He let the words resonate with his listeners, Ulfrik catching himself leaning forward. "Land is a great thing, but I am surely a small and unknown jarl. When land is handed out, I might get a scrap to farm if I am lucky."
"But you are lucky."
Gunther's seriousness drew a dismissive snort from Ulfrik. "I'm holding onto this land by my fingernails."
"Bah! You are the right man for this. Hrolf needs leaders, strong war leaders, and you are one. Remember what I told you? I find a man like you once every ten years, if that. Were you truly so poor, truly so unlucky, you would be alone at this table. But men still follow you, and that's a sign to me. I'll put you near Hrolf in the battle line and you will do the rest."
Snorri clapped Ulfrik's back and other men banged the table in support. The loyalty of his men warmed his chest, and he nodded to each of them, even Thrand who merely scowled.
"Your praise does me honor, but why do you care for my fate? Let's be honest, there must be a benefit for you or you would not have undertaken the journey. Tell us, Gunther, why would you help me so?"
Gunther winked, then guzzled his horn of ale until it spilled out the sides of his mouth. Finishing, he slammed the horn on the table. "Because I like to win. Hrolf is breaking with his father. He had troubles with Harald Finehair, as you can imagine. Losing his father's support means losing some capable warriors. Whether or not Hrolf wants to admit it, he needs men like us to realize his vision."
"So it's just plain loyalty that drives you, nothing more?"
"Aye, plain loyalty to the winning side. I will be high on that winning side, and I want my own friends beside me. Do you take my meaning?"
Ulfrik stroked his beard, his eyes darting among the faces of his friends. Each man searched him for a sign of his thoughts, which he made no attempt to hide. A bold plan was forming: a promise of glory, land, and position in a new kingdom and a chance at Humbert's treasure to fund his estates. Yet he was time-bound by the seasons to complete everything before summer returned enemies to his home. Such a daring plan would entertain the gods, and they favored men who bring them entertainment. His smile widened as he twisted the tip of his beard.
"I take your meaning, Gunther, and I like what I hear. I am glad you sought me out, but I will have to discuss with my men before giving a final answer."
"We have talked much tonight, and I'm finally beginning to feel that ale. I'm going to curl up in a corner and let you sleep on the matter." He stood, stripping the wolf pelt off his shoulders and folding it over a thick arm. "Think carefully. If you refuse, I'll take my ships and never return, but you'll never be free to sail from these islands again. You'll be an oath-breaker, and a wanted man. So decide if you really love this land of sheep that much."
Despite the threat, Ulfrik laughed and stood with Gunther. "You've given me much to think upon. Rest well, Gunther One-Eye."
Men drifted from the tables, though Humbert approached Ulfrik. He said nothing, but gave a knowing stare and a slight smile alighted on his face. Ulfrik provided a subtle nod, his pulse quickening to the promise of glory and adventure.
"Duty and honor require me to answer the summons of my lord." Ulfrik surveyed the faces of his ten closest men, those who had followed him from Norway or those who had earned their seats, like Thrand. Toki and Snorri flanked him and the others sat around the high table in the empty hall, a wan light of a gray afternoon streaming in from the open smoke hole. Ulfrik heard Gunther's men loitering outside, gruff voices vibrating through the walls. "I don't plan to disobey, but you are my closest companions, and I desire your counsel."
The gathered men nodded, though Thrand, sitting at the furthest end and still drunk from the prior night, spoke first.
"What counsel can we give you? I don't want to be named an outlaw. So we go to Frankia, and maybe find treasure worth the risk to our lives."
Others grumbled in agreement, and Ulfrik inclined his head to concede the point. "True words, but is everyone willing to risk being gone for all of winter? What if word of our absence travels north? Could you live with yourself if your families were butchered because we were not here to defend them?"
"It's the risk they take for a better life," answered a square-faced hirdman, Gran Redbeard. "No great deed is without danger."
"I agree," Ulfrik said. "And my family will share the same danger. But think on this, what awaits us in Paris? A long fight for the glory of a foreign lord, then a small share of the ransom and whatever else we can carry away. Then even that will be divided with Hrolf."
"You heard Gunther, lad," Snorri said, rapping the table with his knuckles. "It's more than money, but glory and land. He's letting you in on something grand. Don't piss your pants wondering about your sheep and hall. More is at stake."
"You know me too well to think I worry for sheep over my wife and son. Make your words useful."
"Take family with us," Snorri countered, unperturbed at Ulfrik's irritation. "Abandon this place and start anew."
The suggestion caused Ulfrik to sit straighter. "After all the men who bled for this land, I won't abandon it for a vague promise. Our flocks would die in winter, and we'd have nowhere to return if Hrolf's adventure failed."
"Then make sure he doesn't fail. It's why Gunther wants you there, said so himself."
The men chuckled and a few slapped the table. Ulfrik glared at Snorri, but his old friend's stern face melted to a smile and he began to laugh as well. Finally, Ulfrik waved his hand in defeat.
"Your confidence honors me, but I remain firm on that point. Our families hold the flocks together while we are gone. I will follow the will of my oath-lord. Does anyone object?"
Each man drew still and solemn. Toki put his hand on Ulfrik's shoulder. "None would hinder you, and the honor of all our people are at stake if you refuse. Know I would serve you and share your dangers equally."
"I'm commanded to fill my ships, but any man who wishes to remain behind may do so without shame." He searched the hard faces, finding only grim resolve. Thrand shifted on his bench, and scratched his head.
"The rewards better be as good as One-Eye promised."
"Shut up, you drunk," Snorri said. "We follow to honor our oaths to a fair lord, and rewards are a secondary concern."
Thrand opened his mouth to protest, but Ulfrik intervened.
"There is one more matter to discuss, and I must swear all of you to secrecy." He waited for their attention to return, and leaned forward to speak in a near-whisper. "Humbert's treasure is now a possibility."
"By the gods!" Thrand exclaimed, falling back from the table as if he had been struck. "You don't believe that lice-ridden liar, do you? He just wants to slip his bonds."
"The drunk is right," Snorri added. "I don't trust Christians or their dead god, liars all."
Expecting the criticism, Ulfrik smiled patiently. "But think on this. At last the gods have given us a sign of favor. They sent us Humbert, then Gunther with orders for us to attend Hrolf in Frankia. Paris, no less! It's the gods' work."
"It's a coincidence." Snorri turned on his bench and met Ulfrik's eyes. "Think no more on it."
"Fate rules us all. What is coincidence? That's when you need a comb and find it by your hand. But this is destiny." Ulfrik stood, excitement animating his face. He leaned on the table with both hands, meeting each man's gaze. "A treasure of gold lies hidden in Paris, and the man who has suffered for that secret is in our possession. Do you think Humbert lies? Maybe so, but without Gunther's arrival how could he have benefited from it?"
"By staying alive while you wondered if his tale might be true," Snorri answered the question, frustration coloring his voice. A few men nodded in agreement, but Ulfrik did not care.
"A good point. But I believe him. I did not at first, but now I've seen the work of Fate here. If any of you are undecided, then let us consult the futhark. I am confident we will have our answer."
Heads turned to a pinch-faced man with a dark red beard and ruddy cheeks. He wore a hea
dband to contain his bushy hair. The mention of his rune sticks, the futhark, seemed to alarm him. Though long in Ulfrik's service, he only recently discovered Ander read futhark. Ulfrik extended his hand to him.
"Ander, you have your rune sticks? Cast them now and tell us if we should believe the priest."
"The futhark is my power, lord. I bear them always." He stood, feeling for a pouch strapped to his belt. Ulfrik pulled the table away from the north wall, where Ander would cast his sticks. Snorri helped, and murmured to him.
"The futhark, lad? Do you think Ander has the guts to tell you anything more than what you desire?"
"I cannot read them," he said, then added in a louder voice, "but if the futhark say I should ignore the priest, then I will heed that wisdom. Ander, are you ready?"
Ander nodded, facing north toward the seat of the gods' power. He held his sack of sticks in both hands and closed his eyes. Men gathered close, always eager to see the working of magic. Ulfrik smiled, confident that he understood the gods' message. He had no need to influence Ander, and so he remained behind the gathering.
After long moments of silence, Ander flung the sticks from his bag onto the dirt of the floor. Clattering over each other, he knelt to read the runes, seeking those that had landed faceup. Mumbling as he pointed to each rune, he also traced the crisscrossed patterns with his finger. At last he stood, a smile on his face.
"Lord Ulfrik, the priest is true. The gods show he possesses great treasure. I cannot be clearer, lord."
"So now we know the truth," Ulfrik said, taking his seat at the table while Ander and several men admired his rune casting.
"What an amazing surprise," Snorri grumbled, sitting next to Ulfrik and rolling his eyes.
"The futhark do not lie, lord." Ander glared at Snorri as he returned to his seat. "And I would not dare mislead you."
Ulfrik waved Ander to his seat, then squinted at Snorri. "Humbert told the truth, and now we have a means to act on that knowledge. Before we could not hope for access to Paris, and now we are called to join an army that will sack it. Humbert must be protected, and kept safe at least long enough to show us his hidden ways into the city and the location of the gold. He asks for vengeance in trade, and so would I were the situation reversed. We will provide it for him. I've no trouble killing his traitorous bishop if it means we claim his gold."
He paused, finding more appreciative faces. Only Snorri frowned, and Ulfrik lightly punched his shoulder. "Combined with our shares of the plunder, you will all be wealthy men. But here is where I need your solemn oath, from each of you. You'll swear it before the gods. No one beyond our circle may know of this plan, especially Gunther One-Eye and Hrolf the Strider. Were either to know, they would claim the gold for themselves, leaving only a share for us. So everything will require secrecy. I don't like deceit, especially to a worthy lord like Hrolf, but the gods have sent Humbert to us for a purpose. I don't believe the purpose was to put more gold into Hrolf's hands. Do you all agree?"
Everyone, including Snorri, agreed. Ulfrik rose and unclasped his silver armband, holding the dully gleaming ring over the table. "Everyone place your hands upon this ring." Hands reached in and touched the ring. Ulfrik turned to Toki, who gave a sheepish smile. He had once broken an oath sworn on this ring, but Ulfrik trusted the gods had punished him for that sin. "You swear to reveal our plan to no one, and to do your part in this undertaking in return for a fair share of the spoils. Each man so sworn is bound to me and to the gods to keep his oath under pain of banishment."
Each man in turn gave his oath, including Snorri whose skepticism Ulfrik appreciated. Few men dared counter a jarl's words, and those who did so with good intentions were more valuable than any treasure. He acknowledged each man's oath with a nod, and paid special attention to Thrand the Looker, who gave his oath with a snarl but also without hesitation. Satisfied, he withdrew the ring and replaced it on his arm.
"The specifics of the plan will have to be made in the field, where we can observe the situation. While I'd like the rest of the crew to share in this, for the sake of preserving secrecy, they must not know. I will find a way for them to benefit as well. Now, we've made our decisions and our oaths. I'll give Gunther the news."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"And if I disagree, it means nothing to you?"
Runa plunged the bucket into the barrel, avoiding Ulfrik's eyes. Her lips and limbs trembled, and hauling the filled bucket of water from the rain barrels behind the hall consumed more strength than usual. Precious fresh water, collected from daily showers, sloshed and spilled to the grass. The earthy scent of rain still hung in the air and cold wetness seeped through her hide shoes. She stared at the half-filled bucket, listening to those damned foreigners chatter and laugh in the distance.
"Humbert should be fetching water for you." She heard the waver in his voice, and anger flared.
"Like I haven't done this for years before that cursed man turned up? And you'll be taking him away to chase your treasures."
He shushed her, eyes wide and searching for eavesdroppers. The urgency further maddened her, and she slapped down his fluttering hands. "Not to worry, since you'll not find anything for your troubles. You wouldn't know the lie if it was rammed down your throat."
A frown creased his face and he opened his mouth, but Runa turned up her chin in defiance. He was wrong, and Runa was convinced both understood it. He lowered his head, then rubbed his face. "Even if you think the treasure a lie, can you not shout about it? Just the talk of treasure could cause me troubles."
"I'll agree to that. The talk has already caused troubles, it seems to me." She folded her arms, self-conscious of her trembling. Again she was being left behind to run a household and guard their children. Again, her husband was leaving her surrounded by enemies.
"Put aside the treasure." Ulfrik smiled, the thin smile he relied on to calm her and signal acquiescence. "I gave my oath to Hrolf years ago, and I cannot break it."
"Oaths are broken all the time. Be realistic."
"Mine are not. Be reasonable."
He glared at her, and the two remained locked. She searched his eyes, a strangeness creeping over her as she did. His determination and pride was not unusual, but something fluttered behind his eyes—belief and hope.
"All right, I will be reasonable." She broke their stare, turning aside to fix on the purple shadows of mountains lost in rain-bloated clouds. "But you know what I meant, and don't pretend otherwise. No games with me."
"No games," he said with surprising gentleness. She still looked away, but his warm hand gripped her shoulder. "If I was willing to remain trapped on these lands forever, I could decline. Gunther gave me that choice."
"Then why not decline?" Her head snapped back to him, and her lip trembled harder and her eyes grew hot. She hated this weakness. Was not every other wife suffering the loss of her man as well? Did they all weep and beg like she did?
"The gods have given me this chance. Ander cast the rune sticks, and the gods say Humbert is true. We are destined for more than life on a treeless rock at the edge of the world." His grip pressed into her flesh and his speech quickened. "Fighting beside Hrolf will win fame and glory for me and all our men. Claiming Humbert's treasure will gain us wealth. All good in life comes from those three things. The Fates have put their eyes upon Frankia, and I need to be there. Great things will happen, I know it."
She smiled, not from humor but from her husband's pitiful understanding of what motivated her. He stood smiling, his eyes bright with excitement. More laughter of the foreign men tumbled out of the distance, distracting her thoughts with anger at their intrusion. If only she could roll them back into the trackless ocean, none of this fruitless conversation would happen. She placed her hand over Ulfrik's at her shoulder, the warm roughness emphasizing the chill in hers. She intertwined her fingers with his, drawing them to her lips to kiss, scenting the saltiness of them. He was lost to her, she knew, but she was compelled to dissuade him.
; "I know you want to benefit our family, but do all good things in life come from gold and glory? Did Gunnar and Hakon come from it? Did I? Did gold and glory keep our daughter alive in winter? All I want is a peaceful life and a happy family. There is glory in that, too."
"A woman's glory," he said, pulling his hand away. He barely concealed the curl of his lip. "A man is called to carve his will on the world, and to entertain the gods with the spectacle of his bravery. Hiding under my bed while an army sails to battle and spoils is the worst shame I can bring on our family and people."
Runa closed her eyes, neck pulsing as she bridled her response. Once composed, she spoke with labored evenness. "So who will protect us when you are gone? How many men will remain while you sail to battle and spoils?"
Eyes still closed, she waited on his answer. Nothing but distant laughter and rush of wind-stirred grass met her ears. Her eyes opened, and Ulfrik was peering into the distance, his lips tight and closed.
"You are leaving me with no one?" She abandoned any effort to restrain herself. A cold line of tears ran over her cheeks. "All winter I must cower in fear with the women and old men, begging the gods to wreck our enemies' ships. This is how you care for your family and home!"
"Everyone must go." He remained fixed on the distance, his voice rough. "To leave my trusted men behind would shame them. To leave the new, untested men behind is as much a risk as leaving you with my enemies. Shame and idleness would provoke them to evil."
"So take us with you!" As soon as the words escaped, she regretted them. This argument had become stale even to her. "No, instead you stay. You stay and take the responsibility for protecting all your people, not just the honor of some men. You selfish bastard!"
Her fist shot out for his face, and he jerked aside moments before it connected. Yet her training had built her agility and speed, and her other fist landed in his gut. Her knuckles collided with the hard muscle, but her wrist bent and the power drained from the punch. Ulfrik exhaled with a grunt, then grasped her arm and yanked her close. She tipped the bucket over, and the water rushed uselessly into the ground. Her sobbing erupted like the toppled bucket, and she collapsed against the scratchy softness of his wool cloak.
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