Descendants of the Wolf (Descendants Saga Book 1)

by Jerry Autieri

  The arms around Yngvar loosened, then pulled away. He stepped out, amazed that his short sword was still in hand. It seemed that Uncle Gunnar had left it for him to take vengeance for his son's murder. Yet Fate had decided otherwise. The scarred man, Ander, pointed at the sax.

  "Put away your weapons, both of you. Let's hear Yngvar's claim again."

  "It's lies!" Bregthor raised his sword, rather than put it down. Yet he paused, realizing that a dozen other men were reaching for their own. It made Yngvar's heart beat faster, and a brief smile lit his face. Bregthor shoved his blade back into its sheath.

  Thorfast and Bjorn finally popped back up from the deck, both of their shirts pulled up and their hair disheveled. They were breathless and red-nosed, like two naughty boys caught fighting behind the mead hall. It made Yngvar smile even more.

  "We'll hear your accusation again," Ander said. "Now tell us clearly and calmly what you saw."

  Feeling confident he was about to get Bregthor nailed to the mast, he recounted everything he had seen. Ander and the rest of the crew remained quiet, each man staring into his own thoughts as Yngvar explained. When he was finished, Bregthor's face was as red as an ember and his mouth bent in a violent curve.

  "And only your friend, Thorfast, saw this? Bjorn was asleep?" Ander pointed at Thorfast, who now, with his mussed hair and sniveling nose, looked far less respectable as a witness. "Did anyone else see this?"

  Of course, no other man stepped forward. Yngvar had hoped another witness had been biding time for the right moment, but Fate had decided only he and Thorfast would witness the heinous deed.

  Ander circled around but no one else came forward. At last he turned to Bregthor. "Your story, then?"

  "There's not a fucking story! I was asleep and woke up to find him missing." Bregthor threw up his arms. "Do you want to know what I dreamed about?"

  He drew a sycophantic chuckle from a handful of his own men, but Ander just shook his head. "And Davin? You've been accused as well."

  The bulbous-eyed Davin stood up from where he had been squatting. "I fell asleep, like I said. That's my only crime, if it is one."

  "But the two of us witnessed this," Yngvar said. "It doesn't matter that no one else did. What other proof do you need? We'd both swear it on our honor. Besides, why would I accuse two men I don't know?"

  "Maybe you did it," Bregthor said. He stood straighter now, apparently pleased at discovering this twist. "You're in such a hurry to make me the murderer. Why is that? Can you prove you didn't shove Brandr overboard?"

  Yngvar's mouth fell open but was unable to make a sound. He blinked at Thorfast, who returned his stunned look. At last he regained himself. "Me kill Brandr? Why would I do that?"

  "To steal the ship, of course." Bregthor folded his arms as if he had just proved everything. "Brandr was taking you home. But you're trying to escape a marriage you don't want. You said it before everyone the night you arrived in Jarl Gunnar's hall. That's your reason to kill him. Take the ship and sail away from whatever hag your father picked for you."

  Yngvar again blinked in utter shock, unable to think of what to say. Bjorn instead came to his defense. "That's stupid. Yngvar wouldn't murder our cousin. He's better than that."

  "But he was ready to pit brother against brother to get his way," Bregthor said, tilting his head back. "Now that his situation has become desperate, who knows what he might do? Like he said, he hardly knew Brandr. And we hardly know Yngvar and Thorfast."

  Heat radiated from Yngvar's cheeks into his eyes. He wished he had been more circumspect in stating his mind. His father had warned him that being forthright was admirable but oftentimes fatal. He was beginning to understand why.

  "None of what you say changes the facts. You and Davin shoved Brandr overboard because you are greedy and plotted to seize this ship for yourself. Thorfast and I witnessed it."

  "Two boys," Bregthor said. "You're not men yet. Your words count for nothing. Nor do I need to prove anything. I say you two murdered him."

  "All right, this is pointless," Ander said. "Fact is Brandr is gone and there's no way to know who's telling the truth or not."

  "You think I killed Brandr?" Yngvar grabbed Ander by the shoulder, who brushed his hand off.

  "Bregthor makes a good case against you," Ander said, lowering his eyes. "But I'm willing to believe after saving us yesterday that you are telling the truth."

  "I'll point out he was saving himself as well," Bregthor said. "Let's not give him more credit than he deserves."

  "Let the gods decide who is telling the truth."

  Yngvar did not see who spoke. The voice came from behind, small and hesitant.

  The idea caught on with Ander, who smiled at the suggestion. "Yes, a duel to first blood. Whoever wins has the gods behind him."

  "No, that's not what duels are for," Yngvar said.

  "Of course they are," Bregthor said. "If you refuse, it must be due to your guilt."

  "It's because you're stronger and more experienced than me," Yngvar said. "This is a foolish way to prove anything other than who is a better fighter."

  "I'll be Yngvar's second," Bjorn said, slapping him on the back. Yngvar gave an astonished look to him.

  "No," Ander said. "I will be Yngvar's second. That will make up for some of Bregthor's advantage in experience. This is a fine idea. The gods will judge who is truthful and we shall live with that judgment. We will take the first landfall we can find to hold the duel."

  Bjorn patted Yngvar's back. "Let the gods decide, then we can't lose because you're telling the truth."

  "The gods have their own plans," Yngvar said, turning in disgust from the satisfied crew. "They care not for justice, but only their entertainment. Isn't that what grandfather was supposed to have said?"

  "It is," Bjorn said. "And according to what your father has said, if we entertain them well they will favor us. So this can't go wrong."

  The rest of the day Yngvar sat apart from the others with only Thorfast and Bjorn for company. He rubbed the silver armband on his left bicep, unable to imagine that yesterday he had been lauded by these same men as a hero. Now he got dark looks from others, as if he had slit Brandr's throat in front of them.

  "I think you are too quick to give out nicknames," Thorfast said. "You should really be called the silent and not me."

  "Now's not the time," Yngvar said, turning to watch the ocean slipping past. The crew did the work of rowing and steering, and while he was under suspicion he declined to aid them. They asked nothing of him, either. A gull appeared in the sky as a black dot. Landfall would be nearby. The men called to each other against the wind, and he leaned to the side as the ship turned.

  "Try to cut the back of his hand or his brow," Thorfast said. "You just need first blood to drip upon the mat. Either of those spots bleed a lot, and if you get him sweating the blood will fall faster."

  "He won't be sweating," Yngvar said, resting his chin on his fist. "We're just going to stand there and hack at each other. This is foolish."

  "He'll be sweating," Bjorn said. "He knows what he's done. The gods will punish him."

  Landfall came too soon, and Yngvar found himself on an uninhabited island of dark pine trees and dirt. The grass was lush and green, and they had a long search for a flat patch of dirt. When they found it, men began to mark the square boundaries by carving into the ground with sticks. The sail was taken out and folded into a square, then laid down with stones to hold it.

  He had seen a duel once, but had not paid much attention to the protocol. This was a holmgang, a duel with specific rules he was sure none of this lot understood clearly. Their dueling ring looked nothing like he remembered. Ander Red-Scar, as Yngvar had begun thinking of him, oversaw the preparations to the final detail. Yngvar avoided looking at Bregthor, who had selected a young, wiry man with hair as light as Thorfast's to be his second. The two of them leaned into each other as they spoke, probably deciding how to cheat.

  At last Yngvar was summoned t
o the duel. The sun was low, casting deep and long shadows from the nearby pine trees. Birds were singing gleefully as their day ended, but Yngvar thought only of what was to come. Bregthor and his second waited at their side of the dueling area, a pile of three shields stacked by their feet. Yngvar had a similar pile by his.

  Ander nodded to him as he retrieved the shield. "Strike true, boy. Make him bleed."

  Yngvar expected a ceremony or grand words. But instead, both he and Bregthor came to the center of the mat. Each had both hands wrapped around their swords. Each of their seconds selected one of the three shields and held these up to block.

  Bregthor swept his lazy gaze over Yngvar and sneered. "You know the rules? If you step outside the cloth you forfeit. When your shields are gone, you must block by sword alone and your second steps aside. You can only use whatever weapon you've taken to the ring. Whoever drips first blood on the cloth loses. I won't bother with the rest, since this won't take long."

  He struck with sudden force, but Ander slammed the sword aside. Yngvar hesitated, unsure that the duel had begun. Bjorn roared his name from the edge of the ring, and all the crew started calling for their favorites.

  "Don't give him a moment to gather himself," Ander said. "Keep this fast. Break all his shields if you can."

  He swiped hard at Bregthor's smirking face, and the light-haired second easily knocked aside his blow. Bregthor's return strike came over head as if he planned to split Yngvar like a log. Ander used both hands to brace the shield, easily stopping the strike. However, the shield wood thudded and cracked, and a plank fell out, rendering it useless. Ander threw it aside to grab another.

  Yngvar struck low, hoping he would pull Bregthor's second out of position. The shield slammed down, but Yngvar could not reverse his strike with any conviction, all his power being dispersed in the block.

  They traded exchanges like this, circling, hacking, grunting with each alternating strike. Ander caught Bregthor's sword in the second shield and tried to bend it before Bregthor's second knocked it free. Some men called it cheating and hissed, but Bregthor did not pause.

  Yngvar's shoulders burned with the effort of holding up his sword, worsened by all the recent rowing he had done. He was simply not used to this. Bregthor, however, was smiling. His first shield endured, but the wood of Ander's second shield rattled and shivered as if ready to fall apart.

  When Ander screamed out as Bregthor shattered the second shield, he followed up with a fast strike. Rather than slash, he stabbed in under the shield Bregthor's second hastily threw in front of him. He aimed for Bregthor's exposed thigh, just above the knee. He felt the flesh give and heard Bregthor shout.

  They paused, for Bregthor's knee now ran with blood down his shin. If he stepped, he would certainly drip blood onto the cloth. Yngvar was about to shout in victory.

  Bregthor's second crowded Ander, interfering with raising his shield. Yngvar saw a flash of white slash at his face and he yanked his head back as Ander batted away the strike with the rim of his shield.

  He felt the hot sear of a line drawn over his left brow. Warm blood ran into his eye socket.

  "Watch carefully now," shouted one of the onlookers. "Blood will fall soon."

  Yngvar's eyes blinked uncontrollably as the superficial cut steadily ran blood into his eye. He was slick with sweat from the unexpected effort of this duel. It was his turn to strike.

  "Try to go easily," Ander said to him. "He may drip blood before you, but not if you are too vigorous."

  He gave a lazy stab that drew angry shouts from some. He barely tapped the shield. Bregthor did the same, and Ander shoved the sword aside.

  Yngvar watched the cut on Bregthor's knee slow. It was also a marginal cut, and the blood ran down into his doeskin boots.

  He, however, felt blood dangling from his chin.

  The drip pattering on the cloth was as loud as a boulder falling into the sea.

  "I win," Bregthor said, stepping back to embrace his second. "The gods have sided with me."

  Yngvar blinked, looking down at the two spots of blood that had splashed at his feet. He spoke softly to Ander. "I saw him do it. He and Davin threw Brandr overboard. This proves nothing."

  Ander seemed ready to agree, but as Bregthor drew closer and shouted his victory to everyone, he shook his head. "The gods have sided with Bregthor."

  Thorfast and Bjorn rushed to his side. Thorfast dabbed at his brow with the cuff of his shirt. "This is not fair."

  "You want to argue with the gods?" Bregthor said, snatching Yngvar away by the shoulder. "You've lost. You killed Brandr and tried to blame me for it. Now you get what you've earned."

  Yngvar wiped out the blood from his eye and pulled out of Bregthor's grip. He had not put down his sword. If Bregthor and the others thought to have so-called justice for Brandr, he was going to kill as many of them as he could before he died.

  Bregthor's crooked gaze settled on Yngvar's sword and his smile widened.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bjorn stood shoulder to shoulder with Yngvar against Bregthor and the crowd at his back. Yngvar felt a swell of pride as his cousin gave him a slight nod and settled his hand upon his sword. His sparse beard no longer made him look so young. He simply appeared fierce in the low light of the day. On this empty island of pines and chattering seabirds they would die together if such was Fate's plan. The wind whipped the grass toward the sea, and the dark shape of their long ship on the beach was visible over Bjorn's shoulder.

  "Hold on," Thorfast said, moving between them and Bregthor. "A holmgang is to settle disputes between two parties. You were aggrieved by our accusations."

  "By the truth," Bjorn shouted, causing Thorfast to pause and wince.

  "No matter, you have won the duel and can now settle your grievance. You cannot demand justice for Brandr's death, for his murder and the murderer have not been proved to everyone's satisfaction."

  "The gods have shown I speak the truth," Bregthor said. He spoke patiently, as if Thorfast was as child, but his drifting eyes flashed anger. "You and Yngvar are his killers and have tried to lay the blame on me."

  Snatching up Thorfast's lead, Yngvar stepped forward. "If the gods have shown anything, it is that they desire to support your version of the story. I've no idea what the gods plan in this. It is the work of Loki, if ever there was. But a spot of blood on the cloth does not make me Brandr's killer."

  This dampened the crew's bloodlust, as many of the erstwhile fervent supporters of the duel now scratched their heads. Even Ander, the originator of the duel, stared at the grass and probed his cheek with his tongue. Yngvar continued to build on their doubts.

  "So what will you do now? Hang me and Thorfast from a tree? Will you abandon us to starvation or slavery? What do you plan to tell my father when you return home? Would you accuse his son of murdering his nephew, and then tell him you killed me or stranded me to die slowly? Have you considered you'll never return home if that's the news you bring? If you believe Bregthor over me, then return me to my father for trial by the whole community. That is what's right."

  "I agree," Ander said. "Let him be judged by his own family."

  "I won the holmgang!" Bregthor's face was now dark red and his teeth flashed in the low light.

  "So you won the ship as compensation," Yngvar said. "You defeated me, and by rights I am to pay you in silver. I have only this armband, but I suppose you would like the ship better. As this was my uncle and cousin's ship, by rights it should stay with the family. My father would claim it, and he would gladly deliver it to you if it meant ending this nonsense and getting everyone home. Take the ship. You'll have no argument from anyone."

  Yngvar had been over-generous but could think of nothing else to assuage Bregthor. His lazy gaze grew distant as he considered the offer, and his cronies looked on. Of course he had wanted the ship all along, and to give it over under the pretense of legality must have appeal. Yngvar was not certain the ship was his to give away.

  "If
that is your offer, then I accept."

  "The offer comes with one condition that you must swear before everyone on your honor."

  "I won the holmgang!" Bregthor shouted again. "There are no conditions."

  "Well, then you can have this armband as compensation. It is enough, considering your innocence is in more doubt than mine. I at least have a witness to my claims. The ship remains mine." He began to remove his armband, deliberately taking his time so Bregthor would have an opening to change his mind. He did not disappoint.

  "You little bastard," he said. "What is your condition?"

  "You will take me, Bjorn, and Thorfast directly home and guarantee our safety to the best of your ability. Anyone wishing to return with us, you will let return as well. Then you can take this ship and sail for whatever glory you might find. Will you swear to this on your honor?"

  Bregthor's indistinct gaze seemed to sharpen, as if he were straining to detect the trap in the offer. Yngvar had set no trap, other than he was certain between his own father and Bjorn's father, Aren, they could catch Bregthor again before leaving the Seine for the open sea. He would pass through Rouen, right under Uncle Aren's nose. Both of them had the ear and lifelong friendship of Jarl Vilhjalmer Longsword who was sworn to the King of Frankia himself. Bregthor could not sail fast enough to escape.

  "I do swear," he said. "May the gods forgive me for letting this murderous pair flee justice, but I see no way to prove what I know you have done. Let us be done with each other."

  Ander gave a slow nod to Yngvar, as if he was unsure of what had just transpired. Most of the honest crew seemed mollified at the settlement, yet Bregthor's men began to grumble. Davin, his fish-eyed accomplice, spared no shame in airing his own quarrel with the outcome.

  "The ship was to be compensation to all of us for the lies Jarl Gunnar forced us to accept." He ran both his gnarled hands through his iron gray hair as he yelled. "You can't just take it. What are you going to do for the rest of us? I didn't help--"

  "I hear you," Bregthor said, cutting off Davin. Yngvar had leaned forward expecting Davin to reveal his part in Brandr's murder. Bregthor had likely expected the same, and now pulled his lap-dog to heel. "Truth is we can't always have all we want. The ship is mine now, and I'm satisfied with it. For the rest of you, though, your loss is still real. I will need a crew for my ship, and to attract a crew I need gold. So, we are off course to the west of where we want to be to return home. There are rich islands to the west, the Hebrides. We shall raid there and take all Jarl Gunnar had led us to believe we would earn. For my part, unless we stumble upon great treasure in excess of the value of this ship, I will take no share. It will all be divided evenly among you."