Two shadowy forms leaned out from behind a building. Gyna clung to the cloak of her escort and finally pointed at what must be Alasdair slipping under the wall. Both sprang out to catch Alasdair in the act.
"Now," Yngvar said. He charged from the shadow, barreling straight at Gyna. Both she and her bodyguard whirled at the sound of his pounding feet. She barely had a moment to scream before he collided with her, slamming her to the ground and clamping his hand across her mouth.
A hot splash fell across his back, and he looked back to see the black shape of a head spinning through the air. Then a heavy thud landed beside him.
Gyna screamed, her eyes white in the dark. A headless corpse lay on its stomach beside her, pumping gore into the dirt. Yngvar hauled her up from the ground with Grettir's help.
"I'm going, lord," Alasdair said, halfway into his hole. He looked like a body ready for burial, and Yngvar flinched at the thought. He was about to wish him luck when Gyna bit his finger.
He squelched his cry of pain and shook her wildly. Grettir was already binding her arms behind her.
"Hurry before she chews off my hand."
They carried her like a log between them. She twisted and fought, but she had no chance to escape. Yngvar had her by the shoulders and Grettir carried her feet. Bjorn ran ahead to alert Thorfast and the others. Soon they were all in a column heading toward Lopt's hall. The few guards they encountered in the street did not challenge them once they realized Gyna was a prisoner.
"Get Lopt out of bed," Yngvar said to the guards at the doors to the hall. "We have a bargain for him."
When Lopt appeared, naked to the waist and a drawn sword in his hand, he stopped short of striking Yngvar. His guards were rousing to the commotion, and they crowded behind him, bristling with spears and axes. Yet Lopt held up his hand for them to stop.
"Traitor," Lopt said. Despite the hate in his single, good eye, his words were soft, almost defeated.
Yngvar let Bjorn hold the knife to Gyna's throat. She was more docile in his less forgiving hands. If anyone could kill her it would be Bjorn. Yngvar doubted whether he truly had the mettle to carry out on this implied threat. Killing innocent women, no matter how much he disliked them, was vile to him. But he had a role to play now.
"Not truly, Lopt Stone-Eye," Yngvar said. "You must know that we are all as good as dead. Waldhar's men will not relieve this siege in time. The Danes bring more men every day. I warned you this would happen. But you chose suicide for yourself and your men. I have a way to fix all of that, if you will hear it."
Gyna tried to shout through her gag, but Bjorn shook her to silence. Lopt stared at her with his good eye, and his stone eye remained pointed at Yngvar.
"I had a plan," Lopt said. "And if you had not interfered we could've lasted here all winter, then Waldhar would've come. We would've negotiated a truce that left me with this land. But you are not going to allow it."
Yngvar shook his head. "I am not. You believe these walls cannot come down. But they are not as strong as you remember them. You let your memory of what these walls were like in other times color what they really are today. The Danes outside will learn soon enough there are weak spots here, and your walls will fall. You will all die."
"We can bolster the walls," Lopt said.
"I've sent Alasdair outside already to show them where the weaknesses are. How do you think he got in here? By tomorrow, that section of wall will be falling in. You can't last. But if you do as I say, you might spare some of your men. You will certainly save your daughter's life."
Bjorn shoved her forward. She was just as defiant bound as she was freed, but could threaten nothing more than a glare.
"If you will surrender to me, open your gates at first light, then I will assure you Gyna escapes the fort alive."
Lopt rolled his head aside and groaned. "Your word means nothing now."
"You saved the life of my best friend," Yngvar said. "I owe you for that much. She is small enough to follow Alasdair's path out of this fort. Once you put your weapons down, you will be my prisoners, I will surrender you to the Danes on the condition that your lives be spared for ending the siege. Gyna will be set free before any of this, and she can return to Waldhar's people."
Lopt and his men stared hard at him. "I have fought for this ground all my life, and I will die on it. They'll just put us in chains and sell us as slaves. What kind of hope is that?"
"I'm not providing another choice," Yngvar said. He nodded to Bjorn, who dug his knife deeper into Gyna's flesh, drawing blood. "You do as I command or your daughter dies."
"So she dies," Lopt said. His eye went dead and his mouth bent in a scowl. "I always wanted sons. Daughters are a nuisance."
Yngvar's hands went cold. His thirty men were slowly becoming surrounded by a fort of at least a hundred people. He had overestimated Lopt's love of his daughter.
"Think carefully," Yngvar said. "You are condemning everyone here to death, including your daughter. Killing me and my men is removing your last hope to getting everyone out of this alive."
Lopt smiled. "I wouldn't consider killing you. You're worth something alive, aren't you? But your friends? I'd like you to see what I will do to them."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Yngvar tore his long sword from the sheath, iron ringing in the night. Around him the same hiss echoed repeatedly. Lopt raised his blade and pointed it at Yngvar's chest.
Bjorn roared and pulled back Gyna's head to expose her throat. "Have the corpse of your daughter, fool!"
"Wait!"
Thorfast lumbered forward, pushing Yngvar aside to stand before Lopt. He grabbed Bjorn's arm, dragging the blade away from Gyna's neck.
Yngvar whirled on Thorfast, who pressed his sword arm lower. "Everyone, think before we all regret tonight's madness."
Lopt did not shift, but neither did he press his threat. He and his mainly Saxon warriors stood ready to fight, though to Yngvar's mind they appeared only halfhearted in their desire. Only Lopt carried any note of true fury.
When it seemed the flare of rage passed, Thorfast collected himself. He stood as straight as his wound allowed and spoke directly to Lopt.
"Would you end your line here? Have you so little pride in your blood that you've no wish to pass it on?"
"What are you talking about?" Lopt asked, stabbing his sword at Thorfast.
"Your daughter who is a heartbeat away from having her throat laid open. Bjorn is not a man to hesitate when it comes to spilling blood. She's as good as dead."
Gyna remained painfully still, locked against Bjorn's chest with his gleaming dagger over her dark skin. Her eyes were white with terror and the veins of her exposed neck pulsed. Lopt glanced at her, and in that instant he seemed to soften.
Yngvar realized Thorfast was giving Lopt time to think and weaken his resolve. Perhaps some fathers could throw away the lives of their children on a whim, but Yngvar did not believe Lopt was one. He had gambled the entire night on that assumption. Thorfast's interruption had allowed Lopt the moments needed to cool down. Anger no longer ruled him.
Thorfast nodded. "And your daughter who is wed to Waldhar, she is barren. Am I mistaken?"
From the scowl that spread across Lopt's face, Yngvar knew it was true. He stared wide-eyed at Thorfast, who allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk before continuing.
"So tonight all your ancestors watch you throw away your bloodline for a moment of pride. No matter how you chose, you are dead. As of this moment, Gyna is dead. Your last daughter will pass on nothing of you and everything you were vanishes. All these men, these Saxons, will die for your pride. Do you think they will celebrate your name? No, their wives and lovers will curse you for leading their men to senseless deaths. But if you accept our offer, Gyna lives and carries on your name and memory. These men might return home one day and recall your sacrifice. So what is your choice, Lopt Stone-Eye?"
Lopt's stone eye remained fixed on Yngvar, but he spoke to his daughter. "I'm sorry, girl. I shoul
d have heeded your wisdom. You are much like your mother was."
Gyna shook her head, and through her gag it sounded as if she begged her father to let her die. But Lopt no longer looked at her. He instead glowered at Yngvar.
"If you guarantee the lives of my men and my daughter, then I will yield."
"Your daughter will escape unharmed. I cannot say what the enemy will do," Yngvar said. "But I will ask for mercy."
The words caught in his throat and his gaze faltered. He would make no such request. These men knew what his true purpose in Denmark was, and they had to die. Freeing Gyna was enough of a risk, but she would retreat to Waldhar who would not be prepared to take revenge until spring.
Lopt seemed to perceive the deception. His nostrils flared and he sneered, yet he lowered his sword.
"We are your captives, Yngvar Hakonsson." He laid his weapon down. The men around him did the same.
Bjorn remained holding Gyna with a dagger to her neck. Now her defiance had drained and she sobbed. Bjorn stared into the distance impatiently, frowning as if he might kill her for wetting his hand with tears.
Once all of Lopt's warriors had been relieved of their weapons, they gathered before the hall. The first light of morning spread along the horizon, and Yngvar's heart soared with the recovery of his success. Lopt and his men knelt in the grass, heads lowered in defeat, their weapons and shields stacked to the side. Surrounded by thirty men, Lopt's warriors still outnumbered them two to one. This was a major, bloodless victory for Yngvar.
"How did you know so much about Lopt?" he asked Thorfast as they stood at the edge of the captives. Dawn still had not arrived, and so the signals were not yet sent.
"I like to talk," Thorfast said, shrugging. "And people like to talk to me. It seemed important to learn a little about the man we planned to betray."
Yngvar grunted and slapped Thorfast's shoulder, causing him to hold his side and wince.
Bjorn continued to hold Gyna prisoner. She remained bound up and gagged, sitting in the grass with the threat of Bjorn's ax near. As the dawn broke, the time to sound the horn arrived. He approached Lopt, who sagged in defeat and did not look up.
"Do you wish to speak to your daughter before I send her out of the fort?"
Lopt sighed. "There is nothing to say. She should not see me like this."
Yngvar glanced across the field where Gyna stared at them. He shrugged and left Lopt to his silence. He now stood over Gyna.
"Your father has no mood to speak to you. But he loves you and wishes you a good life." Her hateful eyes burned into the distance. "You're leaving now, through the same hole you found my friend in. We'll unbind you and give you a weapon. You're on your own. You must know your way back to Waldhar. You'll be hungry, but otherwise should be safe."
When she did not answer, he gestured to Bjorn to untie her. He sent him and another man to escort her out of the fort. When she stood, rubbing her wrists, she pressed herself to Yngvar's face and snarled. "I will have my revenge on you. You've not seen the last of me."
They locked eyes, and Yngvar did not doubt her sincerity. He would not look away. "It's over, and the sooner you realize it, the sooner you can appreciate what I've granted you tonight. Imagine being raped into madness by the angry men outside these walls. That's what awaits you if you don't flee now. Bjorn, see her out of the wall and give her a dagger for defense."
He held her stare as Bjorn dragged her away.
"Feisty creature," Thorfast said, watching them go. "She'll make some man regret marrying her yet."
"Enough of her," Yngvar said, turning toward the eastern gate. The sun was now a spreading light across the horizon in a bold stripe, staining the retreating night light blue. "Time to sound the horn and find out what happened to Alasdair. Do the gods love us?"
"It has been equal parts love and hate," Thorfast said. "Here's hoping they were not anticipating a bloody battle."
Yngvar hesitated to put the horn to his lips. All of his men were watching. Grettir, Hamar, and Thorfast and nearly thirty warriors who had believed in him enough to become entrapped in this madness. For the sake of those who believed in his plans, he prayed the horn would be answered.
His ribs expanded as he drew breath, then sounded the notes with the dawn--two short and one long.
Despite over a hundred men gathered in one place and as many prisoners locked into buildings, the fort remained still. Roosters crowed the dawn, but nothing came from beyond the walls.
Thorfast leaned toward him, whispering. "If Alasdair was captured, then he might not have had a chance--"
"He was not captured," Yngvar said. His forceful words sounded as loud as his horn. "His god loves him better than ours love us. I will try it one more time."
Sounding the notes again, he closed his eyes both in hope and in fear of meeting anyone else's eyes. If the surrender was not accepted, Lopt might lead his men against him. Even unarmed, they could overwhelm Yngvar's numbers. Perhaps the gods were looking for a bloody fight after all.
"Open the gates," he said as soon as the words entered his mind.
"But they've not agreed to our terms," Grettir said, approaching from behind.
"They do not trust us," Yngvar said. "It could be a trap to lure them toward the walls and then we pour fire on their heads. Open the gates and let them enter on their own terms. They will see we are earnest."
So the gates were opened, swinging wide enough that Yngvar could see down the road the dark ranks of Danish warriors. Yngvar now sounded his notes again, and this time it was answered across the distance--two short notes followed by one long.
The flush of relief was almost too much, and Yngvar feared he might collapse. His legs felt boneless.
A group of warriors approached under a red banner with a golden falcon embroidered on it. He did not recognize the banners of the Danish jarls. He assumed this was a local jarl who was sent to parley. Yngvar turned to collect his own men for a parley, feeling more at ease to leave Lopt unguarded now that the Danes had entered the fort. As he turned, he saw Bjorn and the other man returning. He gestured Bjorn forward, gathered Thorfast and five others close. They met the Danish warriors at the bottom of the rise to the hall.
Their leader stood a head taller than anyone, wearing his golden hair in two braids tucked up into his helmet. His mail was new and shining and his shield was painted red and gold. His face was red, as if he had held his breath too long, and his eyes narrow and doubtful. He scanned past Yngvar toward Lopt's men.
"So the little one told the truth." As a typical Dane, the accent was hard to follow, but his voice was otherwise smooth and commanding. He shifted his eyes back to Yngvar, scanning him from head to toe. "You are Einar Magnusson?"
"I am. I come from Norway to serve Jarl Gorm the Old, enemy of my hated enemy, Hakon the Good." Yngvar spit as if the name were a foul taste. "By chance I ended up embroiled with these Saxons. I saw a chance to serve Gorm, and so I present Lopt Stone-Eye and all his men. They are the ones responsible for the heads of Sigvald and his men that hang over the gate you just entered. They have surrendered to me."
The leader's smile was false and short. "You're not planning to close those gates behind me? Your little friend is hostage to your behavior, you know. I assume he's a slave, but nonetheless."
Yngvar noted the rows of warriors had closed the gap to the wall, and even if he had tried to shut the gate, they would have rushed through and stopped it.
"Such a thought never entered my mind, Jarl ..."
"Frothi Varinsson. I was Sigvald's friend and neighbor." He hitched his thumb toward the gate. "If you're giving me the dog who set his head over that gate, then I am grateful. We have heard your terms, Einar. You and your men may join us and present yourselves to Gorm the Old, if he will have you."
Yngvar inclined his head. "Are all these men yours?"
Frothi nodded. "Along with troops from Jelling. They arrived only this morning. King Gorm wanted this fort taken before winter or else razed
to ashes. I'm glad we captured it whole. Some of Sigvald's men carried word of your planned treachery. So when the little one showed himself last night, I can say we expected something like that. But how did so few of you get this many Saxons to surrender?"
Yngvar stared at Frothi. He hadn't though that far, and now he blinked. "We took his daughter captive, then we set her free before opening the gates to you. I'd appreciate it if you let Fate decide what happens to her."
"Fate always decides," Frothi said, squinting past Yngvar again. "All these men would trade their lives for one woman? Maybe I should find her and see what kind of beauty would drive a man to that end."
Yngvar felt his face heat. "Actually, the Saxons believe you will spare their lives for peacefully surrendering."
Frothi laughed. "I will line up their severed heads and piss on each one. You know what trouble the Saxons bring us, Northerner? We kill them as we find them. You had better be gone from their sight, lest someone among them is able to lay a curse on you. They'll soon find out I do not understand mercy and your promise to them meant nothing."
Yngvar nodded. It was the outcome he needed, but not one he relished. The Saxons seemed much like any other warriors he knew, and though their language was strange, passages of it sounded familiar to him. They had once worshiped the same gods, and perhaps they still did. He looked to Bjorn. "Get the rest of our men ready to leave. I'm going to find Alasdair."
So Frothi's men entered the fort, and Yngvar walked out with his crew. He did not turn back to see what would happen. Outside the gates, hundreds of men had camped, dotting the rolling fields with billowing tents and dozens of smoking campfires. As warriors filed in to the fort, the camp life continued as if they were planning to remain for the winter.
Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 14