Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6)

by Jerry Autieri

  "Thirteen. What of her?"

  "I believe there is a boy that she keeps secret from you. She does not want to wed the man you've arranged for her, and tonight she and her secret boy, well, I'm not sure what they plan, but you need to stop it before it goes too far."

  "By the gods," Balki said. "She's been a difficult girl these days. I just knew something like this was going on under my own nose. What else do you see?"

  "That is all. I've come to say what the gods wanted you to know. I'm going back to the stables now. I'm much relieved."

  Ulfrik turned to go, but the hand he expected grabbed his staff again. "Wait. If it's as you say, I need to go home right now. I'd like you to stay near, though. There is plenty to eat and drink inside, and Hrolf is a generous man. If you'll surrender your walking stick you can enter and enjoy a hot meal."

  "That seems like too much trouble for you," Ulfrik said. "Besides, I'm a poor grub beside great men. I'd shame the jarl's hall."

  "You'll be seated by the door. No one will notice you. Besides, I insist. Thorir here will see you inside while I go."

  "If you insist, then I will comply." Ulfrik bowed and Throrir removed his walking stick, checked him for weapons, then guided him inside.

  Scents of savory meats and smoke assailed him, along with a blast of warmth and raucous conversations. He acted intimidated, but Thorir just pulled him along to a table.

  "What's your name, old man?" Thorir asked.

  "Ulfar the White."

  Thorir introduced him to his table mates, helped him to a seat, then returned outside. The men around him had only a few polite questions to ask, but soon were absorbed in their own conversations. Ulfrik sat patiently, hearing Hrolf's familiar laughter booming at the far end of the hall. He ate a stew of onions, spices, and lamb, then washed it down with the smoothest ale he had tasted in years. By now Balki would be returning to reveal Ulfrik's lie, so he had to act fast.

  He stood up and made as if he were going to the corner to urinate. His companions waved him off, not even realizing he was supposedly blind. Two other men were relieving themselves against the wall, and Ulfrik fit in between them. Using their bulk as cover, he removed his blindfold. As they moved off, he removed his gray outer cloak and revealed a second, cleaner one beneath. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail and tied it quickly with a bit of string. The men at their meals did not pay much attention, and those who noticed him assumed he belonged in the hall and their eyes slid past him.

  Now he was a new man, and even if Balki returned he would not find a blind man in a gray cloak. He worked slowly toward Hrolf, leaning into the drunkest of conversations to laugh and joke with these men, who either were too drunk to notice him or simply shrugged him off. The high table was filled with familiar faces: the giant Gunther One-Eye sat at his right and a dozen other hirdmen surrounded him. His Frankish wife, Poppa, was like a lily wilting at his left hand, and she ate with precision and delicacy. Her eyes were averted from all, but Hrolf often leaned to speak to her and her face brightened.

  From the last table length he walked purposefully toward Hrolf. The men here were more alert, better trained, and were veterans. They noted Ulfrik's stride and his focus, and these men rose to intercept him. Ulfrik did not want violence. Only Hrolf's attention.

  "Who the fuck are you?" The first man to stand in his way was not tall but broad-shouldered and packed with muscle. He butted right up against Ulfrik, and others closed down on him.

  "Stand aside, Torfi," Ulfrik said. The man's heavy brows rose at the use of his name. "I've got business with Hrolf."

  Now more men crowded him, and rough hands grabbed his sword arm. Ulfrik did not resist, but stared past all of them at Hrolf who was draining a silver-rimmed mug. When he finished, he noticed the knot of men forming below his table and he leaned forward with a frown.

  "What's going on there?"

  The broad man, Torfi, faced Hrolf. "A stranger got in the hall and says he has business with you. He doesn't seem armed."

  Hrolf and the rest of his table looked down. Gunther One-Eye stood, the scar tissue in his left eye twisting like a worm, and prepared to draw his sword.

  "Do you recognize me, Hrolf?" Ulfrik's voice was clear and commanding, no longer the feigned voice of an old man. "It has been many years, but I've returned."

  The front of the hall went still and silent while Hrolf studied him. Then his face turned white and his eyes widened. He shot to his feet and pointed.

  "Seize him! Don't let him escape!"

  Before he could say another word, Ulfrik was facedown on the floor with a boot on the back of his head and a sword-point between his shoulder blades.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  All Ulfrik could see were dozens of feet crowding him, and all he could hear was shouting. His arms were forced behind his back while the boot on his head drove his face into the hard-packed dirt of the floor. Straw pushed into his eyes and the scent of the ground filled his nose. Hands on his shoulders hauled him up, and another man pulled his head straight by yanking on his ponytail.

  Hirdmen were rushing Hrolf's wife, Poppa, to safety and both he and Gunther had drawn their swords. No others were allowed weapons but for Hrolf and his personal guard, but it was enough that the entire high table was brandishing sharpened iron. Hrolf stood a head taller than Gunther, and both were intimidating enough that Ulfrik doubted any single man could challenge them both. They stared down at him, Gunther's brow deeply furrowed in confusion but Hrolf's tight with revulsion. He bared his teeth then shoved the table aside.

  "Bring that man to me." He held his sword low with both hands on the grip. In one strong flick he could cut Ulfrik's guts out.

  Torfi cleared a path through the men while the one holding Ulfrik's arms shoved him forward. He stumbled up the high stage, but his captor held him up. Now he stood before Hrolf, and he smiled.

  "Either you don't recognize me, or Throst lied and you really did arrange to kill me." Ulfrik met Hrolf's clear, blue eyes and did not waver from them. He saw Gunther One-Eye lower his sword and stagger back. Hrolf's reaction was not as dramatic.

  "You look and sound very much like a warrior I once held above many," he said, his sword now wavering. "But his men carried home his head and we buried it years ago. Whatever sorcery this is, you cannot be him."

  "I am Ulfrik Ormsson. I did not die, but was taken against my will. I have spent all these years seeking to return to your side. Gunther has but one eye, yet he knows me." Ulfrik turned to Gunther, who stood with his hand on his chest and mouth open. He nodded to Ulfrik.

  Hrolf lowered his sword. "How is this possible? Einar himself claimed to have witnessed your death."

  "There is a long story to tell, and it will come in time. But first, I claim your hospitality. Please."

  Shaking his head as if awakening from a dream, he waved at his men. "Release him. He ... he is a friend. By the gods, is it really you?"

  With the men withdrawn, Ulfrik immediately went to his knee before Hrolf. "I am Ulfrik Ormsson and I am honored to be welcomed to your hall again."

  Hrolf lifted him up, and now his smile was wide and eyes nearly swimming with tears. He never knew Hrolf to be an actor, though his marriage to Poppa who was a Frankish noble woman might have taught him the skill. The emotion on his face was undoubtedly real, and not the expression of a man who would have had him murdered. Throst had been honest, and Ulfrik was both relieved and saddened to confirm it.

  "What happened to you? You actually look good, if only older. By Odin's one eye, I can't believe you're standing here!" He enveloped Ulfrik in a crushing bear hug and the more sycophantic of Hrolf's men applauded. He smelled of ale and oil and the fine robes he wore were as smooth as a newborn's skin. He stepped back from Ulfrik to admire him, then presented him to Gunther, who had recovered from his shock and now stood straight again.

  "Back from the dead? Now there's a trick I'll need to learn from you," said Gunther One-Eye. He also enveloped Ulfrik in a hug and slapped
his back.

  Ulfrik felt numb as more familiar faces greeted him, including Torfi who apologized for not recognizing him. The men cycled through and Ulfrik remembered what it felt like to be a hero and a man of standing. With Hrolf standing beside him, he felt as if again the world was within his grip. All he needed was a sword and a coat of mail, then give him an army and the enemy would fall. How he had missed this!

  Yet when the greetings died down, he remembered Finn and his duty to him. All were still on their feet, but Ulfrik turned to Hrolf with his head lowered.

  "I've no right to ask this of you, but I need an urgent favor."

  Hrolf's easy smile vanished. He stared flatly at him, along with his closest men. Ulfrik licked his lips and pressed his request.

  "I traveled with a companion, Finn Langson. His part in my story will become clear in time, but know that for now he has been gravely wounded fighting beside me. He is burning up with fever and I fear without expert aid he will die before the sun sets again. I beg you to welcome him to your hall and have him attended by your healers. He is like a son to me, and in fact I owe him a great debt. He's partly why I'm alive to stand before you this day."

  When the reply was not immediate, Ulfrik raised his head to see Hrolf in thoughtful silence. Ulfrik swallowed, hoping he had not misread the situation and timed his request poorly. He silently cursed himself for being so rushed.

  "Of course, I will see to your companion. I can dispatch men tonight if you will tell us where he is."

  Ulfrik felt his legs weaken with relief. "Thank you. Of course, I will lead them direct to him. His need is great, or I would not have asked this of you now."

  "Please stay with me while my men retrieve your friend. We know this land well enough that a description of his location is all we require." Hrolf looked to Gunther who began to select men for the job, then he gestured Ulfrik closer. "I want to know the details of your story, and there is much for me to share with you as well. But if your arrival here tonight is not the very working of the Fates then I don't know what it is. I need your help with something of tremendous importance and it requires the utmost secrecy."

  "Anything, you must only say it. I am in your debt for the life of my friend."

  Hrolf nodded and pulled him closer still. "This is not the place to discuss it. When the hall is cleared, I will speak with you. Also, not everyone here realizes who you are. Stay beside me, for I do not want your name and word of your return to spread. These hirdmen are close and I trust them, but the others at the far end might be less cautious."

  "I go by Ulfar the White when I wish to remain unknown," Ulfrik said, and Hrolf nodded appreciatively. "But why must I remain secret?"

  Leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered into Ulfrik's ear. "My son has been captured by the Franks. The gods have sent you to rescue him."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  By late evening the hall had cleared, and those Hrolf did not trust with a secret were ejected to find another place to sleep off their ale. The hall echoed with the sounds of servants gathering buckets of plates and mugs and carrying them from the hall. Ulfrik sat at the high table overlooking the vast hall filled with milky smoke and bright with hearth fire. The last of the benches were pushed to the walls and several hirdmen who had drunk too much now snored on the floor where they had fallen. Hrolf's black dogs snuffed among them, ferreting out scraps of food as they searched.

  Hrolf and Gunther One-Eye sat opposite him and a group of eight other men crowded around to hear Ulfrik's story. He left out no detail, recalling how Throst had awaited him atop the abandoned tower and of the ambush he had planned. Recalling his terrible fall from the tower, he held up his missing finger as evidence of that day when Throst hacked away his grip on the ledge. The rest of the tale held them spellbound, from the replacement of his body with a slave to life in Iceland and then the final battles with Audhild, Eldrid, and Gudrod.

  "I lived more than a year with Finn and his mother, Gytha. It was a good and simple life, but it was not mine." Ulfrik held the amulet of Thor's hammer that Gytha had bestowed on him the day he and Finn left. "We took a job rowing and guarding a merchant ship. Heidrek is the merchant's name, and I think you will find him a fair trader of rare goods from Iceland and the north. We idled for many months in England, and I saw what our people have built there in a place called York. It made me all the more anxious to return here."

  "But you did not return to me right away," Hrolf said. "You should have come immediately."

  Ulfrik shook his head, then told him of his revenge on Throst. When he described throwing Throst from the tower, Hrolf clapped in approval. Finally he told him of all his trials up to the moment when he fooled Balki into letting him in the hall. This account drew gusty laughter, not the least because Balki now sat among the other men with his face red.

  "All daughters are trouble," he said. "It's too easy to scare a father to rash action."

  Again more laughter around the table and Ulfrik patted Balki's shoulder.

  Hrolf's mood had lightened, but as the laughter ebbed he grew more solemn. "Now I should tell you what happened after your fall. It was not a good time for any of us. As I had expected, by winter after your death, the Franks had attacked our borders in force. It was a mild winter, and so they harassed us until spring when they launched full scale attacks. Of course, I was prepared on most of my borders, but not on yours. Your death left a hole I could not properly fill. In the end I sent Gunther One-Eye to restore order, but it was too late. Ravndal was surrounded and cut off. He had to break through to offer your family and men a means of retreat."

  "How did that happen so fast?" Ulfrik could not imagine the fall of Ravndal, even though he saw the Frankish pennants over their walls.

  "You did many good things in your time," Hrolf said, folding his arms. "But you had no plans for your own passing. When Einar returned he was too distracted with grief at your death and the murder of twenty men. He just was not capable of acting with the decisiveness needed. Your eldest son, Gunnar, flew into a rage at the news. He took your old ship, Raven's Talon, along with a crew of twenty young firebrands like himself and set out to find you. He has not returned, and I fear he was lost in that effort."

  Ulfrik blinked at the news and though Hrolf continued to speak, he did not hear him. His chest hurt and a lump formed in his throat; he shielded his eyes fearing tears might disgrace him. However, Hrolf paused and leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry for my poor choice of words. Your son has been gone for so long, I forget that this is a fresh wound for you. He did the honorable thing, seeking vengeance for your death. If he did die in that adventure, then you will reunite with him in Valhalla. He will have died a hero."

  Pausing to regain himself, Ulfrik raised his head and nodded. "It is grievous news, but there must be more for me to know. Please continue."

  "My borders have shrunk, as you've discovered, but the core of my lands are as strong as ever. My relationship with Poppa's family is good, though I had to at least become a Christian in name. So now don't speak to me about burning churches. Just do it and tell me you burned a very wealthy farm instead." All laughed and Ulfrik smiled, yet nothing lifted the weight of Gunnar's disappearance.

  "Your wife remarried," Hrolf said suddenly. Ulfrik sat straight and swallowed, knowing this had to happen. "She grieved a year as custom dictated, but Konal Ketilsson took her in marriage. I awarded him a modest fort to guard the middle ground between the borders and us in Rouen. Your man Einar, once he regained himself, has proved to be as able as you were. He has a much larger holding at the border, plugging the gaps. We are all free men, but Konal takes his direction from Einar."

  A false smile trembled on Ulfrik's lips. Of course it was Konal. In light of everything, Ulfrik did not disagree with that choice. Aren was his son, after all, and Ulfrik dead to them. "My return is a complicated thing, isn't it?"

  "In all my years, I've not had the dead return to claim their lands and families again. I
agreed to that marriage and the division of those lands. As much as your return fills my heart with joy, I cannot take back my word."

  "Of course not," Ulfrik said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. "I think it best my family does not know of my return. At least for now."

  Hrolf and Gunther shared a glance, then Hrolf stood. "The rest of you leave us now. I have private words for Ulfrik."

  They waited in silence as the others shambled from the hall, a few stopping to rouse sleeping friends and escort them outside. When it was just Ulfrik with Hrolf and Gunther, he shifted on his bench to square off with them. "You want to discuss your son?"

  "Yes, you remember my boy Vilhjalmer? He was a babe when you disappeared, but is now a hard-headed boy of eight years, though he considers himself ready to be king."

  "So he takes after his father?" Ulfrik dared the joke and Hrolf paused, a flash of anger disappearing to a small chuckle.

  "No one jokes with me anymore. I'd forgotten what that's like. But yes, he is royal blood to the bone, though he takes after his mother's stubbornness." Hrolf rubbed his face and paused. Ulfrik used the moment to see what changes time had wrought upon Hrolf, yet he found him youthful and full of energy. His temples were gray and lines were thick on his brow and eyes, but the royal life agreed with him. He had not softened, for on his ring-laden hands fresh scars showed. For all that he was descended of a Norwegian noble, he fought and bled with his men.

  "He was to visit Mord Guntherson, who watches the southeastern borders for me. Well, the lad slipped away on an adventure with tribute collectors. By the time Mord realized where he went, it was too late to recall them. It should have went well, but the Franks are active again. Their new Count Amand has been agitating action all across my front, typical of the new Frankish aggression. Anyway, they ambushed the patrol with my son. Of course they all died defending him, but in the end they captured Vilhjalmer."