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The Christians have it easy. When they trespass against the nailed god’s laws or wishes, they go to one of their priests and ask forgivness. Usually their priest tells them to give their god several prayers and some tithes in silver and gold. Their god certainly has a taste for gold, or maybe that’s just his clergy. No matter, they don’t give sacrifice of life like we do, with the exception of some old histories from across the sea where their god was born. But apparently not since then. Living sacrifices must be made sometimes. Most of the time it is goats, sheep maybe even a cow now and then, depending on the favour we ask of the gods. But now the dark times have arrived again and no small sacrifice will suffice. The priestess Bellyra, young though she is, tells me that the old priestess Llinos, taught her about the times before the [[romans]] came. Back then we Cellydons made human sacrifices to the gods, especially to the lord of the wild hunt so that he would spare our people and even grant us success in our own hunts. It looks like the time for human sacrifices have come again and this time it is not to grant us success in our hunts or to make the fields grow. No, now we must make a sacrifice to placate Tiss so that he doesn’t vent his anger on my family. His fury was lessened by the love of my life, [[Brangwen]], giving up her life after having birthed our last son, [[Bryce]]. It was not enough though to even the scales for the sacrilege committed by the damned Fenris clan. Now, I have personally killed several of Saexwolf’s kinsmen and warriors and many of those deaths have been harsh. Many deaths in battle are. But only the death of [[Ansgar]], Saexwolf’s cousin, will finally wash the slate clean with Tiss. Until then steps and measure have to be taken. The triplets captured one of the Fenris raiders during this year’s fighting. They took him alive, if injured, and had a mind to ransom him. I told them the details of the family feud and they graciously gave me the man to do with as I please. I will have to remember to reward them for their kindness. The Fenris [[saxon]], Aethelstan by name, doesn’t speak our tongue. I still have Aethelswith’s whore as my prisoner though and I intend to make good use of her. Maybe not the way she feared, on her back or on her knees, but rather as source of information on [[names]] of important [[saxon]] chiefs and where the [[Saxons]] [[travel]] so that I can avoid them when I finally go after my daughter. And also as an interpreter. I told her to tell Aethelstan what is about to happen to him. He tried to put on a brave face and grunted something about going to [[Wotan]]. I made sure that he understood that he will never see the [[saxon]] war god but rather would be in the keeping of Ol’Tiss for the rest of eternity. He paled visibly but still tried to put on a brave face. It doesn’t matter, he will still die. I also told the woman, Hildur, that she would meet the same fate if she didn’t cooperate. I also told her that she would go free in the end if she gave me everything that I want. The priestess has made her preparations since yesterday. Her face and body is painted red and black with sacred muds and paints. She only wears a small loincloth and some bones and herbs braided into her hair. Her body still harbours the vigour and beauty of youth as she dances in front of the burial hill beating on her drum and chanting at the top of her lungs in language of the gods. My family and household, every last one of them including my new wife [[Mati]] and all my children, stands gathered around the hill and watches the proceedings. The old women of the family answers the chants with strange howls of their own. These rites have not reverberated through these [[forests]] in many ages of men. Two of my closest man-at-arms are holding the [[saxon]] prisoner between them, tied up both hands and feet. He has been given strange herbal draughts to drink to make him more amendable. At the urging of the priestess they drag him forward towards the entrance into the hill, the fear in their eyes almost the equal of the fear in Athelstan’s eyes. The priestess leads the procession into the hill whilst keening out a strange lament and an appeasement directed towards our old ancestor. The day darkens when the sacrifice passes the threshold and for a while I swear that I see the shadow of a man being thrown from the top of the hill where no man stands. The only one who follow the procession into the hill is me. I want to make sure that the sacrifice happens the way it is meant. The [[saxon]] is dragged furthest into the hill past many of my most important ancestors. Nowadays uncounted generations share the alcoves and my bones will one-day rest next to one of my forefathers. Reaching the end of the tunnels under the hill, there is a room that has never been opened in recent memory. The stones blocking the room has been removed and behind is a small chamber containing an old armour and ancient [[weapons]] strangely untouched by age. There is also an old stone slab that has been draped with a red and black cloth. The men drag Athelstan up to the bier and place him on top of it and tie him down. Bellyra draw some final signs on the cursed and soon to be dead [[saxon]]. When she is done, the four of us leave the chamber and then we start bricking up the chamber again. Excepting the priestesses keening, there is only the sound of stones being stacked atop one another. It is when we are done and are on our way out from the hill that the screaming begins. It is almost as terrifying as the howl of a banshee and has no right coming out of the throat of any man, but nevertheless that is what we hear as Ol’Tiss claims the life and soul of Aethelstan.
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