Ivar looked at the woman that stood surrounded by his men. Fighting off all his supposedly brave Vikings, with little more than a dagger that she had somehow gotten her hands on. The woman snarling at anyone that tried to get close. She wasn't a Saxon; no Saxon woman that he had seen looked like this. Nor had he seen a Saxon woman fight like she was doing. Ivar smiling broadly, as she kicked the latest men trying to grab her, in the stomach; the man doubling over as the breath was knocked out of him, before she brought up her knee, right into his face. The dark prince able to hear the crunch of the man's nose breaking from where he was; causing the youngest son of Ragnar, to laugh out loud. The noise though, making the wild looking woman turn her attention to him. Ivar leaning forward, as he saw the murderous rage, the utter hatred; and dare he say, just a little bit of fear. Yet she was not showing that she was scared of them; not any of them. In fact, the prince was sure that if she had got her hands on a sword, she wouldn't stop until she had killed every last one of them.

"What do you think she is?" Hvitserk asked, as he came to join his brother. The two sons of Lothbrok looking down on her, as she stopped glaring at Ivar, so she could once more growl at the warriors and shieldmaidens who were now regretting releasing her from the metal cage in which she had been confined.

"I don't know, but she is interesting. This one woman puts up more of a fight, than an entire Saxon army." Ivar chuckled again, before pushing himself to his feet and leaning over the top of the wall.

"You call yourself warriors, yet you are all scared of one young woman." The prince mocked, as he slowly made his way towards the stairs, taking each step at a time, until he was stood in the courtyard. The crowd of Vikings parting, as the young Ragnarsson slowly pulled his legs forward. The woman dropping her dagger for a moment, as her eyes focused on his braces, and on the crutch that helped support him.

"Do I have to do everything myself." Ivar continued, before turning his attention fully to the strange woman. The prince speaking in the language of the Saxon's.

"What are you............?" Ivar called out, as he took a step toward her.

"Who are you.............?" The prince tried again. Beginning to grow annoyed with her lack of an answer. It was one thing being able to fight off his warriors with only a knife, that had been quite amusing; but to not answer his questions.........did she not know who he was. Did she not know that he was Ivar the Boneless?

"You will tell me who and what you are. Or I will............." Ivar letting out a loud, pained grunt, as he suddenly found himself on his back. The strange woman straddling his waist with her dagger at his throat. The sting of metal piercing his skin, only ending when she fell, unconscious, to his side. Ivar looking up to see his brother standing over him. Hvitserk holding out his hand for Ivar to take and helping him from the floor. The two looking at one another, before setting their eyes on the now silent woman. Ivar ordering some of the men to take her away; for her to be bound and guarded, while he did his best to find out something about this strange woman.

                                                              >>-------------------------------<<

"You released her........? Heahmund asked from where he was still chained to the floor. Letting out an amused snort, as Ivar nodded.

"Then she is your problem.........." The bishop continued, before closing his eyes once more. Ivar becoming as frustrated with the warrior, as he was the woman that could have killed him, if not for Hvitserk hitting her on the head, with the hilt of his sword.

Ivar had no idea why he would come to the bishop, other than the fact that he had no one else to really ask about the female; and given what the Christian had just said, it would appear that he had come to the right person. Though he did wish the older man would stop being quite so infuriating.

"And what makes her such a problem........?" Ivar countered, doing his best to not lose his temper. A temper that was already frayed from nearly getting stuck with a dagger, not long before.

"Who is she........what is she...........? Heahmund letting out a heavy sigh at the questions, as he stopped praying, and opened his eyes.

"I have no idea who she is; but what she is..........is a Celt from north of the roman wall. She and some of her people were caught during a raid in Northumbria. From my experience, she and those like her, are little different to you and your people; though unlike you, they are no longer pagans. They worship my God............." The bishop explained, watching as the son of Ragnar seemed to muse for a moment over the information.

"And what is she doing here..........?" Ivar finally enquired, leaning forward as he eyed the bishop. Heahmund looking down to the floor and acting as though he had not heard Ivar's question. A smile coming to his lips, as he saw how uncomfortable the warrior appeared.

"You bought her, didn't you......? She is your slave.........? Did you buy her to warm your bed........To suck your cock......?" Ivar laughed, as he used his crutch to help him to his feet.

"Did she refuse you, so you had her locked in that cage..........?" Ivar continued. The bishop closing his eyes and ignoring the mocking chuckle from the boy.

"Well, perhaps you should have a little reunion. Maybe I will have her brought in here and you can see if she is more willing to do as you want, now you are the one chained. And given she seems to be able to get her hands on a dagger, from nowhere, it could be quite interesting to watch." The dark prince added, as he made his way to the door of the cell. The prince having got the answers to some of his questions; but for the rest of the answers, he believed that it was best to go to the source.