"We're almost there," Ulfrik said over his shoulder to Finn. "Just hang on."
Finn answered him with parts of a rowing song, then mumbled speech. Ulfrik shook his head and squinted at the shapes of men guarding the entrance. His horse had dutifully trudged the miles and never balked at putting in extra hours at dawn and or at day's end. Yet now it stopped short and neighed.
"What's the matter? Never seen a fortress before?" Ulfrik used his riding switch to tap its hindquarters. "Go on, and there will be better eating for you inside. Imagine a nice stable with golden hay. Go on, boy."
Ulfrik had never been good with animals. He had raised a hound once when one had been given as a gift, but the dog ran off in its first year. His face grew hot as he continued to goad the horse, until finally a strong whip got it moving again. He muttered to himself, and tried not to believe this was a bad sign. The cart lurched and rocked, this approach being heavily rutted from frequent use. However, no one else was on the trail today, and the two guards flanking the gates leaned on their spears like bored children.
He had considered his approach to meeting Hrolf, from boldly announcing himself to approaching an intermediary like Gunther One-Eye. A bold announcement might end up in disbelief in his rise from death and approaching old friends would waste time. In the end, he chose to present himself directly to Hrolf and appeal for help. Finn did not have much time before his fever and infection ended in death.
The guards did not shift positions as he approached the gate, though two more interested men appeared atop the walls. The gates remained closed, which given the well-trodden path was unusual. He had passed a small village on the way in, all Northmen but none skilled in the kind of medicine Finn required. They claimed Hrolf maintained an open fortress though recent desertions had made everyone cautious of strangers. They were not eager for Ulfrik to stay and watched them leave with obvious relief.
Stopping before the guards, he looked at the two who continued to lean on their spears. A snigger echoed down from the men on the walls, and Ulfrik sighed.
"I seek aid from Hrolf the Strider," Ulfrik said. "I wish passage through the gates. My friend is in grave need of medical aid."
The two guards exchanged sly looks and again more chuckles trickled down the walls. Ulfrik squinted up at the shadowed forms leaving over the palisade. At last, one of the guards, a copper-bearded man with a fat mole on his cheek, straightened up and addressed him.
"The gates are closed. Franks are active. Go away."
Ulfrik rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "Then the village behind me should be empty, but they're fine. Please, let me pass."
"Hey, stupid," said the other guard. "Thanks for the report, but I think you just heard these gates are closed. Don't like the reason, go fuck yourself."
He glared at the guard, listening to the two men on the walls laugh. His throat constricted and he swallowed. "Hrolf has fallen on desperate times."
"What does that mean?" Mole-face said. "Gate's closed. Understand?"
Hands trembling, Ulfrik did not meet anyone's eyes but just watched his horse swish his tail and flick its ears. He had expected a return to Frankia to be difficult, and two men journeying alone to be dangerous. He had not expected to be humiliated by gate guards at the entrance to the very hall where he was once lauded as a hero.
"I understand what you want," he said at last. He reached into a pouch at his side and grabbed Finn's gold chain. Sorry, Finn, he thought, but I need to use a bit of this to help you. I promise to get you a better chain to replace this. Then he pulled links of the chain and held these out on his palm. "You need this to open the gates."
The two guards shared a smile and Mole-face snatched it out of Ulfrik's hands. "That's a start. How about what else is in that sack?"
"You want all my gold to enter?" Ulfrik knew they were not letting him through the gate. To do so would risk Ulfrik's exposing their extortion to Hrolf. "The price is too high. I will travel elsewhere for help."
He picked up his switch to begin guiding his horse, but Mole-face grabbed it by the bridle. "You're not leaving until we get the rest of that gold."
Reaching for his sword, he froze when he heard a heavy thud behind him. He whirled to see an arrow next to Finn's prostrate body.
"Hand over the bag," called a guard from the wall, "and keep that sword sheathed. You may get away alive if you do."
Ulfrik stood facing Mole-Face and his smirking companion. "You are all a disgrace to the noble jarl you serve. Hrolf is a generous lord, and yet you steal from his people. You are scum."
"We're practical," said Mole-Face. "And you're a fucking stranger with a dying man in his wagon. You're probably one of the traitors gone over to bandits or the Franks and things went bad for you. So now you come crawling back here and expect to be welcomed? Surrender the gold and don't let me see you here again, or we'll fill your wagon with arrows."
Ulfrik threw the bag far to the side, hearing the gold clink in the grass. "If my friend dies because of you, I will cut out your hearts and feed them to pigs. Count on it."
"Be gone, old man," Mole-Face shoved his horse and it began side-stepping.
Trundling away with the derisive laughter fading behind him, Ulfrik brooded on his next steps. Finn began to moan and in a moment of clarity called out.
"Are we almost at Hrolf's? I ... I'm on fire. I can't think. Hurry, please."
He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. "Yes, we're almost inside. Just hold a little while longer."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Runa sat beside the loom, a basket of yellow thread on her lap. Groa worked next to her, feeding thread into the weight stones that she handed off to a young girl working the loom. Runa continued to stare into her lap, her mind not focused on anything. She felt Groa's glances as she worked, seeing from the corner of her eye gnarled hands moving up and down. The young girl mumbled something, but Runa did not answer.
Days had passed since Konal had discovered her gems, and she still burned with anger and humiliation. She detested her foolishness for not giving the gems over to Hakon, who was now old enough to possess an inheritance. Now he might never possess the wealth his father had left for him. She shook her head and fished out a thread to begin creating embroideries for the cloth her women wove. She had done this all her life, and the movements were automatic. Her mind continued to spin in its own loathsome thoughts.
Konal emerged from their bedroom. She heard him yawning. It was midmorning and the shame of his late rising did not affect his mood. His raspy voice filled the hall. "Good morning! Seems another fine summer's day is underway."
Runa put her head down and continued to work, but the girl at the loom stopped to attend to Konal. "There is still food in the pot. I will heat it for you."
Groa continued to look at Runa, but she acted as if Konal had not spoken. Since his threat, he had behaved no differently than any other day, but she knew underneath his anger was hot. At night, he no longer reached for her, nor did he seek her company. They occupied the same bed as strangers.
"Runa, come sit with me while I eat."
"I'm not hungry."
She heard the bench drag along the floor, then silence. Groa stared at her, and finally Runa relented. Setting aside her thread and embroidery, she took the seat Konal offered. The girl produced another bowl for her, and returned to heating the soup.
"There's much work to be done yet. A whole day of spinning wool lies ahead, and I don't have time to idle at the table."
Konal shrugged and asked, "When is Aren to return home? He has been gone overlong and I expect him to be by my side."
"Perhaps in another week."
"And Hakon?"
"Einar is fostering him, and decides when or if he may travel. Why do you care?"
"You don't need to know."
"They're my sons, of course I should know." Runa twisted on the bench, meeting his eyes for the first time in days. "Are you planning something special? You've never cared where
either of them are."
"A lie," he said. The servant girl ladled hot soup into their bowls then slipped away like a doe fleeing the signs of a forest fire. Runa watched her and Groa gather their baskets and retreat from the hall. Konal snorted at their leaving. "Worrisome gossips, those two."
They ate in silence, the hall empty but for one of Konal's men seated with his head down at the far end of the hall. Too much salt had accumulated at the bottom of the bowl and Runa wrinkled her nose at the taste of it. Konal picked his up and drained it, then slammed it on that table.
"I've still not decided what to do. But I want Aren here at least before I make final choices."
Runa nodded and watched flecks of cabbage swirl in the last of her soup.
"I will be away for a few days." He stood and stretched again. "Try not to miss me."
"Where do you go?"
"A short patrol of the countryside. I don't expect trouble, but men will remain behind with you. I'll be leaving before sunset today."
She watched him stalk off to their bedroom to prepare. The hall was empty but for the one sleeping guard. She slumped at her bench and considered the opening this left for her. As far as she could determine, Konal carried his newly discovered gems on himself at all times. Yet he would never risk bringing these into the field, which meant he would hide them before leaving. This was going to be her final chance to do anything before he decided upon whatever he intended to do about her so-called betrayal. Unless she took advantage of this, she would be at his mercy--a quality in dwindling supply of late. Furthermore, his desire to have her sons with him on the day of his decision made Runa's throat constrict. A dozen terrible thoughts filled her imagination, and she shook her head to clear them.
She had to steal back her jewels and intercept Aren before his return. Together they would seek shelter with Einar, who also knew the history of these gems and what they had meant to Ulfrik. He would protect her out of a sense of duty and was the only person she trusted to not be tempted by the fortune she would be carrying.
Otherwise, to fail would bring disaster to not only herself but her children as well. She collected the bowls from the table and dropped them into a bucket as she left the hall. She had to find help to ensure she did not fail.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ulfrik threw the last branch across the wagon, then stepped back to judge his success. At nine paces back he paused and folded his arms, satisfied the wagon melted into the underbrush off the side of the track. The late afternoon shadows cloaked it and overnight it would be invisible to human eyes. Wolves and bears would not roam so close to settlements, at least not in summer, yet the possibility existed. He had no answer for that problem. Too many other difficulties already pressed him from every side.
He returned to the cart and pulled off the branch he had just placed. Finn remained stripped to the waist, glistening with sweat, and resting on his stomach in the back of the cart. The bandages around his trunk showed brown spotting even though he had just changed them. The infection had been a violent red and even to brush the flesh made Finn moan. Ulfrik feared a critical line had been crossed and Finn could no longer be saved.
"I'll only be gone this night, and by tomorrow morning you'll be in Hrolf the Strider's hall or I'll be dead." Ulfrik patted Finn's calf. "In that case, we'll meet in the feasting hall where all heroes await Ragnarok."
"Who's Ragnar?" Finn's fever had rendered him senseless most of the time, though at least he still understood the gist of his condition, which Ulfrik took for a positive sign.
"All the water and ale is an arm's reach away. Just sleep tonight." Ulfrik placed his sword next to Finn's side. "If you think you're dying, hold this when you do. You're a brave man, Finn the Red."
Ulfrik was surprised that Finn chuckled at his joke. His fever had turned his freckled face scarlet and Ulfrik had been calling him Red for several days with no reaction. For a brief moment, he seemed to be his old self again.
"I'll be fine. Go on and be a hero," Finn said, stirring one arm dismissively. "Gods know I need one."
Ulfrik pulled himself up on the horse, inelegantly sliding over its back and nearly falling from it. The horse was a patient beast, and though he snorted and stepped, he also calmed as Ulfrik patted his neck. Then he wound his hands into its mane and started for Hrolf's town. Approaching from the south gate this time, he wore his cloak with the hood drawn. As he hoped, other travelers were also headed for the gate. No one wanted to camp outside overnight, not if they had anything of value in their possession. With the sun low in west, only a few hours remained.
The guards here were less brutish and more akin to the professionals Ulfrik remembered. They questioned each person, searched their bags, and took their weapons before allowing access for a small fee. On Ulfrik's turn, he kept his head down and allowed them to search his few packs and then held his cloak aside to reveal he had no weapons hidden. He pressed a silver coin into the guard's hand and he was waved through.
"How much easier was that?" he muttered to himself. "I'll have those four by their balls soon enough."
In truth, his current profile as an unarmed traveler was far less threatening than two armed men and a wagon. Desperation had caused him to forget that he might not appear as innocent to everyone as he actually was. A gray-haired man on horseback was nothing to fear, and so he passed beneath the gate without issue and emerged into the familiar roads of Hrolf's estate.
The horse knew to follow the road, which snaked uphill to Hrolf's magnificent hall. Now that he was inside, the issue of presenting himself to Hrolf was a new challenge. Despite the long, dull years he had to plan this moment, now that he was within reach of it he found all his plans lacking. Announcing himself outright might result in a challenge to his claims without ever seeing Hrolf. Who would believe a long-dead man returned to life? To sneak upon him could appear as if he were an enemy spy, which would be an even more disastrous outcome.
People hurried about in the last light of the day. Mothers stood in doorways calling their children home. Others rushed about their business, eager to arrive wherever they went. Ulfrik located a stable where the stable master accepted a handful of silver bits to care for the horse. Ulfrik took his pack while the stable master had his son take the horse. They exchanged pleasantries and Ulfrik shared news from the border. "Could I share a stall with my horse tonight?" Ulfrik asked.
The man thought about it. "Just this night, then be on your way in the morning."
Business concluded, the man and son left. An orange line now filled the western horizon and Ulfrik had only a half hour's worth of light to use. He tipped his pack over to reveal the few items he had taken with him for tonight's mission: a filthy cloak, old rune sticks from the bandits, and the same blindfold he had used to deceive Throst. A broken rake leaned against the wall, and Ulfrik snapped away the rake to use the handle as his walking stick. He only needed to hide his identity long enough to earn an audience with Hrolf. He gathered these together and made for the hall while enough light still allowed for travel on the paths.
The grand hall sat atop a large hill and any hiding place had been cleared from it, save a large oak tree that towered over it like a protective hand. Ulfrik waited a safe distance behind a cooper's workshop, studying the men filing in for their evening meal. Hrolf would be inside with his family, along with his trusted men like Gunther One-Eye. After all had passed inside, the guards surrounding the hall lit torches and settled in for their watches. From inside, the faint sounds of song and laughter reached his ears. Ulfrik tied his blindfold, pulled up his hood, and took his stick, then stepped out toward the hall.
As expected, the guards challenged him as he approached the doors. He could see out the bottom of his blindfold, and two feet in leather boots came into view.
"Hold, old man," said the closest guard. "You can't come this close to the hall."
"So this is the hall?" Ulfrik said, straining his voice to add age to it. "Then my visions have guided me correct
ly."
He heard the closest guard sigh, then he grabbed the walking stick. "You are blind? Then let me help your visions. Turn back and keep walking until you crash into the walls. Come morning someone will see you out the gates."
"No," Ulfrik protested. "The gods were clear, I have a message for a man inside this hall. His name is Balki Hard-Fighter."
Both guards grew quiet, and Ulfrik fought his smile as he waited for their response. At last the other guard stepped forward. "What do you want with Balki?"
"I don't know," Ulfrik said, turning up his free palm as if completely innocent. "The gods put that name into my head and said I should read him my rune sticks. When the gods make such commandments, I cannot disobey. I have to meet him."
Again more silence, but the other guard released his walking stick. "Well, I'm Balki. So what do you want to say to me?"
Iron scraped as both guards loosened their swords. Ulfrik held up his hands. "Peace. Let me throw these runes and I will tell you what I see. That is all I want."
"You're not looking for silver, old man? I'm not paying for anything," Balki said.
Ulfrik shook his head and tossed his sticks. Feigning blindness, he had to touch the layout carefully, noting the positions of the sticks, then he stroked the carved runes to "read" them. He made faces and sucked his breath at points, and he felt Balki and his companion draw closer. At last he struggled to his feet, and now both men assisted him. "This is a strange message. You have three daughters but no sons." He heard Balki inhale with surprise. He did not remember much about Balki other than he was a renowned fighter and had three girls as beautiful as they were clever. "Your youngest daughter--is she eleven?"
Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) Page 6
