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My name is Uhtred, son of Uhtred.

I was born a Saxon

but stolen and raised as a Dane.

Now I find myself bound
to King Alfred

and bound by marriage to Wessex.

I have a Christian wife

whom I care for

and a child I have never seen.

I have land, burdened with debt--

It is a substantial amount, lord.

Alfred could remove the debt,
but he has chosen not to.

--and a sly servant I cannot trust.

And though I miss the ways
of the Danes

and their hunger for life
and for battle--

Never cross Ubba
and never, never fight him.

--fate has stirred
my Saxon heart for a reason.

Ubba and his army returned
from Ireland.

And my fleet is where?

They left Lundene several days
ago and are nearly here, lord.

Destiny is all.

Lord?

Lord, when will you
need assistance?

Mildrith.

- Odda?
- Mildrith, thank God.

- What are you doing here?
- Come with me.

Peace is over,
we are under siege.

- Since when?
- Gather all you need quickly.

- Danes could be here any time.
- I cannot go.

- Yes, you can.
- If peace is over, what of Uhtred?

Mildrith,
the Danes have broken the truce.

We've killed all the hostages.
They'll have done the same.

If Uhtred has survived,
it can only be as a traitor, a Dane.

- No.
- Regardless,

it is no longer safe for you here.
You must come with me.

Mildrith, I beg you,
for the sake of your child.

Do not worry about us, lady,

we'll get ourselves
and the livestock to the hills.

Get yourself clear of this place.

Anything of value, I will bury!

Don't just pull. You'll have it torn.

- Find out what holds it.
- How much for your horse?

He's not for sale.

I'll give you twice its worth.

In silver.

Have any washed up alive?

Not on my beach.

God's taken hundreds
of the bastards.

Though hundreds more have landed
safely further up the shore.

Friends of yours?

You should take
your families to safety.

- Ertwit?
- He has your look.

- Definitely.
- Little Ertwit. Little Ertwit.

Well, let's hope he does not develop
my constitution. Hm?

My turn, my turn.

They are here.

Oh, shh, shh, shh.

Odda. Wulfhere.

- Lord.
- Lord.

Difficult times,
which we will face head-on.

- They never rest.
- Do we march as one, lord,

- or are we to split?
- We are split.

You both ride towards
the Severn River to face Ubba,

I ride south to Guthrum.

Should we not all be marching
to the Severn, lord?

If the first battle is won, then the Danes
may not care for a second.

Even in victory we can't be sure
of our surviving numbers.

Some of Guthrum's ships
will have made it to shore

and I cannot let him
simply walk through Wessex.

He must be faced.

Odda, should either of us have luck
and defeat our enemy quickly,

- we will march to the other's aid.
- Yes, lord, of course.

Prepare.

By God, girl,
you're a lovely field to plough.

A lovely field to plough.

Oh! Better than barley.

Better than barley. Oh!

By God, girl, better than barley.

Better than barley.

Yeah!

Better than barley!

Lord! Lord!

Forgive me. Never happened before,
I swear it'll never happen again.

- It was the girl's idea.
- Was not.

- Where's my wife?
- It was not my--

- Where's my wife and child?
- Wait. Wait, lord.

- She's with Lord Odda, the Younger.
- Odda?

Yes. He took the lady and your son.
Willingly to protect the child.

- My son?
- Yes, lord. You have a son.

Handsome little man he is.

Looks like his father.

I should take your balls
for this desecration.

- Yes, lor-- No, lor-- Please.
- I don't care for you, your wife,

- your children, your whore.
- He made me do it.

With the promise of coin.

It was false promise, lord,
I have no coin.

- I'll need a horse, food and drink.
- Yes. Your horse was returned.

It's in the stable.

- My house is not your house.
- No, lord. I beg your pardon, lord.

My land is not your land.

Treat me as a fool again
and I'll kill you.

Yes, lord.

I'll enjoy it.

I believe you would.

Leave me.

Uhtred...

..son of Uhtred.

We outnumber them, I feel.

We outnumber them
if you count the farm boys and women.

You fear them, Leofric?

- I do not. Though some do.
- It's not about fear, it's about strategy.

We hold the high ground,
they must come to us.

- If they decide to wait?
- Why would they?

Because we are sat isolated
on this high ground.

- And supplies are low.
- They don't know that.

We bide our time. Hold our position.

With luck, Alfred will see off Guthrum
and provide us with reinforcements.

For now we stay put

on this hill.

Lord.

They are gathering
and they're watching.

They have the higher ground.

But I do not want to wait.

So when do I attack?

- I'll cast the runes.
- Storri.

I'll need a clear answer.

I will get one.

I have your answer, lord.

Look, this is us
at the base of their hill,

they sit on top,

but that's not an advantage.

This is a feather from that camp,

bone-dry and faded.

Water runs down the hill, not up.

You have your wish, lord.
An early attack is good.

They're weak.

They will surrender or die...

..and then we move
into the heart of Wessex.

Shield wall!

Advance! One! Two!

- Horseman approaching!
- Halt.

Pick it up! You there, pick it up!

Go and fetch Lord Odda.

The Elder.

It is Uhtred.

- How could he have lived?
- We will ask.

Ealdorman,
we feared you'd been killed.

That you were not is
a miracle or something less godly.

- Where is she?
- What?

- Where's my wife and child?
- She's safe.

- You brought her?
- Safe! Did you not hear him?

- I took her to safety.
- Mildrith is with my wife!

On my land, in my house,

where she had lived happily
in the past. Put away your dagger.

Swear you haven't laid
a hand on her.

- I will do no such thing.
- Swear!

Lord.

You will take your blade away
from my lord and you will do it now.

Arseling.

You have my word that neither Mildrith
nor your son have been harmed.

I swear. Do as I ask.

Treason, but what can we expect?

Enough,
this in-fighting and argument!

Disperse, all of you!

Now!

Your wife remains my goddaughter.

You should be thanking my son,
not threatening.

Now, come to me
when your thinking is clear

and you explain to me why
you are still breathing and stupid!

You are back from the dead
and unchanged.

All you had to do
was get down and ask:

"Have you seen my wife?"

That would have been
the better choice, yes...

...but then young Odda
wouldn't have shit himself.

You've seen her? She's well?

She is well.

- The child, however...
- Sickly?

- Ugly.
- Like his father?

Worse, with the smallest of pebbles
for a penis.

Like his father.

If you wish to see him for yourself,
I say you leave the way you came.

I'm serious. We are stuck on this hill,

and here we will die.

- What does Odda say?
- Odda is a decent man,

but as a warrior, he has all the guile
and menace of a sheep.

We have the ground, the slope.

- I will not surrender that.
- If food is scarce,

- how long can we wait?
- We shall find food.

- For how many days, two, three--?
- Enough time for Alfred to arrive.

You reported that the storm
had taken most of Guthrum's ships.

- But not all.
- But enough, perhaps.

So we wait. Hm?

Agreed. For a time.

We give Alfred
as much time as possible.

I will offer negotiations. While
these negotiations are taking place,

we will send out hunting parties,
several.

Alfred will come.

I'll attend these negotiations
with Ubba.

You have not been invited.

It's my right.

If the other hostages were killed,
how did he survive?

He was taken as a child
by the Danes and he survived.

We would do well to follow him.

Follow him?

Or listen to what he has to say, lord,
is what I meant.

Lord Ubba.

May I present
the Lord Odda of Wessex.

There never seems to be a meeting
that you do not attend.

Is there more than one of you?

Lord Ubba,
Odda's Alfred's most trusted general.

I don't give a shit who he is.

All he needs to do is to surrender.

There will be no surrender.

What will there be?

There will be no surrender.

Though I do invite you
to return to your ships.

Guthrum may have broken the peace,
but no need for Ubba to do likewise.

We will not be returning to our ships.

And I shall not be moving
from this hill.

- You have no business in Wessex.
- My business is to kill you.

- You may try.
- Guthrum's fleet's gone.

Njord reached out from the deep

and dragged Guthrum's fleet
down to the seabed.

You're lying.

I watched the fleet die
and its men go under.

Storri, what do you say?

- I do not see for Guthrum. I see for you.
- Storri wears a stick up his arse.

- He didn't see that coming either.
- No--

That's a lie.
It's all lies. Look at his eyes.

You're next to die, Ubba.
I cast the runes.

- Even bigger lie.
- Ragnar the Fearless is with the gods.

They're angry at you.
You allow his death to go unpunished.

Avenging Earl Ragnar
is not my business.

- That's for his son.
- You're next to die, Ubba.

Then fight me!
And you'll see who's next to die.

- Fight me.
- Lord,

- we're negotiating.
- You will not say another word.

- He will not say another word.
- He will not. No.

Best not.

I will not say another word.

Talking is over.

You piece of weasel shit.

Storri.

Storri!

What now, eh?

- Where are we left? In shit?
- Now we have time.

How? You've made them want
to kill us even more.

We should attack.

My men are good men.

Though half of them are armed only
with reaping hooks, they're here.

Reaping hooks can kill.

How well do you know Ubba?

I've known Ubba
since I was 11 years old.

He's the greatest warrior
I've ever seen.

But he's cautious.
He listens to the gods, always.

I goaded him
only to make him doubt.

It will take a little while
for the doubt to clear.

You have your time.

But I say again, we should attack.

If we attack, we'll be outflanked.

My men will die. All of them.

I know each of them.

I'd hoped this hill
and Alfred might save them.

Us.

Alfred won't come.

The food won't last,
and Ubba's mind will clear.

It seems inevitable.
They'll take Wessex.

What if we were able
to outflank the Danes?

- How?
- We burn their ships.

Even just three or four,
they'd be running to the fire.

- Then we attack.
- They'll be disorganised, no shield wall.

We could be killing them
before they know we're there.

Who would set the fires?

I will.

Alone.

But I'll need your word that you'll attack
as soon as the fires have taken hold.

You have it.

If we succeed, lord,
you'll have saved Wessex.

If he succeeds and fires the ships,

it will undoubtedly cause panic
amongst the Danes.

Which is the aim.

How best do we use that panic?

Is an attack likely to be successful?

Would it not be better
to escape this hill?

We could return to Winchester
without the loss of a single man.

Excepting Uhtred.

Father, if what Uhtred says
about the storm is true,

and Guthrum's fleet
is all but destroyed,

we would join forces with Alfred.

We may well meet him on the road,

then we are all against Ubba.

As a strategy, it makes sense.

I gave him my word.

He will die

and you can call him a hero.

The others are here.

You must decide
what you will tell them.

I've called for you
to tell you to ready your men.

All men. Everyone.

- We shall be moving, soon.
- Moving, lord?

Ealdorman Uhtred's volunteered
himself to distract the Danes.

- He'll set alight their ships.
- He has gone?

- Yes.
- Alone?

Yes. If he should succeed in causing
this distraction, we will move.

- In which direction, lord?
- Ready your men. Tell them nothing.

Lord Odda, with respect,
you told us nothing.

- Ready your men.
- For battle?

Ready your men.

- Each of you. Go.
- Prepare.

Sisters.

I see nothing on the river.

- It will soon be first light.
- Can you not speak.

Very well.

Ships afire!

Ships afire!

Fetch buckets and barrels!

Lord Odda, we are ready,

but to do what?

He's done it.

Look, he's fired the ships.

We attack.

Lord? Lord, you awake?

- Lord.
- What?

- The ships have been fired.
- Ah!

- It's him. I know it.
- Yes.

You saw them dying on the hill.
Did you not see a fire?

I can only see what the runes allow.

- How many ships burn?
- I don't know. Many.

They are planning something,
they must be.

Lord.

There. That's him.

You! Uhtred Ragnarson!

You!

Are you afraid of me?

Man on man!

I will make the square!

Will you fight me?

Are you the son
of Ragnar the Fearless

or are you a coward?

I'll fight you, Ubba,
if that's what you want,

but you will die.

Fetch him a shield.

You're half naked, lord,
you might catch a chill.

This will not take long.

Was it you? The fires?

Must have been the gods.

They're angry with you.

First blood or to the death?

Get up! Get up!

You Saxon shit!

Go to Valhalla, lord.

Shield wall!

Now kill the bastards!

Tie them.

Tie them all together.

Form a chain.

Bind them tightly.

If any object,
march them into the river.

Get this inside your belly, arseling.

God knows you deserve it.

Lord Odda is hurt.

Badly.

He kept his word.

He would.

He's a good man.

A good ealdorman.

- I want Ubba buried with his axe.
- His axe has gone.

Young Odda wants him cut
into pieces.

- No.
- He'd have done the same to you.

He is Ubba, as close as the Danes
will ever come to a king.

I'll see he's buried.

You, you have a task ahead.

You go directly to Alfred
and you kneel at his feet,

and tell the bastard
you have saved Wessex.

No, I'll go to Mildrith.

If you don't do it, some other bugger
will and there will be reward.

Men have seen it.

They know what I've done.
Let them tell Alfred.

I need to see my son.

You're a turd.

A ball bag.

Is that the best you can do?

Nipple?

Lord.

I want to thank you
for not abandoning me.

I know that would have been
a choice,

a reasonable choice.

I'll go to your estate now,
to see Mildrith and my son.

You served Alfred well today.

Thank you, lord.

Who's there?

Forgive me,

you looked too beautiful to disturb.

You may disturb me.

Immediately.

Uhtred, son of Uhtred.

Who is the son of another Uhtred,
and another.

He has a kingdom to inherit.

I'll see that it happens.

Tomorrow or the day after,
we go home

and then to Winchester.

The three of us, yes.

Oh.

I'll go to Alfred

and he will fall at my feet.

- He will?
- He will.

He'll free us of our debt,
at the very least.

And we will build a great hall
and hold a feast.

I'd like that.

And I'd like Uhtred to be baptised.

In Winchester.

Father Beocca could perform
the ceremony.

He'd be pleased.

Uhtred, it's what I want.

God is good, Uhtred.

He kept you safe.

He brought you home to me.

My sword kept me safe.

Believe me,

God is good.

They've not yet gone to battle.

This is good.

I alone will speak.

Alfred is to hear one clear message.

How is the mood? In the camp?

It's good, lord.

The men are well.

Afraid?

No. No more than usual.

I, um...

I worry that I do not inspire them.

That they do not see me
as a warrior.

Lord...

Lord, it is Odda.

What is this?

Young Odda.

You have news?
Where is your father?

He was wounded in battle.

A great battle at Cynuit, lord.

Lord, I have a gift for you.

Ubba is dead.

His army is defeated.

- This is-- This is true?
- It is, lord.

- Two days ago.
- Praise God. Praise him.

Well, then Wessex is saved.

It is, yeah, for a time.

Guthrum will have no choice now
but to make peace.

As your father recovers, take his place.
His lands will be your lands and more.

Wessex is saved.

Everybody is walking to the palace.

A celebration.

It must be. A celebration of prayers.

Stop that.

I believe you did this.

The great hall is now full.
There is no more room.

The king thanks you all for coming,
but you need to pray here, outside.

- Father Beocca.
- The palace is full.

- Father Beocca.
- There'll be ale and food available.

Uhtred?

You are here before me now.

I am, and with my child.

Oh, God be praised. You are alive.

- Of course. Why shouldn't I be alive?
- You were at Wareham, a hostage,

- we thought you were dead.
- I was at Cynuit.

I fought at Cynuit.

Did they not say?

- I'll see Alfred now.
- What is it?

Nothing I'm sure that cannot
be resolved given time.

Uhtred.

- I'll see Alfred.
- Uhtred, Alfred is at peace.

Uhtred, please!

Uhtred, please.

You cannot disturb prayers.

Uhtred.

Uhtred, your sword!

- I'm told that you believe me dead?
- This is not the time.

Father Beocca here
believed me dead,

and yet just days ago
I was at Cynuit with Lord Odda.

It was Lord Odda and I
who devised our battle plan.

- Did the boy not say?
- Uhtred, stop, now.

- Perhaps you'd like to speak now?
- You will say nothing.

Perhaps describe Ubba's death?

Lord, I'd like to invite
the ealdorman here to join us

in giving thanks and prayer.

Giving thanks?

For what, for victory?
For the death of the pagan?

- Who do you think killed the pagan?
- I cannot save you.

I fought Ubba man on man
and I killed him.

It was his axe against my sword.
This sword!

Is there any man here
who will deny it?

Be still.

Everyone, be still and be silent.

I have heard enough.

You have said enough.
This is not seemly.

Now, sheath your sword
and remember where you stand.

Lord, what I'm saying to you--

You have broken my peace.
You have broken the peace of Christ,

brought weapons
into a sacred place.

- I'm telling you the truth.
- Go to the courtyard

and wait for me to pass judgement.

Judgement? For what?

- I've done nothing wrong--
- You will be quiet!

We will, um...

We will continue
with a moment of silence

to help find the peace once more.

This interruption cannot be allowed
to go unpunished.

It must be death.

Peace be with you, my dear.

Why are you unable to reason?
To show patience?

All I expect is justice.

- It comes to those who have faith.
- Now is not the time to talk of faith.

Now is precisely the time.

- Now is when it's needed.
- I'll have none of it.

You're too ready with anger.

There's a bad spirit within you
that needs to be exorcized.

You should look to God.

I'll pray for you.

Humility is what you need.

What I need, woman, is justice.

- You sober?
- Delicate.

You are to grovel.

- What, again?
- With me.

All I did was abscond
from a monastery.

- Ealdorman Wulfhere.
- You know this wretch?

We've met.

The king has sent me to punish you,
along with Aethelwold here.

What his wife would like is for me to pull
your guts through your smelly arse.

Aelswith is forever inventive.

Lady, you are to go to Aelswith
for comfort. She waits in the chapel.

Know the punishment for drawing
your sword before the king?

A fine.

- Payable to the church, no doubt?
- Death.

But Alfred is feeling merciful.

You will not dangle, not today.

He wants your assurance
you will keep the peace.

- What peace?
- His peace, you fool.

It does not matter a gnat's dick
that you killed Ubba.

What matters is that Odda the Younger
has claimed the credit.

Should his father die
from his wounds,

Odda becomes one of the richest men.
Men will want to praise his bravery.

- My bravery.
- Not a gnat's dick.

The sun now shines
from Odda the Younger's arsehole,

and it is blinding.
Do you understand me?

Good.

You are to do penance.

To do what?

Grovel.

You are to dress like a girl,
go on your knees and be humiliated.

- I won't grovel.
- Then Aelswith gets her wish

and I pull your guts through your arse.
Which will it be?

On your knees.

Now you will crawl
all the way to the palace

where you will kiss the cross
and lie flat down on your face.

And then what?

God and the king will forgive you.

- Go.
- That's it.

- Go on, then.
- Get down.

Go.

That's what you get.

Take it like a man.

I will lead,

but you owe me.

- What?
- Oh!

Oh, lord, I am a sinner!

Do not look at me.

- You are.
- I am a sinner, lord,

as big a sinner as you will ever see!

- You got that right.
- I have known women, lord!

Lots and lots of women.

Lucky bugger.

Women of all sizes.

The big tits, small tits.

I have squeezed and kissed them all.

I have rested my head
on the bosoms of beautiful

but bad, bad women, lord.

Forgive me.

I have lost count
of the number of women I have had,

but I know it is exactly half
the number of tits I have caressed.

Oh, God, I love tits!

Send me an angel, lord.

What, so you can hump her?

A titless angel to guide me.

No more servant girls
in my bedchamber, lord.

Please.

I beg you.

You must lay flat

and kiss the cross.

Kiss my arse.

You and your God.

Uhtred. Uhtred, stop.

We're leaving this place.

- We can't.
- Collect your belongings.

It will be dark soon,
and there's the baptism.

- It's important.
- My son will not be baptised.

No priest will whisper lies and deceit
into his ears, half drown him in water.

- You're angry.
- He will be a pagan like his father!

Why are you saying this?

We'll stay tonight, no longer.
I'll find you in the morning.

- Where are you going?
- Drinking.

And whoring.

I love tits.

When we appreciate the finer points
of the tit,

the smaller tits, the manageable tit,

the perk, eager, delighted tit,
the soft enveloping tit,

the tit that makes you feel at home,

like a puppy's nose,

grateful, eager, receptive to the touch.

How are your knees?

I can't laugh about it.

--enveloping tits...

There's no justice here.

Only the Church.

You knew that.

I hear you're young Odda's man now.

I'm passed from father to son, yes.
Like the land.

I can't stay in Wessex.

You have a wife,
a child you could not wait to see.

Where would you go?

Odda is afraid that you will kill him.

Tell him I might.

Tell him each night,
before he goes to bed.

I need to find wealth,

but here it's impossible.

The Danes,
they would see it and take it.

Then that is what we do.

We become Danes and we plunder.

Men will follow you.
Those men we have schooled,

others who were at Cynuit,
they will follow you.

You're saying that we raid?

We find wealth and we take it.

- Here in Wessex?
- No.

You do not shit at your own table.

Cornwalum.
We take it from the Britons.

Do not say yes.

Not yet. Think.

I'll do the same.

But why should Odda be rewarded
and not us?

Lord.

Welcome.

I was not expecting you home
so soon.

Did the baptism go well?

It's a fine tree.

- Good day, lady.
- A miserable day.

Where was it felled, this tree?

On the top ridge, lord.

On my land?

Yes, lord. I'm taking it
to Wigulf's Mill for splitting.

- He buys it?
- He splits it, lord.

We need, uh...
We need timber for repairs.

He takes his payment in split wood.

We need timber,
why not split it ourselves?

- Wigulf has always done it, lord.
- So if I go to Wigulf,

he'll tell me how many such trees
he has split,

and you'll show me the timber?

How much is a tree like this worth?
Eight, nine shillings?

I'm not certain, lord.

How much does he pay you
for my timber?

Lord, it is one tree.

- How much does he pay you?
- Lady, please.

How much does he pay you
for my timber?

- Uhtred, no.
- You be quiet.

Uhtred.

Uhtred!

That was justice.