Descendants of the Wolf (Descendants Saga Book 1)

by Jerry Autieri

  "Jarl Hakon," Ferdegar said, then knelt. The son did the same. Though Ferdegar was a subject of the Frankish king, he was wise enough to show respect to the most powerful man in range of his home. "It seems your son and his companions had lost their way. I found them in my sheep pen, and thought to escort them home to you."

  Yngvar perked up at Ferdegar's exceptional Norse. Most Franks had not bothered to learn the language, preferring the Norse to learn theirs. Yngvar, by dint of his birth in Frankia, spoke both with ease.

  "So my messengers have informed me. I hope they did not cause you any grief."

  Ferdegar paused and Yngvar noticed how the son's fist clenched, though both remained deferent to Hakon. Ferdegar licked his lips before continuing.

  "They had drunk too much, lord. I startled them and they charged about the pen. I lost control of my hound and it fell upon the large fellow. I fear it tore the boy's arm. My wife has patched it up, but it will need better care. I think my hound was blinded in the confusion, lord."

  "Confusion," Hakon repeated. "These men seemed to have surrendered their swords during this--confusion."

  Ferdegar now raised his head. Yngvar saw sweat glisten on the farmer's brow. "Swords make confusion worse, lord."

  Hakon's laugh was a quick bark, and he slapped the table. "Wisdom! How much better the world would be if more men thought as you, Ferdegar."

  "You honor me," Ferdegar said.

  Waving the farmer and his son to their feet, Hakon leaned back from the table. Yngvar saw the motion from the top of his vision, though he studied the base of the raised platform where his father sat. Small bones from old meals were shoved into the corners there.

  "Now I would hear from my son and his companions. They are free to speak, are they not, Ferdegar? You make no demands of me before returning them?"

  The farmer's son stared at his father, but Ferdegar shook his head. "Nothing, lord. As I said, I felt obligated to lead them home."

  At least that much had gone better than Yngvar hoped. By rights, Ferdegar owned them as hostages. Granted he had no power to keep them and had he intended to do so he would not have taken them here. Yngvar did not understand why he had not sold them to a Frankish noble in Paris.

  "Father," Yngvar said, meeting Hakon's gaze. The look immediately filled him with dread. Here was the face he had seen dozens of times before long-winded speeches on responsibilities and the life of a nobleman. Doubtless a tirade on their family honor would follow no matter what he said now. His father wore the face of a man who could never be persuaded. Besides, his father knew everything and had an answer for anything. This was going to be a pointless exercise in public humiliation.

  "We'd been drinking all night in Thorfast's hall--"

  "Stop." Hakon held up his hand. "Do not tell me why. That is for a discussion later. Tell me what happened. And it's not Thorfast's hall. It is his father's."

  "Yes, Father." This was going to be a long night. "So we thought to steal sheep from the closest Frankish farmhouse. We set out drunk and with no plan. We were caught. They had bows pointed at us and by Loki's own luck their shots missed. The dog attacked Bjorn."

  "I'd have killed it if I could've drawn my sword," Bjorn said. If Yngvar had a sword he would have cut off Bjorn's tongue. He whirled on his cousin with an angry hiss. But his father laughed and stood up.

  "What is this? You could not draw your sword?"

  "Just shut up, Bjorn," Yngvar said, giving him the same deadly look he had learned from his father. Bjorn scowled but closed his mouth. Yngvar rubbed the back of his neck and turned to his father. "We left peace straps tied to our swords. It was too late to remove them when the dog attacked."

  Hakon stared at Yngvar, his cheeks puffing out with suppressed laughter. At last he dropped his head and burst into laughter. The rest of the hirdmen joined in. Only Ferdegar and his son shared Yngvar and company's embarrassed silence. Yngvar glared at Bjorn, whose eyes now widened in comprehension of his blunder. Bjorn could always be counted on to speak without thinking.

  When Hakon finally sat down, he wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his wrist. "You three must have been a sight. No wonder Ferdegar could not shoot you at so close a range. His laughter shook his aim."

  Ferdegar held up both hands. "It was a warning shot only, lord. I did not recognize them until later."

  "Peace," Hakon said, waving down Ferdegar's hand. "You did as you should. Any man would protect his home from thieves. I am grateful you returned these three to my hall. Now, it is a late hour and I have heard all that I can bear for one night. Would you and your son be my guests tonight? It will be too dark to travel and I promise you safety and comfort here. As for your troubles, I shall pay you in silver. For your hound, I cannot undo the hurt done to it. But I shall grant you a pup of my own. We have a new litter of fine hounds. Yngvar will select the best one for you before you leave."

  His name was like a slap on his head. It roused him from his humiliated silence. "Yes, Father, I will choose the strongest among them."

  "And you, Bjorn and Thorfast, shall attend our guests tonight. Serve them and keep their cups full. You three have already drunk enough for one day."

  The uproarious laughter made Yngvar wish he had actually died as Bjorn so often repeated. He could look at no one, not even Ferdegar who simply nodded his way through the ordeal. He seemed as dismayed as Yngvar, and perhaps in that commonality they would find a way to repair Yngvar's stupidity.

  "We are not servants," Bjorn said. Over the laughter most either did not hear or chose not to hear. Yet even while Hakon slapped the backs of his men in their laughter, he shot a dark look at Bjorn.

  "Mind yourself," Thorfast said. "And learn from my silence."

  "Just smile at whatever is said tonight," Yngvar said. "And get your arm looked at. No one wants you bleeding over their dinner."

  Bjorn muttered another curse. Yngvar met his father's cold eyes, and behind the deep laughter lines he recognized the fury lurking there. The night was not done yet and neither was his father.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Yngvar's eyes throbbed from lack of sleep. He staggered through the field, the morning chill scraping his exposed arms. He still had not secured a new cloak. To warm himself, he clutched the puppy closer to his chest. Whenever he looked down at the dog it licked his face, leaving a swath of slobber to grow cold in the air. The dog was short-haired and tawny, only a few months old at most. The kennel master said the dog's name was Thor. Wasn't every dog's name Thor? Giving such a common animal away wouldn't be as hard as surrendering the best.

  "This one likes to play," the kennel master had said. "But he doesn't lead."

  "That's fine for where he's going," Yngvar said. "If my father asks, tell him I took the pride of the litter."

  His father wouldn't ask, of course. He would be too hung over to care. Hakon had spent all night getting drunk with his men and the Frankish farmer. Yngvar's humiliation had become something of a celebration. Was it that men had nothing to celebrate anymore? With all the peace and prosperity, men had no glories in battle, no enemies to shame, no songs to sing, and no riches to flaunt. All had become farmers and tradesmen. No one raided. No one crossed the borders with the Franks. Were there even borders these days? One in three Norse spoke Frankish and most had taken Frankish wives. Their half-Frankish children took pleasure in laughing at the foolish Northmen, as they so loved to call their ancestors. So now he had given them a reason to laugh and to congratulate themselves on being so much better at everything. They were real men, after all, and they knew what was best in life.

  "Well, you're lost in yourself this morning."

  The voice brought him back out of his head. The dog scampered up Yngvar's chest, licking his chin again and forcing his head back.

  Three girls laughed at the dog's desperate affections. Yngvar had to weave his head side to side to avoid the puppy's increasing adoration. The girl in the lead was tall and well shaped. Platinum hair hung free about he
r shoulders, turning to fire at the edges from the sun rising behind her. Her smile was what Yngvar always admired the most. He loved the way it curled up into her cheeks, bringing a touch of mischief to even her most innocent look.

  "Kadlin," he said. "I didn't expect to see you out here."

  "Nor did I expect to see you." She placed a slender hand on the puppy's head and ruffled its ears. The pup nearly jumped from Yngvar's arms to Kadlin's hand, licking furiously. "He's so cute. This is the gift to the farmer your failed to rob?"

  "News travels fast," Yngvar said, his voice flat. He surrendered the puppy to Kadlin, who cradled it like a baby and rubbed its belly. Thor whined with maniacal joy as he paddled his rear legs.

  "They marched you through the village. Not much else anyone can talk about when the mighty Yngvar Hakonsson is led red-faced and weaponless before everyone."

  The two other girls giggled, whether from petting Thor or from Yngvar's humiliation he did not know.

  "Well, it's not less than what we all deserve." Yngvar sighed and joined the two other girls in petting Thor. "We were drunk when we came up with the plan, and we paid for it with our dignity. We could've paid for it with our lives. The Franks had arrows lined up to our necks."

  Kadlin said nothing, and instead rocked little Thor in her arms. The puppy was now fully mad with glee, twisting and jumping at all the attention.

  "You're here to fetch Thorfast?"

  She nodded. "Father is here too, you'll remember. Mother wants me to get both of them home. She spent all night shouting about what she is going to do to both of them. But as soon as she sees Father she'll be as meek as Thor here. And, of course, dearest son Thorfast could never anger her for long."

  "Though I don't suppose she'll be as forgiving to me."

  Kadlin shook her head. "If you weren't the jarl's son, she'd forbid either one of us from ever speaking to you. She thinks you're a dreaming fool."

  Yngvar stared at her smiling at Thor. She was the most beautiful girl--no, woman; she would turn sixteen soon--he had ever seen.

  "Send your friends away," Yngvar said, extending his arms to take back Thor. "I want to talk to you alone."

  She looked up at him with a wry smile that vanished. He was earnest and she had to have recognized it. She let Thor kick and squirm out of her arms into Yngvar's, then dismissed the two servants that had accompanied her. "Go on to the hall and tell my father and brother I am coming."

  They both watched the girls leave across the field to the long mead hall where inside men would still be facedown on tables or sprawled on the floor. The orange light of early morning turned the roof thatch to gold, a startling contrast the drab clothes of the two servants crossing toward it.

  Kadlin turned to Yngvar and the two said nothing as the puppy squirmed in Yngvar's grip. He wished he could drop the puppy, but it would probably run off.

  "Do you think I'm a dreaming fool?"

  She raised her chin and cocked her thin, faint brow. She and her brother shared this trait. "And why do you care what I think?"

  "A question is not an answer. Am I a foolish dreamer?"

  She stifled a laugh and began to pet Thor. "I think my mother knows people. If that is what she says of you, then it must be true."

  "So that is what you think? I'm a fool?"

  "You didn't look like anything else yesterday, did you?"

  Yngvar pulled Thor back, causing the puppy to yip for Kadlin's touch again. "Yesterday was a mess. I agree. But that was the last you'll see of such foolishness. I'm a man now."

  "So you say."

  "What does that mean?

  Kadlin's wry smile returned. "Wouldn't a man know what that means?"

  "Don't mock me," he said. Unable to reach Kadlin, Thor fell back on Yngvar's chest and began nipping at his chin. "Your mother thinks I'm going to lead her son into trouble. Well, the other half of yesterday's mess was your brother's doing."

  "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" Kadlin folded her arms and shifted her weight to her right leg. "You want me to tell my mother you're not a fool? That yesterday you didn't nearly get my brother killed? You're wasting my time, Yngvar Hakonsson. My father is expected home, and I must fetch him. Will you leave me to that task, please?"

  How had this turned sour so fast? Yngvar's ears heated in frustration. None of this was what he wanted to say. Why did she always do this to him? He shook his head as if to clear it.

  "No, not yet. This is not what I wanted to say." Kadlin remained with arms folded and brow raised. "I wanted to say that one day I will be greater than what you see now."

  "Oh, yes, you will inherit all your father's lands and the oaths of his men, my father's included. I may be a woman, but I understand that much without explanation."

  "No, I mean I will achieve greatness beyond this. I will lead men to glorious battle. I will raid the richest kingdoms of the world and bring the spoils home. Skalds in every hall will sing songs about me and my men. You cannot judge me on one drunken adventure."

  Kadlin remained stone-still, no expression on her face. The breeze stirred her nearly white hair, the only motion from her.

  "So all of that will be added to this." He wanted to stretch his arms wide, but filled with a squirming puppy, he could only rotate side to side to indicate the breadth of his father's lands. The gesture was less grand than he had hoped.

  "Well, I shall congratulate you on that day." Kadlin still did not shift.

  "It will not do for me to achieve so much without someone at home to make it all worthwhile." Yngvar's heart beat harder and his breath suddenly felt short. Even Thor sensed the tension and settled down. Yngvar took a step closer to Kadlin.

  "Since we were children, you've known I've always imagined you as that woman. I know you have as well. Don't let yesterday's mistakes put you off of me. Don't let your mother's anger cloud your feelings. We are children no more, and the time for imagining is past us. You should be my wife."

  Kadlin's eyes widened and her folded arms dropped uselessly to her side. She seemed unable to speak, blinking as she sought her words. Yngvar smiled with patience, realizing how shocking it would be to hear these thoughts given voice at long last.

  "You wanted to know if I think you're a dreaming fool?" Kadlin flipped her hair from her face, blinking rapidly as she did. "If your foolishness was measured in height you'd stand taller than a frost giant. Good day to you, Yngvar Hakonsson. You've wasted enough of my time for one day."

  Kadlin stalked across the grass toward the hall. Plumes of white smoke now floated above the golden thatch. Men must be rousing from their stupors and demanding food. Kadlin walked as if leading a charge to an enemy shield wall.

  Thor began to kick and whine again, licking Yngvar's chin. He did not fight it this time, but watched his best friend's sister meld into the black rectangle of the mead mall. Only her brilliant hair showed against it.

  "All right, boy," Yngvar said to Thor. "Let's have a run out here for a while, get out your energy."

  Yngvar wasn't going to the hall until Kadlin left with her father and brother. He set Thor down and the puppy bounded in circles around him.

  "She's going to take a bit more work than I thought."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  By midday, Yngvar and Bjorn finally received their summons to the hall. The servant who delivered the message gave them both an embarrassed smile and was quick to retreat ahead of them. Yngvar stood facing the distant line of trees where the standing stone to his grandmother lay and where his grandfather died at the hands of a traitor. For a moment he considered running into those trees and never returning.

  "This was what we've been waiting for," Bjorn said. He sat in the grass, his forearm now wrapped in a fresh bandage that still showed brown speckles. "Let's see what punishment Uncle Hakon has for us."

  The walk back to the hall felt like an hour as Yngvar imagined all the humiliation his father was about to heap upon him. Even though the Franks had already left with their new puppy an
d blinded dog in tow, the village was still in a stir. At least a dozen dark shapes lingered at the edges of the village, looking up the hill toward the hall. No doubt they were imagining the same things as Yngvar, only they were getting a laugh from it.

  The guards at the door gave them both solemn nods. Yngvar thought it patronizing, but Bjorn at least seemed to consider them genuine, thanking them as they passed into the dark hall.

  Light spilled from the open smoke hole over his father's wide shoulders. He did not sit at the high table, but waited for them both at the center of the hall. He wore a heavy wolf fur cloak that enhanced his menace. His white hair glowed with the light, errant strands were like a halo of fire. The deep lines of his face pulled his expression in a sour displeasure. His numerous golden armbands glinted in the light.

  "Don't hide at the edge of the hall," he said, extending his hand to wave them forward. "Come to me. No one else is here but us."

  Yngvar swallowed. So it begins. He glanced a Bjorn who stood half a head taller than him. His sparse beard in comparison to Hakon's long, braided one now made him seem so young. Both stepped forward and lowered their heads.

  Hakon nodded, studying each of them. He put his hands behind his back and began to pace as he spoke. Yngvar hated this. He was going to be in for a long, impassioned speech, at the least. Who could guess what punishment would follow?

  "There was a time when we could laugh about such foolishness and credit it all to youth. But you, Hakon, are nearly eighteen years old. Bjorn, you are a year his junior. Do either of you know what this means?"

  "That we are men, Uncle."

  "Very good, Bjorn. Would you say that deciding to raid anywhere without first consulting your jarl is the action of a man?" Bjorn did not answer and Yngvar knew better than to speak unless prodded. He watched his father's deerskin shoes pace over the new straw spread over the dirt floor this morning.