“This cur does not deserve the blood eagle,” Harald, the clan chief, declared.
Having once witnessed the ritual, I considered him not tearing out my ribs and ripping out my lungs to be almost merciful.
“I want a memento of my greatest victory,” Harald added.
Still, I hoped my end would be swift. Perhaps to satisfy the chief’s bloodthirst they might simply lop off my head?
As the executioner approached the block to which I was tied, I saw, instead of an axe, he carried his keenest knife.
My fate was confirmed when Harald spoke again.
“Bring me his face!”
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