Atuen woke to the sound of his father fumbling about in the darkness of their hovel.

“Shiten,” Ermenred cursed.

“Farder?” Atuen called. He levered himself upright, pushed away his bedding, and set his feet upon the earthen flooring.

“Abstainen, Atuen. Duu mussen waken marder,” Ermenred insisted. But Atuen ignored his father and hurried to retrieve the glimmering blade his youthful eyes had spotted not far from his bed.

Picking it up off the ground, the dagger felt heavy and cold in Atuen’s hand, and it shimmered in the moonlight peeking through the cracks in their hovel’s roof. Ermenred straightened his broad frame before his son as Atuen gazed incredulously at the weapon.

“Given de dagger to mi, Atuen.”

“Duu be maken de noise, noht mi.”

Ermenred breathed in the damp that overwhelmed the room and watched his son turn the knife about. Light bounced off the weapon and Atuen followed the glinting beams to the far wall where a spatha longsword and scale armour were balanced upright next to the egress.

“Widukind be kamen back, Atuen,” Ermenred said, following his son’s stare. “Wi be uniten with hem against Karel de Grutte.”

“Charlemagne.” Atuen looked up at his father with exuberance, but Ermenred slapped him hard across the face.

“Duu be abstainen with de Frank-speaken, Atuen,” he said, glaring down into his son’s eyes as they rapidly filled with tears. He breathed in and reached out to his boy, grasping Atuen’s shoulder tightly with thick shaking hands. “Duu be understanden, some day, Atuen,” Ermenred said. “But to bedd for de now.” He ruffled Atuen’s flaxen hair as he took the dagger away from him.

“Ermenred? Atuen?” Atuen’s mother stirred. Atuen glanced back at his mother’s bed, and then at his father, but Ermenred silenced his son with a stare and nodded the boy back to his covers.

Atuen sank into the warmth of his bed and watched his father take up the armour. Ermenred strapped it over his tunic. His father then drew a thick sheepskin cloak over the top of the armour and fixed it into place. Ermenred twirled up his matted hair into a knot to the side of his head and looked back at his wife, daughter, and then his son. He lingered for a heartbeat on Atuen. A momentary breath passed between them. Ermenred turned away from his son and gathered up his sword, and then, he was gone.

“Farder?” Atuen whispered.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...