Grimnr bowed his head and his sword lowered. For a moment Ulfrik thought he would surrender to common sense, but the giant man slowly raised his head and a snarl contorted his face. "I hope you enjoyed your victory, for now you die."
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Father Engilbert and the beggars behind Ulfrik screamed in terror as the surrounding enemies closed their ring around them. Their voices filled the moonlit night, and if this did not bring attention from the wall guards, nothing else would. He had no chance to check the wall, as Grimnr closed with his sword flashing blue light. Ulfrik, still holding only a dagger, dropped to a fighting crouch.
"Is this how a man of honor defeats his enemies?" he asked. "Surround him like a wild boar and letting his dogs do the dangerous work."
Grimnr pulled up short as if awakening to his actions. "Halt," he called to his men. "He's right. This is for my honor, not murder."
Ulfrik relaxed his stance. "You'll allow me a real sword, not this cheap knife?"
"If you have one, draw it. Don't expect me to give you one."
Satisfied, Ulfrik sheathed his dagger and drew the Frankish short sword. He tested its weight and made a few cutting arcs to learn its balance. Franks made good weapons, but those went mostly to their nobles. This blade would serve for one fight, but not more. "This is between us. Let the priest and the beggars go."
"More conditions? You are an arrogant man."
"Actually one more condition. If I kill you in this duel, I want your men to swear I will be free to leave unharmed."
Grimnr's chuckle was slow and deep. "I've seen you fight. You're good, but not better than me. Still, it is not an unfair request." He turned to his men, and pointed his sword at them. "The priest and beggars are not our concern, so leave them. If I am killed in this duel, none of you avenge me and leave Ulfar the White unharmed."
Speaking in Frankish, Ulfrik repeated Grimnr's promise to Engilbert. "You are free to do what you think is best," he said to the priest, then glanced at the rowboat. He scanned the ground and located what he sought, then turned to Grimnr. "It is dark and the footing poor here. I suggest we hold our duel over there where the ground is more level and the moonlight falls evenly."
Grimnr did not check, but merely agreed. The giant man was stronger than Ulfrik, had a better reach, a better sword, and wore a mail coat. He did not need to check since no rational man would imagine Ulfrik defeating Grimnr the Mountain. He was a fierce warrior who cut a bloody path through his enemies. Grimnr the Mountain was a king of the battlefield, and it showed in his swagger as they relocated to the spot Ulfrik had chosen.
"I'm sorry we could not have been friends," Ulfrik said, gripping his short sword with one hand.
"As am I. But too much has come between us. It's a sad day when one so skilled must be sent to his doom. Now prepare to journey to the feasting hall."
Grimnr struck in a flash of moonlight reflected from his longsword. Ulfrik knew Grimnr's penchant for a decisive killing strike, and knew a man of his strength and size could deliver one from the start. So he faded left and the blade cut the air. Grimnr had too much experience to overextend himself, but Ulfrik had repositioned him.
They squared off again, this time Grimnr placing both hands on his blade and taking a careful measure of Ulfrik's stance. He jabbed at Ulfrik's outstretched sword, testing his guard. Each time he gave a little ground and Grimnr closed it. Ulfrik returned a low strike, forcing Grimnr to block, but it was a diversion for Ulfrik to unpin his cloak. He now held it to his neck with his left hand.
He struck a flurry of blows at Grimnr, none striking flesh, but forcing him to watch his sword as Ulfrik continued to shift back. Grimnr charged in with a roar and his blade shoved Ulfrik back as he parried. He felt his heels strike the knee-high, jagged rock he had found earlier.
Rather than stumble, he smiled, then waited for the follow-up strike. When Grimnr jabbed again, Ulfrik tore the cloak from his shoulders and slung it at Grimnr's sword.
The heavy wool wrapped the sword and dragged it down. Ulfrik dropped his weapon, grabbed the other end of the cloak, then leapt up on the rock behind him. Grimnr stumbled forward, still entwined in the cloak, and Ulfrik jumped off the back of the rock.
Grimnr's chest crashed onto the rock with a crunch of mail and his face struck with a wet crack.
Ulfrik lifted his foot then stomped down on Grimnr's head. He heard bone snap and Grimnr's grunt as his neck broke. The men around them, formerly silent, now groaned with sympathetic pain. Ulfrik brought his foot down a second time, and he saw the rush of blood black in the moonlight and heard the gut-churning crunch of Grimnr's skull breaking.
Ulfrik stepped back and stared at Grimnr's form slumped over the rock, his cloak-wrapped sword dropped to the grass beneath his limp hand. He felt for a pulse in his neck, but Grimnr the Mountain was no more.
"That was not fair," said one of the men. Others began to grumble as well.
"You didn't even use a sword. What kind of duel was that?"
Retrieving his sword from the grass, Ulfrik started for the river. "Remember Grimnr's promise. I'm to be let free."
"Not for killing him like an animal," said one, and the others shouted in agreement. Ulfrik dashed for the water, sinking into the mud and wading out to the Seine.
A spear flew after him and splashed into the water, but already the rowboat emerged out of the dark. Ulfrik flopped to it, and threw himself over the side.
"I thought you might abandon me," Ulfrik said to Engilbert, who was frantically rowing.
"If you die your friend will kill Wibert." A spear thudded into the side of the boat, then dropped into the water. Engilbert threw himself flat. "You row!"
Ulfrik grabbed the oars and left Grimnr's men stranded on the shore, screaming for justice. "I guess the guards really don't care what happens beneath their walls."
"Just tell me this nightmare is over now," Engilbert said, his voice muffled as he huddled against the bottom of the rowboat.
"It just might be done." The oars were like the wings of a gull taking off from the water and their rowboat sped toward the opposite shore. "Pray to your god those men don't find another boat to cross the river. Otherwise, Father, we both have our prayers answered this night."
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
By dawn of the next day, Ulfrik had journeyed up the south bank of the Seine to rendezvous with Gunnar's ship. He rowed up to the hull where Finn and Gunnar both hailed him from the rails as a crewman extended an oar to aid him in climbing aboard. He stood in the rocking boat and steadied himself with the oar before turning to Engilbert. "You won't come?"
The priest lowered his head. "Wibert needs me."
"You'll be blamed for what happened. Can you help your friend when you're dead? If you stay with me, then you have a chance to do some good."
"No, I am returning to Paris. God knows the reasons for my sins, and His judgment alone is all I fear."'
Ulfrik nodded. "What is Wibert to you? He is more than a friend."
"He's my son," Engilbert said, looking toward the far shore. "You are the first one to know that truth, and I don't even like you. Even Wibert doesn't know."
He clambered over the rails of Gunnar's ship to welcoming pats from Finn, then he leaned over the rails to salute Engilbert. "I wouldn't have guessed that, but protecting a son is a noble task. Good luck to you. I don't think we shall meet again."
"God willing I will never see another of your kind for the rest of my days." Engilbert began to row for the shore, and Ulfrik turned with a huge smile to greet Finn and Vilhjalmer.
"No troubles getting out of Paris?"
"It was boring," Vilhjalmer said, hands on his hips. "We just paid a gate tax and walked out. You had all the adventure."
Ulfrik laughed, but both Finn and Gunnar gave him a serious look. "Grimnr the Mountain has fallen. As expected, he had men watching us and waited in ambush when we emerged from the tunnel. I killed him in a duel."
"There should be a few go
od stories from that," Gunnar said. "But save them for Hrolf's hall. We sail straight for it."
They hugged the southern shore of the Seine as they approached Count Amand's camp. Already they found ships in disarray and depleted. Smoke hazed the river, filling their noses with the scents of burning wood. As they glided past the docks, they were ignored by any Norse ship still on the water. The camp was heavy in smoke, but the fortress beyond it appeared unscathed and blue and white pennants still fluttered from the towers.
"Einar and Mord either finished the traitor camp or they revolted," Gunnar said.
"Probably both," Ulfrik said, leaning on the rail beside Gunnar as he worked the tiller. He stared down at Gunnar's hook hand and nodded. "That seems to work quite well. Made it yourself?"
He shook his head, his dark curly hair falling across his eyes. "Gunther One-Eye had a blacksmith who helped design it for me. Even in a storm it holds fast, maybe better than a real hand."
"Gunther, eh?"
"He helped with a lot of things after you died. He lost an eye and knows how losing a body part affects a man. Seemed like he was the only one at that time who understood how I felt after I thought you dead. He understood how hot the fire of revenge burned, and how missing a hand made it feel like I would never lead a crew of my own."
Ulfrik nodded, then held out his left hand. "Well, I lost a finger."
"I noticed. That must have hit you hard. It was your favorite one to stick up your nose."
They laughed together and Ulfrik's heart was feather-light for the rest of the journey to Hrolf's hall. By late afternoon they arrived to a throng of guards waiting for them at the shore. Once in safe waters, Gunnar let the current and wind carry them the rest of the journey. Fishermen they met along the way sped ahead to relay the news. Now Ulfrik stood with Vilhjalmer between him and Finn, and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Are you excited to return home?"
Vilhjalmer shrugged. "There were some boring parts, but this was an excellent adventure. I don't think my mother would ever let me do this again."
"Nor would your father," Ulfrik said, patting the back of Vilhjalmer's head. "Nor would I, for that matter. A lot of blood was spilled on your account."
"But they were the enemy, so no matter."
"Spoken like a true noble," Finn said dryly. He exchanged a glance with Ulfrik over Vilhjalmer's head.
"Your mother still believes you were with Mord," Ulfrik said. "Or at least that was how I left matters. I think it's best you keep this adventure a secret between us."
"Then how will skalds sing of our deeds?"
"That will be for you to solve if you succeed your father one day. For now, enjoy the secret."
At last Gunnar steered his ship to dock and set the gangplank down. Hrolf and his wife, Poppa, waited at the end of the dock with rows of armored guards behind them. Always the giant in any crowd, Hrolf appeared especially tall next to his petite and retiring wife. Ulfrik helped Vilhjalmer to the gangplank, then let him proceed ahead. They walked together, Ulfrik's chest bursting with pride at the fulfillment of his task. Hrolf struggled to keep himself in check as Vilhjalmer bowed dutifully. "Father, Mother, I have returned."
Hrolf simply patted his son's head, but Ulfrik was certain he caught a glimpse of wet eyes. Poppa, his wife, gathered Vilhjalmer to her side and enfolded him with graceful arms, then she turned toward the hall with a dozen maids and as many guards falling in behind him. Now Ulfrik approached Hrolf and went to his knee.
"Your son is returned unharmed," he said. "And I have other news as well. Both Count Amand and Grimnr the Mountain are no more."
He dared to glance up. Hrolf studied him with a furrowed brow. He seized Ulfrik with both hands and lifted him to his feet, gripping him by his shirt so close that Ulfrik could smell the faint scent of mead on his breath.
"He got to Paris?" Hrolf's face was incredulous, and Ulfrik could only nod in confirmation. "And you slipped inside to complete the task I assigned you?"
"And I killed Count Amand in a church and broke Grimnr the Mountain's neck over a rock beneath the walls of Paris."
Hrolf's face trembled, then he crushed Ulfrik into an bear hug. He squeezed hard enough to drive out Ulfrik's breath. "Gods, man, I love you. You have done all that I asked and more, and kicked those Franks right in the stones while you did it."
Hrolf led Ulfrik with an arm over his shoulder at the back of the procession to the hall. For the evening's welcome feast, Hrolf slaughtered a heifer and invited hirdmen and tradesmen both to the celebration. Vilhjalmer's kidnapping was kept silent, but Hrolf positioned the event as a celebration of Count Amand's defeat and the dissolution of the traitor camp. Ulfrik sat at Hrolf's left hand, where Gunther One-Eye had traditionally sat. Gunther had apparently gone to help Mord with the surprise attack. Runa, Aren, and all the others yet remained at Eyrafell.
By the time the reveling had calmed, a cool night breeze was blowing through the hall. Ulfrik was hot with drink and the roaring hearth fire that bathed the room in a golden glow. Hrolf had been gregarious throughout the evening, talking with everyone and toasting everything he could imagine. Now with Gunnar and Finn having joined them at the high table after Poppa and attendants had retired, Hrolf gathered them close.
"I promised you a reward for your service," Hrolf said. "You deserve more than I can give you right now. But take over Konalsvik, give it a new name and a new garrison. I will send men to seed your ranks, but in time you will find more. It is an important location, but it has seen no action. Do not get comfortable there, as I will move you closer to the borders where honor dictates you should be. As for gold, take whatever Konal left behind, then tell me what it was and I shall match it. You will not be poor, not for all you have done for me."
Ulfrik blinked at the generosity. "You do me too much honor."
"Don't say it. Who else could have freed my son while cutting the legs out from the Franks?"
"That credit should be placed at the feet of Einar and Mord. They led the attacks that routed the enemy."
"And you cut off the enemy's head. Do not underestimate what the loss of leadership does to them. The fortress still stands, but without an army to occupy it and ships to protect it from flanking attacks, we'll smash it to splinters."
Ulfrik looked between Gunnar and Finn, both smiling like two children receiving Yuletide presents. Gunnar rapped the table before his father. "Will you allow my ship to dock with you while we figure out what to do next?"
"Of course, but I hope your plans involve raiding Franks and not sailing off again. I'm going to need experienced fighters."
"If there's gold to be had, you won't find any protest from my crew."
They spent the rest of the evening in celebration. Once men had crawled away to sleep in a corner, Hrolf stood and stretched. "I will retire now. Tomorrow, I expect you will want to rejoin your family. Give them my thanks, especially to your wife. She is a rare woman, and as brave as she is unruly."
"That she is," Ulfrik agreed.
Hrolf paused and placed a warm hand on Ulfrik's shoulder. "I can scarcely believe you still live. No man returns from his own funeral, but you did. Since we first met so many years ago, I have always believed you brought me luck. These years have been hard. I've lost territory and allies. But you have returned and already brought me a victory, I think the gods have shown I will prevail in this struggle. No matter how long it takes, we will drive the Franks back and make this a place where all our brothers can live united under a king of their own kind. Your return is the start of that time."
He squeezed Ulfrik's shoulder and staggered toward his room. Ulfrik watched his king go, but thought only of finding his home once more.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Eyrafell had seemed much smaller when Ulfrik had first visited Einar's fortress. He attributed that to his narrow focus at the time, but today he saw how large it actually was. High walls encompassed four quadrants packed with buildings filled with tradesmen and w
arriors, and the town bustled with life. Einar led him through the streets, pointing out buildings or other points of especial pride. He walked with a crutch, the arrow wound in the back of his leg still raw. He often stood on one foot and pointed with the crutch, swinging it in an arc that made some of his men duck. Finn was close at his heels, asking all sorts of questions about the town that Einar was too happy to answer.
They made for the main hall, with Einar between him and Gunnar and a line of crew and guards behind them. Ulfrik had more time to note the similarities between Ravndal and Eyrafell. He agreed with some of the changes to the design, while other things he would have chosen differently. Since Eyrafell had held the borders against the Franks, he could not be too critical.
"Runa and Bera have been preparing a feast all day," Einar said. "Our wives must be the two best cooks in the entire world. Do you smell that from here?"
"That's a taste I've sorely missed."
"My mouth is watering," Finn said from behind. "I could eat a whale."
The doors to the hall were opened and arrayed before them was his family. Their memories had been all that had sustained him for so many arduous years; to see them in the flesh again made his legs weak. Runa stood before his sons, Aren and Hakon, and she welcomed him with opened arms. He began walking, then jogging, and finally grabbing Runa into his arms and lifting her into the air with a squeal. The people gathered at the hall cheered, and Ulfrik kissed her like he had on the day of their wedding.
He set her down, embraced Aren, then grabbed Hakon by his shoulders. "Gods, son, you do look a lot like me. You grew into a man while I was gone."
Hakon had no words, but hugged his father and slapped him on the back. Behind them Snorri hobbled out of the dark hall, leaning on a walking staff.
Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) Page 32