“I may be blind, but I do sense that we are not alone, my jarl.”
“Really?” Throst sighed and Ulfrik heard him shifting on his bench. “Very well, we can meet in my room. Of course, you will be searched first. Safety always.”
“Doubtless, my jarl.” Ulfrik held his hands wide. As one who has too often delivered the knife to the back, he thought, you do well to be careful.
Rough hands searched him, lazily patting his sides and boots but finding nothing. A man lifted the staff from his hands and Ulfrik thought it realistic to protest.
“You would not deny a blind man his walking stick?”
“I would, and I am,” Throst said. “A man is just as dead from a broken skull as he is from a cut throat. Your son will guide you, after all. Come.”
Finn gathered Ulfrik’s arm to his side and led him up the high table into a room that was once again filled with others. He guessed at least two more beside Throst. He did not want to peek beneath his blindfold for the risk of revealing his sight.
“Are we alone? I do not think so.”
“Enough with these demands, Halfdan. If that’s truly your name. I am as alone as I ever am. Your message?”
Bowing again, he licked his lips. “Jarl Hrolf the Strider sends you his greetings.”
Silence.
He heard bodies shift, a low hiss to his right, yet from before him where Throst stood he heard nothing. Ulfrik waited, hoping for a sign that the two were allied. His next words had to fit their relationship or he and Finn might not live another breath longer. He sensed the same tension he felt in a parley just before battle, when each side tried to intimidate the other into surrender. Despite what he believed about Hrolf and Throst’s alliance, Ulfrik decided on his approach.
“He wishes to discuss cooperation.”
Throst exploded with laughter, though the others remained quiet. Ulfrik’s gut tensed, expecting a punch. Instead, Throst clapped his hands together as he regained himself.
“The great Jarl Hrolf the Strider wishes to cooperate with little Throst Shield-Biter? My last message from Hrolf was a clear description of where he intended to display my severed head. Now he sends a blind old man and his so-called son as his representatives?”
“We are expendable and discreet rep—”
“Be silent!” He felt Throst draw closer. He smelled of ale and sweat. Ulfrik’s hands trembled in a killing rage, but Throst continued. “What proof do you have?”
“I do not trust this one, Brother.” The third person spoke up, a woman’s voice. Ulfrik recalled a plain, shrinking girl who had been Throst’s sister. “There is something not right.”
“It’s the blindfold,” said a man to Ulfrik’s left. “He’s hiding something.”
“His sightless eyes, is all,” Finn said, protectively grabbing Ulfrik’s arm.
“I have proof,” Ulfrik said, diving into the pause. “With your permission, I will reach into my sleeve and then into my shirt, or you may have your man do it if you prefer.” When no one answered, he slowly drew the gold armband Heidrek had bestowed him from his left arm, then reached into a pouch held in his shirt and produced a piece of antler with Hrolf’s mark on it. Heidrek had collected it as proof he had paid his river fees then gave it to Ulfrik.
“He bade me deliver this armband and his mark as a token of sincerity.”
Someone grabbed both from him. The girl, a vaguely sweet smell surrounding her, stood before him now. “You are a familiar man, Halfdan. There is much about you that speaks to me of deceit.”
Ulfrik bowed his head to conceal the swallow. His left hand trembled. “Hrolf chose me for my discretion. I do not know the mind of my lord, but only that he wishes a meeting with Throst. He has asked I secure a time and place where both could safely discuss mutual concerns.”
“I fight for the Franks,” Throst said. “If Hrolf has forgotten what happened to the last band he sent to Gunnolfsvik, I’d be happy to remind him.”
“No need for threats, Jarl Throst,” Ulfrik shrunk as if in fear, but he wanted to recoil from the scrutiny of the sister. “Send whatever reply you wish and I will ensure it gets to Hrolf. Please, I’ve spoken all I know. Do not kill a messenger who has come in peace. Heidrek and his crew are expecting to return me to Hrolf before setting on their way. Do not have them say Throst kills old men for their messages. Your reputation does not deserve such a stain.”
Throst grunted and the woman before him snorted. “I do not trust him or his message, Brother.”
“May I suggest a compromise?” Ulfrik said. “You have heard my message. Tomorrow I will be gone from your hall with whatever reply you wish to make. For tonight, allow me to sleep on Heidrek’s ship and take my son as a hostage. Release him to me when we cast off. If my words cannot allay your fears that I bring danger, then let my son’s life be forfeit if I am false.”
“Very well,” Throst said. “I am satisfied with that arrangement. I will have an answer for your master come morning.”
“Thank you.” Ulfrik bowed again. Finn squeezed his arm. They had not discussed his becoming a hostage, but it was the only way Ulfrik knew to quell the doubts.
“Will you be all right without me, Father?”
“Master Heidrek will see to me. It is only for one night, and all will be well. The night will progress all the same no matter where you sleep. If this settles suspicions of my purpose, then we shall adjust accordingly.”
Throst grunted, but he heard a short sigh from his sister. Ulfrik trusted Finn to understand the deeper meaning of his words. The progression of their plans had changed, but not the execution.
Finn guided him to the door and patted Ulfrik’s arm as he released him to Heidrek’s care. He seemed to understand.
Throst now counted his doom by the journey of the moon across the night sky. Ulfrik pulled his cowl overhead to conceal his smile.
Chapter 57
Ulfrik dragged the corpse of the guard who had dozed off watching Heidrek’s ship onto its deck. One of Heidrek’s crew draped a sheet across the body as Ulfrik wiped his knife on the guard’s shirt. He had transformed from blind man into a leather-clad warrior armed with a long knife, all dark gray and brown for concealment in the night. He clasped Heidrek’s arm as the crews of his ships untied their moorings and began to shove off.
“We’ll drop this body around the first bend, where the current will carry it away.” Heidrek shook Ulfrik’s arm. “I pray you succeed tonight and that when I return in a year I will hear your name spoken along the Seine.”
“Depend upon it, friend. Now be away while these fools sleep.” Ulfrik picked up his large sealskin bag and slung it across his shoulder, then let himself to the docks as the ships sloshed away into the current.
He did not look back, but bent low as if running into a wind and headed for the hall.
The moon brightened the grass with silver light, but Gunnolfsvik was asleep and at peace. Despite being a border town, these men must have been uncontested since turning to the Franks. Vigilance was lax and the few points of orange torchlight did not move, suggesting the guards had set their brands and fell asleep at their posts. Ulfrik smiled at the ease he anticipated, even with Finn being held in the hall.
The only defeat of the night had been the obvious disconnect between Hrolf and Throst. It seemed as if Hrolf had actually threatened revenge upon Throst, and that they were not allies was as clear as the moon. If Hrolf had not betrayed him, then no other suspects remained. Had it been Fate’s plan? It seemed the only answer, but the entire debacle had the scent of man’s bloody hands upon it. As he glided across the grass, he put the thought from his mind. A guard stood at the hall door, a brand smoking in a sconce set on the wall. He was wrapped tight against the night chill, his spear leaning against his leg.
Ulfrik approached from the side, and when the man noted him, he pitched to the ground with a moan. “Help me. Gods, it hurts!”
The man grabbed the torch rather than his spear and rushed to his sid
e. He spoke in Frankish. “What happened?”
“Two of the merchant guards. They caught me outside my house.” The guard was over him now, pulling Ulfrik around to see him.
“Where did they go?”
“To Nifelheim.” Ulfrik’s knife plunged through the man’s leather jerkin and deep into his belly. He bowled the guard over in the grass, clamping his hand over the man’s mouth as he struggled for his own knife. Pushing on the blade with his body, the guard spasmed, struggled, and his muffled screams turned to a death rattle. Ulfrik lay still a moment, then grabbed the fallen torch before it guttered out in the grass. He left the corpse where it lay, taking the second long knife for himself, then replaced the torch. He carefully opened the hall door.
Inside, the hearth fire had died to pulsing embers, filling the room with a throbbing, eerie light. Men slumped over tables or beneath them, drunk and snoring after a night of feasting. Here was the hardest portion of the plan: navigating the sprawl of bodies in various stages of sleep. The front room contained surrendered weapons, and he located Finn’s sword immediately among the stack. The main hall had to be crossed to enter Throst’s rooms, and Finn would be kept in one of them.
His heart sounded like a pounding rock as he selected his path through the hall of men. An exit at the far end had come into his sight, and he supposed another guard would be posted outside it. That was his escape route. He padded up to the high table, where a man sleeping at it awakened with a snort, looked directly at him, then returned to slumber. Ulfrik finally let his breath escape as he sneaked past the man to the door beyond.
It opened into a small hall with three doors. One was barred from the outside, and Ulfrik smiled. He lifted the bar and opened it.
Inside Finn sat placidly on a plain frame bed, wrapped in a fur against the night chill and a candle casting a weak light across his smile. The tallow candle filled the room with a scent like burning garbage. He stood when Ulfrik entered, received his sword and strapped it on in silence. Stepping into the hall, he pointed at the far door.
Ulfrik tested it, finding it barred from the inside. He had expected as much. From his sealskin bag he withdrew a short iron pry bar he had purchased from Heidrek in expectation of using it to force entry. He fitted it between the hinge and door frame and began worrying the door off the hinge. The wood cracked and snapped, but the nails popped free and the top hinge broke. He did the same for the lower hinge while Finn guarded the main hall. At every crack they paused in fear, but nothing more than snoring replied. When the door was free, he pulled inside to remove the bar. It fell from his grip with a thud, but again nothing responded. With Finn’s help, they leaned the door against the opposite side of the hall.
Ulfrik’s heart shuddered and his hands trembled. Throst lay sprawled out on his bed, his white skin barely visible in the dark. Finn entered with his candle, spreading a yellow pool of light into the door.
“It’s time for revenge,” Ulfrik whispered. He set his bag down beside Throst, who snored and smacked his lips in sleep. Finn placed the candle nearby as Ulfrik drew out the jar he had carried from Eldrid’s home a year before.
With a nod to Finn, he broke the gut string holding the lid shut. Finn held open Throst’s mouth, and still he only murmured in his sleep.
Ulfrik shook the musty gray powder into Throst’s open mouth, dusting his face and beard with it. He knew from experience only a small amount was needed to induce paralysis, and he limited the powder to what he guessed would debilitate Throst for an hour. Throst began to struggle and cough. He awakened but Ulfrik had already filled his mouth with powder. Finn clamped Throst’s mouth shut.
With lightning reflexes, Throst seized Ulfrik’s neck, the grip crushing his windpipe. Ulfrik did not resist, preferring to maintain the silence of their deed. In a dozen heartbeats, Throst went limp and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His hand fell to the bed.
“Did we kill him?” Finn whispered.
Before Ulfrik could answer, there was a gasp behind them. Both he and Finn whirled to find a woman standing in the door. Her eyes were wide and mouth pulled back in horror. She inhaled to scream.
Finn piled into her and knocked her against the wall, expelling her breath as a gasp rather than a yell. With wicked efficiency, he slammed her to the ground and straddled her, pressing his hands over her mouth. She kicked and struggled, her voice a stream of muffled curses.
Looking up white faced, Finn whispered hoarsely. “What do we do?”
The woman’s free hand rose behind Finn, and the knife she gripped flashed as it pointed at the back of his head.
Chapter 58
Ulfrik snatched at the knife, grabbing it before it could pierce Finn’s skull. He crushed the girl’s hand until her grip released, then he stood back to assess.
His heart pounded, feeling as if it were punching the pit of his neck. A girl had not figured into his plans. Guards he could kill without compunction, for they understood the risk in their duties and could expect a seat in Valhalla for their deaths. But a woman had no such expectation, and he could not bring himself to kill this one even if she was Throst’s sister. The cold, predatory eyes glaring at him were the same as her brother’s. Finn struggled to contain her resistance.
“Are you going to kill her?” he asked. She kicked harder and her free hand grabbed Finn’s hair. Ulfrik pulled her hand away.
“Open her mouth, and I’ll give her the powder.”
As Finn pressed open her jaw, Ulfrik sprinkled the gray powder into her mouth. She spit and coughed, but it dusted into her eyes and instantly the fight drained from her. Finn continued to press her to the floor.
“I am sorry to leave you alone in the world,” he whispered to her. “But your brother’s life is forfeit for his crimes against my family and me.” Ulfrik tapped Finn’s shoulder to indicate he could stand back. Whether Throst’s sister could hear him anymore, he was not certain. When Eldrid had fed him this poison, it left him in a dream world where words were disjointed and muted.
“Bind and gag her,” Ulfrik said. “No telling when the poison will wear off. I’ll get Throst ready.”
Finn nodded and began to tear Throst’s bedsheets to make a gag and bindings. Ulfrik had rope prepared for Throst.
“You probably can’t hear me now,” he said as he worked the rope beneath the body. “But when you awaken you’re going to be far from the safety of this bed.”
Ulfrik trussed Throst, tightening the rope by backing a foot against the bed as he pulled. He wanted the bastard to feel the pains he had endured. He worked quickly, knowing time fought him through this final stage in his plans. For a moment he considered cutting Throst’s neck and completing his revenge. Yet questions remained to be answered and the gods would not be satisfied with murder alone. He would not be satisfied. The killing of his enemy would be a cold, hard lump in his heart for the rest of his days. Yet Throst’s death rendered by the Fates themselves would not only satisfy but also deliver justice. The knife remained sheathed at his side, and he would not draw it on Throst.
When brother and sister were both tied, Ulfrik grabbed a spear from a rack. He leaned into Finn’s ear as he spoke. “The exit beyond this door will be guarded. You will run out of it and draw him away. I’ll finish him, then we come back for Throst.”
The operation took only a moment. Finn opened the door, and kicked the sleeping guard before running off. The guard stood, presenting his back to the open door, and Ulfrik ran a spear through him. The man cried out, but Finn had turned to cover the guard’s head with a blanket then drag him away from the door. Inside, the moonlight streaming inside revealed heaps of white skinned men snoring and shifting in their dreams.
Leaving the girl tied and on the floor, Ulfrik shouldered Throst and they crept away from the hall into the surrounding fields.
They did not know the paths through the village but Ulfrik recalled the general direction well enough. He followed the dark shape of the tower on its high cliff. Before long they came to th
e incline outside of Gunnolfsvik, where they rested from the burden of carrying Throst. Without time to spare, they used the bright moonlight to pick a path to the tower.
“No one is in it?” Finn asked.
The door had been removed from the bottom floor. “The Franks made a mistake building here, and stopped after the tower was completed. Looks like it’s become a wreck now. Hopefully the stairs won’t break under our feet. Come.”
Together they carried Throst to the top of the tower, the final act of shoving him through the trapdoor being the most arduous. Once there, Ulfrik set Throst against the wall where he had broken the railing in his fall from the tower years before.
“I wish it were day,” Finn said. “We could see the whole world from here. You really fell from this height?”
“Memories of it haunt my nightmares still. I fell and lived, if it can be believed. Now we wait for Throst to regain his senses.”
They passed what felt like half the night, Ulfrik checking Throst incessantly. He slapped and shook him, but nothing roused him from the glassy-eyed state of helplessness until the moon was ready to set. Finn had even fallen asleep, nestled into his cloak in the shadow of the low tower walls.
At last Throst began to mumble. Ulfrik roused Finn, then bounded to Throst’s side.
“Time to wake up and face justice,” he said. Throst’s eyes rolled as he tried to fix on Ulfrik’s voice. Ulfrik remembered how quickly the haze fell away when the poison had run out of strength. It felt like a lead weight being pulled off his chest and a cloth yanked from his eyes. Throst seemed to experience the same thing, pulling violently against his bindings.
“Who the hell are you and what do you want? Wait, you’re the blind man!”
“Am I? Look closer. Look at where I’ve taken you. It should help revive your memory.”
Throst searched both sides. The beginnings of dawn were lightening the sky, chasing away the darkness. He snapped back to Ulfrik, staring deeply into his eyes. “No. You look like him, but you are not.”
The Storm God's Gift (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 5) Page 32