‘She shouldn’t be here,’ growled Thrand, who was half-sitting, half-lying on a bench at the far end of the long-table.
Suddenly Rorik, youngest of the three, leaped from his seat. ‘Lady Aslíf, I’m sorry, but what’s discussed here is not for your ears. You there,’ he ordered a guard, ‘escort her from the chamber.’
‘No,’ said Ringast. ‘She stays.’ Thrand moved to make another protest, but Ringast silenced him with a shake of his head.
Another warrior, this one with a scar across his forehead from a blow that had taken off half his ear, cleared his throat. ‘Is it wise, my friend?’ This was Ubbi the Hundred, who hailed from Friesland. Supposedly a champion of great renown. The Wartooth seemed to collect such men like a boy collects pebbles. ‘That a lily so freshly plucked from your enemy’s meadow should hear this council of war?’
‘This is no war council, Ubbi,’ returned Ringast. ‘And Sviggar is not our enemy. She stays.’
‘Suit yourself, brother,’ drawled Thrand. ‘But I’ll not soften what I have to say on her account.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Come, my lady.’ He gestured at the seat beside his. She took it. ‘Now, shall we continue?’ He turned back to Branni. ‘As to my father-in-law, I did not read him as a man with two faces. He seemed to me sincere.’
Branni smiled a thin, sardonic smile. ‘Naturally your father values your opinion, Lord Ringast. But you must credit him with having had the longer time to judge the man’s character.’
‘My father hasn’t crossed words with Sviggar for years. Decades even. I tell you, Branni, I’ve looked into the man’s eyes.’
A low chuckle rumbled in the messenger’s chest. ‘You’ve a good deal to learn about men – so your father says, you understand? You see too much good in them.’
‘I see what is there. Now, you have no proof, have you? Nothing that connects this would-be murderer with Sviggar.’ Lilla wondered who they were talking about. Evidently something serious had occurred. ‘But if you want my valuable opinion,’ Ringast added, ‘I say my father is not a man without enemies. This assassin could have been ordered by any of a dozen men.’
‘I dare say you may be right. But it’s your father’s word that’s final. And he has decided. This was Sviggar’s plot.’
Ringast glanced at Lilla and back to the tall messenger. ‘I take it then that he gave no order to disband this hungry rabble, as I requested.’
Branni smiled. ‘He did not.’ There were a couple of sniggers around the chamber.
Thrand suddenly thumped the table. ‘Thor’s beard, if the old man wants a fight then there was never a better time to attack. The Sveärs will still be gulled by this peace.’
Ringast shot his brother a warning look, then turned back to the Wartooth’s envoy. ‘Well, Branni. Is it war he wants?’
Lilla’s heart rose into her throat.
‘It is.’
Thrand was on his feet. Even a couple of the others were sufficiently roused from their indolence to whoop with eagerness. But Ringast’s face was thunder. ‘Silence!’ he shouted. ‘We spoke oaths for him. Gave our solemn word, just as he told us to do.’ He pointed at Lilla. ‘See there! I took a wife for him, just as he told me to do.’
‘That seems no great hardship,’ observed Branni.
‘That’s beside the point!’ Ringast snarled. ‘We did it. And now you tell us he wants us to break our word and cast to the wind all that we’ve just done?’
‘The gods have willed this fight, brother,’ put in Thrand. ‘You know it in your bones.’
‘Have they? And what of your oath and your honour? Do you care nothing for them?’
‘Whatever honour we lose with a broken oath, we’ll soon win back in Skogul’s Storm.’
‘You fork-tongued wretch!’ Lilla cried, unable to contain herself any longer. ‘All of you!’ Her eyes swept like wildfire around the room. ‘I see Danes know as little of honour as they do of honesty. But I warn you – even if you rode with ten men to every Sveär spear, my people would stand fast against you. They will cut you down like a field of rye.’
Thrand only laughed at her. ‘That’s bold talk from a bride-whore stood in the hall of her enemies.’
Ringast moved so fast that she hardly saw it. Only heard the crack of his knuckles against Thrand’s jaw. Thrand was on his feet at once, towering over his older brother like an angry she-bear. But Ringast didn’t back down. Instead he seized a fistful of Thrand’s tunic. ‘Another word against her and I’ll feed your balls to the hounds. Understand?’
For a long moment, the two brothers stared each other down. But it was the bigger man who suddenly laughed. ‘Hel, she must be good to get you this riled up!’
‘One word,’ Ringast hissed.
‘All right, all right.’ Thrand slumped back into his seat, rubbing at his hairy cheek.
Ringast turned back to Branni, who watched with a look of faint amusement twitching at his bushy brows. ‘Now... I’m sorry for this assault on my father. But no one who has sworn on Adils’ Ring is about to break his oath.’ He looked at Lilla. ‘Not on our part, anyway. Not while I hold lordship here.’
Branni began to laugh.
‘Something amusing about that, friend?’
‘Only that your father said that would be your answer.’
‘Did he now? Well, since you seem to know what we are going to say so long before we say it, why don’t you share his answer?’
But there was another laugh then – and not from Branni’s throat. A great, irrepressible roar that seemed to be coming from under the hood of one of Branni’s attendants. The laughter rolled on and on, lusty and unabashed, until all at once the man jerked back his hood.
‘He said – you impudent whelp – that he would give you his answer himself!’
The old, scarred man standing below them gave another bellowing laugh and then strode up the hall and sprang onto the dais with the energy of a man half his age. For all that she was surprised, Lilla found she couldn’t take her eyes off the man. There was something magnetic about him, about his face, about the unassailable way he stood. As though, had he been surrounded by a dozen dancing bears, her eye would still have been fixed on him.
His cheeks were mottled with age and his hair was white as hoarfrost, shorn close, except on top where he was bald as an egg. And his beard was almost as white, trimmed short, save for two tight braids that hung off each corner of his square-cut chin.
The atmosphere in the room had changed in a heartbeat. She felt these other men, these great captains of war, shrink in submission around her, like little boys caught in mischief.
The man was grinning at her husband, his mouth agape, and now that he was closer she could see within the jagged remains of his teeth. There were few enough left to him but one stood out, jutting sharp and curved from his upper gum.
So this is the Wartooth, she thought. This is Harald, King of Danmark and overlord of many lands besides. Her father-in-law and sworn enemy of her father. At least until only days before.
Young Rorik was first to recover his voice. ‘Father! What are you doing here?’
‘What? Can’t a man visit his own kin?’ King Harald cried. ‘Besides, I was curious to see the woman I sent my son and heir to wed.’
Lilla stirred uneasily as his eye fell on her and he prowled around the table towards her. Seeing no escape, she rose to meet him.
‘Let’s have a look at you then.’ He took her hands and drew them apart, eyeing her up and down, a leathery tongue-tip tracing the length of his outlandish tooth. ‘Gods, they said she was a beauty and it was no lie! A pox on your damned whining, boy. I’ve done you proud!’
Ringast was looking more than a little put out by his father’s sudden appearance. ‘Haven’t you better things to do than play these childish tricks?’
Harald cocked his head at his son. ‘No sense of humour, this one,’ he confided to Lilla in a loud whisper. Suddenly he dropped her hands and spun away. ‘Had you all fooled, t
hough. Even you, Ubbi – eh, old comrade?’
Ubbi the Hundred stirred in his seat and conceded a languid nod.
‘You’ll forgive an old man a little jest, won’t you? Reminds me of the adventures of my youth. Did I ever tell you, old friend, how I disguised myself as a beggar and tricked that backstabbing whoreson Vesti?’
‘Once or twice,’ Ubbi returned drily.
‘Ha! I’ll never forget the look on his face when he recognized me. A second before he felt my blade between his ribs!’ He laughed long and loud at that, though no one else was laughing. ‘Baah! A good tale is wasted on this miserable brood, eh Branni?’
‘Undoubtedly, my lord.’
Ringast ignored them and, taking Lilla by the hand, led her back to her seat. ‘So now, Father. If you’re quite done... You said you’ll give us your answer yourself. What is it? I wed. We swore oaths. And now you say it was all for naught.’
‘All for naught?’ replied Harald indignantly. ‘It’s not I who tried to murder a man in his bed!’
‘Can you prove it was Sviggar’s hand on the knife?’
The Wartooth’s mouth twitched between a smile and a sneer. ‘Who else would it be?’
‘What about Starkad the Sea-King?’ offered Ubbi, apparently less cowed by the Danish king than the others. ‘We had news you broke with him lately.’
‘What! That great lump of seaweed! Hah! You heard right, my friend. He and I exchanged a few words.’
‘And lost his three thousand spears in one evening,’ said Ringast. ‘All on account of you not being able to tame your tongue after one too many ales.’
‘Well, if the man can’t take a joke,’ Harald growled. ‘Hel take him! We don’t need him or his damn vikings. But this other business – no, it wasn’t him. Killing with a cat’s paw isn’t Starkad’s style. If he wanted me dead he’d come at me like a man, bellowing for a holmgang, one weapon apiece, and let the Valkyries take the first of us to fall! But this mean, sneaking murder... getting another man to do the dirty work. That has the mark of the Bastard King all over it.’ He glared disgustedly at Lilla.
‘You’re wrong. My father is innocent of this crime. He would never break his word. Never.’
‘My dear, your father is a bastard, is he not? And if I’ve learned anything in this long life, it’s that the word of a bastard is not worth his spit.’
‘Base-born he may be, but there is no man more noble in all the north.’
‘Your loyalty does you credit, child. And puts these ungrateful cubs of mine to shame. But sometimes a man needs no proof. He knows.’
There was no gainsaying him. In that, Lilla thought, he was just like her father. Wear a crown too long and a man was like to take each thought that sprang within it to be indisputable as night follows day.
‘And you, Ringast,’ said Harald. ‘It’s not your place to question me. The Bastard King will pay for his affront.’
‘The peace is sealed with our oaths. You’re too late.’
‘Now you listen to me, boy. I didn’t give you this land to rule for you to turn it into a den of insolence and treachery!’
‘Treachery! How can any of us not fail to be treacherous when your mind is inconstant as the shifting wind? We raise an army. You delay. We seal a peace. Now you want to break it. It’s you who are traitor to yourself.’
‘Do you dare raise your voice at me? Are you my lord now, is that it?’ Arcs of spittle rained onto Ringast’s face, their noses hardly inches apart. ‘I am your father. Your lord! My word is law to you.’
The Wartooth’s words echoed around the wooden walls. No one moved. All eyes were on Ringast, but he offered no answer, only the defiance in his eyes.
‘I’ll ride wherever you command, Father,’ declared Thrand, half-rising in his seat.
Harald’s long grey tongue ran over his dagger-tooth. ‘Aye! Of course you would. You’d jump off the edge of the world if there were some bloody butchery in it.’ He shook his head. ‘But let me tell you.’ He wafted a gnarled fist over the company of hardened warriors. ‘Tell all of you – there’s more to this business than your precious oaths. Or the miscreant machinations of this Bastard King.’ He jabbed a thumb into his chest. ‘My life began with the All-Father – and with the All-Father it will end. My mother was barren until she visited Odin’s oracle, until she set me apart for him. He gave her me. She gave me back. My life is his.’ He suddenly spun and pointed a sinewy finger at Ubbi. ‘You! Can you deny that I have his special favour?’
‘Not I,’ growled the old warrior, in his laconic drawl.
‘Nor have I once worn armour in battle. To do so would be to hold the Spear-God in contempt. And always he has protected me. You know why? Because every man I’ve slain I’ve dedicated to him. To the great company of einherjar who will stand in his shieldwall when the giant Surt unsheaths his flaming sword. And now – the All-Father wants more. He has shown me—’
‘By the hanged!’ Ringast cried loud enough to check his father’s flurry of words. ‘You mean these damned dreams of yours.’
‘It’s Odin’s choice how he speaks to his favoured ones.’
‘Oh, to be sure, Father, to be sure! It must have been Odin speaking. Nothing to do with the bellyful of rancid ale you ply yourself with every night.’
‘Silence – damned chick! No man, dead or alive, has walked closer comrade to the Spear-God than I. I’ll not fail him now. He shall have the greatest reaping of heroes ever known. You – and you – and you!’ he cried, stabbing his finger at each of the on-looking warriors as if already slaying them in turn. ‘If I say you go to Odin’s hall, then go you will.’ He looked up into the dim shadows of the rafters, as though he might even see the face of the All-Father up there, and his voice softened almost to a prayer. ‘I’ve lived long years. But there comes a time when power and silver and blood and fame all fade to nothing. Only the man remains. And he must face his reckoning in this world.’ His eyes snapped down to his son. ‘That time has come for me.’
‘And so for thousands more with you,’ Ringast retorted.
‘Yes! If that is their fate. If a host must fall then we shall all sup together by the fires of Valhöll. When at last Odin will sit and drink with me from the Asgard horn. As comrades. As shield-brothers! And after I’m gone from this world, my name will burn like the sun. Nay – brighter still! For one day the sun will die and the stars will fall, but the name of the Wartooth will live on until the Ragnarök!’
The old Dane’s face was flushed with the passion of his own words, his small eyes bright as jewels. Lilla felt a chill shiver through her blood – that such a man could exist. Who held the fate of so many others in his hand and could treat them all as so much chaff, to be tossed to the wind.
When his words had died away, it was Ringast who spoke, his voice unmoved. ‘You’d be wise not to excite yourself, old man. You’ll give yourself an apoplexy.’
The Wartooth raised a bony finger. ‘Be very careful, boy. I’m not so old I could not whip you still.’
‘You’re welcome to try. But if it’s war you want you should have chosen this course before you sent us to swear oaths.’
‘Bah! This way is better.’ Harald glared at Lilla and chuckled. ‘Now we have the best of him. As for his foul crimes and his father’s shame – all will be wiped out with him and his seed.’
With the thought of that, with the grim finality of his words, Lilla flung herself on her knees before him. ‘Please, Father – you are father to me now, are you not? – then hear a daughter’s plea. Quell this wrath in your heart, I beg you. There have been many wrongs on both sides.’
He looked down at her, kneeling before him, his eyes brimming disdain. And she realized mercy meant nothing to him. ‘The wrongs started with Ívar. They shall end with me. His base-born line must die. Your father’s name will be wiped from the memory of men.’
He was still speaking when Lilla launched at him, her hand finding the haft of the knife at his belt as she leaped. There was a si
gh of steel and almost before she knew it herself, she had the point at the old man’s throat.
‘No!’ she hissed. ‘He will live. It’s you who’ll die since you love death so much.’ She pushed the point into his leathery skin. She could feel his old body tense beneath her grip, hard and knurled as an oak stump. Could feel around her the ripple of alarm as the other men went for their blades.
‘Aslíf!’ Her husband’s voice.
‘Stay back!’ she snarled.
A chuckle clicked in the Wartooth’s throat. ‘Like father like daughter, eh? Murderers, both. Do it then, woman – and I’ll see you in Hel this day!’
It was only then, with his laugh ringing in her ears, that she realized she could not do it. Or would not, though it might save ten thousand lives. She could not kill him in cold blood. Furious, she shoved him away and instead raised the blade high over her head.
‘If this peace is a lie,’ she screamed, ‘then I am a lie, for I am the peace. So you must destroy me now!’ She seized Harald’s hand and put it to the haft of his knife, thrusting her chest onto its point. Another chuckle and Harald’s knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip.
‘You have spirit, girl. I’ll give you that. More than you have sense.’ His voice hardened. ‘But there will be no peace between us. Tell Ívar Wide-Realm welcome when you see him in Hel!’
‘Enough!’ Ringast shouted, his voice a sudden blast beside them. The blood was racing like wild horses through Lilla’s veins, blurring her vision, but she sensed strong arms thrust back the Wartooth and the point vanished from her breast. ‘You’re both of you out of your minds!’ He pulled her back and pushed her down into her seat. ‘I gave my word,’ he whispered, fixing her gaze. He looked half-mad himself. ‘I will not break it.’ He spun around. ‘You hear? Not for you! Not for Odin! Not for any god or man. I will not!’
‘Damn you all!’ snarled Harald, still breathing hard. ‘You’re as stubborn a brood of sons as ever cursed a poor old man!’
A Sacred Storm Page 30