Runa sat at the high table, Gunnar at her side and Konal where Ulfrik had formerly sat. Male voices filled the hall, happy and vibrant conversations that reminded her of better times. As she closed her eyes, the scene transformed into the festivals of years past. The deep chuckle at her left became Ulfrik's. The sudden shout and crash became Toki's drunken stumbling. The resultant laughter came from the hirdmen. Yet when her eyes opened the scene was filled with unfamiliar actors, though no one was less happy.
Kell had fallen off the table, and his men threw scraps and laughed as he struggled to his feet. In the short few weeks Kell had stayed in Nye Grenner, he had done much good. Seeing the poor state of the buildings and the low stores of food, he had dispatched his ships to buy food and supplies from the Shetland and Orkney Islands. With the larders restocked, he then set his men to restoring the damage wrought over half a decade of disrepair. As the weather warmed into spring, Kell ensured Nye Grenner's people shook off the vestiges of winter. To Runa's embarrassment, Kell had paid for and organized the feast everyone now enjoyed.
The day of celebration drew all the community, comprised mostly women and girls. Though many were married, with husbands long gone and the prospect that many were dead, Kell's crew found plenty of accommodating women. Runa could not condemn them, but neither could she bring herself to join them.
Night still arrived early, and as the sun collapsed, so did many who had drank to excess. Others found the opportunity to slip away with a partner. The hall grew tired and quiet, and the amber light of the hearth fire cast flickering light around those who remained. Konal had reversed himself on the bench so his back rested against the table and legs stretched out. Gunnar and his friends sought mischief among the crowd below the high table and Thora had taken Hakon to free Runa to lead the celebration.
"The people of Nye Grenner are charming," Kell announced as he joined Runa and his brother. He clutched three mugs of beer, froth splashing over his hands as he offered them to Konal and Runa.
"The women of Nye Grenner are lonely and frightened." Runa sipped the bitter beer, a fresh and malty tang she had long missed. "They're glad to see friendly men in their hall."
"What's to be frightened of with Runa the Bloody leading them?" Konal said, raising his mug to toast her. He had given her the name after the attack. She disliked it but realized having a fearful reputation had its uses. "To the might of your sword arm, which I'm proud to have trained."
Flipping a lock of hair from her face, she frowned at the statement. "We fear once the mighty Konal and his more humble and better mannered brother leave, our enemies will have revenge for the five we killed."
"But we're not leaving!" Konal rollicked with laughter, though Kell smiled and looked at the floor.
"So it seems. But there is the matter of the one you seek, yes? You will search for him, then return to Ireland?"
Kell choked on his beer, coughing wildly enough to raise a few weary heads from the tables below. His face flushed red when he recovered. "You know about him?"
"I told her a wee bit of the story, Brother. Do not concern yourself."
Runa smiled as Kell settled back on the bench. She withheld a wee bit of the story as well, and it was a warm, satisfying secret that she could use for bargaining. "All I know is you seek a slave, and from this exchange I assume you have not found him still."
Kell shook his head. "The trail has vanished into the sea. No man will find him, but we must search. There is no reason to return to Father with news of failure."
"No reason to ever return," Konal grumbled.
"What about your wife and children?" Runa enjoyed the scowl that overcame him. Kell interjected, steering talk away from him and his brother.
"You fear an attack? What kind of enemy do you expect?"
"Two kinds," Runa said, pausing to drink. "Traitors and fools. The first kind are easily handled. Ingrid holds the north of the island for me, but she is a relative of my enemies. I've heard nothing from her since my husband left. My enemies learned about our condition from someone."
"So you want to discipline your bondsmen?" Konal glanced at his brother, then looked at Runa.
"And after I do that, I want to carry the battle to the lands of my enemies. Nye Grenner has seen enough blood in its years. I'll tolerate no more enemy feet upon its fields. Let the fools of the north die in their halls, with their women and children watching. That has been Nye Grenner's lot, but no more."
A lump clogged her throat and her voice trembled as she shared her plans. Pausing to marshal her rising emotion, she filled the silence with another sip from her mug.
"My husband promised to return before summer, but he must be delayed." She stared at Konal, who over recent weeks had hinted that Ulfrik might be dead. "I cannot wait for his return to take action. He will be too late."
Konal and Kell stared at each other. A strange impression of silent communication passed between them. Runa studied their expressions, hoping to read agreement. Both turned to her in tandem, though only Konal spoke. His voice was more studied, as if he were bargaining with a trader.
"You hope my brother and I will lead our men against your enemies?"
"That is correct in but one detail. I will lead the men."
Kell's eyes widened and cheeks puffed as if to laugh, but Konal's flat reaction instead led him to drain his breath with a long sigh. Runa met Konal's eyes, seeing his anger flash but also suspecting he approved. His pride, she knew, would interfere.
"Impossible. You can wear pants and carry a sword, but it does not make you a man."
"I rule this community in the absence of my husband, the jarl. I speak for them, care for them, and I fight for them."
"Men will not follow a woman to battle. It's unnatural."
"Glory is glory, whether a woman stands before or behind them. Isn't that what your men crave, glory in battle?"
"Riches is more like it, and that can't be had here."
"Then you misunderstand me, Konal. I don't want to kill a few of their levy. I want to water the earth with the blood of every person who has persecuted us all these years. I want your men to carry away slaves and property, the gold buried in halls, the ships at rest by their docks."
The blood-thirsty request stunned the brothers into silence. Runa could devise no other way to phrase her desires, for what she described would be the same plans her enemies made for her. She had to act first and with finality, no matter how horrible.
"So you are promising all spoils to my men," Konal looked at Kell as he spoke. "And you want to lead them in battle, though you've never before led men."
"There are a thousand fools living among these islands, and every one of them must know Runa the Bloody from Nye Grenner will destroy her enemies and not chance attacking me in the future. You can organize your men, but I will inspire them and stand before them."
"You will be killed." Konal brushed imaginary dirt from his pants. "You're too small and not strong enough to push through a shield wall."
"Then we don't fight in shield wall." Her patience ended, she slammed her mug onto the table and stood. Gunnar appeared beneath the table, and others gazed up at her sudden action. "You owe me your life, Konal. To repay your debt, lend me your men to end the threat against my people. All the spoils will be theirs and all the vengeance will be mine. Don't concern yourself with my life. Fate decides what to do with it."
The already quiet hall stilled to complete silence. Runa did not flinch from Konal's hard gaze, and the two remained locked. It was a different type of duel than one fought with swords, the type Runa was accustomed to winning. She gave a twitch of a smile when Konal glanced away and stood.
"You will have my men and my word to serve you. But once it is done, all debts are paid. I risk my life to repay you, after all."
Happiness and fear eddied through her, and she blinked slowly to keep the emotion out of her eyes. "Do this and you owe me no more. I will need no more."
Konal smiled, then sat, slapp
ing Kell's knee. "She's a tough woman, eh, Brother? Can you see her in mail and helmet at the front of our men?"
Looking over Runa, he tugged at his beard. "In fact, I can."
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
April 5, 886 CE
Paris looked no different to Ulfrik as his ship approached it from the other side. It remained the same squat, foul-smelling, smoking mass jammed into the middle of the river. It was like a fist that had punched the Danish army in the crotch, hobbling and weakening it into ineffectiveness. The ship glided across the water with the dozens of other vessels returning to the despair. Trees once bare of leaves now waved boughs of fresh green at the Danes as they sped past. White and gold flowers bloomed and birds hunted at the water's edge. The cold and wet winter had yielded to spring.
Seeing Paris again renewed all the conflicts he had set aside. The people of Nye Grenner had no walls to protect them, no bridges to bar ships from approaching. The days would be growing longer and the weather more predictable, and Thorod and Skard would soon discover an undefended hall. He had to act now or his family would suffer.
Across the water, Toki stood at the tiller of Raven's Talon. Beside him raced five more ships Ulfrik had accrued since joining Hrolf. As lords and oath-holders died, men swore new oaths to new jarls. Hrolf had attracted more than any other, and he doled out these followers to both Ulfrik and Gunther One-Eye to command and organize. He now had more fighting men than ever before. The raiding they had conducted in Frankia's interior had tested the new men, and demonstrated Ulfrik's leadership. The resistance had been light, but with enough skirmishes for the new war band to learn how to function together. Despite carrying away little tangible wealth, he had welcomed the chance to shape his force and do something other than huddle in a trench or in the ruins of an abbey.
Reunion with the Danish holding force was a tepid affair. Ulfrik guided his ships to a stretch of beach, set guards, and returned to the camp. Men who had stayed behind bore defeat like a stone lashed to their backs. They shuffled past and through their returning comrades as if they did not exist. One man had even bumped Ulfrik's shoulder, pushing forward without even turning his head. Mord grabbed the man to force an apology, but when he wrested free, Ulfrik dropped the matter.
"Home again," Ulfrik said to no one as he looked at the old campground. Many of the tents had been left behind, and a number had fallen or blown away. His returning crews moaned at seeing the state of their old shelters. Along the north bank, construction that had begun in winter of temporary barracks and halls were now complete. Their fresh, white wood faces beckoned from across the water, appearing as palaces in comparison to the ruined abbey and camps of the south bank.
"Nothing has changed but the weather," remarked Toki as he joined Ulfrik. Both walked toward the ruined abbey where Hrolf and his ranking men slept. The fire-scorched walls and collapsed roof provided more protection from the elements than simple tents.
"The gods have grown bored with us, and turned their eyes elsewhere." Entering the abbey, the enclosed space pressed Ulfrik, having become accustomed to long months living under open skies. Sounds were louder and the air stale. A pitiful hearth fire crackled with a sprinkling of listless men in attendance. He glanced behind to summon Snorri, who followed him inside with his nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Well, lad, back to scratching our asses while we wait for Paris to fall over." Snorri hefted a sack filled with his mail and other items. The seams had ripped in spots and the contents threatened to spill.
"Gather all the Nye Grenner men in the fields behind the abbey. Keep it away from Hrolf's eyes and be fast." Ulfrik glanced over his shoulder, spotting Mord lingering at the door in conversation with friends. "Word of my actions will travel fast enough, but I want to be done before Hrolf visits me."
Snorri paused, his brow furrowed but his lips clamped tight. He tossed his sack into a pile of others and began leaning into men to whisper Ulfrik's command.
The Nye Grenner men assembled in the appointed field, arriving in small clusters as Snorri dispatched them. Gram Redbeard, Darby the Shepherd, and Thorkel Flat-Nose were the last surviving hirdmen to have followed him from Norway and the first to arrive behind the abbey ruins. Others joined them, speculating in low voices and worried glances stealing over their shoulders. Snorri and Toki arrived with the final group, and Ulfrik cleared his throat for the group's attention.
"We don't have much time, so let me come to the point. You have served with such honor that I cannot think of better men to stand with me in the shield wall. None of you have complained for all the long months we've been here. None of you flinched when I ordered you up ladders and into the arrow storm. You are the men skalds choose for their songs. So it weighs heavy on my heart to send you home."
Confused looks circled the group, now less than half of the eighty who had followed Ulfrik to Frankia. Ulfrik's heart beat in his throat, and his eyes grew hot. He had been preparing this talk for a week, but in the moment of delivery weakness and sorrow overcame him. In this land of hostile strangers, these men were his sole family.
"But we have not defeated Paris." Einar, who stood a head taller than any other man, still raised his hand to catch Ulfrik's attention. The gesture drew a small smile to Ulfrik's lips.
"You are done with Paris, but I am not. I promised you would be home by the end of winter. I need not remind you that Skard and Thorod will be rousing from their winter dreams and filling their ships with hungry men. You have a battle to fight, one more important to you than Paris. Go defend your homes."
Faces fell and eyes averted. Ulfrik understood their struggle. Each man was oath-bound to stay with Ulfrik, yet each feared for his family and flocks. None dared shame himself with admitting his thoughts to another.
"We are at half strength," Gram Redbeard said, addressing the others around him. "Before Paris we were barely an even match for Skard."
Eyes fell back to Ulfrik, who nodded and began to pace. "I have considered this, and already have a plan. Hundreds new men have come to my banner either by choice or the deaths of their jarls. Many wish they were elsewhere. Those I will dispatch to Nye Grenner, where the glory of a real fight awaits them and young widows will be seeking husbands. I do not doubt I can refill our ranks with good men. You've been fighting alongside them and know their quality. Only the best will return with you."
A grudging murmur of acceptance rippled through the ranks. "Who will lead if you do not accompany us?" Ulfrik did not see the questioner but soon all were repeating the same concern.
"Toki," Ulfrik pointed at his friend, whose face whitened in surprise. "And Snorri will advise him."
Snorri snapped his head to Ulfrik, as shocked as the others. "You're sending me away?"
"I'm sending you to aid my family, and share your wisdom with my friend and brother. I must remain behind to lead the men Hrolf has entrusted to me and to honor my oath to him. Is there anyone here who cannot accept this arrangement? Speak now."
Men shared cautious glances, but Darby the Shepherd spoke first. "I agree. I've been with Toki for many a battle, and he's true in a fight. I'll stand with him any day."
Murmurs turned to cheers that Ulfrik had to silence for fear of drawing attention. "Then all is settled. It's a long journey home, and dangerous. Be prepared to leave at dawn tomorrow. Your portion of the spoils I take here will be shared with you, or your families if you should fall in battle, once we are rejoined. I swear this before the gods."
Men spoke in hushed but excited tones as the group disbanded, and Ulfrik knew he had given them what they truly wanted. Toki and Snorri lingered, along with Einar and several others.
"Why didn't you talk to me about this first?" Toki asked. "I'm not the right one to lead Nye Grenner."
"Then it is time to conquer your doubts. Nye Grenner is as much yours as it is mine. You settled the land, built the hall with me, defended our homes as bravely as any. I am counting on you. Listen to Snorri, but lead with your heart. I don't know what y
ou will find back home, but I trust you will know what to do."
Toki opened his mouth to protest, but then turned away. Ulfrik patted his back, understanding Toki's confusion but believing he would rise to the challenge. Ulfrik had seen maturity in his friend's thoughts, despite his foolishness with women. He needed freedom to realize his ability, and Ulfrik knew leadership would be the forge to shape him. Ulfrik required capable leaders he could trust, especially if Hrolf's promises of territory and riches were true.
As Toki thought, Snorri took Ulfrik aside. "I've never left your side, lad. Don't send me away before the walls come down here."
"I'm not sending you away. You are acting on my behalf, protecting my family and my people. Go, and judge what must be done, then do it. I can no longer fulfill every obligation by my own hand. I must work through those I trust, and I trust few more than you."
"When your father died, I served your brother. After I realized my horrible mistake, I swore I would never falter in my duty to protect you. I've been your right-side shield in every battle. I can't imagine you fighting without me while I still live."
"Think of my sons in Thorod's or Skard's vile hands." He patted Snorri's shoulder. "Will you do as I've asked?"
"That I will, lad." He faced Ulfrik and the two embraced. "No one will harm your boys, I swear it." Ulfrik nodded and started to leave, when Snorri grabbed his arm. "But you do one thing for me. Let Einar remain with you. I can't show him anything more, and he should earn his place with you. Will you do this?"
He bit back protest, then reconsidered. "He has great promise. All right, Einar will remain with me, if he agrees."
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