"I will dine on your heart tonight, Hakon Ulfrikson. Your father has made an enemy this day that will fill his future with sorrow."
Hrolf spun away with his men, and Hakon felt himself sinking. Einar and Hauk both also slumped in defeat.
"Let us prepare for battle," Hakon said, then turned up the hill knowing he walked to his death.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Ulfrik sat with his sons at the high table for the last time. Gunnar sat at his right, a gloom hanging over him that no amount of good news could relieve. Hakon sat at his left. He smiled with the joy of a man who had escaped death. Despite his threats, Hrolf had withdrawn back to Rouen and Hakon had not lingered to see if he would return to make good on his threats. Aren stood behind him, pacing with worry for the final details of this plan. Reunited as one family, Ulfrik swelled with pride for what his sons had done together. They had brought the mightiest jarl ever known to heel. Hrolf's messengers had promised he would arrive with only an honor guard of one hundred men.
Mord had kept his hall in good condition, and it looked much like it had when he had abandoned it. Ulfrik had feared to return here, expecting to see ghosts of both Runa and Snorri hovering through the darkness. The first night sleeping alone in his former bedroom was too hard to bear, and Gunnar sent a woman to comfort him the next night. After business with Hrolf finished he would burn this hall and never think of it again.
The rest of the hall was a mixed mood of optimism and fear. Finn and Oskar remained close, Finn eager to impress the jarl in hopes of wedding his daughter. She had captured Finn's heart and Ulfrik was glad for them. Oskar smiled often, but when he believed no one looked his brow creased with worry. No doubt he wondered if he had joined the wrong side in this clash. Beyond them Einar and Hauk shared a drink of mead together, each man sitting silently with their thoughts. Einar had sacrificed more than anyone, and his loyalty and friendship had touched Ulfrik. Einar's family had even journeyed south to show support, and to be nearby if an unexpected retreat was needed. Finally, his three oldest companions in arms, the jarls Ull, Ragnar, and Hafgrim, laughed and boasted with their men as if enjoying a visit with an old friend. Ulfrik supposed it was nothing more for these men. Like him, they did not know what to do with peace, and the recent conflict had raised their spirits.
"If only Runa were here to see this," Ulfrik said, more to himself than anyone else. "She would be amazed at what we have done despite everything placed in our way."
"Well, it's not done yet," Aren said. "Hrolf could be preparing a trick of his own. He's had weeks to do so."
"No tricks," Ulfrik said. "We have his family, and if he has calmed himself by now he will realize this has all been done for his benefit more than mine."
"He'll thank you for kidnapping his family?" Gunnar asked.
"I don't expect that, but he has lost face with his jarls for bending to the Church." Ulfrik paused to drink the last of the mead plundered from Mord's holdings. "He can set things right with them and still make it seem as if he was coerced. His beloved Church will also have to understand. It's a perfect escape for him. He won't bungle it with a surprise attack. Who would trust him again?"
Doors to the hall hung open and beyond them the shadows grew long. Hrolf would arrive before twilight, and Ulfrik wanted to check Vilhjalmer and Poppa before he arrived. He stood and excused himself. Outside the scars of battle still remained etched into the ground. Horse tracks and a crisscross of ruts marred the earth. The ground had drank the blood and the bodies cleared, but still packs of crows pecked around the dirt discovering missing fingers or bits of hacked flesh. Splinters of broken shields or spear shafts littered the fields, mixing with the autumn leaves rolling over them.
Hundreds of tents housed the various jarls' warriors while they awaited Hrolf's decision. Ulfrik moved through the camp for a barracks that had survived Gunnar's destruction. It was surrounded by thirty guards on duty, and the camps around it were positioned to face the building. Ulfrik took no chances with his royal prisoners. At the doors, he nodded to the guards who lifted the bolt.
Inside, the long hall smelled like fresh lilac and the sweet scent of burning wood. The central hearth burned low, and beyond it a group of women surrounded Hrolf's wife, Poppa. With these women were both Elke and Morgan, and his granddaughters Hilde and Thorgerd. The conversation was low and amicable. They faced Ulfrik, all the women standing but for Poppa whose smile turned to a frown. Ulfrik nodded to them, but instead looked to Vilhjalmer who sat on a bed with his legs tucked up to his chest.
"Your father will be here soon," Ulfrik said to him. "Speak with me for a moment?"
He slipped off his bench without a word and they both went outside. The guards barred the doors behind them as they left. They walked into a field when Ulfrik stopped and faced Vilhjalmer. "I expect your father to agree to my terms. So you and I will be spending more time together than you expected."
"I've been thinking about that," Vilhjalmer said, his expression unreadable. "When you swore loyalty to me, and I helped you escape, did you know this would happen?"
"Never. Until Runa was murdered, I expected to resettle in England or elsewhere, then once your father cooled I would contact you again to see what we might do together. Now, I have given myself over to revenge and nothing more."
"I see." They continued to pace in silence, but Vilhjalmer seemed more set on leading this conversation. "So you have broken your oath to me?"
"I can't very well keep you hostage and be sworn to you at the same time."
"You can if I command you so." Vilhjalmer smiled. "I've spent weeks imagining how I was going to kill you when this was done. But now I realize this is what I actually wanted. As your oath-holder, I demand you and I turn our sights on new conquests. You could wrestle with my father for your old lands, but I think it's best if you plan to relocate. There is a group of foolish jarls who abandoned you, yes? I say it's high time one jarl set himself over all. Let that be you, and let me fight at your side."
"I agree," Ulfrik said. "But if you were to die in battle, then what? I cannot allow that risk."
"No man dies before his time," Vilhjalmer said. "If I am to die in these next three years, then it will happen no matter your worries. Better I fall in battle than fall off a horse."
They stared at each other in the late afternoon light. Vilhjalmer smiled like a child about to receive a long-awaited gift. "And of course, with me sworn to you, the lands we take will eventually become part of Normandy. That is how you bring me back into the fold."
"See? You can be smart and strong after all!" Vilhjalmer slapped his shoulder. "It's not only good for you, but good for the future of your sons and grandchildren. You don't want to be left in dishonor, not for all you've done. And I get out from beneath my parents and earn a name for myself, as well as join new lands to my father's. No one loses."
Ulfrik opened his mouth to agree, but blaring horns announced the arrival of Hrolf. Instead, the two shared a knowing smile, and Vilhjalmer clasped arms with Ulfrik. He said, "My father will curse your name forever, but I think even he would agree to this."
Hrolf was preceded by thirty men who prepared the way, inspected both Vilhjalmer's and Poppa's conditions, then returned to escort Hrolf. Ulfrik awaited him outside the hall, with his sons and allies flanking him. All the camp stood ready for this meeting, and when Hrolf the Strider finally entered with his one hundred men, he had Brandr following him in the care of a priest. That made Ulfrik's stomach turn, but he ignored the boy for now.
They met as equals and neither spoke, Hrolf glaring down at Ulfrik. He was dressed in mail, covered in jewels, and his helmet was rimmed with a crown. Ulfrik held his steely gaze but decided he had best give in first.
"Welcome, Jarl Hrolf, and my thanks for making this long journey."
"Fuck the pleasantries. Where is my family?"
Ulfrik's smile faltered, but he regained himself. "They will be returned to you once we have agreed to terms. Hakon has explained t
hese to you."
"Three years of peace. Vilhjalmer remains with you. I keep your grandson. Then we return hostages and I proceed to tear your heart from your chest. Yes, he told me all about it."
"You've added some of your own imaginings, but yes, those are my terms. Also, I wish to remain on this land until I secure another home. There will be peace and I will not even look toward Normandy nor Frankia. There are other lands ripe for conquest."
He watched the familiar display of Hrolf calculating what this meant to him. His eyes fixed on a distant place and darted side to side. Hrolf might not know of his oath to Vilhjalmer, but the southern jarls would have to be dealt with soon, and with his reputation already strained, having Ulfrik do it for him would be ideal.
"We have a peace and I will agree to your terms. Any harm comes to my son, no matter what the cause, and your grandson dies, then I will destroy you."
"That is always the way of these agreements. I needn't remind you the same fate awaits your son should my grandson be hurt or killed."
"He'll be receiving a good Christian education. No worries for injury there." Hrolf smiled, and Ulfrik did not respond.
"Then we have agreement?"
"I swear to the terms as we have discussed," Hrolf said.
"As I do swear."
A cheer came up from both sides, surprising both Ulfrik and Hrolf. Poppa and Vilhjalmer were led out. Hrolf greeted his wife with respect, and gathered her back with her captured ladies as if recovering a bit of stolen jewelry. For Vilhjalmer, they stood aside and spoke privately.
Brandr wandered forward, not sure who he should see. Ulfrik pulled Gunnar's arm, and he went to his son. After they traded a few short words, Ulfrik knelt beside him. "You have been brave?"
"Yes, Lord."
"That is good. I want you to take something." Ulfrik lifted the silver amulet of Thor from his neck, made certain the priests were not looking, and pressed it into Brandr's hand. "Every time you pray to their god, you also pray to Thor. Do not let the priests find this, but keep it and remember your family. You will return to me a man, and I will reward you for good service. Do you promise to be good?"
"Yes, Lord." Brandr kept his head lowered, but Ulfrik raised it by the chin.
"Look at me. You carry my blood, the blood of jarls. You must look men in the eyes when you make promises. You fear no one, even me. Remember that."
"I will, Lord," he said, and looked Ulfrik in the eye.
With Poppa returned, Hrolf had no more cause to linger. He glanced between Vilhjalmer and Ulfrik and flashed a thin smile, then turned to the assembled jarls.
"Mord Guntherson was a vile schemer. I consider your actions here a service to me in ridding him from my land." He paused to let the murmuring crowd quiet. "But if any of you ever think to challenge me, I will tear you up like a wolf does a fawn."
The jarls lifted their heads, but none defied him. Hrolf now turned and pointed at Ulfrik.
"You and I are done. Your name will never be spoken again, and if I should hear it in song or conversation I will have the speaker's tongue cut out. It will be as if you had never lived, and I shall not remember you again when our dealings are finished."
Hrolf stalked into the setting sun with his hirdman and wife, leaving Vilhjalmer at Ulfrik's side. Ulfrik watched his former lord and friend vanish over a crest and knew he would never see him again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
For three years a tide of fury and blood rolled from the Seine west to the Contentin Peninsula. Ulfrik and Vilhjalmer rode that crest of violence, but beside them his sons and allies brought spear and shield in support. Einar Snorrason, Ull the Strong, Ragnar Hard-Striker, and more swelled his ranks with bloodthirsty men. The so-called free jarls who had once allied briefly with Ulfrik were swept aside by sword and fire.
Life without battle meant nothing to Ulfrik. Men called him Ulfrik the Old now, but his enemies called him War-Tooth for his insatiable hunger for battle. Vilhjalmer proved a worthy companion, leading men and fighting in the front ranks alongside Ulfrik. He earned the name Vilhjalmer Longsword, for his weapon was ever ready to carve a path through enemy ranks.
The Franks and Hrolf, more commonly called Count Rollo in these days, watched with guarded optimism. As long as Vilhjalmer associated with Ulfrik's victories they did not fear the conquering army rampaging at their borders. They welcomed the fear Ulfrik's armies struck into other Norsemen invaders, and a peace settled over the interior of Frankia.
He never intended to stop, but to fight every day until he died. He laughed at death, dared it to find him, but the more he dared, the less willing anyone was to battle him. With territory to rival Hrolf's, he considered whether to push on to Brittany. With such success he might gain the same recognition from the Frankish king and be named a count himself.
It all changed the final summer of Vilhjalmer's so-called captivity. The engagement was a small, cleanup action. No one expected serious resistance. Ulfrik led it personally, angered at the insolence of the young fool who had challenged him. That battle was sharp and short, and Ulfrik's men crushed their challengers. But Ulfrik was struck a blow that laid him low.
Age had slowed his reactions, and though his reputation frightened men enough that they faltered in combat with him, this young fool knew no fear. He struck beneath the shield, driving his blade deep into Ulfrik's left thigh. He cut the artery, and were it not for Finn's quick aid, Ulfrik would have bled out in three heartbeats. From that day, Ulfrik could not move with any speed. The leg had suffered a terrible break years ago, and now this wound nearly lamed it. He walked with aid from a staff, and though he bragged he would recover, all knew he would not.
The season of Ulfrik War-Tooth had ended.
His men settled their conquered lands, Brittany sent armies to their borders, and the Franks moved to contain him. No one would have guessed he could have forged a kingdom almost equal in size to Hrolf's in such a time. Though he would not be recognized by the Franks nor Hrolf, he did not need their accolades. He had secured himself a place in history even if no one would remember him.
Now the day to return Vilhjalmer to his parents had arrived, and the young man whom he had taken hostage now stood stronger and bolder than ever before. Hrolf had dispatched a guard of fifty men to escort him home and deliver Brandr.
Ulfrik stood with Vilhjalmer, and all his sons had come to send him off. They each embraced him, and when Aren came he had a tear in his eye. The two had grown to be like brothers. Vilhjalmer patted his back. "I will call for you one day. I will have need of your sharp mind when my father hands rule over to me. This is only good-bye for a short time."
Brandr was unrecognizable, taller and golden hair grown darker. Ulfrik saw that he wore a heavy silver cross over his new, white shirt. Brandr smiled as he returned to him, and without a word he lifted the cross from his neck and withdrew the amulet Ulfrik had given him years before. It was tarnished now, but he held it in his upraised palm. "You can have the cross for the silver, but I will keep this."
Ulfrik laughed and sent his grandson to see Gunnar, who waited behind them. At last he slipped his arm about Vilhjalmer's shoulders and walked him to the line of guards. He had to lean on his staff and he cursed the pain. The cold air bit his flesh as he walked.
"Three years were like no time at all," Ulfrik said.
"I will remember them with great fondness," Vilhjalmer said. His voice had grown deeper and more commanding. "You've taught me all your tricks, and showed me how to stop a sword with my thigh."
Ulfrik chuckled. "Don't try that until you're ready to see your whole life pass through your thoughts."
"We will continue to have peace," Vilhjalmer said. "Put down your sword and enjoy what you have wrought from this land. It's better than what any of us imagined."
"I am passing command to Hakon," Ulfrik said. "But I shall always be ready to aid him. It's time I let someone else enjoy the burdens of rule."
Vilhjalmer smiled. "Then we shall one day
speak with Hakon and see if he can be enticed to join with me."
Again Ulfrik laughed. "Not while I live, dear friend. This is my kingdom and shall remain with my family."
They grew silent and Vilhjalmer suddenly embraced him. They had shared life and death struggles together for three long years. Parting hurt as much as losing a lover, for they were even closer when their lives depended upon each other's swords.
"Find a woman," Vilhjalmer said. "Have her warm your bed, cook your food, and massage your leg. You've earned this much for yourself. I've seen the light fade from your eyes now that the fighting is over. But life does not end here. You are a hero, and nothing will ever change that."
Ulfrik smiled, returned the embrace. "Go back home to Normandy. May your days forever be filled with glory. You will be a great leader one day."
They parted with a nod, and Ulfrik hobbled back to his hall alone, unwilling to watch a young man embarking on the adventure of his life when his own twilight had fallen.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Ulfrik closed his eyes and ran his hand along the cold stone, feeling the engraved lines of the runes. Birds chirped in the surrounding trees, singing their songs of springtime. From behind he heard his grandson, Leif, laughing as he teased his Uncle Aren. Both had insisted on accompanying him on this walk, but Ulfrik asked they give him this time alone.
"Five years," he said to the stone. "Has it been that long, dear wife?"
He opened his eyes and tears threatened to erupt. Instead he brushed them dry with the back of his hand, and leaned on his staff as he remembered Runa. The stone had already gathered green and white stains of lichen, though he had only raised it a year ago. He read the inscription, filled with red paint to make it bolder. For Runa the Bloody, Wife and Shield Maiden. He could have written much more, though he simply wanted a place to visit her memory. Ulfrik did not know whether from Freya's hall she could see this stone set for her. It only mattered that he and those who traveled through these lands did.
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