone here sees that my heart is shaken and flees before the enemy, let him remind me of the oath I have made today before all my blood relatives. ）