Banners of the Northmen

by Jerry Autieri

  Thrand chuckled, and the girl gave him a quizzical look. She could not decide which of his eyes to meet. So Toki fucks and naps while his friends risk death, he thought. You threw out all the injured to keep your secret. I'd be doing Ulfrik a favor to cut your throat before I leave.

  "The men are on the other ship now. Will they be all right?"

  "I don't know," her gaze faltered. She was a thin woman with milk-white skin and fair hair. Freckles splattered her face and her expression wavered between vulnerability and sadness. Certain men would find her appealing, though Thrand disliked her girlishness.

  "Be on your way. And I won't mention any of this, I promise."

  Her face brightened and she thanked him several times before flitting off. He watched her go, then let himself aboard.

  Sunlight turned the sail canopy to bright yellow. His eyes adjusted to the dim and his nostrils filled with the tangy scent of blood. Toki, his leg wrapped and braced, slumbered on his side and tucked into the gunwales. Humbert slumped against ropes binding him to the mast, head down and gray-streaked hair falling forward. For a moment, Thrand feared he had died, but then he stirred as Thrand approached.

  He drew a knife, and crept up to Toki. Humbert suddenly spasmed, shaking his head violently but keeping strict silence. Thrand did not want to kill Toki, but felt the precaution had to be taken. Humbert's dark eyes glittered and wordlessly pleaded for Thrand to stay his hand.

  With a frown he acquiesced, padding with exaggerated care to Humbert's side. He put his mouth directly to Humbert's ear, so close he could feel the roughness of his beard brush his cheek.

  "I am releasing you now. We are going to Paris, where you will show me your treasure." He moved to Thrand's back and grabbed the ropes biting into his wrists, but Humbert struggled against the bonds and hissed in his ear.

  "Wait! I have a better plan. Please, listen to me."

  "No time for that." He began to saw at the ropes.

  "You will get us both killed. Then what of your treasure?" His voice cracked and Thrand shot a glance to Toki, who replied with a snore.

  "Keep your voice down."

  "If you don't listen to me I'll scream." Not only the challenge but the sudden power and clarity of Humbert's voice stilled Thrand. Nearly nose to nose with the priest, Thrand backed away and shrugged. Humbert glared at him, then spoke.

  "Where is your friend?" Thrand mimicked a cut across this throat, and Humbert's smile deepened the lines on this bony face. "Better it's just you and me. So much easier to enter Paris. Your Lord Ulfrik doesn't want to help, and will force me to tell him the secret hiding place. But Humbert never will. God willing, Humbert will die first. Many days can Humbert live and not speak. God protects me."

  "I'm not sure about that." Thrand put the tip of his knife to the slave's throat. "If you're wasting time so I get caught here, your god better act fast."

  "The secret way is not open. Humbert knows this because my countrymen are guarding the walls. To go that way is to die. But Humbert is smart. We will enter through the front gate as friends."

  "You are wasting my time." Sawing anew at Humbert's binds, the priest's words rushed out of his mouth.

  "Do you hear my countrymen? They celebrate victory. Listen!" Thrand paused and heard vague sounds of chanting. Sitting back on the deck, he concentrated as Humbert began to smile.

  "They are praising God and Saint Denis. Your cowardly friends will be rushing back any moment. You will never get away fast enough. Listen to Humbert's plan. Your Danish friends won't leave Paris, and will stay for the winter. So when your friends settle in, you and Humbert will go to Paris. You will bring a disguise for us. From the dead or prisoners, take Frankish coats, shields, and helmets. We will look like Franks. At the gates, Humbert will speak and they will know Humbert is true. The doors will open for us, and we will enter. Simple!"

  "So simple I don't believe it. Won't your enemy know you have entered his city?"

  "But he now has much to attend to. Ulfrik told me he fights on the walls. He believes Humbert is lost or dead, and will not think of me."

  "And why so sure the gates will open?"

  "Humbert is a priest, and I know what to say to make them open for us. It will just be two of us, yes? No threat from two men wanting to join the city."

  Thrand dropped into silence as he considered the plan. The cheering of the victorious Franks was overtaken by the footfalls of men running back to their ships. If Ulfrik lived, he would return soon. He had to slip away to make it seem he was lost in the fighting. Shooting a hard look at Humbert, he turned his good eye toward him.

  "Then you will take me to the treasure, and show me how to escape after?"

  "Yes," he said. "Trust Humbert. I want to return to my city, and the gold is for you. Ulfrik's plan will make Humbert a slave forever, but we can help each other."

  "And no revenge? I thought that was your goal."

  A derisive snort shot from Humbert's nose. "That was before Ulfrik treated me so poorly. Look at these ropes tying me to this mast. Freedom is enough."

  "We'll destroy Paris. You might end up here again."

  "God will not allow it. Help Humbert, and he will help you. I swear this to God."

  Muffled voices came from outside the ship and Toki rolled over in his sleep with a grumble. Thrand stood, sheathing his knife. "I will find us disguises. We will leave soon."

  Slipping out of the ship, he jogged toward a confused group of men stumbling back from the failed attack. Joining them, he began to plan how to acquire and hide Frankish gear until the time for escape. The promised gold, the treasure Ulfrik had risked all their lives to obtain, would soon be his.

  December 4, 886 C.E

  Thrand's breath clouded before him as he crouched low. Two drunk men staggered past, their shapes outlined by moonlight. One stumbled while his companion laughed, and Thrand thought they would never move on. Beyond them the southern tower guarding entrance to Paris loomed huge and white, crowned with points of orange light from the sentries patrolling its battlements. Unsullied by attacks, it appeared solid and strong, as impenetrable as the northeastern tower had been. According to Humbert, its huge iron doors would swing open at his word.

  The two men ambled away, their breath like chugging smoke from a fire. Thrand cursed them to fall into one of the trenches dug around the city. In one week, the Danish army had sacked a Christian abbey and made it their base, then dug in around both towers and riverbanks. Ulfrik had followed Hrolf to the southern bank, and participated in seizing the abbey. Thrand was glad for the easy fight, but less satisfied at digging in the mud for the remainder of the week. His hands still throbbed with blisters.

  Confident he remained unobserved, he glided through the dead grass to the stand of trees and the boulder where he had hidden their Frankish disguises. Many Franks had been captured as they dug their own trenches around their towers. Their distinctive helmets and shields, plus their bright colored surcoats had been easy to obtain. He only had to wait for the right time to execute his plan.

  Tonight.

  While Ulfrik's men slept on land in tents pitched closed to their beached ships, Thrand had stole away with a silent nod to Humbert. He remained bound by the feet and hands, but no longer tied to a mast. Ulfrik's closest men guarded him, though on this night they had all been summoned away to attend Hrolf at the abbey, even Toki still lame with his injured leg. Ulfrik had left Thrand in charge of Humbert, providing the perfect night for escape.

  He pulled up a mat of grass he had cut to hide the hole where surcoats and helmets were buried. The shields lay nearby under cloaks covered in branches. He wore the surcoat, but hid it beneath his cloak, and clutched the rest of the gear to his chest, then scurried back toward camp.

  The tents billowed in the night breeze, and sentries dozed around dying fires. Shadows of men flickered as they passed from moonlight to darkness. For now, Thrand still looked like a Dane and no one challenged him. Arriving at Ulfrik's camp, the green standard o
f Nye Grenner flipped petulantly around its pole. Thrand halted as he drew nearer, watching the banner twist overhead.

  Within moments he would break all his oaths, betray his lord, and become an outlaw. The green standard appeared dark gray in the night. Ulfrik had once been a jarl worth following, but no longer. His experiences had changed him, made him less generous and more careless with his men's lives. This entire camp was a testimony to his callous greed. All of them would die trying to climb over the walls of Paris while he accrued wealth and glory. He did not care what happened to those who served him, like his brother, Njal. His body rotted at the bottom of the ocean, and his name was hardly mentioned nor his brave deeds ever recounted.

  Leaving Ulfrik and taking his treasure was more than right; it was justice.

  Slipping into the tent, Humbert shuffled forward to greet him. Moonlight filtered into the tent from the open flap, and Thrand saw two shining points from Humbert's wide eyes.

  "You have what we need?" he whispered in a hoarse but strong voice. The past week Ulfrik had been treating him to better food and more freedom, and his body grew straighter and stronger. Thrand considered the slave took heart from knowing his freedom was imminent.

  Without a word, Thrand placed the shields and helmets on the ground, then shook out the surcoats. Humbert snatched one from his hand, holding it up.

  "No blood stains on them, if that's what you're looking for. I'm not that dumb."

  "And you did not drink too much today? Good. You will need a clear mind." Humbert moved with uncharacteristic confidence, nothing like the bound and beaten priest of days before. He unpinned his favorite red cloak in order to wear the surcoat. "Hurry, and get into your disguise."

  In moments, Thrand and Humbert were dressed as Franks. Humbert fixed his red cloak over his shoulder while Thrand snatched two skins from the bedding in the tent. They each huddled into their furs, tucking their distinctive helmets underarm. Thrand handed a shield to Humbert. "I doubt Ulfrik will return tonight, but let's move quickly."

  His neck throbbed and his breath came in ragged drags. Stepping outside the tent was his first step to a new life. His legs itched to run, but he and Humbert ducked their heads into their furs and walked as slowly and carelessly as they could contrive. At such a late hour, no one expected trouble and so the few alert sentries either ignored them or failed to spot them. Nevertheless, gaining the outer edge of the encampments felt like half a night's work. Now they turned north and strode toward the trenches.

  "When do we drop the Danish disguise?" he asked Humbert. "Will the Franks see us in this light?"

  "Hurry."

  Humbert made no other reply, and instead began to jog. In the weak light, they located boards that crossed the trenches into the no-man's land before the tower. Bounding across these planks, Humbert dropped his fur and placed the conical helmet on his head. Then he flipped the long and pointed Frankish shield so it read easily against his silhouette. Thrand did the same. He could hear his heart beat. His head grew warm and the rush of blood thundered in his ears. If the Franks mistook Humbert, they would die. The thought repeated to the exclusion of everything else.

  The tower loomed ahead. Humbert's jog increased, then skidded to a halt. Steams of foreign curses flowed and Thrand crashed into him from behind.

  "A couple of Franks escaping to the tower?"

  Ulfrik barred their path. Arrayed with him were Snorri, Einar, and Ander. Though they had left camp in normal clothing, all of them now wore mail that shimmered in the moonlight.

  Thrand's mouth fell open, and for the first time in his life he had no words. Ulfrik's smile was that of a cat cornering a rat.

  "We've been watching you, Thrand. Since that time in the woods, I've wondered what you've been about. Kolbyr looked like he had something to tell me, until you put a sword through his neck."

  "Toki heard part of your talk with Humbert," Ander said. Darkness filled the creases of his frown, making him look like a troll on the hunt. "We didn't want to believe it. We all wanted to think he was still dreaming."

  "You and Kolbyr were going to kill me that day, isn't it true?" Ulfrik's hand dropped to his sword hilt. "But you are a coward. Isn't that also true?"

  "Why would you do this?" Snorri asked, his voice rich with anger. "If there's a treasure, we'd have shared it with you. No reason to steal it from us."

  Thrand shook his head. If he fled, Ulfrik might kill him, but if he begged for mercy he might live. Ulfrik was soft enough to allow it. "Share? You think yourself a generous lord? How many of your men are prepared to die to for you, and you have no intention to share the treasure with them."

  "It's a fair question." Ulfrik's hand did not stray from his sword hilt. Snorri and Einar began to move to either side, starting an encirclement Thrand doubted he could slip. "If that was in your heart, you should've asked me. All my men will benefit from whatever treasures I take, including this conniving priest's fabled gold. I will repair their homes, buy them weapons and armor, restock their flocks, and slip them gold as I can. But what would you do? Waste gold on drink and gambling, like all the other gold I've given to you. You've no thought for how I've carried you since your brother's death. Your drinking floods away all the generosity I've shown you."

  Snorri and Einar moved ever wider while Ulfrik stood still. Thrand's hand flexed for his sword hilt, then Humbert shouted.

  "Stop!" The command struck all of them like a slap. He threw his arms wide and looked up to the skies. He shouted something in his native language, long and tortured words. He repeated it again, and Thrand saw points of orange light gathering to one spot on the tower. Then Thrand dropped his head and slumped his shoulders.

  "It is done, Lord Ulfrik. You have caught us, and we submit to you. Poor Humbert and his foolish dreams. Thrand, stay your hand and surrender to your lord. Let there be no more bloodshed, in God's name I ask this of you."

  Ulfrik folded his arms and leaned back. "Such a fine speech, Humbert. Maybe your god inspires you to wisdom after all." Ulfrik and the others laughed. Humbert turned to Thrand, and nodded him forward.

  Weak with defeat, Thrand agreed with Humbert and joined him at his right side. Both bowed their heads as Snorri produced a rope and Ander came forward to seize Humbert.

  "Drop your shields and weapons," Einar commanded as he reached out to grab Humbert's arm. The slave nodded.

  Then chaos erupted.

  Humbert jerked his shield up, slamming the rim into Ander's throat. In an instant, Humbert ripped the sax from its sheath across Thrand's lap. In one smooth motion, the blade plunged to the hilt into Ander's stomach.

  Ander stumbled back, blood pouring in sheets from his mouth. No one, Thrand included, moved, but Humbert sprinted ahead.

  Snorri and Einar both leapt for Ander, who collapsed at their feet. Ulfrik sprang forward, his blade half from his sheath, roaring for death. His face was etched with murderous rage, and galvanized Thrand into a run. Toki, his leg rendering him helpless, stumbled forward to Einar.

  Humbert ran straight for Ulfrik, his shield braced in front of him. Ulfrik screamed and slashed with his sword. But Humbert was not there.

  He ducked beneath the blow, then slung his shield into Ulfrik's unprotected shins. He let the shield fall, creating uneven footing for Ulfrik so that he careened forward. He snatched Humbert's red cloak, tearing it from the fleeing priest, but could not catch him. Humbert bolted away like a deer fleeing a hunter.

  Thrand pounded after him. Ulfrik's roar made his neck hairs stand on end. His battle fury was legendary, and Thrand had seen enough of it to know he never wanted to be the target. So his legs pumped and he held close to Humbert.

  The priest waved both hands in the air, screaming in Frankish. The Frankish trenches drew near, and now men threw torches down to illuminate the ground by the tower. Humbert's barrage of Frankish never ceased. Brave Danes had laid boards across the trenches, and some still remained. Humbert raced over one, and Thrand followed. Ulfrik's cries grew fainter.
Clad in mail, he could not match their speed.

  Humbert now banged on the iron doors. Men shouted to him, and his voice registered desperation, fear, and anger. Still the door did not open.

  "You whoreson! Your head will hang from my mast. Humbert, you pig-fucking bastard, do you hear me?" Ulfrik's shape emerged from the dark, following his curses.

  At last, Thrand heard the bolt drawn and the metallic clank of a door opening. Humbert shoved himself inside, and Thrand followed. He trusted the Franks more than his own people at this point.

  He tumbled into a wide stone room, glowing orange with torchlight. Humbert chattered away in Frankish to six men in full mail, spears leveled. Their confused faces darted from Humbert to Thrand over and over as he rattled on in a language that sounded like a man speaking underwater. Finally, he seemed to be influencing them. The men backed away, and Humbert looked at Thrand with a face alight with victory. He raised his arm, extending a trembling finger at Thrand.

  "Are we going to be safe? Did you convince them, Humbert?"

  Humbert's smile threatened to split his face. He shouted one word that Thrand did not understand. "Norman!"

  Six spear points jabbed into Thrand's stomach, threatening to puncture into his guts. He froze in place, careful not to help the Franks impale him.

  "At last, I am home. Thanks to you and your utterly stupid companions." Humbert's Norse flowed clearly, with a command and arrogance Thrand only heard from jarls. "My name is Humbert no longer. I am Anscharic, a noble of the Ile de France. And you, swine, are my prisoner."

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  The long walk back from Ander's burial mound passed in silence. His death replayed constantly in Ulfrik's mind: him crashing to his knees, blood flowing over his chest, all his strength draining into the dirt as he flopped to his side. Ulfrik stumbled on a rock hidden in the brown grass as the small procession shambled back to camp. Like that rock, I never saw the attack coming, he chided himself. I underestimated the foe and a good man paid for it with his life.