"You wouldn't dare."
"You'll prefer my lessons to your father's, I can promise you that much."
The first arrivals closed on them. Ulfrik began to concoct excuses, but as another man arrived with a struggling woman in his arms, he realized excuses would not help. The guard shoved the woman toward them, her full and lustrous brown hair flying across her face. When she regained herself, she pushed it back and blazing green eyes glared out at him. She let out a low moan and pointed at Ulfrik.
"At least the gods were kind enough to send a traitor with no tongue." Ulfrik smiled down at Vilhjalmer, who stood with both hands on his hips as if surveying his troops.
"This was a good start, but we'll have to try again."
Ulfrik nodded, then one of the guards drove his spear butt into Ulfrik's gut and he collapsed to the blood-soaked earth.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Runa stood when the hall door opened. Rosy light of early morning filled the square and two figures of perfect black hovered at the center. One was a slender woman, a head shorter than the male figure beside her. She gestured the man inside with a slight bow, and he nodded silently. The woman stepped back and closed the doors, revealing the man.
Light from the smoke hole and the crackling hearth reasserted its claim on the small hall and the shadow of the man revealed Aren standing with a pack slung over his shoulder. The lift of joy Runa experienced flooded away when Aren stepped closer. His wide, square face was lumpy with bruises. Brown scabs surrounded by halos of angry red skin raked across his forehead and cheeks. His lips were livid black, and bags under both eyes were heavy with bruises. Worst still, when he smiled his front tooth was broken in half.
He stopped and let his pack drop, then smiled. "Thank you for calling for me."
She raced to him, sweeping him into her arms, tears plucking at her eyes. He flinched when she touched his face, but she could not help it. Under all this damage was her son, but she could not believe it. "Your father?"
"Konal did this," Aren corrected. "I was at my father's memorial stone. Konal was drunk. I angered him and paid the price."
A tear streaked down her cheek as she examined his face. "I'm so sorry." The words felt thick and stupid but anything more would unleash a flood of tears.
"It's not your fault." He gently pushed her back, reminding Runa how little he cared for displays of emotion. "He is never going to hurt either one of us again."
His eyes brightened with hope and a thin smile stretched his bruised lips. The innocent hope in his expression drew out the tears she had struggled against, and she turned aside to conceal them. She walked toward the back of the small hall that had been a comfortable prison since her arrival. Other than taking meals in Hrolf's magnificent hall, she never left this place.
"You should have told me about Ulfrik. I would have taken you with me and saved you this beating."
Aren gave a quiet laugh. "No, what you would have done is angered Konal enough to beat you bloody and have him prevent either of us from leaving. Besides, at that time I had sworn to Father not reveal his return to anyone, especially you."
Runa's heart fell at the words and she whirled on him, tears cold against her cheeks. "Why? Of all the people he visited, it should have been me. I'm his wife!"
"You're Konal's wife," Aren said. He retrieved his pack from the ground and looked around for a spot to store it while Runa stood without an answer. Her face heated at the obvious statement.
"Not any longer. With you here, when your father returns I will declare myself divorced from Konal. The shame he has caused me is known widely enough. No one will dispute my claim."
Aren placed his bag against the wall and scanned the modest hall. "We'll be sharing a prison until Father returns. I suppose you will sleep behind that partition?"
"Actually, I don't sleep there, but someone you should meet does. I was told you were coming, and asked him to give us a moment of privacy before introductions." She folded her hands at her lap and called toward the rear of the hall. "Finn, you may join us."
Finn emerged from behind the partition screen of deer hide stretched in a light wooden frame. His freckle-splattered face was bright and hopeful, and he had recovered enough from his injuries to stand straight. He faced Aren and raised his hand in greeting. "I'm glad to meet you," he said. "Your father has spoken often of you."
Runa watched as Aren blushed and lowered his head and gave a short nod. Despite his intelligence, Aren had never done well in social situations, and now with a bruised and battered face Runa feared he would withdraw. He turned to his bags while Finn looked to Runa with his hands turned out. She shook her head to dismiss his concern, then went to Aren's side. Lightly touching his shoulder he flinched, but she did not step away.
"I've been helping Finn recover from his wounds, and he has told me all about your father's life in Iceland and his time at with traders. Did you know your father spent an entire winter at Yorvik in England before his ship came here?"
Aren released the sack and faced her. "I want to talk about Konal. He's more important than history now."
She touched the silver amulet of Thor at her chest and searched Aren's eyes. He swallowed hard, then pushed past his mother. He pulled a table from the side of the hall, then dragged benches. Both Runa and Finn waited until he gestured they be seated. All the while Runa wrung her hands and bit her lip.
"When Hrolf's men came to fetch me, they said it was because Mother feared my safety. I expected nothing but rage from Konal, but he allowed me to leave without protest, nor even a word of parting. When I left, men were boarding his ship, putting sails onto the mast, and looking as if they were leaving in haste. They did not have travel gear from what I could see. It means they were not traveling far."
Finn shifted between Aren and Runa, seeming to implore either of them to explain the significance. Runa did not need that help.
"Does Konal know about Ulfrik?" she asked. Aren lowered his head and remained silent. He tucked his face behind a hand, while the other made a fist atop the table. Runa let him take whatever time he needed, yet she knew the response.
"It just came out. He had smashed my face on my father's memorial stone. I was so angered. It was all I could think of to hurt him. I'm sorry, Mother."
She took his fist in her hand and massaged it. "What do you think Konal is doing now? Is he going to see Snorri?"
"I thought he might do that, but after the news he just got drunk for days. Then after Hrolf's men show and take me away, he decides to take journey along the river. Where is he going? If he wanted to appeal to Hrolf, he'd be here by now."
"So he is going to Snorri?" Finn asked.
"Perhaps," Aren said and shrugged. He withdrew his hand from Runa's without looking up. "He might want to learn the details of our meeting with Father. I asked my guards where he went and they all claimed not to know. Of course, their lies were clear to me. They knew, which means he has gone somewhere none of us should know about."
"You think he's going after Ulfrik?" Runa felt a tightness in her chest imagining the damage Konal might cause.
"Maybe," Aren said. "Since my father's visit, I've given much thought to what he said. He told me about Throst's treachery, and that has not sat right with me."
"I was there when Throst died," Finn said. "I've told this to Runa, but Throst said he had help from someone close to Ulfrik. Do you think it could be Konal?"
Runa stared at Aren, and he at last raised his eyes to hers and gave a slow nod. She had not wanted to believe it, but now her head hummed like a nest of wasps. Her eyes fluttered and she felt faint. All those years when Ulfrik left Konal alone with her and her children, he had nursed a desire to be part of a family again. He had made advances even when Ulfrik had been alive, yet she dismissed them with little care. She realized he loved her, or thought he did, and when Ulfrik died everything had flowed naturally to their marriage. A great tragedy had united them again, each lost in a world without family and in need of su
pport. But she never considered he had a part in Ulfrik's death. Now looking at Aren's battered face and feeling the tightness of her own injured cheek, she wondered how she had not suspected it.
"Someone is helping Konal," Aren said. "Wherever he is going, it cannot be good. I believe he wishes my father remain dead."
"But that would risk Hrolf's son," Finn said. "Why would Hrolf let Konal take that risk?"
Aren sighed and rubbed his face. "The help can't be from Hrolf. If he wanted my father dead it would have been done already and without risk to his son. No, Konal must be working with someone in Hrolf's command. Konal may have somehow contacted Throst to betray my father, but I believe there was another involved and that person or group is helping him now."
"We should warn Hrolf," Finn said, standing as if prepared to run to his hall. Runa grabbed his arm.
"Sit down," she said. "We don't know who this person or group is. I am all for action, but only when the time is right. For now, we would do well to watch Hrolf's men and see who might be involved."
Aren nodded agreement. "We should pry for what information we can. I fear whoever arranged for my father's betrayal would have to be highly placed. To rush to conclusions would be dangerous."
"At the least we can let Hrolf know Konal has left with his crew?" Aren spread his hands wide.
"Hrolf wants to speak with me," Aren said. "I was told to be prepared within the hour. I will tell him then. After that, let's see where things lead. We can do nothing here other than alert my father's enemies to our suspicions. We must be eyes and ears for him until he can return to defend himself."
Runa patted Aren's hand. She agreed with her son's assessment, and feared the worst part of his guess was true. Ulfrik had risen high and not without upsetting a number of important men along the way. Any one of Hrolf's jarls could be an enemy waiting to pounce. All she could do now was play the role of a spy, and a poor one at that.
The three of them sat in silence. Runa stood from the table. "I'm going to step outside. You two should get to know each other better."
Outside the guard at her door gave a slight smile and inclined his head. She walked a short distance and turned her face toward the sun.
How many more traps were hidden along Ulfrik's path home? She put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ulfrik rested on hands and knees in the dirt, the wind knocked from his lungs. Mail protected from slashes and glancing blows, but not against the solid thump to his gut. He considered grabbing Vilhjalmer and running, but after breaking his leg in the fall from Throst's tower, he would never outrun a young man. A fight would end in his death. A quick plan of taking Vilhjalmer hostage faded when guards dragged him aside and out of his view. With so many surrounding him, he would fail in that gambit as well. One marksman with a bow would put an arrow through his neck before he could get Vilhjalmer clear. In the end, he allowed himself to be hauled up and held at spear point.
The Frank girl continued to struggle with her captors, but Vilhjalmer remained cool and still between his two guards. Ulfrik gave him a weak smile, proud at the grace the boy exhibited for one so young.
"What is this?" The voice spoke in Frankish and came from behind. Looking over his shoulder Ulfrik saw a detail of six Frankish guards from Amand's fortress. They were dressed in white and blue surcoats and carried shields of the same color. Only the leader was dressed for battle, wearing a chain shirt and conical helmet of the Frankish style.
"Caught these three running from the fortress," said the Northman holding Ulfrik. "Looks like they were helping the hostage escape."
"Dear God!" The lead Frank stalked to Vilhjalmer and grabbed him away from the others. "How did this happen?"
Ulfrik inhaled to give his story, but Vilhjalmer interrupted in perfect Frankish. "The two dead men and the girl freed me from the tower. The girl led them to me, and they wanted to ransom me back to my father, Mord Guntherson." He pointed at Ulfrik. "This man caught us and killed both of them."
"Is that true?" the Frank leader asked. The girl shook her head violently and pointed at Ulfrik, but her guard shook her to silence.
The Northman holding Ulfrik loosened his grip. "The two men were already dead when I got here. Actually, this one didn't try to run when we caught him."
"I called for help once," Ulfrik added. "But no one answered. There was no time to waste, so I killed both of them."
The Frank leader threw up his hands. "All right, you're all coming back with us. The count will straighten this out."
Vilhjalmer shot Ulfrik a smug look, but he turned away not wanting to give his captors any hint of cooperation. In fact, Ulfrik's chest beat with pride for the boy's quick thinking. Such a young intelligence was rare, and he had only known his son Aren to be so smart. Yet whereas Aren was retiring with his intelligence, Vilhjalmer was snake-swift in putting it to use. He would be a mighty jarl one day and a fine inheritor of Hrolf's legacy.
Ulfrik was treated with a mixture of suspicion and gratitude. They confined him to a room, but provided a basin to wash blood and mud out of his face and bought him fresh clothes. They took his mail and weapons, but promised to return them upon leaving the fortress. The bed was comfortable and he dozed until he was summoned again. A bar lifted from his door, which he had not realized had been barred. Two guards gestured for him to follow, but waited for him to splash water on his face and roughly comb his hair.
They escorted him into the main building and Ulfrik noted every door and hall he passed. He arrived at the second floor where the wooden floorboards creaked under foot as they walked him into a large room with two high windows for light. Count Amand sat on a large, ornate chair, his golden cross glinting in the moonlight. He stroked his long, white mustache as he waited. Beside him stood Grimnr, dressed in plain brown pants and a green shirt which emphasized his waist-length yellow braid. He gave him a smile halfway between a wolfish snarl and a friendly greeting. A priest whispered to Amand, and seven men-at-arms ranked up behind him.
Ulfrik looked around as they led him forward, noting the high chandelier of unlit candles hanging over him on a chain. He wondered if Amand dropped it on people who displeased him. The guard nudged him and raised his brows expectantly. Ulfrik did not understand, and the Frank rolled his eyes. "Kneel to your lord."
"Of course, how forgetful." Ulfrik stepped toward Grimnr and went to his knee. "Jarl Grimnr, I am honored you should attend on my behalf."
Grimnr barked a laugh, but the Frank guard plucked his shoulder. "The count, you fool!"
"Never mind the formalities," Count Amand said, shooing Ulfrik and his guards back. "More important matters are at hand."
Ulfrik stepped away, suppressing a smile he shared with Grimnr. He schooled his expression and turned to the count, who continued to stroke his mustache while studying Ulfrik. At last he licked his lips then spoke.
"I have already spoken with the hostage, Halfdan Mordason, for his retelling of the story. I want to hear your account now. Tell me what happened."
"The two men had Vilhjalmer between them and the girl trotting along with them. Truth be told, I was going to the side gate to meet that girl." Ulfrik bowed his head with mock shame, then looked toward Grimnr. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, really. I know I shouldn't have left my post at the hall last night, but I had arranged to meet her at the gate for a bit of fun."
"I don't need the details," Count Amand said, holding up a hand to stop him. "You had abandoned your post for reasons we all understand. Now what did you see when the girl and her accomplices appeared. Who was leading?"
Ulfrik recognized the trap the count had set. He paused as if trying to recall, but was actually trying to guess Vilhjalmer's answers to the questions. The safest tactic would be to stick as close to the facts as possible. He hoped an eight-year-old boy was smart enough to think of that, and Ulfrik gambled his ruse on it. "The girl was leading them. I saw her first."
Grimnr glance
d at Amand, who nodded and stopped stroking his mustache. He leaned forward. "How did the fight go after that? What was said?"
"I told them to halt, and once I recognized they had the hostage, I ordered them to release Halfdan. I recognized both of them, as I had once been part of Gunnvald's crew. When he scoffed at me I called for help and drew my sword."
Ulfrik then told the rest of the battle as it has happened, for the details would not be different from anything Vilhjalmer had provided. When he ended his narrative, he spread his hands wide and bowed to Amand. "And that is the whole truth of it. It seems Fate put me in the way of two men who I hated most in this camp, and provided me a good reason to spill their guts."
"Yes, well, that's a vivid account of the fight. Grimnr, you've heard both the woman and the boy's accounts. What do you say?"
"I heard very little from the whore other than a lot of moaning and hand gestures. I'm sure she's accustomed to that." Grimnr laughed and Ulfrik smiled, but the count frowned and slapped the arm of his chair. Grimnr's smile vanished. "I stand by Ulfar's account. He was on guard duty, which explains why he was armed and armored. I've seen him flirting with the whore before, and I believe when he says he was looking for a roll in the barn with her. And Gunnvald and his crew were scum that have made trouble before. There is nothing more for me to say in Ulfar's defense."
The count nodded and began to stroke his mustache once more. Grimnr slipped Ulfrik a wolfish grin. While Fate had spoiled his plans for escape, the gods had favored Ulfrik enough to cover his treachery.
"I would like to speak to Gunnvald's crew," Count Amand said. "You rounded them up, Grimnr?"
"They were gone by the time we looked for them. Yet another reason to believe Ulfar's innocence."
With a nod, Amand fell into thoughtful silence. At length he leaned into his priest and the two conferred in whispers. Ulfrik strained to listen while appearing unconcerned, but their words escaped him. Amand finally patted his priest's arm, then made a sign of the cross and lifted the gold crucifix to his lips and kissed it.
Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) Page 19