The Storm God's Gift (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 5)

by Jerry Autieri

  Gudrod flapped his arms trying to keep balance as he stumbled. Ulfrik held his breath, hoping the fool would crash on his ruined face. Unfortunately, he regained himself. His sword lay in the grass by the door. One of the guards retrieved it and Gudrod snatched it away.

  “No more talking to the prisoners alone.” Gudrod’s shouts drew looks from the distant celebration. Ulfrik only smiled.

  “You’ve no right to make such a demand. Valagnar is my prisoner, and I will do with him as I wish. If you wanted some say in the matter, then maybe you should’ve participated in the fight rather than cower behind me.”

  Ulfrik nodded to the slack-jawed guards, then headed back toward the celebration. Gudrod remained silent until he was out of arm’s reach. “I’m watching, you snake. You’re not a hero, and all will know it soon enough.”

  Returning to the celebration, Ulfrik received the same scrutiny he had as when he had left. More cheering and back-slapping ensued. Even those who had lost family spoke in quiet tones of gratitude for saving the village. Eldrid departed without the spectacle she reserved for large gatherings. Had Ulfrik not been seeking her, he might have missed her slipping away with a young boy leading her by the hand. She prodded the ground with her staff as she went, apparently not trusting the boy, her blindfolded eyes pointed at the ground.

  As the night progressed, Gudrod and his brood of sulky cowards disappeared. More people toasted Ulfrik’s victory and he became warm-faced and dizzy even though he drained most of his ale into the grass when no one looked. He needed his wits for tonight, but the ale took the edge off the pain and stiffness from the day’s exertions. He sat on a bench and watched others passing out in the grass, too exhausted to care where they slept. Others drifted off toward their homes as the bonfire burned down to a fitful twirl of flames, sparks spinning up into the night.

  This was the last he would see of these people. Strangely, he felt a hint of sadness for it. They were good yet simple-minded folk. Eldrid manipulated them, but in the end Audhild had granted all of them freedom. He could not begrudge the common folk that desire; it was common to all men. Their only fault had been in clinging to the belief that Ulfrik was a magical totem given to them from the gods. Had Eldrid not been so set on making her dream become reality, he might have liked these people. Maybe, once he was back at his own hearth with his own family, he would remember them fondly.

  He estimated a few more hours must pass before he could safely release Valagnar from confinement. Starlight and a slice of moon would be all the light he had to work with, yet it would be enough. Had Valagnar attacked later in summer, the midnight sun would have foiled this plot. Ulfrik took it as a favorable sign that Fate had sent them earlier. Their weapons were heaped at the blacksmith’s forge, and he only had to steal a few to arm Valagnar. Their ship remained unguarded at the beach, but on the chance someone discovered them, Ulfrik wanted to be prepared to fight.

  “It is time to end this celebration.” Audhild approached from behind, and Ulfrik startled at the warm touch of her hand on his shoulder. He twisted at the waist to greet her. She had cleaned her face of ashes and her hair was curled and wet. She no longer smelled of smoke.

  “I wondered where you had gone,” he said. In truth he had only considered how to avoid her home tonight.

  “Do you find my condition more acceptable now? You wrinkled your nose at me earlier.”

  “Did I?” Audhild’s hand began to rub his shoulder. He carefully moved out from her touch, standing to face her.

  Audhild drew closer, replacing her hand on his shoulder. She ran her tongue across her bottom lip, the wetness of it glistening in the dying firelight. Her fingers flexed on his shoulder. “What you said about making your home here, was it true?”

  She looked up at him with doe eyes that made his breath catch. Without waiting for his answer, she took his hand and tugged gently. “Let’s go home, and you can show me the truth of your words.”

  He followed her as if a rope had been tied to his neck, all thoughts of his plans fading behind the sway of her body as she guided him. Pausing at the door, she glanced over her shoulder. Ulfrik swallowed and followed her inside.

  The hearth was cold and a single candle fluttered in the breeze from the open door. Her modest hall sat in cold darkness, but she lifted the candle off the table and pointed it not at Ulfrik’s door but her own. Her eyebrow raised in question, the white scar clear even in the darkness. What he had once regarded as her sole detraction now blended with the clear and powerful appeal of her glowing face. Her cheeks were flushed as she turned back to her door, then pushed it open.

  What am I doing? Ulfrik thought, knowing full well he would not restrain himself. How long had he been without a woman’s touch? How much longer still before he would feel it again? In his youth, he had taken women while out raiding or shared them with his crew. They were spoils to enjoy. Yet as his beard grayed, he had lost his taste for such a fleeting release. He much preferred a willing woman. Audhild seemed willing. Her appeal was without compare to the other women of the village. How often during the long months under her care did he not stir at her touch, the scent of her hair, or the heat of her breath?

  Audhild placed the candle inside the door of her room. She grabbed the collar of her dress, her delicate hand pale and filled with shadow, then tore it down to reveal her chest. A shadow caught the swell of her left breast, inviting Ulfrik to tear the dress further.

  “Show me you mean to stay.” Audhild’s breathy words filled his head, and Ulfrik seized her by the arms. A quick squeal from Audhild, and then he snatched her forward into his embrace.

  They kissed deeply, their hands exploring each other, seeking ingress to the flesh beneath their clothing. Ulfrik’s skin tingled as the warm smoothness of Audhild’s hands slid beneath his shirt. She led him to her bed, and she spread herself out atop the furs and blankets. Her skirts slid up, revealing strong legs so white they glowed in the darkness. Ulfrik smiled, leaning on the frame of the bed as she reached for his pants.

  They joined together on the bed, naked to the night chill. Ulfrik marveled at the warm, smooth skin gliding beneath his rough hands. Audhild gasped as he climbed atop her. Ulfrik had been so long without the pleasures of a woman he had nearly forgotten the sensation. She stared past him, her eyes unfixed and her lips parted. He drew in her scent, bending to kiss her neck. She worked her hands into his hair.

  Then she screamed.

  It was not the scream of pleasure but of intense pain. His ears rang with it, then he felt an icy slash on his shoulders. She was dragging her nails into his flesh. He pulled back.

  “What in the name of—”

  She continued to scream, “Help me!”

  Something slammed across the back of his head. He pitched forward, only to have Audhild shove him off.

  Ulfrik slid onto the floor, naked and dazed. Something warm ran over his face. He absently touched his temple. Blood.

  “I knew it, you dog!” The voice broke loud over his head, then strong hands grabbed his legs while another hand yanked him by his hair. “Get up!”

  The candlelight shed scant illumination. He saw Audhild cowering on the bed, covering herself with a fur. People crowded the room, but he could not tell how many. A woman’s voice cried out from the rear. The man who held him by his hair was lost in shadow, but he recognized Gudrod’s voice.

  Gudrod rammed something hard into his guts, knocking the wind from him. “Good thing I was watching you.”

  Ulfrik started to answer, but one of the others in the room clubbed him across the head. He flattened out to the floor, catching old straw and dirt in his mouth.

  “You poor girl,” he heard the woman’s voice. “Are you all right?”

  “I couldn’t make him stop. I …I don’t know what to say.” Audhild’s voice trembled and she began to sob.

  A hand pressed his head to the floor while another used rope to bound his arms behind his back.

  I don’t know what to say ei
ther, he thought. When the bindings were tight enough for his hands to go cold, Gudrod lifted him off the floor and held him up.

  “Hero? You think that allows you to rape whomever you want?”

  Ulfrik knew better than to argue. Another candle was lit, adding more light. Gudrod had brought witnesses, and had been smart enough not to take his own clique. Two men and a gray-haired woman stared at him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight frown. One of the men held the rope that was tied to Ulfrik’s wrists.

  “Why?” he asked Audhild. She stared at him fearfully, but he thought a smile played on her lips. It could also have been the dancing candlelight. Gudrod shoved him toward the door.

  “We’ll be asking you the same questions at dawn tomorrow. Better come up with a good answer for it. I’ve got three witnesses to what you did here.”

  Ulfrik glared at him. Gudrod’s ruined face leered at him in the wavering shadows.

  They forced him out of the hall, hands bound, and he sent a long, forlorn stare down the field to the prison house where Valagnar and his men waited for a signal that would not come.

  Chapter 36

  Ulfrik lay on his old bed in the house Audhild had granted him in what now felt years ago. The goat he had kept for company was gone, but its rank odor still clung to the place. No one lived here, but it had become a storehouse for a miscellany of unwanted or half-broken junk. He had watched them carry out anything he could use as a weapon: broken tools, plates, shafts of shaped wood, a partially woven coil of rope. They left him bound by the unlit hearth and he shivered on his side until the dawn.

  Nothing he considered made any sense. Audhild had trapped him, and had planned it with Gudrod. Eldrid had not been part of the events, but perhaps she would weigh in now that the sun rose on a terrible night. No single moment defined the truth Ulfrik felt in his gut. Instead, a recollection of frowns, glares, and injured looks from Audhild combined with Gudrod’s incessant jealousy formed the truth for him.

  The admiration the people had shown him was a threat to Audhild’s position. It was one thing to be the feared, mysterious gift of the gods. He had no friends, no definite meaning to anyone. He was as controlled as a hen in her pen. However, as a hero who led them to war, bled with them, and saved them from an enemy set on their destruction, he had risen above his station. He was no longer a chicken in the pen, but a dragon among men. If he had not been so intent on securing Valagnar’s help, he might have seen that he now had men who owed him their lives and would gladly repay him. He might have wrested control of the village for himself.

  Fueled with doubt and worry, Audhild plotted his disgrace.

  “Beaten by your own plans,” he said to the rafters overhead. “And by your own cock. Gods, Ulfrik, are you fifteen again? Couldn’t forgo a romp in bed for the bigger plan? Bah, you got what you deserved.”

  “Who are you talking to?” The voice at door startled him. The early morning light seeping between the planks of the door was obscured in the shape of a man.

  “The gods,” Ulfrik called back. When he raised his head to answer, his bed slid and he jerked as if falling. He was still reeling from the strikes to his head the night before. His hands were cold from remaining tied behind his back, and his side ached from lying on it all night. He was miserable and decided not to waste strength taunting his guard.

  Expecting to be dragged out before the village at dawn, he waited well past the moment when the morning light revealed all the gaps in the walls and roof. Eventually he sat up, if only to relieve his side. A commotion played out in the distance, and Eldrid’s screeching voice was clear above all of it. Ulfrik closed his eyes at the horrid noise and slumped forward as he waited. A lice-ridden wool blanket covered his nakedness, and he studied the white bugs to keep his mind off what awaited him.

  By late morning voices neared the door, and then it slammed open. A wave of old hay and dust blew out before Gudrod as he rushed in with Bresi at his heels. “Even tied up you still managed to make trouble for us.”

  Ulfrik stared at him.

  “The prisoners escaped last night and took their ship,” Gudrod said. “You were the last one to see them and must’ve helped them.”

  “What happened?” Ulfrik sat up straighter, new hope animating him.

  “Don’t know. The two guards were dead and there was a blood trail leading to where their ship was beached. I guess they tricked the guards into unbarring the door and they killed them. How unarmed men did that is my question.”

  Gudrod and Bresi smiled as if they had solved a master skald’s greatest riddle. Ulfrik snorted at them. “My old goat was smarter than you. How did they kill the guards? Twenty strong men against two armed fools is no great feat. If you weren’t too drunk to remember, I warned those guards to be careful. They fell for a trick even a child would see through. They worked for that fate.”

  “Their throats were slashed. The guards had spears. They must’ve had other weapons at the ready.”

  “And I provided these to them?” Ulfrik stood, wobbling on his feet. “Don’t you have better lies to be telling about me today? Let’s get on with this madness before I knock what I left of your nose through the other side of your head.”

  “Have a care for what you say,” Bresi said, tipping back his head and dramatically touching the hilt of his sword. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

  “Even tied up and hungover I can slam you through a wall. Don’t foul the air with the wind from your cocksucking mouth.” Ulfrik glared into Bresi’s eyes and walked up to butt against his chest. “Draw that sword on me and I’ll take you apart one limb at a time. You can depend upon it.”

  “Enough of this, let’s go. Give him the pants back.” Gudrod stepped aside as Bresi produced Ulfrik’s pants. He held them out so Ulfrik could get his legs through while remaining tied. He had a desire to kick Bresi in the face, but he needed the pants more than the temporary thrill. Finally Gudrod took Ulfrik by the arm and led him outside.

  The day was fair and clear, but in the distance Ulfrik saw dark clouds piling up. A bad sign. Wind whipped the grass flat and the villagers gathered around the remnants of the bonfire. Women held down their skirts as the wind gusted and men looked skyward for the approaching storm. Eldrid stood at the center, leaning on her staff. Her bravado was gone. The wind seemed as if it could scoop her into the air like a dead leaf. The tied ends of her yellowed blindfold fluttered behind her, tangled with her thin hair. Next to her stood Audhild, covered in a green blanket and head lowered as if she were too distraught to look at anyone. Ulfrik immediately wanted to tear out her lying tongue. The bitch was about to condemn him to whatever punishments these fools reserved for their gifts from the gods.

  “Unbind me,” Ulfrik shouted at the circle of villagers, drawing surprised looks as if they just noticed he had arrived. “I’ve not been publicly accused of a crime. I’m a freeman, like any of you.”

  His comparison drew a few notable flinches. He searched the faces of people who the night before had celebrated him as a hero. Most looked away, others stared back, and others seemed to plead with him. Audhild, still not looking up, flicked her hand as if agreeing to the demand. Gudrod grunted as he untied the binds, and as they came free he leaned in to Ulfrik. “No need to cut them, since I’ll be putting them right back on you.”

  Ulfrik was only concerned about working the blood back into his hands. He rubbed his tingling palms together, massaging them and gritting his teeth against the sensation.

  “You all know why you’ve been called here,” Gudrod said. “Hear the crime committed last night.”

  Audhild did not look at Ulfrik, but instead placed a hand over her mouth as she struggled to find the words. Ulfrik wondered if she was not hiding a smile instead. After a moment, she composed herself and spoke to the crowd.

  “Last night, as I prepared for bed, Ulfrik came to my room. He was drunk. So was I. I did not realize until too late what he intended. I cared for him for so long, healed him from terrible wound
s, that I could not believe what was happening. We lived together in separate rooms without ever a worry. It all changed last night. He tore my dress.” Audhild pulled aside the blanket to reveal the dress. People gasped, as if it could have been torn by no other means. “Then he forced himself upon me. I tried to fight, but how could I? He raped me and all I could do was scream. If Gudrod had not saved me, I dread to think what might have followed.”

  Gudrod stepped up to his undoubtedly rehearsed part in this performance. Ulfrik struggled to remain impassive, massaging his hands and wrists, but rage seethed beneath his careless demeanor.

  “I was checking on the condition of the village before returning to my own bed for the night. I found Meldun, Thorkel, and his wife Thorberta also ready to retire. We walked together by Audhild’s hall. When I heard the screaming, I rushed in to find Ulfrik naked and atop Audhild. She was fighting him and begging for help. See how he is scratched up.”

  Heads turned to Ulfrik, but he blinked and looked toward the mountains. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He noted how the sound made everyone peek at the sky then at their feet. Did they all know this to be the lie it was? Were these madmen fulfilling another of Eldrid’s dreams? How weak-willed were these sheep? He shook his head as Gudrod pointed out scratches on his exposed skin, half of which were from battle and not Audhild.

  “I clubbed him, dragging him off and wrestling him into submission.” Gudrod hugged the air as if reliving the moment. “These people are witnesses. Do you agree with all I have said?”

  The three nodded, sad eyes regarding Ulfrik as if he were a favored hound that had to be killed. The woman, Thorberta, added her own commentary. “Poor Audhild was mad with grief. I had to sit with her all night just to calm her down.”

  A murmur spread around the circle. Audhild buried her face in her hands, and Ulfrik swore she was laughing. Eldrid sighed and shifted her weight on her staff.