"Let me through." He heard Grimnr's voice, then felt his massive hands fall on his shoulders and flip him to his back. "Get his arms and legs."
He was held like a hunter's prized boar between two men. Grimnr guided him to the hearth where hot embers glowed. Ulfrik struggled as they set his head beside the fire, the heat scorching the right side of his face. He vomited and it hissed as the puddle flowed into the fire. Grimnr's hand pushed his face onto the hot rock of the hearth and it scorched his cheek. With his other hand Grimnr drew out a burning brand from the fire.
The searing heat was inches from Ulfrik's face, making his eyes water. The more he struggled, the harder Grimnr pressed his head.
"Last time, or I burn out your eye. Who do you serve?"
"You!"
"What's your real name?" The brand thrust closer and Ulfrik squeezed his eyes shut.
"Ulfar the White!"
Grimnr roared, and Ulfrik braced for the flames. Then he heard a wooden clunk and sparks landed by his face. He opened his eyes as Grimnr released him, then he slid to the floor.
Someone doused him in cold water, and a cheer went up. Leaning against the hot stones of the hearth, he looked up at a smiling Grimnr. Behind him, the hirdmen were giving approving nods.
Holding out his hand, Grimnr said, "Sorry about that, Ulfar. I had to know if you were honest. Trouble with spies recently. You understand."
Ulfrik nodded, water running off his face as he sat. He took Grimnr's hand and the giant man pulled him up to a crushing bear hug.
"Ulfar is one of us today," he proclaimed. The hirdmen cheered and clapped Ulfrik on the back, each friendly hit like a hammer against his weary flesh.
Despite everything, he laughed and accepted the welcome. He had succeeded in becoming a member of Grimnr's hird, and the sensation of success was a warm spot in his chest.
Yet somewhere beneath the thick blanket of drunkenness and pain, Grimnr's words began to bore home. Trouble with spies, he had said. As Ulfrik accepted his welcome, his mind drifted to worry for Vilhjalmer. He had to find Eskil before he was subjected to something worse than Ulfrik had endured.
Outwardly he smiled at his sword brothers, yet in his heart he cursed his foolish pride. The time he had to finish this task had shortened to nothing, and he had to complete it as soon as eyes were off of him. Unfortunately, he realized he had put too many eyes on himself.
Secrecy and deceit had never been his strongest skills, and now he had to execute flawlessly or become a causality of his own vanity.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Runa stood outside Hrolf the Strider's mead hall as a drizzle pattered atop her hood. The two guards at the door pulled into their cloaks and folded the material over the shafts of their spears. Both were young enough to be her sons and both appeared miserable. Runa shifted her weight, tapped her foot, and shot a frustrated look at the half of Einar's crew that remained with her outside. She understood that a woman was not accorded the same respect as a warrior, but to be made to stand in the rain while others entreated Hrolf for an audience on her behalf was shameful. There had been a time when Hrolf's doors swung open to her without effort, but now status and power kept his doors shut against all no matter how old the relationship.
Rain dripped off the edge of her hood and onto her nose. She snorted it away and it was as if that blew open the hall doors. Her men reappeared and were smiling. "He'll see you," said Reist, the hovedsmann of Einar's ship that had ferried her down the Seine. As the leader of the crew, it had been his duty to present to Hrolf even if Runa was a jarl's wife.
"About time," she muttered, pushing past Hrolf's guards. "The rain is getting worse, and I'm cold enough."
Inside the front room, guards checked her escorts who willingly surrendered swords and daggers. As a woman she was spared the attention and was first to be shown inside. The humid warmth inside the main hall clasped her face as she entered. Hrolf was sitting at his high table, his mousy wife Poppa at his left and the giant Gunther One-Eye at his right. None of them smiled, and Hrolf's usual charm was as scarce as his manners had become. She noted how his golden-ringed fingers absently thrummed the table.
After bowing to Hrolf and receiving his permission to speak, she looked over her shoulder to Reist, then back to Hrolf. His expression was stern and inscrutable. She knew the pain of a kidnapped son and what it did to a man's heart, but she almost felt anger from his stare. She could not understand how a simple audience could irritate him so, particularly since a man of his station did not need to grant it. Swallowing, she raised her head back and spoke clearly.
"Jarl Hrolf, I know this will seem a strange request, but we should speak privately."
His thrumming fingers stilled and Poppa sniffed, only Gunther One-Eye smiled slightly. The scar tissue in his eye socket twitched as leaned toward Hrolf to whisper something. He broke his cold gaze from Runa then spoke in low tones to Poppa, whose face grew more offended at each word. At last, she huffed and stomped from the hall, a dozen maids and servants scurrying after her.
She turned to Reist. "Thank you for all you have done, but my business with Hrolf is not for your ears. Please await me outside."
Having just complained about standing in the rain, she wondered if Reist would resent her for sending him back into it. Yet he only acknowledged the order with a nod and left without complaint. Now she stood with Hrolf and Gunther, feeling no bigger than a mouse standing beneath the two tallest men she had ever known.
"I know why you are here," Hrolf said, his voice toneless. "But in case I am mistaken, tell me why you have sought this audience with your jarl."
"Ulfrik is alive, and a man he traveled with named Finn is recovering here." Hrolf's eyebrows raised and his clear eyes widened, but he did not move. Gunther One-Eye shook his head and laughed silently. "I tell you this so you know I understand the task you set for Ulfrik."
"You do?" he asked as if inquiring about nothing more pressing than the weather. "How did you come by that knowledge?"
She told him of Ulfrik's visit with Snorri, and Hrolf's expression shaded from mild irritation to red-faced anger. His voice did not betray his mood, remaining as level as before. "So you are here to see Finn, I assume, and learn what you can of your husband's life these years we thought him dead?"
"I would like that, Jarl Hrolf, but there is more urgent news relating to Ulfrik and Vilhjalmer." He leaned forward and spread his hands to indicate she should share. Licking her lips, she described all Einar and Snorri had told her about Count Amand's men and what Einar feared may happen. Hrolf listened dispassionately, and Runa stumbled more than once wondering how he maintained such a distance when depicting the threats to his own son. When finished, she waited for him to agree. Instead he fell back in thought, steepling his fingers before his lips.
After an uncomfortably long silence, he sat up straighter and met her eyes. "This is dire news, and I am grateful for the haste and care taken to deliver it to me. Who else knows of Ulfrik's task?"
"None but my sons, Snorri, and Einar. Snorri would not have betrayed his promise to Ulfrik had he not learned your spies were followed by Count Amand's men."
"You are certain they will not speak to anyone else?"
"They place their honor above all. You know this to be true, Jarl Hrolf."
He nodded appreciatively. "Aren? He is young yet, maybe inclined to tell his love this great secret?"
Runa suppressed a laugh, for Aren was nothing if not a complete failure with girls. "He is wise beyond his years, and would never speak such a crucial secret to anyone."
He stared at her a while longer before speaking. "You have done me a great service. I will have a slave see to your comfort while you are here and put servants at your command."
"Is that all? What are you going to do with the news?"
Gunther One-Eye slowly nodded his head as Hrolf smiled at her like she were a precocious child. "I will consider what is best for my son. I expect you to observe strict silence on this as w
ell. Not even my dearest wife knows what has happened. She still thinks Vilhjalmer is with Mord, and I do not want her informed otherwise."
"I understand that, Lord. But Ulfrik's life is in danger, and if he acts while Count Amand is searching for spies, it could be doom for both your son and my husband. You must send word to him."
She expected him to explode in fury, but instead his shoulders fell forward and a glimpse of the old Hrolf glimmered in his troubled expression. With a touch to his shoulder from Gunther, the iron returned to his voice.
"I appreciate your concerns and how hard it is to learn Ulfrik lives but is in danger. Do not think I would entrust him to this task if I did not believe him capable of facing whatever the Fates have planned for him. This is the life of my son and the future of my kingdom we are discussing. I have placed it all in Ulfrik's hands and I know I have not misjudged him. If you knew the details of what he survived to return to us, then you would not fear his safety. He will succeed."
"But I don't know the details," she said with forcefulness she regretted. Hrolf and Gunther both leaned back in surprise. "At the very least he must be alerted to the threat. Don't leave it to the gods to decide, for they have ever loved to toy with my husband."
"I will consider what you have said." Hrolf stood to signal the end of his patience. Runa's pulse throbbed in her neck and her hands trembled. This was not enough. She had to be sure Ulfrik was safe, and if Hrolf would not act, then she would.
"Do not consider, but act. How long can you delay before he is discovered? What will happen to him and your son?"
Hrolf's face turned red and he pressed his lips together. Gunther One-Eye stepped down from the high table to gently take her by the arm. "You're cold and tired from your trip. News like this must hit hard. Take a rest and you will feel better."
"What? I'm not so helpless that I have to lie down. Do you take me for one of those delicate flowers the Franks so love, that all my petals will fall at the first strong wind? We have to do something about this news today. You must see that?"
Gunther nodded, but his grip on her shoulder tightened. Her eyes widened at him, then she turned to Hrolf. His face was still red and he leaned on the table with both fists. "What happened to your face?"
The shift in topic threw her. The shame of her beating was the last thing she wanted to describe to Hrolf. Reflexively she pulled her curly hair over the bruise. "It is nothing."
"I understand a lot of nothing happens in Konal's hall."
Runa gasped. How could he know such details, and why would a great jarl concern himself with the details?
He smiled at her reaction. "Yes, I know the hearts of all my men. What they fear, what they love, who they know, and where they travel. It has grown harder over the years, but key men I make a habit to watch. I wonder what Konal will ask you when you return? What will you tell him?"
"That I went to visit Einar as I said I would." Her voice shrank and she did not even convince herself.
"Of course, but he will discover your visit here sooner rather than later. Maybe he already knows? Then he will beat you until you relent."
"He would not do that," she said, her voice diminishing. "And I would never tell him the truth."
"A common belief until the pain becomes too much," Hrolf said. His expression shifted from anger to concern. "But he'd have it out of you, and then what would he do knowing Ulfrik lives? Of all the people to fear his return, Konal has the most cause for it. He took Ulfrik's wife and home, assumed Ulfrik's life for his own. It was all honestly done under the assumption Ulfrik was dead. But now questions will arise. He might panic at word of Ulfrik's return and his mission might leak. Such starling news may travel faster than anyone might expect straight to Count Amand's ears. What of Ulfrik's safety then?"
"That will not happen," Runa said, tipping her head back in defiance yet realizing her assurances meant nothing.
"Of course it will not." Hrolf smiled and extended a hand to her. "You will remain my guest until Ulfrik returns. I will send word back to Einar for you, and instructions that will guarantee he does not repeat what he knows."
"You can't do that," she stepped toward him, but Gunther held her back. "Konal will know something is amiss and take it out on my son."
"Leave your son and Konal to me. For now, I will keep you with Finn and he will tell you the details of Ulfrik's story."
Gunther tugged her arm and she lowered her head and nodded. Further arguments would bring nothing good. "Please tell me you will keep Ulfrik safe."
"He will do that himself, and return my son. Have no fear for it."
Runa nodded, but she did fear. In her heart, she knew the gods looked down and laughed at the small hopes of mortal men. They would be entertained before men realized their dreams.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Konal sat alone in his hall, unwashed, hands still flaked with Aren's blood days after smashing his son's face against Ulfrik's memorial stone. Rain pelted the roof and thrummed on the hide cover over the smoke hole. A leak caused the hearth beneath to hiss and steam, mimicking the state of Konal's thoughts. He was all heat and vapor since Aren stunned him with the news of Ulfrik's return. Not a single thought remained whole in his mind, nor could he string them together to make sense.
Everyone had quit him, either at his own command or through his vile cursing. Groa, the old bitch, led a revolt of the free women and now only slaves remained in his presence. A single slave, an old Frankish man with a shaved head, lurked at the end of the hall to attend him. Otherwise, he had spent the last three days alone in gloomy silence. The hirdmen took meals at their barracks and sent food to him at the hall. A plate of cold pork sat before him, untouched from the night before. All he needed was a keg of ale to keep him alive.
The regret for beating Aren was overwhelming. He was a strange child, but was Konal's only remaining kin. Why had he abused him? Aren held onto Ulfrik's memory as if he were the greatest man who had ever lived. The boy just did not understand the truth and never would. Ulfrik had poisoned Konal's own son against him, ensuring years after his death that Aren still held him in higher regard than his own blood father. Every time Aren praised Ulfrik's memory, he wanted to crush it out. Every time Aren's face glowed at some account of Ulfrik's life, he wanted to smash it down. Every time, Konal's hands itched to grab Ulfrik's ghost and throttle it out of all memory. Yet Ulfrik had been dead, and the living were all he had in reach, so they bore the burden of his ire.
He tottered out of his chair, stumbling through the hall as he had three nights before. The old slave stood as he approached, but he continued past until he crashed out into the rain. Puddles spread like brown lakes across the center of his hold. People remained indoors, but Konal found the cold rain welcoming. He wandered through the muddy tracks until he came to a barracks. Inside, he found men passing time with gambling and drinking. All fell silent at his arrival.
"Find my son. Bring him to the hall."
He did not await acknowledgment but returned to the hall to await the completion of his orders. Back inside, he sloughed off his cloak by the fire, removed his boots, and stretched his legs out on the high table. He let his clothes drip into small puddles beneath his seat. He was dozing when the hall doors burst open and three men dragged Aren inside.
Fighting all the way across the hall, the three hirdmen left a trail of rain water behind as they deposited Aren at Konal's feet. The bedraggled men stood over the prone form, frowning. Konal set his feet on the ground and leaned across the table.
"Where did you find him?" His voice was a strained, thin whisper.
"With the cooper," answered one of the men.
"Groa's husband," Konal said. "Of course she would shelter him. You may all return to whatever games you were playing."
He watched them leave, ignoring the dripping, heaving form beneath him. Konal wondered if anyone had been keeping lookout duty, particularly in the rain when no one wanted the task. He needed to get back on these men, but not befo
re he dealt with more pressing concerns.
"Stand up," he said. "I didn't break your legs."
Aren stirred, reluctant to obey, but eventually staggering to his feet. His hair was flattened to his head and plastered to his face, which he kept lowered. Rain water ran from his cloak into a puddle at his feet.
"Get out of that cloak and dry off. You look as if you just pissed yourself."
When Aren did nothing, Konal stood and fetched a dry cloak left against the wall. He approached Aren and began to remove his cloak, but his son pulled back.
"As you wish," Konal said, dropping the fresh cloak on a table. He turned back toward his own bench. "I've given thought to what you told me the last time we spoke."
"Is that what you call it?" Aren asked, head still lowered. "We were speaking to each other?"
"You've got a right to be mad." Konal strained to fill his voice, but his burn wounds forever rendered his voice thin and weak. "I took a heavy hand with you. But you know better than to bait me with your praise for Ulfrik. There is so much history you don't understand, but how could you?"
"So I deserved to have my teeth broken and face smashed?" Aren raised his head to match Konal's gaze. His square face was rounded with swelling, and brown scabs crisscrossed his forehead and nose. He flashed a wicked smile to reveal his front tooth had been broken in half. "Was I not ugly enough without this?"
"It's not so bad," Konal lied. The damage he saw filled him with self-loathing, but he would not reveal that to his son. "Since you're not a fighter, you'll need a few scars to give you some presence with your men. The broken tooth will do."
Aren laughed without humor. "I hope you die. Do you know that? I beg the gods to kill you."
"That saddens me. I wish things had been different between us. You are my only blood in this world. You look just like my father, but you've got my brother's mind. Kell was as clever as you are, maybe more so. He was the better part of me, and I the worst part of him. Maybe his death is why I've become what I am."
Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) Page 14