Shield of Lies

by Jerry Autieri

  Black forms of men patrolled the ramparts and she imagined their surprise at finding her outside their carefully guarded walls. The fools had let her come and go so often. Walls were only suited to halting stupid men blustering with their swords and spears. The small and unimportant burrowed under them, sneering at their bravado and mocking their vigilance. Knocking on their front gates would be worthy of laughter, if she could remember how laughter felt.

  The shapes on the walls melded together, no doubt conferring on what threat lay before them. Finally the smile emerged on Astra's lips. They would never guess her threat, never consider she carried a blade taken from Throst. She would be mocked, ridiculed, cursed, and in the end she would be free.

  Would she kill the boy? Could she? The sheathed knife at her hip clapped against her skin as she walked. She had the tool for murder. Did she have the heart? Even owning success, she left herself no means of escape. She had no intention of escape.

  Throst had been her whole world, everything that furnished her life with meaning. Her father had been a tender man, but he spent his life fighting the Franks for Ulfrik. Her mother's people. Though her mother had gladly accepted her father's blood price from Ulfrik and remained to serve him, from that day she hated Ravndal and all Northmen. She loved her own daughter less for being half Norse. Even so her mother's death had plunged her into a drowning loneliness from which Throst had rescued her. For one year, he delighted her and loved her. He had dallied with other girls, but always returned to her. They would be married one day. Throst always dreamed of greatness and she believed in their future together.

  Then Ulfrik ripped him away, just as he had discarded her father's life. She swore to follow Throst into the uncertain future, but he had asked her to remain behind to take his vengeance. Even in the chaos of his banishment, he had the wits to plan for the future. She admired that brilliance, was enthralled and mystified by it. Their parting kiss had afforded an expectation of joy, even when the future appeared so bleak. She had done all he had asked of her and more, all for the promise of living within Throst's dreams.

  Ravndal drew closer now and the shapes on the wall resolved into men who watched her with arrows set to their bows. If they fired upon her, she did not care. What did it matter? Throst had commanded her to die, after all.

  By the time she realized she could flee, she had already come within sight of Ravndal's walls. She had stumbled back in a daze, too stunned from his ultimatum to even consider what to do. Kidnap or kill Aren on her own, with no one left to help her.

  And not return to Throst unless one or the other had been accomplished.

  Death was what he had sent her to find.

  Men hailed her at the gates, calling down from the wall in rough voices. Warning arrows were fired, thudding into the ground around her as she approached the gates. She did not flinch, but drifted forward to bang on the rough-hewn logs of the doors.

  There was no place left for her in the world. If she did not belong to Throst, to whom did she belong? Ravndal was the home of the enemy, and she had never formed any connections to its people. The Franks would call her a traitor and sell her to slavery. Only Fate knew through what twisting path her future lay. She had merely to move forward and discover its end.

  Protesting with loud curses, the gatekeepers lugged back the bars and opened the doors to allow her inside. Spears leveled at her body, so close that if she tripped she would be impaled three different ways.

  "What are you doing beyond the gates?" one of the guards asked. "No one is to be outside."

  "Take me to the hall," she said, her voice tired and flat. "I have news that cannot wait."

  One of the guards seized her by the arm, his rough grip crushing her. He yanked her inside while the others swung the gates closed.

  They marched her into Ravndal with spears at her back, and still her knife slapped her hip beneath her skirt.

  Could she kill Aren? Did she have any choice before her own life ended?

  Chapter 39

  "She came to the front gate and demanded to be let inside?" Runa lowered into her chair in the hall, eyes fixed on Snorri who stood beneath her.

  "A bold girl, that one," he said. "She was spotted far before she arrived, no more sneaking for her. Claimed she had news that couldn't wait, but I had her locked up first. Just so you'd have time to decide what to do."

  Runa collapsed in her chair, eyes fixed on nothing as she went through all the reasons Astra would return. She realized somehow Konal had either been overcome or not yet acted. Though she had always assumed Astra would return, Snorri had convinced Runa that she had no reason to show herself in Ravndal again. Now that Runa had been proved right, a tight fear gripped her.

  "Did she give a reason why she was outside the walls?" Halla came forward with her question. It was past time for the evening meal but not late enough for sleep, and the hall had emptied of all but servants. Halla and her two daughters now lived in the main hall while Toki was gone. To Runa's chagrin, Halla acted a pleasant and grateful guest. She worried constantly for Toki, and Runa observed her caring for her two young daughters. She was not a bad mother to them, and Runa's nieces had shown themselves to be well mannered and intelligent. Of course, anyone could act such a part for a few days, she had told herself. Still, her nieces were winning her over and the youngest had the face of Runa's mother. Both had softened Runa's heart, even if only by a small fraction.

  Halla's question hung like a bad odor and Snorri seemed unsure how to answer. The silence awakened Runa from her thoughts and she rescued Snorri from his quandary. "Whatever her reasons, she has broken Ulfrik's orders to remain within the walls. I will hear her excuses but they will make no difference."

  She held Halla's cold eyes a moment. Was she aligned with Astra against her, Runa wondered. Aren had sensed it. Her innocent question, so sensible given the situation, hinted that she worried Astra would reveal their association. Could she truly know that, or was she criminalizing Halla for no reason other than dislike? Halla looked aside first, and Runa glanced at Aren sitting with a disturbing quiescence for a child his age. What did he see?

  "Bring Astra to me," she said at last, shaking her head. She collapsed in her chair and stroked Aren's hair. He gave her the faintest of smiles, and she returned it. Am I really counting on my child to tell me what to do, she thought. Am I so desperate?

  Snorri dispatched one of the few men left behind to fetch Astra. The palpable silence was long and uncomfortable, with both Halla and her daughters sitting to the side as if they wished to melt into the shadows. Runa considered sending the children out of the room, but she wanted both Aren present for his keen vision and Halla in attendance so she could read her face. So she patted Aren's arm and waited in tense quiet for the doors to again swing open with Astra held between two men.

  They led her forward, but since her only crime, to their knowledge, had been leaving the walls, they allowed her to approach Runa without escort. Only Snorri, privy to her treachery, took a spear from the guard and pointed it at her. Runa was shocked at the change in the girl who had dazzled her son. Runa had never thought the girls a beauty, but whatever had happened to her had degraded what little charm she had possessed. Her face and clothing were smeared with mud and dirt. Uncovered hair hung in frizzy locks running over her shoulders, framing a face that had no light, no life, and no hope. Defeat hung about her as thick as the ragged wool cloak she wore off her shoulder. Thin hands hung at her sides, and one hand picked absently at her left thigh.

  Runa recognized that motion and her stomach burned with fire.

  "So, you have news?" Runa asked, arching her brow as if she could not care less. She contained her eagerness to learn of Hakon's fate and what tales she had to tell. She glanced at Halla, who remained fixed on Astra while she sheltered her daughters against her body as if protecting them from a hail storm.

  Astra nodded and tears gathered in her eyes. She wiped at them with the back of her wrist, looking at the floor befor
e her feet. Her voice was hoarse and thin. "I have been to Throst, and I have seen your son."

  Halla gasped along with the few serving women and the guards. Only Runa and Snorri remained unmoved. Aren now stood beside his mother, and placed his small hand on her arm. The gesture was so reassuring, something Ulfrik would have done in times of trial.

  "And is my son well?" She wanted to throttle the girl, but was willing to play her game to get her answers.

  Another nod, and Astra wiped another tear again. "You would be proud of his bravery and his defiance. He is stronger than most men."

  Runa allowed herself a small smile. Astra began weeping now, and she cupped a trembling hand over her mouth. Still, Runa noticed one hand lingered at her thigh. She stood, feeling her own blade strapped in nearly the same place beneath her skirt. Ulfrik had forbidden her to wear it in the hall, and hated her to wear it all. Yet with him gone and Halla living only one knife-length away from her throat, Runa carried it. She felt glad for it now.

  "Why are you weeping, if you have gone to see my child's safety? You have gone to spy for me, to bring me glad news that my son is still alive and safe. Where are there tears in that? Now you can lead us to Throst and my son can be rescued."

  Runa indulged in the pleasure of twisting this girl's anguish a little longer. She was a filthy creature, a traitor and a whore, and whatever respect she might have deserved she abandoned when she took up with Throst. So as Astra continued to weep, Runa merely smiled and stepped closer.

  "You misunderstand me," she said through her tears. Runa paused as if surprised, gave a sly glance to Halla who quivered with her children held close. Astra continued. "I was not spying for you."

  "Then what were you doing with Throst?"

  Runa's smile vanished with the explosiveness of Astra's strike. A dull knife flashed in her hand and she lunged forward.

  Halla and her girls shrieked and the serving women screamed in one voice. Even the guards stood leaden and unbelieving. Snorri thrust his spear, but age and injury had slowed him. The leaf blade caught her cloak and tore it from her shoulder.

  The long knife felt good in Runa's hand, its balanced weight making it spring from its sheath. Expecting Astra to strike for her gut, she was unprepared for her to glide past her.

  Aren stood with his eyes wide and mouth open.

  Astra's blade flashed as she raised it to strike the child.

  Then Runa and Astra were entangled on the floor. More screams erupted. Runa was facing the ceiling, looking up at smoke whorls amid the rafters. She had tackled Astra and her arms were as iron bands around the girl's neck and body. Despite her youth, she was outmatched by Runa's experience and strength. She kicked and screamed, her knife hand pinned to her side. She tried to bite Runa's arm, but only managed to leak warm spit over it. As fast as she had struck, she had been defeated.

  Then dark shadows huddled around her and hands lifted Astra away. Snorri and the guards flung her to the floor, and one beat her with the butt of his spear. Runa sprung to her feet, recovered her knife, and sprang for Astra. In her youth, she would have eviscerated the bitch right on the floor of the hall. Her hands still itched with the desire for it. Halla and her daughters were still screaming. Runa's blade was poised over Astra's heaving chest.

  "You are moments from feeling this iron pierce your heart," she hissed. "Be still or I will be tempted to blood this knife of mine."

  She thrashed, heedless of the threats, though the two guards held her down. Snorri untangled his spear and struck her head with the butt. It slowed her, but she continued to fight. "You think you scare me?"

  Runa stood and smiled. "I don't care whether or not I do. There was a time I would've cut out your tongue for your treachery. But you have information I need. We'll see how brave you are when I take a hot poker to your pretty face."

  Realization of Runa's threat stilled her better than any physical blow. Runa ordered her restrained and locked up, which Snorri promised to oversee personally. Astra collapsed like a child's doll as the guards seized her. Snorri picked up the blade and offered it to Runa. "Have it melted down. I don't want to see that thing again."

  She turned now to Aren, and to her surprise her boy was composed and pleasantly excited. He fell into her arms, something he never did, and looked up at her with intense admiration. She smiled at him, relieved that the violence had not disturbed him. Halla and her girls were different, all three jumbled into a trembling and sobbing clump.

  About to offer them a soothing word, the doors burst open and yet another guard rushed inside. "My lady," the guard stopped in confusion at the scene before him, but started anew. "My lady, Konal's men have returned. They're at the gates and Konal's body is on a litter. What should we do? They claim you know their true allegiance."

  The guard framed his statement more as a question. The fire returned to her belly. If Konal was on a litter and Hakon not with them ...

  "By all the gods, open the gates and let them in. Take them here. Go!"

  Snorri paled and looked at Runa. They both in turn looked at Astra, but she hung between her captors as if she were a corpse.

  "Don't let him be dead," she said to herself. "Not him nor my son."

  Chapter 40

  Separated from the others, stripped of their mail coats and weapons, Gunnar and Toki sat in a small room within Clovis's castle. Toki had scoffed at it, calling it a pile of rocks surrounded by a rotten wood fence and fetid water. "The stone looks so solid, but it will topple faster than you think," he had told him as they waited in the empty room. "We once took down a real castle in half a day, and it burned too."

  Gunnar could not imagine stone burning, but the floor was of dark, grooved wood and the rafters above were likewise wood beams supporting a wood roof stained black with age. With little else to do in captivity, he studied the stone walls and the flaky mortar holding them together. How men piled rocks so high amazed him. The room was on the second floor and towers stood higher still. The sole feature of their room besides the locked door was a small window cut into the wall too high offer any view other than sky. Light streamed from the morning sun and bounced off the walls to fill the space with a straw-colored light. It would have been cozy had they even been provided a blanket, but they had only their cloaks for warmth. Rock walls, Gunnar had found, were cold. He had shivered all night, and even as desperately exhausted as he was, sleep had eluded him.

  "Do you think my father has discovered we are here?" His uncle, sitting enfolded within his stained cloak against the interior wall, shrugged.

  "We've been kept aside for a reason," he said. "I can only imagine it's for ransom. But this Clovis, the way he howled when he saw you ..."

  Gunnar stopped picking at the loose mortar. Clovis had prodded him like a fattened calf ready for slaughter, and his delight at Gunnar's capture had been shameless. Clovis was the nightmare stalking Gunnar's dreams, the madman bent on taking his hand in revenge for his own son's maiming. Both his parents had drummed this threat into Gunnar's head. He had nearly passed out when he learned their Frankish captors were reinforcements dispatched from Paris to reinforce Clovis's losses. They delivered him into the jaws of the wolf.

  "Don't worry for it," Toki said, realizing the fears he had conjured. "Clovis will have to kill me before I allow him to touch you."

  Gunnar smiled and crossed the room to sit by his uncle. Clovis could do what he wanted, and Gunnar knew no one could prevent him in his own castle. The only mystery was why he hadn't already taken his revenge. Maybe be waited to bargain, promising to leave Gunnar's hand attached if Ulfrik surrendered to his demands. He could only hope his father would listen, and not sacrifice his hand. It hurt him to wonder if his father might balk at the price Clovis would set.

  The interior wall was warmer than the other two that faced the outside. They sat against it in long silence, until Toki chose to speak again.

  "No matter what happens, it is Fate at work. The Norns weave a man's life, and he can do nothing to
change it. We are here because we must be, and we will leave when the Norns pull that strand. I have few regrets, Gunnar. My life has been good—like croplands, giving me all I need, sometimes failing, other times overflowing. If I had to mark one regret, it has been that I stayed in the North too long. I belong with my family, you and your brothers, my sister, your father. I belong where the battles are fought. Even imprisoned in this room, I am with you and the fight is not yet done. I feel good."

  He reached a hand from beneath his cloak and squeezed Gunnar's arm. Unsure how to answer, Gunnar placed his other hand atop his uncle's and returned the gesture.

  Then sounds of a door opening in the adjacent room and thumps on the floorboards. Both Gunnar and Toki turned to the door, and Gunnar peered through the spaces between the heavy slats. He could see only shadows, but the Frankish voices of Clovis and his guests were clear. Rattling metal and creaking leather obscured their voices, but Toki urged Gunnar to translate. He raised a hand for silence, then pressed his ear to the door, holding his breath to listen for every detail.

  The first voice was of the leader who had captured them. His royal baritone filled the room, and even through the door commanded respect. "You're badgering is both unsuited to you and tiring to me, Clovis. Please stop. King Odo has answered your call with me. Understood? When I speak, it is with the king's authority."

  The shadowy forms stilled in the wake of the rebuke, but Clovis did not hesitate for long. "I am not defying the king's authority. Are you questioning my loyalty?"

  "Never," was the long-suffering reply. "But I am questioning your judgment. I know you want the boy. So do I, and I have captured him on the field of battle. He is my hostage, to use however I wish. I may just have his head mounted on my standard and end your peevishness today."