Jorundyr's Path: Wolf of the North Book 2

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  They reached the village square, and Rodulf stopped outside the ambassador’s house to make his report. The wagons, and his men, continued on toward the smelter. They left the sack of heads with Rodulf.

  He dismounted and knocked on the ambassador’s door, waiting for Ruger to answer.

  Ruger opened the door and regarded Rodulf’s blood-spattered and entirely contrived appearance. He looked at the blood-soaked sack, which Rodulf opened to display the heads, but showed it no more disgust than he had Rodulf.

  ‘Silver all accounted for?’ Ruger said.

  ‘We were attacked,’ Rodulf said.

  ‘Really? Who’d have known.’

  ‘I’d like to speak with the ambassador.’

  ‘Silver all accounted for?’ Ruger said again.

  ‘Yes,’ Rodulf said. ‘The ambassador?’

  ‘You’re not coming in covered in that filth. Have a wash. I’ll pass on the message. The ambassador will send word when he’s ready to see you. Take your sack with you.’ Ruger shut the door.

  Rodulf’s stomach twisted with anger, but he swallowed it, galling though it was to take disrespect from a servant. The time would come when no man would be able to speak to him like that and get away with it, but it had not yet arrived. Soon, though. The thought helped ease his rage, and he cast a look at the bloodied sack. He had no idea what to do with it, nor had he any desire to take it home. It was taking a risk, but Ruger’s disdain had angered him so much that Rodulf left it where it was and went home.

  He spotted Andhun and Oswyn on Andhun’s porch, their beady eyes on him. Usually they merely irritated him, but today their gaze caused his gut to twist with anxiety. They were up to something. He clutched tighter on the Stone in his pocket, but it did nothing to salve his unease. If anything, it grew worse. He pulled his cloak up around him and hastened his pace home.

  WULFRIC

  Both soldiers and crew breathed a sigh of relief when land was spotted and the captain, after taking his sightings, declared they were only a few hours north of their destination—a port called Aldova on the coast of Estranza. Tension on board had remained high, but the situation had not descended into violence. While the sailors rallied around one of their own, and would have fought against Wulfric if it came to it, they didn’t seem to be willing to initiate a retaliatory strike.

  Wulfric was not comfortable with being in someone’s debt. Were it not for Enderlain’s intervention, Wulfric knew he would have been beaten senseless. Alone, he would have made it difficult for them, and more than one sailor would have spent the remainder of the voyage with the ship’s physician, but he would have lost. With Enderlain at his side, the sailors had known the price for restoring Frans’s pride was too high.

  Enderlain stood by the bulwark, staring toward the coast with an expression of hungry anticipation. He gave Wulfric only a cursory glance as he approached, before returning his gaze to the shore.

  ‘Never been fond of ships,’ Enderlain said.

  ‘First time on one,’ Wulfric said. ‘Can’t say I’m looking forward to my second. There’s something I wanted to say before we get ashore. I wanted to thank you for standing with me against the sailors.’

  ‘It was nothing. Couldn’t have them knocking the snot out of one of ours. Makes us all look bad.’

  ‘Still, I appreciate it. I owe you.’

  ‘You’ll have plenty of chances to settle the debt.’ He continued to stare out to the foreign land on the horizon.

  Wulfric knew such conversations were always difficult among warriors, and that this one was over. He left Enderlain in peace and watched the land slowly fill up the horizon with a feeling of growing excitement at the discovery of a foreign land and the prospect of new adventures.

  15

  RODULF

  Each crackle of the fire made Rodulf jump. He didn’t know what was causing his unusual mood, but he didn’t like it one bit. Perhaps it was the fact that the ambassador had still not shown any reaction to his fighting off the silver bandits. Perhaps it was the comedown from the excitement of the ambush. Perhaps it was fear of his ruse being discovered. If anyone found out the truth of it, Rodulf knew he would be tried for a dozen murders and hanged.

  ‘My lord.’

  Rodulf jumped, but he recognised the voice—the Humberland accent belonged to one of Rodulf’s mercenaries, a banneret called Grenville. He had shown himself to be the most useful of the bunch and Rodulf had recently appointed him captain of his personal guard.

  ‘It’s not “my lord” yet,’ Rodulf said.

  ‘Habit,’ Grenville said.

  Rodulf wondered what had brought Grenville across the Middle Sea, far from his home in Humberland and anything that southerners considered civilisation.

  ‘Anything to report?’ Rodulf said.

  ‘Not a thing.’

  Rodulf rubbed under his eyepatch. ‘Perhaps I’m imagining it.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Grenville said. ‘There’s a lot at stake right now. Best to be careful.’

  Rodulf nodded absently. Giving in to paranoia was the last thing he wanted. ‘Keep a watch through the night. As soon as the ambassador makes his announcement, I can deal with Andhun and Oswyn. Until then, my hands are tied.’

  He heard Grenville move away, and looked down at his hand. The Stone was firmly clenched between his fingers, yet he had no memory of taking it from its pouch.

  RODULF

  Rodulf woke with a jolt. The fire was low, little more than embers, but he couldn’t be sure of how long he had been asleep. Something had woken him. He sat up and looked around. He had left his sword by his chair, and felt a momentary panic until his hand found it.

  Any remnants of sleep were blown from his head by a hand covering his mouth and pulling his head back against the chair. He struggled, but the hold was strong and he was in a weak position—all he could do was flail his arms and legs impotently. He felt the cold touch of steel to his throat. His eyes widened and his heart raced but he remained deathly still, as if to do so would cause the blade to leave him be. He wondered how his guards allowed this to happen, as the blade started to bite into his flesh.

  The grip relaxed, and Rodulf felt the blade fall away from his neck. There was a pained, hissing gasp from behind him, and he jumped to his feet. A man dressed in black slumped over the back of Rodulf’s armchair. Grenville stood behind him, sword in hand.

  ‘Grenville?’ he said. ‘What in hells?’

  ‘My lord.’ The characteristic accent. ‘Someone’s tried to assassinate you.’

  Rodulf laughed in exasperation. ‘I can bloody well see that. How did he get to me? I told you something like this would happen.’

  ‘He’s dead. You’re alive. Sometimes you have to lure the mouse into the trap. I’ve done my job, my lord.’

  Rodulf had to agree that he had, terrifying awakening or not.

  ‘What’s going on? What happened?’ Rodulf said.

  ‘I spotted him a couple of hours ago, mooching around in the dark,’ Grenville said. ‘He’s good. Took all that time working his way up to the house. Patient. The other chaps missed him completely. I didn’t. He killed Jakop out by the oak tree in the yard. He’s not much of a loss, to be honest.’

  Rodulf stood, arms akimbo, and chewed on his lip. This was Andhun’s move. There was no other explanation. It sent a shiver through Rodulf to know how close Andhun had come—he could still feel the cold touch of the steel on his throat.

  ‘He told you Andhun and Oswyn paid him to kill me,’ Rodulf said.

  ‘He didn’t say anything,’ Grenville said.

  Rodulf fixed him with a withering stare.

  ‘Now that you mention it…’ Grenville said.

  ‘Have the body brought to the Great Hall and the men ready in five minutes.’

  RODULF

  Rodulf’s small force of mercenaries was gathered outside his house. Rodulf looked them over, but could not remember what Jakop, the sellsword who had been killed, looked like. He would have
to arrange a replacement the next morning, but he had more than enough for what he needed to do.

  ‘You, you, and you,’ he said, pointing to the men in question. ‘Drag Oswyn from his house, and bring him to the Great Hall. Hold him outside until I call you in. So long as you don’t kill him, I don’t care how much force you use. The rest of you, with me.’

  It was late—early perhaps; Rodulf had no idea—and there was no one on the streets. A crowd of witnesses would have been better, but in a few moments there would be such a great commotion, he would have as large a crowd as he could want.

  It didn’t take long to reach Andhun’s house. Rodulf knew him for the fat coward that he was, so he was the one to start with. Oswyn had steel in him and would be harder to break, but he knew as well as Rodulf what Andhun was made of, and that could be used against him.

  Rodulf smiled with satisfaction as he pounded on Andhun’s door. A servant opened it, but Rodulf and his men pushed past him and into the house. Andhun was coming out of a room in his bedclothes, a sight that pushed Rodulf’s enjoyment of the experience near to reverie.

  ‘What are you doing in my house?’ Andhun said. ‘And at this hour?’

  ‘I’m here to arrest you, you fat pig,’ Rodulf said. ‘Take him. Bring him to the Great Hall.’

  He watched as his man seized Andhun and bound his hands.

  ‘You can’t do this,’ Andhun said.

  ‘And yet here we are,’ Rodulf said. He waited for his men to bundle Andhun out and toward the Great Hall before following them.

  RODULF

  The assassin’s body was draped across the council table in the Great Hall when they arrived. Rodulf watched Andhun’s eyes widen and the colour drain from his face when he saw it. Considering a man had attempted to kill him only a short time before, Rodulf was having a surprisingly enjoyable night.

  ‘What is this?’ Andhun said. ‘Who is this man?’

  ‘You don’t know him?’ Rodulf said, allowing Andhun enough time to start shaking his jowly head. ‘Because he knows you. Said you paid him four hundred crowns to kill me.’

  Andhun shook his head with more vigour. Rodulf knew it wasn’t Andhun; he didn’t have the nerve to arrange an assassination. Oswyn would have taken care of the details. Rodulf walked around the table and sat down.

  ‘I have his confession,’ Rodulf said, gesturing to the corpse. ‘He named both you and Oswyn as his employers. Admit to what you did, and this will go easier on you. I’m tired, and if you insist on keeping me from my bed it will make me very angry.’ He gestured to one of his men, who laid a cloth bundle on the table and opened it. Contained within were a number of metal tools, whose purpose was obvious.

  ‘You can’t,’ Andhun said. ‘You wouldn’t. It had nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Who did it have something to do with?’ Rodulf said. He had the Stone firmly gripped in his hand. ‘If it was someone else and you tell me, it will mean exile for you rather than death.’

  Andhun shook his head furiously. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tears streamed down his face. ‘Oswyn,’ he said in a gasp. ‘It was Oswyn.’

  Rodulf smiled and turned to Grenville. ‘Be so good as to bring Oswyn in.’

  Grenville nodded and left the hall, returning a moment later with a bound and gagged Oswyn. Oswyn’s eyes flicked from the corpse on the table to the weeping Andhun, and finally to Rodulf.

  ‘Remove his gag,’ Rodulf said.

  ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ Oswyn said as soon as his mouth was free. ‘You’ve crossed the line this time, you one-eyed shit.’

  ‘It’s you who’s crossed the line, Oswyn. Trying to murder a council member? After all that’s already happened, there’s not a man in the Northlands who would take umbrage with me killing you here and now.’

  ‘Thought we lived by southern rules now,’ Oswyn said.

  ‘We’ll be living by my rules soon enough. I thought I’d give them a trial run now. The sentence for trying to kill your liege lord is hanging.’

  ‘Looks to me like your only evidence is rotting on the table,’ Oswyn said.

  Andhun started to whimper at the side of the room.

  ‘Andhun has stated the plan to have me assassinated was yours. As a councilman, his word is beyond doubt.’

  ‘You stupid, fat fucker,’ Oswyn said. ‘I should have sent him to your house first.’

  ‘And by inculpating Oswyn, you, Andhun, have demonstrated your complicity, which is also a crime punishable by death.’

  ‘Wha—wha— But you said exile if I—’

  ‘I don’t recall saying anything about exile,’ Rodulf said. ‘Did anyone else hear me say anything about exile?’

  No one said a thing.

  ‘Didn’t think so. Take them outside and hang them from the roof beam, Grenville,’ Rodulf said. ‘Make it quick. I don’t want to be interrupted.’

  ADALHAID

  Adalhaid stood at the doorway to the School of Medicine, staring at the letters carved into the limestone lintel over the ancient double doors. She had lain awake all night thinking about it, and there was no doubt in her mind that this was what she wanted. Her only concern was uncertainty if her decision was motivated by finally realising her vocation, or by the handsome dark-haired physician. The thought filled her with guilt. Might Wulfric be watching from Jorundyr’s Hall? What would he think of her?

  He would want her to follow her dreams. She held her transfer request in her hand, and strode forward resolutely. Dreams aside, the life of a physician could offer her everything she sought—security, independence, and status—more so than simply being an academic.

  She opened the doors, and was almost overwhelmed by the smell of chemicals. She suspected she would grow so accustomed to it that soon she wouldn’t even notice it.

  WULFRIC

  Unloading the ship had required a full day of back-breaking work. The harbourmaster, and later the town’s mayor, had been horrified to see the arrival of a full company of soldiers. Assurances that the town wasn’t going to be pillaged did little to quell their unease, but with letters of safe passage from the duke, there was nothing they could do but offer hospitality. The mayor had acquiesced to the Company setting up camp on the quayside until preparations to march on to the duchy’s capital at Torona could be made.

  The squads sat around their campfires, using sacks of provisions and crates as makeshift furniture.

  ‘Why is the Graf doing all this?’ Wulfric said as he swirled the last of his coffee, a drink he was rapidly developing a fondness for.

  ‘Doing what?’ Enderlain said.

  ‘Leading the Company. Adventuring. Where I’m from, this is something only young men do.’

  Enderlain shrugged. ‘Ask Conrat. He’s from Rhenning. He’s been with the Company from the start.’

  Everyone gathered around the fire looked over at Conrat.

  ‘When his wife died, he decided he’d had enough of running his lands. He handed everything over to his oldest boy—his oldest legitimate boy—and started the Company. Just before the Ostian war.’

  There were several murmurs at the mention of the Ostian war, something Wulfric had never heard of before.

  ‘Ostian war?’

  ‘Long story,’ Conrat said. ‘The old prince declared war with Ostia. Lots of rumours why, secret deals and such, but can’t say I know much about that. Things went well to start with—we were within sight of Ostenheim before the retreat—then the Usurper took power in the south, and commanded his armies himself. Gave us a hiding. In a few weeks, there were Ostian soldiers camped outside Brixen’s walls and the royal family were on a ship heading across the Middle Sea into exile. With everything lost, what was left of the Graf’s regiment followed not long after, along with most others who’d fought the Usurper and didn’t want to live in an occupied country. We picked up a few strays along the way, like Enderlain there. Had to earn our keep, so we did some soldiering in Humberland, served Her Highness for a time at her court-in-exile in Venter
. That was something, I’ll tell you. You should see the Ventish women.’ He made a gesture with his hands that the others laughed at.

  Wulfric gathered the meaning, and joined in. ‘Who’s the Usurper?’ he said.

  ‘Who was,’ Enderlain said. ‘The Duke of Ostia, as was. His own people killed him a few years back.’

  ‘Anyhow,’ Conrat said, ‘after that, the new duke withdrew his armies and Her Highness came home to rule, what with her father having passed. After the restoration, we all realised we liked the life of a travelling company, the Graf included. Ruripathian sellswords had made a good name for themselves abroad during the exile, so work wasn’t hard to come by. Now we’re only ever at home between contracts.’

  ‘And Captain dal Borlitz?’ Wulfric said. ‘Is he…’

  There were nods and murmurs from around the campfire, but no one said anything, which Wulfric took as a hint to shut his mouth. They finished their coffee in silence as Wulfric marvelled at the new experiences all around him, from the warm air to the unusual smells. Only a few weeks before, he had never even heard of Estranza. Now he was sitting there, so far from home he could barely imagine it. He stared across the sea in the direction of home, and wondered what his mother was doing, what Aethelman was doing, and if he would ever see either of them again.

  16

  RODULF

  The sun had risen and both men had long since ceased twitching when the ambassador arrived. The bodies continued to swing gently from side to side in the breeze, something Rodulf found incredibly relaxing after an intense day and night.