It was enough to get him through. All the while Alasdair remained quiet until they were almost to the barracks. Then he stopped, and it took Yngvar a few steps to realize he had. He turned toward Alasdair, who stood with both hands clasped over his chest.
"Lord, is there any way we can avoid telling the others I was caught?"
Yngvar frowned at the question. "What harm is there in telling them? Besides, how can I explain Brandr?"
"Of course, lord. That was a foolish question. Never mind." Alasdair let his hands fall and caught up to Yngvar, who stopped him again.
"There's no shame in being caught. What you did was both difficult and brave. I'm only glad Brandr was still feeling generous tonight. To be honest, if Gorm or Surt caught you, I don't know what I'd do." Alasdair nodded, but said nothing. "So how did Brandr catch you? You were in there a long time."
He shifted and sighed, and his white face reddened at the cheeks. "It was one of the girls that recognized me. She was sweet on me, lord, if you take my meaning. I tried to avoid her, but she knew I was no servant. She wanted--something from me--to keep silent. She was making a bit of a commotion, and more than few men gave us angry looks. I promised to satisfy her, lord. But by that time Brandr had spotted me and pushed his way to the rear where I was listening. He dragged me outside and warned me to do as he said or it'd go bad."
Yngvar smiled, trying to hold back his laughter. "I must say, I'd love to see you at work some day. Do you think the girl will keep quiet if you don't--do something?"
"I doubt her words will carry weight with anyone, lord. Besides, it seems we won't be here tomorrow."
"We will have to discuss that with the others," Yngvar said. He let Alasdair stand a moment in stunned silence before he caught up again.
At the barracks hall, Bjorn and Thorfast stood in the doorway. They both tried to act uninterested as Yngvar slipped through, but Bjorn grabbed his arm and nearly yanked him into the hall. To his surprise, most of the crew were still at the barracks rather than the ship.
Thorfast shrugged. "They were not allowed out of the gates. It was too late to go anywhere, and we did not want to arouse suspicion."
"That's going to be a problem if we ever have to flee while the gates are closed." Yngvar scratched his thin beard, but grinned at the worried faces. The men relaxed at his acceptance.
"So what happened?" Bjorn asked.
The crew huddled around both Yngvar and Alasdair as they recounted the night. When it came to Alasdair's capture, Yngvar gave his young friend a small smile. "After Alasdair slipped out of the hall, Fate sent Brandr following. Maybe he had to piss and there was no room for that in the hall. I gave away our hiding place because we were standing on dead leaves. I cannot move with the same silence as Alasdair. So Brandr found us and from Alasdair's uniform guessed what we had done."
Expressions darkened at the mention of Brandr. Only Alasdair's face reddened and he looked down.
"You're like rutting moose in a chicken coop," Bjorn said to Yngvar. "If you'd just stayed still ..."
"Well, I am not claiming to be any good at moving unseen," Yngvar said. "So Brandr spared us on the promise that we return to Norway. We are to depart at dawn, and he will help us arrange for the ship."
Now all eyes turned to Alasdair. Whether they left Denmark or found another way to remain depended upon what he had learned while inside the hall. His blush faded and he stood straighter now. Still, he was the shortest of all the crew and standing at the center of them made him seem as if he would disappear in their shadows. He cleared his throat.
"It seems Gorm is planning an invasion and one he will carry out in winter."
"I knew it," Yngvar said. "But a winter attack is foolish. The weather will be a foe worse than King Hakon. Even if he succeeds, how will he hold whatever he gains?"
"I'll explain, lord. It seems Gorm and his men believe certain parts of southwestern Norway belong to him. Something about ancestors and their claims on islands and the coast. It seemed a great deal of drunken boasting, and I'm not sure why he believes he has a right to the lands. He claims Harald Finehair had stolen them from his father. It seems maybe Erik Blood-Axe was going to return the lands before he was overthrown. I'm not sure as I was also trying to hide in sight of everyone. So I could not fully concentrate."
"It's all right," Yngvar said. "The important thing is we know the attack is coming. Did Gorm say when?"
"No, lord, he spent most of his time carrying on about his rights and how his family had been aggrieved. He is upset that King Hakon has proved himself a capable and strong leader. I suppose he had been biding his time and expected a Christian king to quickly fail. So here is the important part, lord."
"You've not told us the important part yet?" Bjorn asked.
Yngvar glared at Bjorn, who shrugged innocently. "Go on, Alasdair. What is the rest of Gorm's plan?"
"Gorm wants to throw Norway into panic. He believes the land is ripe for splitting apart. Jarl Sigurd in the north and Hakon's nephews in the southwest are all ambitious but also too cautious to challenge for the kingship. But if Gorm can have Hakon killed, then there will be challengers from every corner of the country. In this chaos, Gorm and his men would bring stability and safety to the lands that were once his family's. He would offer protection from the fighting certain to follow Hakon's sudden death. Once on the land, he can establish and reinforce a foothold during winter that won't budge when spring follows.
"So tonight he was gathering the leaders he wanted to complete this plan. I think tomorrow they will meet once more, but at that moment the serving girl that I met earlier found me. She consumed all my attention and that's when I left the hall. The rest you know."
Yngvar's pulse throbbed in his neck. As he listened to Alasdair's description of Gorm's plot, he could imagine the droves of warships appearing out of the morning fog. The sleepy villagers of coastal towns would offer the ships no challenge. With Hakon gone, all the warriors would be serving independent jarls or serving themselves alone. Some might fight, most would flee. Gorm would bite off his piece of Norway and then look farther up the coasts for more territory.
Everyone was looking at him when he opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he had closed them.
"He wants to murder King Hakon. Did he say how he'd do it?"
Alasdair shook his head. "No, lord, only that he would send a man guaranteed to get close to the king."
Yngvar scrubbed his face. He could not leave without knowing more. Another meeting would be held the next night, but he was to be sent away at dawn or else be exposed as a spy. If Fate had not placed Brandr in his path, how much easier would this have all been? He let go a long sigh.
"We cannot leave without discovering more of the details."
Everyone remained quiet. Yngvar met their faces. Some of the men were nearly double his age, but they trusted him with their lives. Didn't these fools understand he had no more idea what to do than they did? He felt like warning them all off and running to hide. But the instant doubt passed, he met their eyes with confidence. When he settled on Thorfast, his friend gave him a slow nod and thin smile.
"Brandr will want to see us leave, so we will have to provide that show. We will board our ship and sail away. Then you will drop me along the shore and I will make it back here before the gates close. I have to get inside that meeting tomorrow night."
Mumbles circled around the crew and Yngvar knew most doubted his strategy. Bjorn slapped Yngvar's shoulder. "Now that's a bold plan. I like it, except you forgot the part where you take me as well."
"As well as me," Thorfast said, then he put his hand on Alasdair's shoulder. "And the short one, too."
"That's more than enough," Yngvar said, holding up his hands. "The rest of you must keep the ship ready to sail. We will establish a meeting point where you can fetch us. Then we sail with all speed for Norway."
The crew grumbled, but most seemed to approve. Hamar the navigator seemed to have the most reservations. "Lord, even though Alasdair
was caught, isn't he still the best choice for this? Why must it be you?"
"Because Alasdair has risked enough, and he would be the best man to escape with the news if anything were to happen to the rest of us. Besides, I don't think we actually need to enter Gorm's hall to learn what we need."
He enjoyed the curious and admiring expressions that followed. Thorfast had folded his arms and cocked his brow, but by now that was his duty. He would point out any holes in Yngvar's plans. At last, Hamar, who still did not seem mollified, asked the question everyone else had.
"What are you going to do?"
Yngvar smiled. "I have a plan."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Your plan is madness," Thorfast said. "But it is bold."
"And it will work," Yngvar said.
The sun had risen and set over Jelling. The sky was starless behind gray clouds and the hearth smoke of dozens of homes. Yngvar drew his cloak tighter against the chill of oncoming night. A duck quacked in the distance, and he heard an old woman shouting. Standing in the door of his barracks, he smiled at the prosaic scene.
In the morning of the same day, Brandr had met Yngvar as arranged. He had some measure of respect with Surt, and despite the night before managed to convince him to send Yngvar's men on a short patrol of the fjord and nearby coast. Brandr would lead a ship just to familiarize the new men with the waters. When Yngvar kept sailing for Norway, Brandr would report their defection.
"I'm sorry it had to end this way," Brandr said. "But you should've left the first time I asked you."
They had embraced, and Yngvar felt a pang of guilt for deceiving his cousin. He hoped that their relationship would not come to light with King Gorm, especially after he figured out Yngvar's crew was never loyal. Brandr could find himself in deep trouble, and Yngvar did not want him killed. Brandr was doing what he believed was right. He led them to the mouth of the fjord, and when no one was around he sent them off north, waving from the prow of his ship before vanishing around a bend.
Once Brandr was out of sight, they took a short tour of the area to find places to hide and meet. Hamar steered the ship with more confidence now, and had no fear of hugging the coast as he had on his journey to Denmark. There were numerous islands where ships could conceal themselves from certain angles of approach. The friendliest parts of the coast were all settled and not suitable for covert landings. Yet they had found a small cove where Yngvar and his wolves went ashore. The left their mail and war gear aboard ship, taking only weapons and a sack of a few other supplies.
Regaining entrance to Jelling had been easier than they expected. At least six ships full of fighting men had docked. It seemed a jarl of some importance had arrived. In the confusion of such a large number, they slipped back into the city. Yngvar even boldly returned to their old barracks. He knew most of the men were on wall duty and the four others who still lazed in the barracks were disinterested in Yngvar's activities. Besides, they were expected to return after patrol.
Now night had arrived and Yngvar watched a boxy old woman run out between two houses, chasing then catching a white duck that quacked wildly. She wrestled with the duck until she had clamped a hand over its beak and tucked it under arm.
"Someone's eating well tonight, and it ain't the duck," Bjorn said from behind. "I know Thorfast is afraid, but I think your plan makes good sense. We'll have all we need before dawn."
"Getting out again is the hard part," Thorfast said from within the barracks. They were the only ones inside now, as the others had gone to take a meal with Surt.
Yngvar turned inside, facing the warm glow of the low hearth. The embers barely breathed red beneath the black soot. In contrast, tonight King Gorm's hearth would be ablaze and dozens of men would be awash in its heat. Brandr would be among that number. Would he believe his eyes if he saw Yngvar there? Would he give him away as he promised he would? Others might recognize him, Surt and some of his men. Yngvar believed he could sit on King Gorm's lap and not be recognized. He had been just one more face added to the king's army.
Tonight Gorm would regret ignoring him.
"It's time," Alasdair said, poking through the door. He had been watching Gorm's hall for the meeting to begin.
"Let's go," Yngvar said, but something in Alasdair's face stopped him. "What's the matter?"
"There are more men and guards tonight," Alasdair said. "I don't think it will be like last night."
"No doubt the servant we attacked talked about having his clothes stolen," Yngvar said. "So Gorm is aware someone wants to spy on him. But aren't all kings worried for spies? Anyway, that is yet another reason we have to use my plan rather than send you back inside. They're waiting for that to happen again."
They proceeded toward the hall through the main street. Yngvar had learned that if he acted bold, then people did not question him. Only when he hung in shadows or turned his head down did people suspect. He even greeted two of the street guards as they passed and received curt nods in answer. The last light of the day had retreated below the horizon, and so had the inhabitants of Jelling withdrawn to their homes. Dull lights showed from opened doors and laughter or loud voices sometimes escaped the buildings they passed. At last, they came to the hill where Gorm's great mead hall stood.
Now boldness had no more use. They would be questioned carefully in this place. So Yngvar led their group aside to the shadows of a black-stained fence that blocked off a small yard.
"You all know what to do," Yngvar said. "We wait for the guards to settle down. Alasdair will distract them, and the three of us will take them out. Then Bjorn and I will dress in their mail and cloaks. I pray King Gorm leaves the doors open again tonight. Even so, we can listen through the wall. You two hide the bodies then keep watch and warn us if trouble is coming. By morning, if the guards' corpses aren't found, we should be able to walk out the eastern gate."
"There's a well nearby," Alasdair said. "We can drop them in there. If it's deep enough their corpses might not be found for weeks."
"We only need a day," Yngvar said. He led Alasdair out of the shadow to where the guard stood. They chose the same wall as last night, and again the servants went in and out of the hall. "Wait until the servants slow down. We need time for our work and to get their bodies away."
The large oak tree that grew beside the hall was bare cover for four of them. Yngvar and the others lay flat on the grass, and Alasdair crouched behind the tree while they waited. Again servants scurried like ants in and out of their hole, carrying full and emptied casks. Gorm and his men were feasting again, and he was making a greater display of his wealth than ever. Apparently the jarl who arrived earlier merited special treatment. Golden light shined from the doorway by the high table. The brilliance turned the servants into shadows as they worked. Eventually, the flow of ale slowed and the servants no longer were as busy.
Alasdair glanced back and got a nod from Yngvar. He approached the guards, who were more alert than they had been the night before. They spotted him immediately and grabbed their spears.
"Good evening," Alasdair said. "Spare a crust of bread for a poor boy?"
He walked past them, hands outstretched as if to receive food. But the guards stabbed at him with their spears, and one cursed him in a rough voice. "There're no beggars allowed here. Go back to your hole, rat."
Not even slowing down, he walked passed them. They turned to follow, and Yngvar and the others were drawing closer with knives ready.
Murder was difficult for Yngvar. In truth, all warriors in Jelling were his enemies, and to drive a knife in to their kidneys was nothing of concern. Yet he struggled to not see them as simple men doing their jobs. He fell upon the first one, cupping a hand around his mouth and driving his long dagger through the mail links into the soft flesh beneath. He dragged the struggling guard down, and Thorfast jammed a cloth into the dying man's mouth.
Bjorn already had his man down, and Alasdair was also silencing the dying screams of the second guard.
T
he torchlight felt like the sun upon Yngvar's back. Anyone looking up hill would see him crouched over bodies with a bloodied knife. The base of his throat pulsed with raw terror. He and the others worked in stark silence. They lifted the corpses as a team, Alasdair taking the feet of one while Bjorn hauled the man underarm. In mail coats they were even heavier. Yngvar and Thorfast struggled to carry their corpse into the darkness of the oak tree.
They worked with careful speed. Removing mail coats from dead bodies was tricky. Mail tangled and ruined easily. They were careful to wipe away the blood, but could do nothing for the rends in the armor. Alasdair kept watch, warning them when servants exited. They froze in those moments, Yngvar too terrified to breathe. But the servants were too focused on their work to mind missing guards. Soon, Yngvar and Bjorn were dressed as their former enemies. His mail and helmet hung loose over him, but Bjorn's was a surprising fit.
"Hide the bodies," Yngvar repeated.
"The gods be with you," Thorfast said.
Both he and Bjorn walked to their stations along the wall. They had only just taken their spots when a figure peeked from the front of the hall. The guard was just a cloaked shadow in the torchlight, and he stared at them a moment before waving. Yngvar and Bjorn did the same, and the guard slipped back around the corner.
"I hope that wasn't a signal," Bjorn said.
"He's just bored," Yngvar said. "Or maybe things got too quiet over here for too long. No matter. Now let's listen in on Gorm's talk. I want to be closer to the open doors."
The voices through the walls were muffled but raucous. This was the end of the feasting where men were full but not yet as drunk as they would become before the night ended. Laughter was both near and distant through the wood wall. Yngvar slid across its roughness until he was by the door. Deep voices spoke in rising and falling tones, none of them distinct. The Danish accent further scrambled what he heard. Though he had accustomed himself to the heavy accent, he still struggled to catch words in normal conversation. Trying to comprehend the words through a wall was nearly impossible.
Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 18
