Sigvald said nothing for what seemed too long. Yngvar kept his head lowered. All he had to do was gain acceptance from Sigvald and then he could focus his men on the next stage of the plan. But as the silence dragged, Yngvar looked up.
"You do not wish to weigh the silver yourself? It is all there as agreed. Now, what about Thorfast and the rest of my crew? Why have they not been summoned?"
The seidkona stepped forward and extended a bony finger at him. "Where is the small one? The red-headed boy?"
"Ah, well, Lopt did not believe Jarl Sigvald would keep his word. So I offered him as hostage to Sigvald's honor. He paid his tribute then, and so we have left him in Lopt's care."
Sigvald did not change his expression, but the old witch smiled. "What is his name?"
"Whose name?"
"The boy. What is the boy's name? Quickly."
"Alvis, that's his name." Yngvar's hands were ice cold. He and the others had taken false names in case Erik Blood-Axe's and Gamle's bounties followed them. But he had not come up with a name for Alasdair. It seemed even he underestimated the boy.
The seidkona smiled again. "Your crew is fine and the friend you have asked for is recovering. He still fights for his life. But what was his name again?"
Yngvar turned to Bjorn, whose face had flushed red with his fury. Yngvar turned back to the witch. "I'll answer no more of your questions. I came to serve Jarl Sigvald and not some shriveled hag."
"Very well," Sigvald said at last. "Take off your shirt, Einar."
Sigvald twisted the name like a curse and sat back in his chair.
"I want to see your back, Einar Magnusson. If it is clear of scars then you are not the one Erik Blood-Axe and Gamle Eriksson seek. But if it is ruined, then I must be looking at Yngvar Hakonsson, Bjorn Arensson, and Thorfast the Silent as well as their little servant Alasdair. Did you not just now name your injured friend as Thorfast? The coincidences are too much. Remove your shirt and prove yourself."
"How have you heard of me so far south?" Yngvar removed his shirt, his head spinning with the sudden defeat. Though the room was stuffy, his back still felt a relieving rush of air when he pulled off the shirt. He displayed the thick, rope-like scars that crisscrossed his back to Sigvald.
"My mother knows many people," Sigvald said, extending his hand to the witch. "She has heard of your bounty and suspected you matched the descriptions too well. Thank you for retrieving the bounty and sacrificing your servant to get it. I say he got the better deal. You and your companions will be going north to Gamle, once he arrives in Denmark. His grandfather is Gorm the Old, as you must know. The rest of your crew can either swear their oaths to me or be sold off."
Yngvar swallowed and glared at the old woman, who gloated from the edge of the high stage. He would choke her on the silver bounty if he could. Instead, he raised his hands helplessly as the first spear tips touched his flesh.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"At least they're keeping us together," Bjorn offered while he tried to see beyond the cracks of the doorway. It seemed he might press his face through the wood as he shifted right and left to get a better view. Three candles sat on a low table, casting guttering shadows across the wall as Bjorn moved.
Yngvar sat on the bed beside Thorfast, who at least now had enough strength to speak. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes ringed with black. Pale hair clung flat to his head from both sweat and going unwashed for so long. A gray blanket was folded up to his arms, which had also shrunk from his fever.
"I can't believe you left Alasdair behind," Thorfast said in a hoarse whisper. "He's such a good man."
"He is a man, isn't he," Yngvar said. "I keep thinking of him as boy. Well, as mad as Lopt is, I pray Alasdair's god will take care of him. Still, it's better than being shipped off to Erik Blood-Axe."
"It's too dark to see," Bjorn said, now standing on his toes to peer out the top.
"Yet it doesn't stop you from pushing your fat head through the doorjamb," Thorfast said in a raspy whisper. "What do you expect to see?"
"I liked him better when he couldn't talk," Bjorn said. Thorfast snorted.
"You wept when you thought I'd died. If you didn't have me to listen to, your thoughts would be filled with noise all day. You need me."
"Need you to shut up. I can't see nothing out there."
Yngvar wondered at the fate of the others who had followed him. Were Grettir and Hamar now giving their oaths to Sigvald? Would any of them choose slavery? As much as it pained him to lose the loyalty of his crew, he did not want them in chains. Serving Sigvald would be just as good for them. Lopt and Waldhar would soon find closed gates and then turn to poor Alasdair. Yngvar owed his life to him, and yet he had trapped Alasdair in this mess. He bit his lip, unable to forgive himself. He needed to be a more responsible leader, but he had acted rashly and with too much confidence.
"My father warned me of overconfidence," he said, giving voice to his thoughts.
Thorfast raised his head. "He also warned you about fleas, but we still take them wherever we go."
"That's how we got into this mess. We just sailed south, trusting luck to get our ears up against Gorm's walls. How else could this have turned out? We needed a better plan, and I failed to make one."
Bjorn continued to shuffle around the door, peering into the night. Thorfast turned his head aside and closed his eyes. "We all have a responsibility for that. Besides, how else were we to get close to Gorm? King Hakon gave us an impossible task."
Yngvar chuckled. "To think, I almost had it in hand, too. I would have to betray everyone, but these Danes are all enemies of our king. So it would matter not. We were so close, but for these scars on my back, we might've won the day."
"Someone's coming!" Bjorn danced in place like a boy about to receive a long-awaited gift. "It's no guard."
"Quiet!" The command whispered through the door was urgent and muffled. "Snuff those candles, lest someone sees the door open."
"Who is it?" Thorfast asked. Yngvar put out the candles, the reeking tallow now mixing with the burnt-out scent of the wick.
"Alasdair," Bjorn said in hushed amazement. "How'd you get here?"
The bolt lifted from the door and settled against the outside wall with a dull thump. The door opened, letting in a gust of fresh air and the small shape of Alasdair. Yngvar saw the flash of red hair in the moonlight as he slid inside.
Sweeping him into his arms, Bjorn laughed and spun around with Alasdair. Yngvar joined, patting his head.
"I can't breathe," Alasdair wheezed. "Set me down."
Dropping him beside Thorfast, Bjorn went back to the door and cracked it open. "No one's attacking?"
"Not yet," Alasdair said. "How are you, Thorfast?"
"I've been hoping the healer would let one of her servant girls stay behind to keep me company. But the hag keeps dragging them off."
"He's recovering," Alasdair said. "Lopt and Waldhar are ready to attack an hour before sunrise."
"Wait," Yngvar said. He gestured for Alasdair to sit on one of the two stools in the room while he sat on the edge of Thorfast's bed. "How did you get in here and what's happening? Lopt is a day earlier than we planned."
"Waldhar's men were impatient, lord. They answered his bonfires expecting battle at hand and found none. They sued for an early attack, and Waldhar agreed. So they took me here and told me to find a way inside to warn you."
"Awfully bold of them," Bjorn said, still watching through the cracked door. The silver moonlight that raced inside cut a thin line across the floor and wall.
"There's a place along the wall where someone or some animal has dug before. A small dog or small man such as me could squeeze through. They sank the wood stockade deep but not in that area."
"But you were to be a hostage," Yngvar said. "Why did they release you?"
"Waldhar's men are in a hurry, so Lopt cast rune sticks to see if you are trustworthy. Your gods vouched for you, lord, for Lopt is certain you are honest. So they sent me as
a show of trust, and if the gates don't open before dawn they will leave. But I learned about what happened to you. It took some time to find both you and the rest of the crew."
Yngvar leaned back with a wry smile. "How did you find out all of that so quickly?"
"I'm small and covered in dirt. I look like a servant to most. I just spoke with one of the girls from Sigvald's hall. She delayed me a bit, lord. Sorry for that."
"Delayed?" Thorfast laughed. "I would like to be delayed some time soon."
Even in the darkness, Yngvar thought he could see Alasdair blush. He slapped his young friend on the shoulder. "So we have a short time to open the gates for them. Timing will be difficult. But if we regroup and rearm, we can seize a gate. If you can get back outside, send word to Lopt and Waldhar to watch for it to open and then attack. Did you have a chance to study any of the gates? Was one weaker than the others?"
"For the love of the gods," Thorfast said. "The boy was busy being delayed. You can't expect him to slip into the fort, find us, free us, and scout the place as well."
"Of course," Yngvar said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think the west gate faces their general direction. We'll focus there. Where are the others?"
"They're in the barracks, lord. They have guards posted, so I didn't dare approach."
Bjorn sniffed. "We're just barred into a shack, but they get guards. Bastards don't know who's really dangerous."
"There's more of them than us," Yngvar said. "Anyway, I'm sure our weapons were stockpiled at the blacksmith, which was northeast of the hall and close to their barracks. After we retrieve our gear, we'll free the crew then get the gate opened. The rest will remain with how badly Lopt and Waldhar want this fort. We're practically giving it to them."
"There are patrols, lord. Two men each, one with a torch. They walk the streets, in shifts I would assume. So many of us moving in bright moonlight will set the alarm before we capture a gate."
Yngvar nodded. "For now it is just the three of us going to the forge. We should be able to avoid the patrols."
"Four of us," Thorfast said, struggling to sit up on his elbows.
"No," Bjorn said, forcing Thorfast down. "You're not good enough to fight."
"Who said I would fight?" Thorfast sat up the moment Bjorn stepped back. "I can't stay here. What will you do when Sigvald grabs me for a hostage? You're going to let him gut me rather than surrender the gate? Of course not. So I must come, just so I can't be used against you. But I'll need a big, mad bear to watch over me during the battle."
"Take care of yourself in battle," Bjorn said, returning to the door. Thorfast laughed.
"You're right," Yngvar agreed. "But can you move quickly enough? We really can't carry you."
"We're about to discover what I can do. I've only been awake today. I feel like--I should be dead."
"Ack, don't curse yourself!" Bjorn said. "Now get out of the bed and let's get on with this."
In the brilliant moonlight, Yngvar felt as if every person within the fort was alerted to his escape. Yet outside the air was crisp and fresh, and he breathed it deeply. All the buildings were dark shapes painted in shimmering outlines of white. The glow of a distant torch wobbled away from them to wink out behind a wall. At least the patrol in this lane had just left them. He set the bar back into the door when Thorfast hobbled outside. He gave a weak smile, his pale hair even more brilliant in the moonlight.
They let Alasdair lead them, being the smallest and quickest. He darted from shadow to shadow, beckoning them forward when it was safe to pass. The worst part of the plan, Yngvar realized, was that he had to cross the breadth of the fort twice. The second time, with thirty men, he would have a far more difficult passage.
With the frequent pauses, Thorfast was able to maintain his pace. Yet he silently grimaced and leaned heavily on Yngvar's shoulder for support. It felt like a never ending dash from dark corner to dark corner, but eventually they came to the blacksmith and forge. Nothing of value was left outside except a blacksmith's hammer and tongs left beside the forge. They would have to force the door to the smith's and hope he was not asleep in his workshop. Bjorn gestured in silence that he would strangle the smith if he found him inside. Yngvar shrugged. Bjorn's strength was their only weapon now.
The door was bolted from the inside, which meant they had no way to enter without destroying the door.
"All this way for a fucking bolted door," Bjorn said.
"I expected as much," Yngvar said. He backed up and motioned Alasdair closer. "There's no smoke in the smoke hole. If we boosted you to the roof, could you drop in from there and open the doors?"
"If there are no embers in the hearth, lord," Alasdair said. "And if he does not have a hound or family around it."
"Well get up there before these guards return," Thorfast said. He leaned against the wall as if he were ready to vomit. "There's no time to try anything else."
Yngvar and Bjorn hoisted Alasdair onto the pitched roof. He grabbed on to the thatch and crawled up toward the smoke hole.
"Luck's out," Thorfast said. "Here's the patrol."
Bjorn grabbed the hammer and tossed the iron tongs to Yngvar. The cold iron was heavy in his hands. Fluttering torchlight preceded the patrol around the corner. Both he and Bjorn threw themselves flat against the corner beside the approaching guards.
The two guards chatted in low voices. As they rounded the corner, Yngvar held his breath. Thorfast, still leaning against the wall, called to them.
"Hey, I'm trying to take a piss but can't get my cock out of my pants. You two look experienced with that. Can you help?"
The guards startled and pulled up short. The one without a torch stepped forward.
"Is that you, Olaf?"
Bjorn slammed his hammer into the back of the guard's skull. The thud and crack was enough to know he was dead. Yngvar used both hands on the iron tongs and spun them straight into the torchbearer's face. He collapsed back, dropping his torch and shouting in pain. Yngvar followed him down, smashing the man's face again. In the moonlight, it was slathered in glittering black fluid. Still a scream bubbled from his throat.
Dropping the tongs, Yngvar drew the man's dagger and in a swift strike slit open the guard's throat. It stopped his next shout.
"Get the torch before it goes out," Thorfast hissed.
Yngvar grabbed it, then turned to find Bjorn dragging the body of his enemy to the inside of the forge. At the same time, the doors opened to the blacksmith and Alasdair's smooth, moon-bright face appeared in the black doorway.
Yngvar hid the body of his victim, hastily shoving it into the forge area. With Alasdair, he slipped out their weapons, which were stacked just inside the doorway. Their mail shirts were either hung or spread out on worktables.
"The smith and his family are asleep," Alasdair whispered. "You're not going to kill them, lord?"
"I won't, but Lopt will, once he's inside. We'll bind them up for now."
So they did their work, Yngvar standing outside with the torch and Thorfast, who remained uncomfortably silent. When Bjorn emerged, he smiled and wiped his hands on his pants.
"Damn wife bit me," he said. "But the whole family's pinned down good. Let's get this finished now."
Both Bjorn and Yngvar wore the guards' cloaks and helmets. Yngvar's sat too low on his head, coming to his brow so he felt like a child wearing his father's war gear. They continued the patrol to the barracks where their crew was held. Two more guards sat against the wall with their spears and shields folded at their sides. Both appeared asleep. Yngvar shrugged at Bjorn. Unlike a sleeping family, sleeping sentries were fair game. Both died without a sound, and Yngvar was throwing the bolt aside before Bjorn had even pulled the first corpse aside.
"Get up, you dogs," Yngvar said into the darkness. "We've got a battle to fight."
"It's Yngvar," said one of the men closest to the door. In an instant, all of the crew were surrounding him. A dozen hushed questions rushed at him. The light of his torch revealed
smiling if sleepy faces all pressed toward him.
"It is, and we've got to get the gates open to let in some Saxon friends of mine. But before we do, you men need your war gear. We've got a fight ahead of us."
"Saxon friends?" asked Grimnr. "There's a story in that for sure."
"I'll tell it to you on the way," Yngvar said. "Now let's go."
Yngvar led his crew out of their barracks prison back to the blacksmith. The men struggled to remain quiet while they reequipped themselves, but each clank and thud made Yngvar wince. To occupy his worries, he checked on Thorfast. He clung to the wall of the blacksmith's house, one hand over his gut. He grit his teeth but nodded his way through Yngvar's questions on his condition.
"Just hold it together a while longer," Yngvar said. "We'll have the gates opened soon."
The first stains of dawn were in the air as Yngvar now led his new column of men back across Sigvald's fort toward the west gate. The sky was shading from black to indigo at the horizon and the stars were fading. The moon was still low in the sky and just as bright.
Halfway across the distance, just in front of Sigvald's hall, warning horns blared.
"We've been seen," Bjorn said, head turning side to side like a startled cat.
"Then run for the west gate," Yngvar said, his voice loud and firm. "We open that gate then defend it from Sigvald. That's all we need to do."
They began to run, a light jog at first with nothing more than horn blasts chasing them. Yet as they traversed the fort, more and more horns joined and the torchlight converged on them.
As they ran down the main road toward the west gate, about twenty men with shields and spears piled up in the road before the gates. Yngvar called a halt to their charge.
"Make a shield wall," he said, drawing his sword. "Looks like we've got to hack our way through to the gates."
Horns continued to blare, and Yngvar raised his shield to touch Bjorn at his left. Sigvald's men fell into a loose wall and lowered their spears.
"Charge!" he screamed and led his lines to battle.
Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 11
