"Yes, I know who you are, Yngvar Hakonsson." Gamle crouched down to get closer. "The moment I saw that scarred back of yours. Plus your other friends match what I know of your little group."
"So you caught them too?" Yngvar said, hoping his lame ruse would reveal the truth. But Gamle was too canny for such a simple trick. He smiled and mussed Yngvar's hair like he were Gamle's silly nephew rather than a mortal enemy.
"I am going to enjoy cutting your legs off. I have a man who can keep you alive and awake for the whole process. Then I'll pack you in a barrel and send you to my father. He walks with a limp now, thanks to you. He has to think of your ugly face every time he takes a step. I can't imagine the torment."
"Your father is a cuckolded fool," Yngvar said, sitting up to his knees. "I fucked your mother every day for months right under his nose. Ah, that royal slit was something, too, but a bit loose for my tastes."
The blow came from behind Yngvar's head, blinding him and sprawling him flat on the ground. He lay facedown in the dirt, his vision slowly melting back from white and a profound ringing in his ears that drowned out all other sounds. As that piercing ring faded, he heard shouts and laughter all around him. Gamle's voice was clearest.
"... kill him, you fool! I need him alive!"
"We are not done with him," Gorm said, his voice cutting above the others. He said nothing more and the hall fell silent. Yngvar remained with his face pressed to the dirt, wondering if he would vomit and hoping he could time it to land at Gamle's feet.
Someone straddled him and hauled him back up to his knees. The room swam, and Gamle's face was blurry before his own.
"Almost knocked the eyes out of your head," Gamle said. "I bet a few of your teeth fell out at least. You must have rocks for brains to have survived that. Can you hear me?"
Someone pressed a horn into Gamle's hand, and he threw the foamy contents over Yngvar's face. It was not cold, but the sudden shock helped focus him. He licked up the ale that flowed into his mouth, tasting the copper flavor of blood with it.
"That blow scrambled his mind," Gorm said. "No matter. Lock him up and let him recover. He will tell us everything we wish to know. Do you hear me, Yngvar Hakonsson? Perhaps I can persuade my grandson to spare your legs. I have the authority to do so, if you will cooperate with me. But if you wish to insult my family and make a fool of yourself, then I will send Erik even less of your body than Gamle will. Think hard. The right choice must be obvious even to you."
Someone dragged him to his feet and his knees buckled. The room swam again and he doubled over to vomit. The vile taste of his vomit filled his mouth and his vision again turned white as he emptied the contents of his stomach. After he had retched before Gorm's high table, he was again hauled away. He spun around and saw the ranks of derisive and mocking faces.
Brandr stood out clearly amid the murky crowd. Meeting his cousin's eyes steadied him. Rather than anger, Yngvar felt fear. He looked aside, hoping no one would question his cousin's loyalty. He had truly been duped, but a more suspicious mind might think he had a hand in Yngvar's spying.
He staggered toward the door, his head throbbing and his legs bending like stalks of grass. Two men flanked him and two others met them outside the hall. They marched him down the slope and across the open hall toward the northern gate. His captors said nothing to him, and he asked nothing of them. He did not resist but kept his head down. Dawn was coming, and his captors were yawning after their sleepless night.
Finally they led him to a small building against the wall. It was a square shack with a single door and a thatch roof that was moldy and gray in the predawn light. Inside he found no place to rest, but instead a small room with an enormous iron grate in the center. A small table and stool were off in a corner, where a wooden mug had spilled the dregs of mead around the base of a candle holder. The sickening smell of tallow still filled the room, though the candle was unlit.
One of his guards took a key to the lock on the grate. Though Yngvar's head still swam from the heavy blow, the lock was intriguing. His mother had held keys to his father's treasure chests. Most wives held keys to the simple locks of their family's chests. But this lock was constructed of metal and the key was as big as a striking iron. The guard had his entire hand through the loop at its handle. The lock clicked open with a hard twist, and two other men hefted the black iron bars away.
"Get back," shouted another guard down into the hole. "Get back or I'll knock out your last three teeth."
This guard fished a wooden ladder down into the pit, then pointed Yngvar down it.
His footing on the stairs was shaky and his grip on the rungs weak. Whoever had struck him must have used a weapon. It was surprising his skull had not cracked, or maybe it had and he would soon die. As he stumbled off the final rung, the ladder was roughly drawn up. It hit him under the chin as his guards yanked it away.
The iron grate thudded down and the lock clicked back into place. Two men stared down into the pit, then walked off. A third face appeared and took a harder look. "You boys play nice down there, or I'll only send enough bread and water for one of you."
Yngvar looked around. He was again in near total darkness. The overwhelming odor of feces and urine made him feel like retching again.
Eyes glinted at him in the dark. There were three others in this pit with him. He could not distinguish them, but could feel them standing around him.
They spoke a strange language, but it made Yngvar's skin tingle. These were Saxons trying to speak with him. At last one spoke in broken Norse.
"You're one of them," he said. "They give to us so we can hurt you. Yes?"
Yngvar shook his head and held up his hands. He was in no condition to fight three angry Saxons.
They laughed and spoke to each other in their own tongue. At last one pushed him. In the dark, he was simply a lighter-haired man than the other two. He could see nothing beyond vague shapes.
"We are Waldhar's men. Important men. Gorm wants gold for us, so we most important than you. You serve us. When Waldhar comes, we save you. Yes?"
Yngvar nodded.
When Waldhar comes, if Yngvar still had his legs by that time, he might take them along with Yngvar's head. He thought of Lopt Stone-Eye's dark-skinned daughter, Gyna, and how she would have reached Waldhar with news of his betrayal.
The Saxon prisoners laughed and abandoned Yngvar to stand beneath the thin light from the grate overhead.
He sank to the floor and held his head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Yngvar could not count the days by light, since their pit was protected by a building. Instead, he guessed when the hard bread and dirty water was lowered into the pit then a day had passed. He must have been in there three days. He curled up in a corner, tired from both lack of food and his depression at having been caught. The packed-earth wall was cold against his exposed skin. He shivered and wrapped his arms around his body to keep warm, especially at what he guessed was night. The temperatures dropped enough to fog his breath, or at least he thought it did. There was scant light unless a guard lit the tallow candle above.
He coughed, and it made his vision swim. He was steadily recovering from being struck in the head. The back of his skull was soft and sore, but every day brought progress. The other Saxons mostly left him alone. One of them seemed on the verge of death, and Yngvar offered him his own bread. After being hit in the head he had no appetite. In this tiny world, the gesture was like offering a mountain of silver. The Saxons seemed grudgingly thankful for it and accorded Yngvar respect.
He blinked at the light above. Perhaps it was daytime. He thought of his friends and smiled, knowing they had escaped. If they had not, then they would be with him here. Gorm would have captured them alive, so he did not fear their deaths. Were they aboard the ship again? Was Hamar piloting it through the dozens of islands along the Danish coast, hiding from enemies as he went? Soon they would reach the open seas, and baring the gods' malice, they would reach Norway.
King Hakon would reward them well. He had a reputation for the rule of law and the fair application of justice. So Yngvar did not worry for treachery. Would they remember him, he wondered. Not in the near term, but twenty years from now when Yngvar's legless corpse had long since been devoured by crows and maggots, would anyone remember he had lived?
Of course no one would, not in any meaningful way. He had started a bright career with men, gold, and a ship, but he had been unlucky after all. Unlike his grandfather or even his father, he had achieved nothing of importance before dying. He had given Erik Blood-Axe a limp. Perhaps Erik would be the only man to think of him in twenty years. At least his enemies would not forget crossing swords with him.
Shadows appeared over the grate. Murmured voices followed.
Yngvar and the Saxons drew closer to the faint column of light. The Saxons' faces were gaunt and haunted, their hair unkempt and their clothes ragged. Seeing them in the light, Yngvar felt a pang of sympathy. He had led these men to this fate. In truth, they were enemies of his king's enemy. These men should be allies standing beside his crew and not starving at the bottom of a pit.
A man crouched over the lock and it snapped open. The grate then rasped and squealed as it lifted away. That familiar voice shouted down at them. "Get back, rats. Get back or I'll smash your mouths bloody."
The frail wooden ladder descended and the cluster of shadows at the top darkened the room. Yngvar and the others had backed away from the ladder. No sense in antagonizing the guards when it would achieve nothing. The ladder shook and creaked as someone clambered down. He was a small man, dressed only in a gray wool shirt and brown pants. As soon as he stepped off the ladder, Yngvar recognized the moon-bright face before him.
"Alasdair!"
"They caught me last night, lord. I'm sorry."
He embraced his friend. "Did they hurt you?"
Rather than receive his answer from Alasdair, the grate above crashed into place. Then a man leaned over the pit. Yngvar recognized Brandr's voice.
"King Gorm will capture all the others sooner or later."
Yngvar glared up at the shadow of his cousin but said nothing. The two men stared at each other, then Brandr moved away.
The Saxons stared warily at him. The pit was now not only more crowded, but Yngvar had an ally. They melted away from him, drawing into a cluster where they murmured to themselves. Yngvar ignored them for now.
"How did you get caught?" he asked, grabbing Alasdair by the shoulders as if he might otherwise vanish. "What happened to the others?"
Alasdair shook his head, his coppery hair still shining in the low light. "We all split up. I stayed close to you, lord. I saw what happened but could not aid you. Ever since, I've been hiding throughout the town. It's not so hard for a man like me to pass unseen, even right before those seeking me. I stole food and water where I could. But I could not think of how to get you out of this place."
"Did you learn what happened to Thorfast or Bjorn? I heard a horn sound the night I was captured. I thought one of them must've also been found."
"They split up as you told them. I've no idea if they escaped. The gates are opened again. Maybe they hid as I did then slipped out once the gates reopened the following day."
Yngvar bit his lip, then finally shook his head. "It's up to the gods now. I hope they both made it back to the ship and are long gone."
Alasdair smiled and for the first time looked around the cell. "The stench in here will soon kill us. Who are the others?"
"Saxons. Waldhar's men, if you can believe it. They don't recognize me. But maybe now that you're here they'll figure out I'm their betrayer. If they want vengeance on me, they had best act soon. I can't imagine Gamle will wait much longer."
"Gamle and Gorm both questioned me. I told them we were here to slay Gamle since he had placed a bounty on your head."
Yngvar's heart lifted in his chest. "I count the day I met you as the best day of my life. That is the same story I told them. I can't explain how relieved I am to hear you reinforced it for them."
"It only made sense," Alasdair said. "To tell them the truth would intensify their search for the others. Honestly, I'm not sure they've yet realized our ship and crew are gone. They are so distracted with their plotting against Hakon, I think they have forgotten it."
"It may be the one boon the gods have granted us," Yngvar said. He turned toward the wall, unwilling to let Alasdair see the defeat on his face. Instead of any answer from Alasdair, he simply plucked at Yngvar's shoulder.
"It's not the only boon, lord."
Yngvar turned back to Alasdair. He was holding something at his lap, hiding it from the Saxons who lurked at the far side of the pit. Since it seemed Alasdair wanted secrecy, Yngvar tried not to stare at the object. It was a large metal loop with a shaft--it was the key to the lock!
His eyes widened, but he said nothing. Alasdair simply nodded then slipped the key back into his pants. He swept back his hair as if nothing had happened.
"Just before I stepped onto the ladder, I managed to get it. It came from Brandr, and to be honest I'm not sure if I stole it or he gave it to me."
"Why would Brandr have a key?" Yngvar asked, getting a shrug in answer. "I can't believe he would aid us. Maybe he has to serve as a guard here."
"For now it is good that we have it, lord. But I'm not sure how we will use it. That lock is up higher than we can reach, even if I stand on your shoulders."
"There are enough of us to get you up there," Yngvar said. He began to pace, thinking how he could use this gift of the key to escape this prison. "The problem is if there is a guard watching we cannot get out. There is no way to distract the guard as far as I can see. Is there even one up there?"
"I'm not sure, lord," Alasdair said. "I was caught trying to scout this building. Brandr caught me along with some other men. Over the last few days, I've seen guards come and go from this building. I've not been able to remain in place long enough to see if they are rotating shifts or just checking on things. Perhaps it is best that I check first."
Yngvar gave a slow nod, then looked across to his fellow prisoners. They had broken up, but each stared at him through the frail light that tumbled down from the grate.
"We'd have to tell them our plans," Yngvar said. "I'm not sure what they would do if they thought you possessed the key. They might try to overpower us and save themselves."
"They don't need to know why I'm looking out the grate," Alasdair said. "Besides, if I stand on your shoulders, I might be able to grab the grate and pull up to it for a glimpse. If I stick my hand out, it will tell us soon enough if there's a guard."
Yngvar knelt down to allow Alasdair on his shoulders. The Saxons stood, curious as to what would happen next. Alasdair's boots dug into Yngvar's shoulders as he stretched for the grate.
"It's still too high for me," he said, struggling to remain balanced. "Maybe if we jump together?"
"How skilled do you think I am?" Yngvar asked. "Just try to jump from my shoulders. I'm strong enough for that."
Alasdair leapt, but he missed and thudded to the floor. Dusting off his pants, he gave Yngvar a sheepish look. "I can try again, lord."
"I will help," said the light-haired Saxon. He settled onto hands and knees, then looked at Yngvar. "You stand, he climbs your back. Good?"
Despite the Saxon's emaciated state, he supported Yngvar's weight. Another Saxon helped Alasdair onto Yngvar's back, though he did not need it. He was light and nimble enough.
"Much better," Alasdair said. Yngvar held Alasdair's legs tight and they wobbled about until he anchored himself to the grate. "I can put my arm through to the shoulder."
His feet wobbled and slid over Yngvar's naked shoulders. At last he heard a shout from above.
"Hey, what are you doing down there?"
The castle of bodies broke up, with Alasdair leaping to the ground and Yngvar nearly falling off the Saxon base. An angry guard blocked the light as he crouched over the gate.
"If you want to eat, you won't give me any trouble."
He stared a moment longer, then walked off mumbling to himself.
"I think it is just him, lord. But I couldn't see everything."
The Saxons leaned in to hear, and Yngvar allowed them space. No need to reveal his plans yet.
"That's good," Yngvar said. "We will wait for a change of guard, then I think you know what to do."
The Norse-speaking Saxon did not seem to follow, but looked hopeful. Yngvar gave him a nod. Alasdair smiled and patted the key he had hidden in his trousers.
They would be out of this pit by nightfall.
The rest of the day passed in dull silence. Yngvar's mind ran over plan after plan, none better than what he had devised the first time. He would have to take the Saxons, and they might try to follow him believing he knew a way out. After all, he was about to produce the key to their escape. If he were in their position, he'd follow. So hiding might be impossible. He could use the Saxons as a diversion, then slip out during a fight. It was insincere and cruel, but he had to ensure he escaped with Alasdair. His young friend would show him how to hide and how to escape undetected. Alasdair was his superior in these matters.
After what seemed an eternity, the guards became active again. Shadows flickered over the grate. Yngvar sat up straight and looked at Alasdair. The Saxons did the same, but with more suspicion than excitement.
"Now's the time, lord. I think they are changing guards."
"It's about time to feed us, too," Yngvar said. He stood, clapping his hands together, anticipating escape.
Figures worked over the lock until it clacked open. The grate moaned as it lifted away.
Instead of food being lowered down, the ladder descended. Yngvar and the Saxons shared shocked glances.
A dreadfully familiar, gleeful voice called down.
"Yngvar Hakonsson, time to use your legs for the last time. Climb up here or I'll spear you like a fish and drag you up."
Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 20
