Shield of Lies

by Jerry Autieri

  Closing his eyes, Gunnar turned his head aside. Ulfrik swallowed, fearing his own voice might crack, but he believed all he had said. Though the figure in the bed was of a man, he was still Ulfrik's little boy and he would never abandon him to failure.

  "When this wound is healed you will believe all I've said. You will taste success and desire more."

  "What if I fail? If I can't learn to fight with my left hand?"

  "You can learn, and you will succeed. I will not let you fail. I will hold you up until you can stand again, and when that day comes I will be behind you as proud as any man can be. You must believe me."

  Gunnar met his eyes through the gloom, and Ulfrik read all the conflicting fear, hope, despair, and desire shimmering in them. He knew Gunnar's path would be hard and fraught with dozens of holes to trip him on the way. He did not need to show Gunnar that now, only just set his foot on the path.

  "I want to believe."

  "Then do. In the end you must believe something, and why not believe in success?"

  Gunnar smiled and Ulfrik patted his shoulder. They sat in a more pleasant silence, and soon Ulfrik decided he had accomplished all he had set out to do for Gunnar today. He stood and stretched, then paused at the door before leaving.

  "Everyone needs to have their spirits raised, so I've announced a feast with games and plenty of drink to be held within two days. We must celebrate the destruction of Clovis and the Franks, before King Odo sends more to harass us. Rest up so you may join us. It will do everyone good to see you out of bed, particularly your mother. At least consider it for her."

  Gunnar nodded, and Ulfrik closed the door behind him. He worried a feast and games would stretch their stores for winter, but something had to be done to make victory feel less like defeat.

  Chapter 59

  Throst had found the north gate of Ravndal unbarred, just as Halla had promised. He gently widened it only enough to slide his body through the crack. He had to hold his bow in one hand and quiver in the other to pass. Sounds of celebration carried high over the black walls, so far that even Dan and Olaf had commented on it when they left him at the edge of the woods. "Don't stay for a drink," Olaf had quipped. "We're going to have to run faster than last time."

  Only now Throst had a horse. The Franks raised obedient beasts that could fly like ravens over the ground even under his unskilled direction. He left the piebald tethered to a rock within sprinting distance of the walls. The celebration consumed the attention of every person in Ravndal. After all, there were no enemies remaining in the land worth watching. He had ridden to the walls without a care, passing the wreckage of battle and stopping to examine overlooked bits of potential value. Nothing of worth turned up, but then he had already picked the best days ago.

  Inside he clung to the walls. The scent of roasting meat filled the air, where only days ago it had been the scent of the burned dead. Ravndal bore the scars of its recent battle. Fences were destroyed, barrels shattered, and walls breached. Animal pens were mended but doors still sat crooked in their frames, having been battered down and not properly rehung. Rust stains dappled the wall of a home as Throst sneaked past it. He noted a bloody handprint that had slid down to the dirt. The cheering and laughing celebration in the distance was a stark contrast to the vestiges of death.

  A ladder hung against the wall, right where Halla had said she would have it placed. While other ladders could get him onto the parapets, this one was obscured from view in the central square where the contests were taking place, and where Runa and all Throst's other targets would be gathered. Checking for people and finding none, he swept up the ladder with bow and quiver slung across his back.

  He crouched on the parapet, a slim board barely suitable for standing and never for fighting. Guards could observe the surrounding fields and fire bows, but would never have the footing to do battle. He crawled slowly on hands and feet, both for stability and concealment. His heart beat heavily and he dared not to look down at the celebration for fear of being caught. The thought was stupid, he knew, but yet he believed a look was equal to a shout.

  Progress went slowly, until he found a vantage point revealing most of the square. Every motion had to be swift and faultless from this point. He placed his bow and quiver carefully aside, took a rope he had lengthened with sheets tied to the end, and fished it over the side of the wall before securing it. He dug out the bowstring from his pouch, first finding the gold chain Halla had offered as a good faith payment. Once he had strung the bow, working with quiet intensity as the milky light of day lit him for the world to see, he drew an arrow from the quiver. Each arrowhead had been blackened in fire and rubbed with soot for good measure. A stray glint of light would make him a target for every bow in Ravndal.

  Laying the arrow across the staff, touching it to the string, he scanned the square. People milled in throngs: men and women, children and the old, dogs and chickens, all pilled together in a press of overzealous celebration. The greatest concentration of people were at the rows of wooden kegs where women kept ale flowing for anyone who had an empty mug. No one he sought would be there, and so he ranged wider. He caught a man and woman humping behind a pig pen, snorted at the sight, and eventually settled on the ax throwing competition.

  Ulfrik and all of his kin were clustered at the sideline as a fat man in a scraggly wolf pelt lined up his two-handed ax on the target. He let it fly and it spun with tremendous force but poor accuracy to chop into the target painted on a thick section of tree. He held out both hands as if he did not own them and the crowd laughed or cheered at his good humor. Runa and Ulfrik both stood clearly before anyone else, their children gathered close. He paused at the horrid bruise and swelling on the left side of Runa's face. He smiled and continued to scan. Hakon looked especially hale since Throst had seen him last. Gunnar, however, seemed barely aware of the celebration. Runa stood with his arm entwined in hers, never a more motherly scene had Throst ever witnessed.

  Had he taken enough arrows, he could kill all of Ulfrik's family and a fair number of his friends, so tight was the clutch of targets. He raised the bow and leveled it.

  Runa's swollen face hung on the end of the arrowhead. He swiveled farther left, past Gunnar, Hakon, and Aren, over Einar and his family, past the scar-faced Konal—who surprised him for being alive—and settled on Halla.

  She stood stiff, hands clutched to her chest, and recoiled at every jostle as if a pile of crockery had crashed unexpectedly behind her. Her two children clung to her skirts and Toki shouted with the crowd while spilling ale from his drinking horn, all seemingly oblivious to Halla's distress.

  He waited as Toki and Ulfrik began to shout to each other. Soon the crowd was encouraging Toki and he came forward to pick up an ax to the applause of the crowd. Ulfrik came forward, held up Toki's arm and proclaimed something to the crowd.

  Throst lined up his shot.

  Halla had used him. She had played his weaknesses with skill, manipulating him into feeling small and stupid. Once she had left, he realized how easily he had been played. But she had done something far worse. She had lied about Astra.

  Throst had seen Astra's corpse hung from the walls of Ravndal, apparently to send a warning message. The body had not been hacked to bits, nor had she been beheaded. From the distance he had viewed the body, the black blood stains on her dress made it seem she had been stabbed or had her neck slashed. If Halla had witnessed all she claimed, there could be nothing to hang from the walls, and if she had lied it could only be an attempted diversion from her guilt. Who else had a reason to stifle Astra? Runa would have wanted to question rather than kill her, and thereby uncover Halla's treachery.

  He flicked his eyes up, glancing across the roofs of Ravndal to the dark silhouette of the hanging tree atop its rocky hill. His father's corpse still dangled there.

  "No one takes from me," he said low in his throat. "I will teach you that lesson, bitch. Piss on your gold. Both you and Ulfrik will remember this."

  Toki
was lining up his shot. All eyes were down range on the target. He let the ax fly.

  Throst released his arrow.

  The shaft took Toki in the side of the neck. He clamped his hand over it like swatting a bug. Throst had already loosed another shaft, and it lanced into his ear.

  Toki collapsed even as the crowd cheered his expert throw.

  Looping the bow over his shoulder, he did not stay to watch the reaction. He left Astra's comb and an arrow on the parapet. He grabbed his rope, scaled halfway down the walls and jumped the final distance, then dashed for his horse. He was already galloping for the trees when he heard cheers turn to screams.

  He threw his head back and laughed. No one takes from Throst Shield-Biter without twice the payback.

  Chapter 60

  Ulfrik heard a woman screaming as if she were dying. In the swell of people, it was a distant but shrill note over the roar of celebration. Still, he did not want to turn away from Toki's expert throw. The ax spun with grace and plunked into the wooden target a finger's breadth from the center mark. Cheers went up, and the foolish who had bet against Toki groaned. Runa leapt with excitement and even Snorri, himself a former ax-throwing champion, sucked his breath at the incredible throw.

  He turned to congratulate Toki, but did not see him. The screaming grew more insistent and began to compete with the cheering.

  "That was amazing," Runa said, grabbing Ulfrik's arm. "When did he learn to throw like that?"

  "I don't know." Ulfrik's reply had fallen to a whisper. Runa continued to speak, but the words were muddled. He was pulling out of her grip, coming into a scene that made no sense.

  He saw a body on the ground and a woman huddling over it. The woman was the source of screaming, but two children jumped about her and joined in the wailing. The prone body was soaked with blood.

  "Toki?" he whispered, then charged through the gathering crowd. He pulled a man away and looked down on someone he barely recognized.

  "My husband! Help him!" The woman, Halla, was cradling the body as if she were afraid to break it. Her girls clutched her skirts and screamed. Every inch of Halla's dress was drenched with blood, even the ends of her platinum hair were stained red.

  Ulfrik rushed to her side, brusher her away as she screamed. Urgent voices filled the air, screams began to spread like fire, and shadow engulfed Ulfrik as he touched his hand to the hot blood flowing over the face of the man at his feet.

  An arrow had entered Toki's neck beneath his right ear, shattered, and burst through his throat. Blood had pumped from the ragged wound in a stream that ebbed down his chest. More horrifying was the arrow shaft protruding from his skull just above the same ear. It had poked out beneath his left eye which had rolled back and filled with blood. The right eye stared up, lusterless and empty.

  Ulfrik pressed his fingers to the base of Toki's neck, but he felt nothing. Halla was screeching, trying to rip Ulfrik off Toki and press his wounds closed. The blood on her hands was so thick she seemed to be wearing gloves of red satin. "It wasn't supposed to be you. Not you! No!"

  Grabbing Toki's hand and placing it on the hilt of his sword, Ulfrik dared no words. A pain more powerful than anything he had ever felt welled up in him, and it would explode from his open mouth and damn him to a senseless wreck. He stared at the man who had been as a blood brother to him. How many battles had they fought together? How much had they dared and dreamed? Now two arrows jutted from his head, and a life of glory and adventure had ended with the throw of an ax and a fall into the dirt.

  Runa began screaming, trying to reach her brother, as if he could be saved. Ulfrik continued to stare at him, a red lump of a man he had called his kin. Now Gunnar and Hakon joined the outcry and it seemed as if every person in the circle of the world were standing around Toki's corpse and wailing.

  A strong hand grabbed him up, tearing him from his silent and horrible fixation. It was Einar.

  "The shots had to have come from the north wall." He was pointing at it with his ax. "I've got men headed to it now, and more to search the houses. Do you think it was one of Clovis's?"

  The question struck Ulfrik odd. He stared at Einar, not really knowing who he was of what he was saying. "Toki is dead. What does it matter?"

  Einar's mouth fell open, then he clamped it shut and turned away, shouting orders and shoving men out of his path. Snorri stood in his wake, his face now more ancient and worn than ever. He stared blankly at Ulfrik, his thin hair lifting in the cold breeze.

  Then women were shrieking from behind. He whirled and Halla was on top of Runa, her bloody hands throttling her.

  "Fucking whore! It was supposed to be you. You were supposed to die. Why Toki? I'll kill you myself, you bitch!"

  Ulfrik seized Halla's arm, but she was possessed by the strength of madness and remained latched to Runa's throat. She did not struggle, as if accepting death. Halla leaned down to bite her face, and only then did she react with a lame kick.

  With a grunt he dragged her off, only for her to spring back with a mad howl. Runa crawled away holding her neck and gasping. Halla landed on her legs and clawed at Runa even as she kicked at her face. Ulfrik lifted her off and threw her aside, sending her careening into Konal.

  "Hold her down," Ulfrik ordered and Konal grabbed her along with another man. Ulfrik knelt to Runa's side, Gunnar following. Coughing, she waved them both off as she struggled to her feet. Bloody hand prints smeared her clothes and face.

  People were scrambling in confusion. Halla's girls sat in the dirt and cried. Hakon joined them in it while Aren silently observed Konal restraining Halla. Toki stared at the sky in a massive pool of blood.

  Eyeballs throbbing, blood roaring in his ears, Ulfrik stalked up to Halla. "Runa was supposed to die? What have you done, woman?"

  Her thrashing only slowed. She looked up at him with crazed eyes. "Fuck yourself."

  His fist balled and he was ready to strike when he heard Einar calling. He turned back across the confusion, saw him standing on the wall and read the defeat in his posture. Another man was coiling a rope that had been hung from the wall while Einar lifted a lone arrow for Ulfrik to see, then he pointed out across the fields. The killer had escaped, or that was Ulfrik's assumption.

  Halla sobbed behind him, and it all began to form in his mind: Astra's as-yet unrevealed informant and her murder under guard; the brown stains on Halla's cloak; even Aren's insistence that Halla was evil. Now this. He turned slowly, first looked at Aren who studied Halla with a hint of smug arrogance, then faced Halla who writhed in grief while Konal restrained her collapsed to the ground.

  "Why did he have to die?" she asked through her tears.

  Ulfrik stood before her, then turned away.

  He still did not understand what had happened, but he was certain Toki had died for the convoluted treacheries of his wife.

  And Ulfrik had lost half of his soul for it as well.

  Chapter 61

  Ulfrik faced Toki's burial mound, a pile of black earth still wet from the melted snow. Snorri leaned on his staff at his left, and Einar stood with folded hands at his right. They all kept a thoughtful silence. The mound still looked a like a scar in the earth, but he knew soon grass would crawl up the slopes and cover it. The fresh earth scent was sharp, carried on the first springtime breezes. He had not come to the mound all winter, and now before he traveled to Hrolf the Strider and Gunther One-Eye he felt it was time.

  The loss still hurt.

  "He will be waiting for us in Valhalla with all the other heroes," Snorri said, his voice a tired whisper.

  Ulfrik nodded.

  "We will sing songs about him until that happy day," Einar said, his voice loud in the morning quiet.

  Ulfrik nodded.

  Even now he could not speak Toki's name, much less praise his memory. Many nights he wanted to cry, to mourn the loss of a dear friend and brother, but instead he sat at the edge of his bed in confusion, eyes dry but heart as dead as stone. He had so many regrets, apologies, e
xcuses, and rage left unexpressed, yet nothing could find its way out of him.

  A magpie hopped along the top of the mound, pecking at the dirt for a while, then flitting off. Ulfrik mused life was like that, all pecking in the dirt in search of something and then gone without a trace.

  They stood longer, Snorri shifting his weight and massaging his leg. He stole glances at Ulfrik, and finally prompted him. "You've got a stretch of road to travel, lad. Maybe we should be getting you ready for it."

  "Everything is prepared," Einar said, and Ulfrik saw from the corner of his eye Snorri glaring at him.

  "You're right," Ulfrik said, continuing to stare at the mound. "I don't know why I wanted to come here today. Nothing special about it."

  "No wrong in it, lad. I expect you'll come here many more times."

  "I want to raise a stone to mark his life." Ulfrik clasped both hands behind his neck. "It ended too soon, without the glory due him."

  Einar grunted agreement and Snorri nodded. "Fate is a strange thing, and can't be changed. Such was Toki's weave, short but filled with the glory of ten men's lives."

  "Throst cut his life short, and when I find him I will cut the bloody eagle into his back and send him to Nifleheim."

  "Halla never admitted it was Throst," Einar said.

  "She didn't need to. Gunnar said that comb belonged to Astra." Ulfrik dropped his hands to his side and let out a long breath. "Throst left it with an arrow, a coward's way to admit he was Toki's killer. A gutless murderer, like his father."

  The three men fell silent again. Halla's madness had turned all her words to curses, and since the day of Toki's death she alternated between raving and weeping. All Ulfrik had pried from her was that Runa should have died instead of Toki.

  For her part, Runa had borne Halla's madness with surprising patience. Halla stopped caring for her children, not even recognizing them, and Runa adopted the girls once she realized they would get no love from their mother. Eventually Halla had grabbed a knife to attack Runa, and so ended her time in Ravndal. In a rare peaceful contact with the Franks, Ulfrik negotiated to have Frankish nuns care for Halla. She had been gone for a month, and finally healing had a chance in his home.