"No, you just didn't listen when I told you we'd assemble south of the camp. This is north of the camp, exactly the wrong way."
Finn's smile flashed in the low light, and Ulfrik felt his face grow warm.
"This is north? How do you even know? Never mind. We have to find Gils, then we make our escape."
Finn was already shaking his head. "We'll never find Gils, not now. The Franks are all awake and they've got their wits about them. If we don't go now, we'll be caught for sure."
Ulfrik pushed past Finn toward the dark shapes huddled in a circle and seated on the ground. He stood above them, unwilling to crouch and let them hear his joints snap and pop. Hakon stood and embraced him. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd join us."
"As soon as we locate Gils, we're leaving." Ulfrik could not see anyone's face in the blue darkness, but he read their reluctance in their bowed heads. His voice hissed with irritation. "Don't stain your bravery with cowardice now. None of you left without me, and I have sworn to not leave without all of you. If Gils is dead, then I need to know before I leave. Otherwise, he must escape this camp."
The men nodded, but their hearts were not in it. Ulfrik understood they had already risked much, and finding Gils in such a wide camp was challenging. He was their jarl, gold-giver, and war-leader. They would do as he commanded, but he would not command men to risk their lives for something they did not believe in. Hakon, standing beside him, clapped his shoulder.
"I am with you, Father. If it were me in the hands of the Franks, I'd want to know my brothers remembered me."
"You won't find him without me," Finn said from behind. "So I'll go. In fact, let me spare the others the choice. I say the three of us are enough. All the others should make for the riverbank and try to catch up to Hrolf's ship. Too many men will just get us all caught."
"I'll listen to Finn whenever it comes to sneaking about the woods," Ulfrik said. "You men hold the ship for our return. We will not be far behind."
Decisions made, they all parted with encouraging words. Ragnar begged forgiveness for his cowardly reaction and Ulfrik waved it off. All of his men had been heroes that day. "We all get scared," he said to the young man. "There's no shame in that as long as it does not rule you."
Finn then led him and Hakon through the woods to where Gils was last seen. They had all taken sections of the camp, and Gils's had been directly opposite of their location. Traversing the distance took much longer than it would to walk normally. Finn stopped them dozens of times for things Ulfrik could not see, and Hakon appeared just as confused. Yet Finn knew his work, and he guided them to the opposite end without rousing any guards.
"This is where he should be, but the Franks were like madmen. Gils could've ended up anywhere." Finn checked the sky and shook his head. "We've got little time before the cock crows. I know why we are doing this, but daylight will see us captured or dead. We're of no use to anyone like that."
"Then let's make use of what time we have." Ulfrik moved off to search for likely hiding places. He whispered Gils's name as he went.
Hakon and Finn also separated, and after a short search Hakon give a harsh whisper. "Here he is."
Doubling back to Hakon, he arrived at the same time as Finn. Gils was seated in the bole of a tree looking content and quiet. His flesh was blue in the vague predawn light. One hand gripped his sword, the blade snapped in half, and the other hand rested on his stomach. The blood that flowed out from beneath it appeared like pitch.
"A warrior's death," Ulfrik said. "A man cannot ask for more. Better than dying in a bed."
Hakon grunted his concurrence. Finn knelt beside him and touched his neck. "He's cold. Must've died hours ago."
"Where's the enemy that slew him?" Ulfrik asked the question, but realized the answer was closing in on them. As if in confirmation, a branch snapped behind them. Finn stood and his face was pale. Hakon's hand fell to his sword. "They're all around us. Act as if you don't realize they are near."
The three of them stood over Gils's corpse and Ulfrik felt eyes on him from every direction, but more from Finn and Hakon. When he judged the Franks were closer, he spun around and drew an ax from his belt. He confronted a semicircle of Franks and two had bows with arrows nocked.
"Finn, lead us out of here!" he shouted.
The two bowstrings thrummed as the arrows let loose.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hakon shouted in surprise as an arrow thudded into his gut. Finn jinked aside as the other arrow screamed through the air where he had stood. The Franks were dressed in muted greens and browns and wore only furs over their bodies. Ulfrik picked the closest bowman and let his ax fly. The ax head flickered as it whirled straight into the face of the bowman with a wet chop. Before the Frank collapsed, Finn was already running past Ulfrik.
He grabbed Hakon, who still stood, and together they began to run. "Are you wounded?" he shouted.
"The mail stopped it. Can you believe the luck?"
Ulfrik shook his head, conserving his breath. He had run too often and too hard this day and his legs were already leaden. Were it not for imminent death behind him, he would have rather turned to fight. Yet the alarm horn sounded from behind and he heard the Franks curse him. He pumped his legs through the pain.
They both trailed Finn, which felt like chasing a rabbit as he dashed from bush to tree to open ground. Ulfrik cursed him more than once when he tripped or stumbled over some unseen obstacle. He should not have been able to outrun younger, unarmored men, and after a while he slowed to check over his shoulder. Nothing stirred behind him.
"Hold on. I think we've lost them." He leaned on his knees, gasping and sweat dripping from his face. Hakon leaned beside him.
"Impossible, Father. They're just careful not to be led into another trap. Once they realize it's only us, they'll catch up and bring others. We have to keep running."
"Remind me to never again devise a plan that requires so much running. My legs ... the old wounds. I can't keep running."
Hakon pulled on Ulfrik's chain shirt. "You must."
Now Finn had doubled back and stood panting before Ulfrik. "If you can't run, we make our stand here."
Ulfrik shook his head, too weary to protest. The two hovered over him as he continued to lean on his knees and catch his breath. They shifted impatiently but held their words. At last Ulfrik straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Don't be so quick to throw your life away. There's no glory in dying here. You two travel ahead and get the ship prepared. When I catch up, I'll have an army at my back. For now, I can't run anymore."
"Get rid of your mail," Finn said. "There's no need for it. You'll travel easier."
He grumbled and looked down at his mail. Links were broken and blood mixed with the mud he had smeared on it. "It doesn't seem like much, but this is a fine coat. Besides, Hakon's mail just saved his life. I can't risk taking it off."
"But you would risk being overtaken instead," Hakon said. "Finn's right. Leave it off and let's continue. I will carry it for you."
"It will become twisted beyond repair if you carry it. No, I'll have another coat made, or better still Hrolf will award me one for what I've done. Help me out of it."
He worked out of the shirt, Hakon helping to raise it over his head while Finn held his sword. The relief on his shoulders was immediate and he flexed his arms, enjoying the new freedom. The mail crunched as Hakon dropped it into the underbrush, and Ulfrik gave it one last glance. He sighed then said, "Let's keep moving."
Without the weight on his shoulders and back, Ulfrik moved freely for a short time, then the old wounds in his leg flared into hot pain. He gritted his teeth as he loped after Finn and Hakon. His son constantly checked over his shoulder, and when he saw Ulfrik slowing down, he called them all to a halt. Ulfrik again leaned over, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Fleeing disagrees with me. That damn fall from the tower, so long ago, but my leg feels like it was yesterday. If I keep pushing, I'll go lame. You two hurry ahead and I'l
l follow."
Hakon straightened Ulfrik and pulled his arm across his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you, Father. Finn, run as fast as you can to the ships. We will be behind."
Finn was about to protest, but Hakon snapped at him. "You won't help us if you stay. The men need to know we are still alive and to wait for us. Go now."
"Just keep the riverbank to your left and you will be all right." Finn stopped and cocked his head. Ulfrik leaned back and heard the sounds of approaching danger. The Franks were not disguising their approach from the noise of shouts and cracking branches.
"Do as Hakon ordered," Ulfrik said, his voice weary. "We will be right behind."
The dawn colored the woods in gray-green hues, and Finn vanished into the trees like a ghost. Ulfrik shook his head, admiring his young friend's uncanny ability to hide. Hakon tapped his shoulder and the two began to trudge forward. Neither spoke, and Ulfrik was both grateful and shamed for the aid of his son. His weakness was a danger to them both, but he did not relish becoming a captive of the Franks. He had sworn to die rather than ever be taken a prisoner again.
Keeping the Eure River at their left, Ulfrik glimpsed sparkles from the water and smelled the wet mud. All the while he staggered along with Hakon to support him, he heard the Franks drawing closer. At one point someone cried out even nearer to them than he had expected.
"They must've found your mail coat," Hakon said, then adjusted his grip around Ulfrik's shoulders. "How do you feel? Can you run again?"
Ulfrik only offered a grunt and powered forward. He conserved his strength for the final push that he expected. His left leg burned with pain, and the front of his thigh had gone numb. His hips creaked and every joint flared with hot fire. If he had to fight now, he could not defend himself against a lame grandmother never mind the limber, angry Franks pursuing him.
They pushed directly to the banks and down the river and he saw the silhouette of a waist-high barrier of debris blocking the way. Behind it, a ship's mast leaned to the side where it had been hauled ashore.
In the same instant, he heard the Franks screaming from behind.
"You've got to run, Father," Hakon said, unhooking his arm from around his back. "They're right behind us."
He did not look back. Their brassy curses were loud in his ears. He just nodded and began to run. Hakon kept pace with him.
The riverbank was muddy and uneven, so they stayed closer to the grass. Ulfrik watched where his feet landed, for one rut or rock would sprawl him out and his pursuers would finish him off. Their swearing was clear now, and one challenged them. "Stop and we will show mercy."
Ulfrik coughed a laugh at the lie and forced his legs to pump. His left leg, the one that had been mangled years ago, was leaden and hot. Yet he managed to kick it forward and continue. An arrow sped past him. He felt the air of its passing on his face and saw the grass ahead of him part as it lodged in the dirt. He wished he had not abandoned his mail coat.
As they neared the barrier, men appeared over the top, and Ulfrik experienced a relief he could not believe. His shouts were weak and breathless, but he started to laugh all the same. They were going to escape.
Their shapes were still indistinct and in the trees' shadows, but Ulfrik thought they were readying arrows. Of course, they could not shoot or they would risk striking him or Hakon, but once they had made the lines, a volley would force back their pursuers.
They were close now, and Ulfrik saw a cluster of figures on the right lift their bows over the barrier and aim.
Their arrows were leveled at him.
"Wait, it's me!" he shouted.
The shafts flew, and Ulfrik dove at Hakon who did not seem to notice. He missed his son, landing face-first in the mud, but scrambled up as fast as he had fallen.
"Hakon, get down!"
His son stumbled with a cry. Ulfrik could hear his heart beating. He dashed for Hakon and flipped him over. His face was covered in blood and an arrow stuck through his right cheek and protruded from the left side of his face. His eyes were wide in horror, but he still lived.
Ulfrik looked behind him. Nearly a dozen Franks charged at him and were a spear-throw away. All his pain vanished and he hefted Hakon off the ground. "You're fine, boy. Get up and run."
He felt a burning tug at the inside of his calf, looked down to see a thick gash through his torn pants, then glared at the men on the barrier. It seemed they had shot again, but now others were wrestling with them. At least a dozen of his own men had leapt the barrier and were now charging for him.
"It's Ulfrik," he called out. The men rushed to him, and Ragnar, who had been so guilty for leaving him, helped to carry Hakon. "What were you thinking, shooting at us?"
Ragnar shook his head. "It was the others, not ours. They must've mistook you for Franks."
More men streamed past and from behind he heard their battle cries and the crash of blades. His only concern was for Hakon, who staggered along in a daze with blood drizzling from his mouth. He choked and coughed on it, but Ulfrik and Ragnar hauled him to the barrier where Finn waited to help them over.
"I don't know why they shot at you. I told them you were behind me." Finn's freckled face was white with shock, and he stared at Hakon's wound with open revulsion.
"They'll pay for that mistake," Ulfrik said. "But after we get on the water. Let's get Hakon aboard then launch the ship."
Hakon's protests were incomprehensible with the arrow skewering his face. The men who had shot at them lingered behind the barrier. There were three and now they were not interested in shooting nor helping their companions drive back the Franks. Ulfrik glared at them, but returned to Hakon. Finn leapt aboard and took Hakon's arms while Ragnar and Ulfrik pushed him over.
In the distance, the Franks were in retreat and Ulfrik's men were shouting victory. He hoped they had sense to return rather than chase down any stragglers. To his relief all of his men were uninjured and Hrolf's men had only taken superficial wounds. The three men sulking by the barrier were Mord's, and having learned that, Ulfrik burned with rage. Once all were at the ship, he ordered it launched.
"That was a scouting party to follow us. The main force is just behind them and we have to flee now." He stopped Mord's men, who had not offered an apology. He recognized one as a veteran, a hard man with a red scar across his nose who had served Gunther One-Eye. His name was Magnus the Stone. Before Magnus boarded the ship Hrolf had left them, Ulfrik grabbed him by the shoulder. He looked as if Ulfrik's touch sullied his armor.
"You should have known better than to shoot at us. If I were a suspicious man, I'd say you wanted to kill us." Ulfrik held Magnus's cold eyes, and he knew he had guessed right. The veteran glanced at Ulfrik's hand.
"We thought you were Franks. Sorry, my eyes are not what they used to be."
"Good for me or that arrow would be in my neck," Ulfrik grabbed Magnus's beard and pulled him closer. "You'll pay the blood money you owe to Hakon. And if I decide you intended to kill either of us, then you'll pay with your head."
Ulfrik released the veteran's beard, whose lined face broke into a smile.
"Of course, Jarl Ulfrik. It's only right." He stepped back and looked at Ulfrik's leg. "How's the old wound? I bet it hurts every day. It's a hard thing to grow so old yet still fight against men half your age."
The veteran mounted the ship without another word, and Ulfrik decided that his disagreements with Mord had taken a deadly turn.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ulfrik smiled as he emerged from the trees and saw his hall seated atop the gentle hill, dozens of buildings spread out beneath it with peaceful curls of hearth-smoke rising from their rooftops. His legs and feet were still sore from running, but he was glad to make the short walk from the Seine River where his ships docked to his hall. Hakon's expression was lost beneath the rust-stained bandages swaddling his face, but his eyes were bright with joy.
"It has been a long summer away from home, hasn't it?" Ulfrik put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'll be glad
to stretch beside the hearth with a horn of fresh mead. No more of that stale piss we had to drink for so long."
Hakon nodded, still unable to speak. It had only taken four days to arrive home from Chartres, and Hakon still moaned with the pain of his wounds. He had lost two teeth, shattered by the arrow, and his tongue had been cut deep. Finn had stitched the tongue together as best as he could while on a rocking deck, but the wound was in an awkward position, and Hakon could not bear the agony. For now, he could only drink and not eat. The puncture wounds on his cheeks would leave deep scars but not affect him otherwise. Ulfrik seethed with anger at Magnus the Stone's ignorance. His heart burned for vengeance, but as a jarl of high standing he had to behave with more grace and accept Magnus's payment. In truth, it was Hakon's duty to demand and collect compensation, but Ulfrik knew that arrow had been for him.
"Do you think they've prepared a feast for our arrival?" Finn asked. He walked at Ulfrik's left, and the rest of his crew fanned out behind them, walking with a light step and full of laughter.
"Gunnar's ships were at dock, so I'm sure by now he's told my wife a lie about how we were only a day behind him. I've no doubt a feast has been ready since he returned, and that he has had one for himself already."
"Well, that's unfair," Finn said.
"You could have left with him."
"What we did was more glorious. I made the right choice."
All laughed, even Hakon through his injuries. At last they came to the stockade walls and found Gunnar, his crew, and the rest of Ulfrik's hirdmen waiting. When the gates swung open, the cries of welcome echoed to the skies and Ulfrik forgot all his pains and worries as they parted for his entrance.
"You'd never guess we're returning in defeat," Finn said.
"After the summer we had and the narrow miss being trapped, I'm proclaiming this a victory worth celebrating."
The men welcomed him with cheers and pats on his back. Families and lovers rushed to each other. At the edges of the crowd Ulfrik saw the forlorn expressions of those whose fathers or husbands would never return. He would later meet them all, pay blood prices, and tell them how bravely their man died, even if he had not witnessed it himself. For today, however, he was content to see his own woman, Runa, standing beside Gunnar with her hands folded at her lap.
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