Hrut frowned and stared at the deck.
“So join with me. Only you know I’m alive and what I’m worth. Get a ship to follow, track us down and save me. Ransom me back to my family.”
“Sure, I’ll pick up a crew of fifty warriors and we’ll overtake this ship by tomorrow.” Hrut rolled his eyes and looked to the sky. “I’m no better off than you. Do you think I carry my fortune in my pack?”
“Pay your men out of the spoils, just like any raid. You’ll capture these two ships, for the love of the gods. Offer them that much. You don’t even have to reveal my identity, just claim me as your reward. Take me home and you will be paid and forgiven. No fear of revenge, I swear it. I’m saving it all for Throst.”
Hrut mulled the offer, his tongue prodding his cheek. “Hrolf’ll want his revenge, though.”
“Returning his favorite jarl from the dead will earn his forgiveness. No one knows what you did. We’ll tell him our own story.”
“Not so.” Hrut shook his head. “We sent Einar back with what we thought was your head. I gave it to him.”
Ulfrik stopped with his mouth open. He blinked and his heart fluttered, weakening him so that he sloughed down to the deck. Knowing Einar lived felt as good as if his own body had been made whole again. He closed his eyes and summoned Einar’s memory. A sickening wave overcame him, knowing how badly he would blame himself for the death of his jarl.
“How did you defeat him?” Ulfrik asked in a whisper like dead leaves in the wind.
“Bashed him in the head before we took out the other man. He went down readily enough. Anyway, he won’t let me off if he sees me again.”
Shaking his head, Ulfrik refocused on the moment. “Einar will do what I say, and you will be rich enough to travel far from his reach or mine. Do not fret the details of something so distant. Your other choice is not so good by half. Do you want to start over from nothing? Risk being captured by Franks or Danes looking for slaves to row their ships? At the least you realize Danes have marked two new ships filled with women and children leaving the Seine for the open sea. I don’t need to see it to know it has happened. They’ll be racing to capture these ships and take slaves. Join them, capture me, and your life will be better for it.”
For a long time Hrut remained gazing at his boots. A big toe poked through a hole in one of them. Ulfrik left him to his thoughts, but knew sense would prevail. Ulfrik did not want to end up with raiders boarding this ship. Seeing him broken up and in rags, they would toss him overboard as nothing more than trash. Whether he liked it or not, becoming Hrut’s captive was now his best chance to return home and was also Hrut’s best option. Even if he did not answer, Ulfrik assured himself Hrut would come for him.
The rocking of the deck and the gull-song above soothed Ulfrik so that he had dozed. He jolted awake as men filled the prow, the sudden motion flaring his shoulder and legs. He struggled to raise himself, then Audhild knelt to aid him. “Don’t move too fast; you’ll pull the stitches in your leg. Let’s move you away from this spot.”
Shifting positions was a welcomed relief, but the crowd of people in the prow confused him. Audhild held him under his arms while another man lifted his litter and glided him aside. A ring had formed around Hrut, and Gudrod was untying his bindings. When his arms came free he flopped forward with a gusty exhalation. “Gods, what a welcome moment. Help me stand, will you?”
Gudrod and another boy guided him up. From his seat on the deck Ulfrik could not see over the high sides of the ship. Audhild shoved a chest behind him for support, and while she did he noted a young man worked the tiller in Gudrod’s absence. He seemed to be maintaining course rather than steering for shore.
He looked back at Hrut, who briefly met his eyes and gave the slightest nod. Ulfrik smiled, knowing Hrut had accepted his offer. But the smile was fleeting.
The crowd parted and Eldrid stood before Hrut. The cloth wrapping her eyes was fresh white and she wore a white smock over her plain dress. Hrut flinched at seeing her, raising his hands only a fraction before Gudrod cracked the back of his head with a wooden mallet. Hrut collapsed to the deck with a grunt.
Eldrid threw her head back and produced a dull gray iron knife. “Let this sacrifice of blood please the gods and grant us safe passage to our new homes. May this warm flesh fill the cold sea with the glory of our offering.”
Hrut had castled himself on hands and knees, spit hanging from his gaping mouth as he struggled up. Gudrod grabbed his hair and yanked to expose his throat. Eldrid’s free hand fumbled across Hrut’s face as she oriented her blade on his neck. The knife slashed, spraying bright red blood across her white smock. Gudrod fed the deck Hrut’s blood, holding back the slashed throat as Hrut’s legs flailed and hands grasped at the air. Eldrid screeched again, holding both arms out to the sky and smiling in rapture. More blood sprayed her as both Gudrod and another man heaved Hrut’s twitching body over the side.
The splash receded as the ship glided past.
Ulfrik watched, eyes wide and mouth agape. His last hope had went overboard, leaving only a puddle of scarlet blood on the deck. Gudrod wiped his hands on a cloth as if he had just slaughtered a lamb.
“Why?” he whispered, and was shocked when Audhild whispered her answer.
“Because Eldrid said he knew too much to let go. What if he decided to gather men and come after our ships?” Ulfrik slowly turned to face Audhild, who stared back at him, her scarred eye brow raised. “He served us better as a sacrifice.”
They stared at each other in silence, until Audhild stood and left him facing the dangling cords where Hrut had been tied.
Eldrid dipped both palms into the blood and smeared her cheeks with it, then stood and began spinning in a circle as she turned her bloodied face to the sky.
“They are all mad,” Ulfrik muttered. “And I can’t escape.”
Chapter 17
Ulfrik sat upright against the gunwales in the fore of the ship. His free arm was draped over the anchor stone, a smooth edged rock the size of a cow’s head lashed into a wooden frame. Morning sun had brightened the sky and signaled the changing of the crew. He watched men kick themselves out of their leather sleeping sacks, stretch, then take their positions. Gudrod relieved the man at the tiller with a slap on the back. The bailer in the lower cargo hold in the ship’s center extended his arm to be helped out of the recess. Though a new ship, water leaked far worse than some of Ulfrik’s oldest vessels. The bailer was hard pressed to keep the water in check, and it signaled to Ulfrik that either caulking or construction had been rushed.
His stomach growled and his gaze drifted to where the rations were stored. An appetite was a positive sign of recovery, though he regretted he could not heal fast enough to reverse his fortune. He watched Audhild extract herself from her sleep sack. Her dress had rolled up to reveal a strong curve of white calf, and Ulfrik burned with shame for noticing. She’s the enemy, he reminded himself, she and this whole ship of fools. Audhild smoothed out her skirt, combed her hair, then attended Eldrid. The blind woman slept more than the ship’s cat, but was nowhere near as useful. She waved Audhild away with a thin arm and rolled over in her sleep sack.
The hull creaked as the ship cut the rolling waves and the sail cracked overhead. Ulfrik heard the gulls, and reckoned they were not far off the Frankish coast headed north. However simple these people seemed, Gudrod and his companion were able navigators. Iceland remained a myth in Ulfrik’s mind, but he had heard of people willing to seek it out. People who sought it were never heard from again, though Norse traders swore men lived there. If he were making the journey, he would sail directly north to Norway, find his bearings along its coast, then turn straight west until landfall in Iceland. Gudrod likely had the same plan.
Once Audhild stuffed her belongings into her sleep sack, she cinched it closed and smiled at him. Had he known better, he might have mistaken it for something genuine. She gathered white cloth into her arms and started toward him. She staggered with the sway o
f the ship, and the bailer nearly doused her with sea water as she skirted the cargo hold. He waited, unable to do anything. Gudrod stared after her like a hound leashed to a tree.
“Good morning.” Her voice was as clear as birdsong. “Time to examine your wounds.”
“Such a smile and I’d almost believe it sincere.” Ulfrik leaned back, anticipating the sting of the bandages coming apart.
“But I am sincere.” She peeled the first layer of wrapping from his leg, then paused. “I am happy to be at sea. Been a long time in planning and it has gone beautifully.”
Ulfrik looked at the brown stain of Hrut’s blood and kept his silence. Everyone judged beauty in their own way. A young girl came with a bucket of sea water and placed it next to Audhild. The girl avoided Ulfrik’s gaze and scurried off.
“You’re not going to clean me with salt water?”
“Just around the wound. Fresh water is precious, at least until we can resupply.” The cold water still worked into the cut and the sting made him wince. She was unapologetic, but worked with more care. They remained unspeaking as she worked. Ulfrik focused on the people behind her, families and single men all attending different tasks for sailing the ship. Some were competent, most made mistakes that worried Ulfrik. One boy, trying to skirt the open cargo hold but encountering traffic on the deck, decided to jump along the railing to scoot past. He succeeded, but such a foolish risk would set off a chain of disasters were he to fall overboard. He imagined trying to wrench the ship around in time, a gust of wind forcing the already-leaning ship over, and a host of other similar mishaps. The stories were all too familiar and all too likely with a green crew.
“Ouch!” Audhild got his attention as she prodded his shoulder. “The bones are still broken, if you were wondering.”
“Sorry.” She continued her examination, and once satisfied replaced the wrapping. “By the time we make landfall in Norway, you’ll be able to stand with support.”
“That will ruin all your plans.”
She sat back on the deck, flopping her hands on her knees and sighing. “No one wants you to be crippled. We are your family now, and we want you whole.”
“When I am whole, I’ll be leaving this family.” He twisted the last word into a curse. “And you won’t be able to stop me.”
Expecting defiance, he was disappointed when she shrugged and stroked the amulet of Thor’s hammer hanging at her chest. “Maybe so. The gods sent you for a purpose and when it is finished they could send you away.”
“Gods be cursed, I’ll be taking this ship back to Frankia as soon as I am whole. By summer I will be gone.”
Again she did not argue, but tightened her grip on the amulet. She turned to face the others at work. Ulfrik noticed how Gudrod eyed him from the tiller, as if it took more strength to stay away than it did to steer the ship.
“You will sail this whole ship alone for so far? Maybe you will offer men gold in return for aiding you. Every great man thinks gold can buy a solution to his worries. No reason you should be any different.”
“My gold pile would fill the cargo hold. I’ve no trouble parting with it to get back to my life.” Ulfrik’s free hand rubbed his upper arm where gold bands had adorned it not long ago. Now only scratchy wool covered it.
“Then you have nothing these men desire. What do you know of us?” She faced him now, levelly holding his eyes. Her scarred brow cocked as she tilted her head. “You assume we’re all mad because we’ve listened to our gods. Not so. Everyone here has more to gain than just bending to Fate’s plan. These people, nearly all of them, are slaves or servants. Surprised, but why? Surely a man so great as you had halls filled with slaves? Not everyone here is from my village, but they’re all here because freedom awaits in Iceland. For their sacrifices, they will become freemen, landowners, and masters of their own halls. Run off with you, and they get a handful of silver bits and nothing more.”
“They would be welcomed in my hall. I’d give them lands, flocks, anything they wanted.” Ulfrik reined himself back, detesting the desperation he heard in his own voice. Audhild was already shaking her head.
“Not the same, and you know it. In your world, a jarl will sit above them. In Iceland, they will be masterless and free. You cannot give them this, and once they taste it they will not follow you back to servitude.”
“And you will not sit above them?”
Audhild shook her head. “There will be no rulers, only the community. We will make decisions as a group, help each other as a family, and above all make our own ways through this life. The gods have shown us this vision, and I embrace it. They do too.”
Ulfrik snorted. “They embrace it or Eldrid the miserable blind bitch will cut their throats in the night.”
Though he spoke in low tones, he watched for Eldrid’s reaction. She stirred in her sleep sack as if in a terrible dream. Maybe she had heard him. He was convinced she had overheard his talk with Hrut. In the days afterward, he had cursed her under his breath and dared her to hurt him. Though the curses should have been out of earshot, without fail she would come to him within the hour and utter cryptic threats or press her thumb into his stitches.
“I’ve warned you about how you speak of Eldrid.” Audhild straightened and a look of fear and anger passed across her face. He had seen that look in the faces of men across the shieldwall, ready to fight and die but scared to do either.
“You know she torments me when you turn away. The more tenderly you treat me, the harder she presses my wounds.”
“Enough,” her shout drew stares from the entire deck. Gudrod strained against his invisible leash. Face flushing pink, she waved absently as if dispelling a foul odor. “You’ve not the strength to fight with your hands, so you strike with words. I’m a fool to listen.”
She continued to inspect his other cuts and began to replace the wrap on his forearm. He sat in silence, realizing he was driving off his sole ally. Her commentary on his strength was devastatingly accurate; his body had withered from inaction and a diet of soups and meat scraps. He had to regain strength before he could do anything under his own power. With the world considering him dead, he had no hope for aid. Far worse, he had a greater chance of being captured at sea and killed out of hand. The bitch Eldrid’s prophecy may in fact be his only hope at eventual escape. Without belief in his divine purpose, he was nothing more than a burden to be discarded. All Eldrid had to do was proclaim a new vision and he would end up like Hrut. His stomach burned at the thought. He needed an ally to prevent Eldrid from changing her mind.
Pursing his lips, he considered a new approach. “I am sorry. I’ve not been so helpless since—I can’t remember when. I’ve been ungrateful.” I’ve also been a prisoner, but I’ll ignore that for now.
Audhild nodded, slowly folding the last of the bandage over his arm. When she did not respond, he continued in the most contrite voice he could muster.
“And to be honest, I’ve not been so scared in all my years.”
She thrust the used bandages into her bag, wrinkling her nose at him. “Scared? Of what? Eldrid? Really?”
“Of course not.” He had expected more sympathy instead of her disgust. “I’m just, well, I am completely at your mercy.”
“And my mercy frightens you?”
The sneer on her face told Ulfrik he had steered into the rocks. Vulnerability seemed abhorrent to her, which suited him. He could not maintain that act for long. He decided to appeal to her maternal side.
“Bah, you can’t understand. Forget about me for a moment, and consider my family. I’ve three sons and a daughter who think I’m dead, and a wife who is faced with raising them alone. Just to think upon them—”
Audhild’s hand landed square over his mouth, clamping into his cheeks. She leaned over him, raising one slender finger in warning.
“No more about your fears and helplessness. No more about your family or wife. You belong to us now, and you have a duty to me for saving your life and setting your bones. That
is what you think about as you lay here and eat my food. When I bring a bucket to haul your piss and shit, you remember to be grateful. When I turn you so sores don’t form on your legs, you remember who is caring for you. When I clean you and do every other damn thing because you are as helpless as a baby, you remember me. Forget everything else. Do your part. Show your gratitude.”
She stood, hands on her hips. Others had paused in their work to watch. Ulfrik averted his eyes.
“And your spine was not broken in that fall. So use it.”
He kept his head turned, too humiliated to face anyone. He heard her footfalls as she left him and murmurs from others.
At least he had learned what infuriated Audhild, and had a far better idea of how to ingratiate himself with her. More than bones had to be broken before he could escape. He would have to break his pride as well.
Chapter 18
On dry land after weeks at sea, the people of both ships staggered as they milled about the shore. Two men had borne Ulfrik’s litter to the shore, neither much older than his first son, Gunnar. They had placed him in the grass, where the sweet smell of rain from the night before clung to the blades and emanated a soothing coolness. The colorless sky still threatened rain, but the wind was low and birds still winged above him. No storm was coming. Having been divided by two ships, people came together on land in cheerful conversations. Their thin, high laughter spread out over the gentle slope. Only the occasional screech from Eldrid marred the pleasant landing.
“Have Gudrod and the others returned?” Ulfrik asked one of his minders, the boy who had helped carry him ashore. His name was Lini, and over the weeks at sea was the first new person willing to speak with him. He was good-natured but timid, barely grown into a loose, red beard. He had a strong face obscured by a violent splash of freckles and unruly hair.
The Storm God's Gift (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 5) Page 9
