“So you didn’t know when you left her?” Rolf also seemed surprised. He glanced back at his wife, who used the break to push her hair back beneath her head cover. “Hear that, Gerdie? It might be Bard’s child after all.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Ulfrik felt a rush of jealously grip him. “Runa is pregnant and Bard is the father?”
“My wife thought she might have been pregnant before she came to Frodi’s hall. Gerdie has nothing better to do with her time than gossip. Many women considered she was fooling Bard for her own advantage.” Rolf shook his head and frowned. “Bah! Now I’m starting to sound like you, Gerdie! Gossip like this is for women. All I can say is that Bard claims it is his own. I don’t pay attention to those things.”
Ulfrik stood lost in thought. What if Gerdie is right? This child could be mine. The thought of Runa pregnant with Bard’s child sickened him.
“We need to make better time.” Yngvar’s words broke into his thoughts. “Standing here with your mouth open is no help. Let’s get moving.” Under his breath he said, “I can guess what you’re thinking. The timing is about right.”
Ulfrik blushed, and Rolf seemed to realize and gave an embarrassed smile. Gerdie and a few of the women tittered behind them.
“Yes, let’s keep moving.” Ulfrik said. “We will talk of this later.”
The group set off again, but Ulfrik was lost in his own thoughts. He kept glancing at Toki, wondering. The Danish accent had grown familiar to Ulfrik’s ear, and he never bothered to connect it to Runa. But the resemblance was strong, both in features and attitude. Nothing more than coincidence, he told himself. He did not want to uncover the truth now, on the road to Jarl Kjotve and Thor’s hall.
But if Toki really were Runa’s brother, the gods had not finished with him after all.
***
Shadows were growing long by the time the band of travelers arrived at the hall. Jarl Kjotve moved his family season by season, to keep watch over various regions within his domain. This was only one of his homes that dotted Agder.
Jarl Kjotve and Thor were the richest men Ulfrik had ever known. Much like Frodi’s hall, their hall was atop a hill and dominated surrounding barracks and houses, but unlike Frodi’s hall, Kjotve’s hall was enormous. Finely carved dragons entwined the doors, and graceful arcs decorated the rooflines. It was as sturdy as it was large. Ulfrik doubted anyone could burn this hall with just a few hurled torches. His own ancestral home seemed a hermit’s shack in comparison.
Familiar men greeted him and his band as they climbed the hill, and the tattooed guards at the hall hailed them, although they gave Rolf and his men dubious looks. After clasping arms with Ulfrik and trading small talk, the guards collected their weapons, as was customary, and opened the doors.
“They have come with news for Jarl Kjotve, and they desire his protection,” Ulfrik explained and Rolf stood straight, trying to appear dignified. “I have guaranteed their safety.”
The guards nodded in agreement. “But all these bags and … is that a cooking pot? All that can’t be taken into the hall. Place it in the front room, inside the door. It will be safe.”
Rolf nodded his agreement.
Ulfrik, Toki and Yngvar, entered the hall first, followed by the ragtag band of travelers with their wives and children. Inside, the aroma of roasting meats greeted his nostrils and the bustle of slaves and women preparing the meals felt welcoming. A guard inside greeted him and pointed to Jarl Kjotve and Thor at the far end of the high table.
Picking a path among tables, and among men coming to their dinner, Ulfrik approached Thor and Kjotve. Both were so involved with eating that they simply waved in recognition, rather than pause to speak. At the far ends of the table sat Kjotve’s wife and four daughters. His wife was passably attractive, but his daughters were a study in homeliness, each sibling uglier in turn, as if attempting to out-do the others.
Thor looked up and scanned the ragged new arrivals. “Why did you bring me old women?” He said, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “Not enough ugly girls here already?”
Thor’s mother clucked at her son’s jibe, but none of his sisters even recognized. Ulfrik knew any response to that question would be unwise. He gestured towards Rolf. “Rolf Roundhead, from Frodi’s hall, arrived in my lands this morning with dire news. I led him and all his people here immediately.”
One of the young children suddenly laughed, and Ulfrik cringed at the noise. Thor had no patience with children.
Thor took a gulp from his mug, the liquid running over onto his beard. Then he slammed it to the board, and stared. Kjotve also put down his food and looked on expectantly.
“The news should be relayed in private,” Ulfrik said. “And it must be heard now. You will not want a delay in this. I promise.”
“Lucky for you we’re done eating,” Thor said. “Let me clear the hall.” He stood and slammed the board with his maul-like fist. His sisters squealed as their plates and mugs jumped and Kjotve picked up his mug to keep the contents from spilling. “Clear the hall! We need privacy.”
Slaves and serving girls put down their burdens and left. Thor even waved away his personal slaves. His mother and sisters made an irritated display, huffing at Ulfrik as they left for their rooms. The hirdmen, however, remained, always staying with their lord unless directly ordered away. A handful of them still sat before their meals. Satisfied, Thor gestured to Rolf with an extended palm, and Ulfrik stepped aside for him to tell his story.
Rolf approached the high table and bowed. Both Thor and Kjotve recognized him, but gave no sign of their thoughts at his sudden appearance in their hall.
Rolf spoke plainly as he told them everything that had happened, and Thor and Kjotve let him speak, only interrupting to ask for details or clarifying questions. When Rolf finished, he and his men stood with their heads bowed.
“This Vandrad and his High King, they bring taxes and laws that steal from freemen to fill the king’s treasure horde,” Rolf told them. “Frodi let his fear best him. But I cannot stand it. My men and I want to fight this so-called High King. We bet our lives that you do, too.”
Thor and Kjotve faced each other in silence. Ulfrik still marveled at how alike father and son looked, even down to the calculating expression they gave when considering a proposition. It seemed Rolf’s offer did not even require words.
Kjotve stood. “You have bet wisely, Rolf Roundhead. We had learned of this news from our spies some weeks past, but you have much additional information that will be put to good use in battle. Give me your oaths and your families will be bound to me.”
Rolf again bowed. Ulfrik understood Kjotve’s words to be a warning: the families would be hostage to Rolf and the men’s good behavior. It was an unsavory but necessary action. Though Ulfrik guessed Rolf and his men were honest, it could still be a clever trap.
“Ulfrik, it is good you have come as well.” Kjotve, holding his hands gripped tightly behind his back, began to pace. “Matters with this Harald Finehair have become serious, a threat to freemen everywhere. He has grabbed the entire coast with the exception of my kingdoms and those of my western neighbors. Through marriage, he has even secured Halogaland for his own.”
“Fucking sneaky pig,” Thor added, his words mangled as he picked at his back teeth with a stout finger. “Got it without a fight. Who can dig him out of there now? So far north, the place is locked in ice ten months out of twelve.”
“I thought Harald was the Jarl of Vestfold?” Ulfrik hadn’t realized how small his world-view had been until he had come among great jarls like Kjotve. He felt no shame for it, although others might look down on him. Thor laughed at his question, but Kjotve was more patient.
“He started that way, but his uncle Guthorm has guided him to victory since he was a child. Now he is the High King, with only a few of us left to resist. With Frodi changing loyalties, Harald’s armies are sitting on my borders, eyeing my land.” He pummeled the table again with a fist for empha
sis.
“I’ve been in discussions with my neighbors, making plans to fight. King Eirik of Hordaland thinks we can bait Harald south and catch his fleet by surprise. I agree with him. We will join that fleet—every vessel that we have. Harald has been destroying us kingdom by kingdom, like pulling the legs off a bug. But if we stand together, we will defeat him.”
Kjotve stopped and reviewed his audience. Everyone was focused on Kjotve, their faces taut with concern. Beside him, Ulfrik noticed Yngvar nodding and snarling; he had a long-standing grudge against Harald. Toki seemed attentive, although less concerned.
He is right, Ulfrik thought. Only a coalition of jarls can face an army the size Harald can now muster. In many ways, Harald was at the root of all Ulfrik’s troubles. Even in his youth, Vestfolders and Varmlanders fleeing Harald had marauded his homelands. Ulfrik wanted this fight, but he could not begin it until he had settled another matter: Runa.
I will not sail off to war in the northwest and leave her further behind. Not knowing what I do now… Before he even finished his thought, he was addressing Kjotve. “As your sworn man, all of my fighting men are ready to sail—this day, should you command it. But first, we must deal with Frodi. Frodi is threatening your borders.”
Kjotve stared at him, his face flat and hard. Thor suddenly turned away. “That is where you will aid me, Ulfrik. I will need someone to guard my borders while my main force is away at battle.”
“It would be my honor.” Ulfrik inwardly flinched at the dishonor of being left behind. But confidence in his idea buoyed him. “But you will need every ship, every sword to beat King Harald. We don’t want Agder to lose the glory of being the one to bring down Harald. With so many vying for the chance, even two ships could be the difference.”
“I will cut my way to him first!” Thor burst to his feet, making everyone but Ulfrik and Kjotve jump in surprise. Ulfrik knew he had hit the nerve he wanted. “Agder will be first in glory.”
“I do not doubt it, Thor. But two more ships to escort you will make that task easier. How many ships will your allies bring? When it comes to dividing spoils, each jarl will claim he contributed more than the others. They will count ships to end the quarrels that will result from such rare treasure.”
Like his father, Thor began to pace, but even more angrily. Thor’s rage, his greatest asset on the battlefield, was a liability anywhere else. He punched the air with a growl. “I’ll skin the man who says we contributed anything less than all we had!”
“Calm yourself, my son. Ulfrik raises many good points.” Kjotve turned a complicated smile to Ulfrik, suggesting he understood but disagreed. “But he has not solved the threat on our border with Frodi.”
“There is an answer for that, too, Jarl Kjotve. We attack first. I am familiar with that land, and Rolf knows the details of Frodi’s warriors. We strike now. Destroy Frodi and every man. We breaks his every spear, blunt his every sword. Every usable thing between Agder and Grenner burns. Then Vandrad will be forced to draw more strength from other lands before he can strike. During that time, we will have made away and killed his king.”
Kjotve’s expression changed. He became pensive, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he calculated the benefits of such action. Even Thor, who looked ready to fight anything that stepped in front of him, looked at this father, awaiting his agreement. Ulfrik felt the mood of the room with him. Even Yngvar wore a small grin and nodded appreciatively.
“We could pull the families and farms further west, just until we return.” Kjotve’s voice was soft, meant only for his own ears. “Vandrad wouldn’t hear the news of his king’s defeat until much later. But it won’t matter once Harald is gone.” He looked up at the assembled men. “Ulfrik’s idea has merit. I like your thinking. Bring me success and there’s a reward in it for you.”
Ulfrik merely inclined his head; no more words were needed to achieve what he desired. He could save Runa, and then join in the glorious fight against the High King. The hall filled with animated talk, boasts of a great victory. Rolf and his men added their voices, but appeared less enthusiastic.
“Well done.” Yngvar put his hand on Ulfrik’s shoulder, then whispered, “It will be a good test for your crews, too. Sort out the weak before we take them to the real fight.”
Kjotve and Thor drew on the men’s excitement, ordering a feast for the following day and setting aside the evening to plan the details of the attack.
My morning ritual must have been more effective than even I imagined. Ulfrik touched Fate’s Needle for luck. I am coming to save you, Runa. His heart felt light in his chest.
Thirty
Following the celebration, and Thor and Kjotve’s near rabid desire for destruction, Ulfrik was surprised that Jarl Kjotve set the attack date more than two weeks in advance. Once calmed, Thor revealed a talent for careful and meticulous planning. The operation was laid out as if he planned to invade all of Europe, rather than a petty border kingdom.
Thor was to lead the attack, which Ulfrik felt was a risk. But at least Kjotve had also called in his hersir, and Ulfrik counted as one. Even if Ulfrik was not officially named as a hersir, Kjotve showed him the same deference. The other hersir were less accepting of Ulfrik; nevertheless, their strong tactical sense gave Ulfrik some relief that Thor would not just lead a berserk charge into the enemy.
Rolf and his men were interrogated for every detail. Kjotve wanted them to prove their loyalty in the attack, which made Rolf blanch. He admitted he still had friends in Frodi’s ranks and Kjotve solved this problem by keeping the families of Rolf’s men hostage to the valor of Rolf’s band. If any man faltered in his duty, his family would die.
It was decided that Ulfrik’s lands would be the jumping off point for the attack
“For some this will be your first true battle,” Ulfrik informed his men, once back at his hall. “So, we will drill together. We drill until we fall from exhaustion, and then we will drill some more.” He presented his sternest face to the men who crowded his hall. “Remember the man next to you in the shield wall. Listen to the orders of veterans, like Snorri, Yngvar, and Toki. And fight with an eye for glory. Do all this and you will have success.”
Nearly forty men—almost all of them young and inexperienced—were under his command. They roared their delight, toasted Ulfrik and Kjotve, and reveled in dreams of earning a name for themselves.
“Celebrate tonight, and tomorrow at dawn, assemble in the field with all your war gear.” Ulfrik stepped down from the high table and pressed through his men, who greeted him and praised him. He was the man who had defeated two ships of raiders with only a handful of men. The story had grown beyond the truth but had attracted even more men to serve under him.
He found Toki and Yngvar in the crowd. The two men had developed a friendship, despite their rough start.
“This hall was not built for so many,” Ulfrik said as he approached.
“Six months ago I thought we’d die alone in the woods. Now look at this!” Yngvar’s bright smile stretched across his face. “The gods love you more than you think, Ulfrik.”
Ulfrik could not help but smile as well. “It has yet to be proven if the gods know me at all. But this is a good start. I need you to make these men warriors in two weeks. Can you do it?”
Yngvar thumped his chest. “They will be warriors in half that time. They’ll be looking forward to the battle, just to get some rest!”
They all laughed. “That is good. Now Toki, Raven’s Talon was yours once. Can I trust you not to sail off with her?” Ulfrik had meant the comment in jest, but Toki’s face grew serious.
“You have my oath, Lord Ulfrik. I am not false,” Toki said.
“Good. You will pilot her, as no one knows her better.”
Toki nodded, but Ulfrik thought he saw defiance in his eyes. He looked so much like Runa in that moment that Ulfrik had to know for sure. “Come.” He put a hand on Toki’s shoulder and led him outside. “I want to talk to you in private.”
They moved just far enough away from the hall to dull the roar of the celebration inside.
“Toki, I’ll come to the point,” Ulfrik said. “I think I know your sister.”
Toki’s expression registered shock at first, but then he laughed. “Then you know only ghosts. All of my sisters are dead.”
Ulfrik shook his head. “Her name is Runa—a Dane. I see her every time I look you. Your expressions are so similar. How did I ever miss it?”
“Runa is dead! My entire family is dead.” Toki’s eyes flashed in the dark, and he bared his teeth like a wolf. “I saw her body with my own eyes!”
“I do not know what you saw, but you will find Runa at Frodi’s hall. She never mentioned your name, but she spoke often enough of a lone brother who was at sea the day Svear raiders came. She always hoped to find you. So tell me, how would I know so much about your family when you have said so little about them to anyone?”
Toki looked away, his hand clamped over his mouth. He shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut. Ulfrik did not press Toki’s silence, instead empathizing with the struggle that must be taking place inside of him and hoping he had not pushed Toki too far.
“Runa was my father’s slave,” Ulfrik continued, “and then mine for a short while. She fled Grenner with me and helped retrieve my sword.” He paused, his eyes downcast, wondering how Toki would take the words he was about to say. “She became my lover, and I have vowed she will be reunited with me. I had to know if you were her brother, and I believe you are. I apologize if this has upset you. I did not mean to cause you any pain.”
Toki again shook his head, then he dropped his hand. “All the bodies were burned. I never thought any of them survived,” he said, his voice thick with grief. “I couldn’t even tell my father from my mother. I thought I had buried all of them. But … perhaps Runa lived?”
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