"When did this happen?" Ulfrik looked to Gunther, whose one eye averted in shame. It was his son and Ulfrik's old friend Mord who had lost Hrolf's son to the enemy. The shame of it was impossible to shake.
"Merely a week ago." Hrolf leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. "But my boy is smart. He has identified himself as Halfdan son of Mord, and the Franks believe it."
"They don't know what your children look like?"
"I don't brook spies, though I am certain some have made it into my lands. In any case, all of our people look the same to these Franks. They think we're all yellow-haired, blue-eyed monsters distinguished only by our beards. Besides, I have a man on the inside of Amand's court and he will know to conceal Vilhjalmer's true name. So, for now, Count Amand thinks he has leverage on Mord and is pressuring Mord to spy on and eventually betray me."
Gunther One-Eye stood, his empty eye socket jumping with the twist of scared flesh. "My son has made a mistake and will pay for it. But he cannot act to free Vilhjalmer."
Hrolf gave a curt nod. "That will be your task. Eskil is the name of my man inside Amand's court. Our people, men who dare call themselves Northmen, have gone over to the Franks in the hundreds."
"They think we are doomed," added Gunther.
"Eskil poses as a leader of the Northmen under Count Amand. He has several others at work with him. I need you to go over to the Franks as if you were one of these traitors. Contact Eskil and he will arrange to help you deliver Vilhjalmer before his true name is revealed."
"Why not have Eskil free him?"
"It took years for Eskil to get into position, and he feeds me the information I need to keep ahead of the Franks. Had you not shown up, I would have no choice but to pull him out with my son. Yet tonight the gods granted me the favor of your return. With Eskil's help, you will see my son home."
Ulfrik leaned back and stroked his beard. Hrolf was not asking him to do this, but ordering him as if his oath were still in place. Yet death should have broken those bonds, even if he had not truly been deceased. To undertake such a risk, he needed a reward beyond saving Finn's life.
"The gods do seem to have sent me in your time of need. But how can you be certain I am the right one for it?"
"You were ever good luck for me," Hrolf said, standing now. Ulfrik felt compelled to stand as well. Normally the tallest man in any group, he was dwarfed by both Hrolf and Gunther. "Look how you managed to appear within a sword's length of me in my own hall. You have shown another side that I did not know before. This is just the sort of guile needed to get close to my son and free him while leaving Eskil and his men intact."
Ulfrik pretended to consider his options. Hrolf's swagger faded and he glanced at Gunther for help.
"What do you want for it?" Gunther asked. His smile was a shade less than friendly.
"I want to be made whole. I will serve you again, Hrolf. I want my lands and men returned, my fortunes restored. Bring me back to life in truth."
Hrolf sighed and his posture relaxed. "For my son, it is a small price. I have no lands yet to give, but return Vilhjalmer to me and I swear that all that you had lost will be yours again. I cannot force your former wife, nor your children. But gold, land, and men are mine to give, and I do so gladly. Do you swear to serve me as your jarl?"
Going to his knee, Ulfrik bowed his head with a smile. "My sword is yours to command. I swear on my life to deliver your son to your hearth."
Raising him up, Hrolf embraced him. "Welcome home, Ulfrik. But I fear I must send you into danger again at first light."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ulfrik did not sleep well, despite the comfort and warmth of Hrolf's hall. He arose with the first crowing of roosters and stumbled outside to let the morning air refresh him. The guards at the door nodded as he walked down the path in the rose-colored glow of morning. People were already about their business, moving between buildings or on the paths. Dogs barked and birds sang and the first plumes of hearth smoke fluttered out of smoke holes. Ulfrik had long missed scenes such as this, and it caused him to think of Ravndal. Realizing he would not see its hall again, he shoved the painful memory aside.
After lingering long enough to awaken, he turned back and ran into Gunther One-Eye who now stood in the door of the hall. The tall man rubbed his face, and wiped back a lock of grayed hair. "How did you sleep?" he asked.
"Not at all. Too much to think about. Has Finn been located yet?"
Gunther's single eye narrowed in confusion, but then he nodded. "Yes, your friend was well hidden, but they found him. He's with a healer now, and we can visit him later. But let's walk a moment before we do."
They turned together and began to walk along the road. Despite their years of friendship, Ulfrik struggled with his words. "How is Mord holding up?"
A long sigh escaped Gunther and he seemed to shrink as they walked. "He blames himself, which he should. Now he is trapped into acting like a spy, and he is too simple-minded for that role."
"I remember him being a smart man. I'm sure he will fool this Count Amand long enough for me to get inside and rescue Vilhjalmer."
"Maybe. He is a loyal man, and I hate to see this shake his relationship with Hrolf."
"But Hrolf must understand what happened?"
"He let an eight-year-old boy slip him, Hrolf's only son. That's--" Gunther bit off his thoughts, and Ulfrik did not prod him. He understood exactly what Gunther feared, and he touched his Thor amulet for his old friend, Mord. They walked to a pen where pigs clustered around a feed bucket. They both leaned on the fence and watched the animals snort and shove their faces into the bucket.
"What about your family?" Gunther asked. "Your return is going to shock them, and will cause a lot of trouble. I don't know where Hrolf intends to find land to give you as a reward. He can't be thinking of taking it from Konal."
"I would not accept that," Ulfrik said. "Such a complication would be troublesome, to say the least."
"Worry for that when the time comes," Gunther said. "For now, think about how you'll get to Eskil and that plan."
"It's not much of a plan. I can't go to Eskil directly, since he's too highly placed and I'd just arouse suspicions. I'll work with a lesser known crew, find Eskil in secret, then we'll free Vilhjalmer."
"Plan's a bit spare, isn't it?"
"Why plan anything more detailed when we both know whatever I think of now will just be blown to shit once I get inside? Eskil will know the best way to Vilhjalmer and the best way out of that mess. I just have to link with him."
Gunther shrugged and they studied the pigs in silence. A young woman came to fetch the bucket, but she melted away in shock when she discovered both Ulfrik and Gunther leaning on her fence.
"I see women still think you're ugly," Ulfrik said.
"Don't need to be handsome to get what I want."
They both laughed, and Ulfrik watched the smallest pig finally get his place at the bucket. "I feel like that one, the little piglet scrambling after what everyone else has left me. I had it all, Gunther. Now it's gone."
"Maybe not all of it. Your family will welcome you back."
"They will, but what shall I be to them? A ghost returned from the dead? I knew their lives would have moved on without me, and that I could not force my way back to them. You want to know something, old friend? I don't think I returned for them, but for myself. For another chance at glory. I could've finished my days in Iceland with a good woman and no one would've been the wiser here. Maybe it would have even better for them."
"You do realize it can still be so?" Gunther had to turn to fix Ulfrik with his only eye. "Do this thing for Hrolf, and he'll give you a ship and crew and gold enough to make you a Christian King of Iceland."
The thought hit Ulfrik like an oar slamming across his shoulders. He pushed back from the fence and squared with Gunther, his mouth open.
"You never thought of it?" Gunther shook his head, his thin gray hair falling across his face. "You really do lust for glory."
"There's just not been a moment to think ahead, but you are right. I could return to Iceland a richer man and leave my old family in peace."
"Aye, and maybe it's better for them as you have said."
Ulfrik turned back to the pigs. They had scattered and the bucket lay tipped on its side. How much suffering would he cause Runa to suddenly reappear to her? Konal had loved her in the past, and Ulfrik believed after his apparent death they had found love together again. He could only complicate their lives in the worst way. Moreover, he was nothing now but a poor wanderer. What shame would he visit upon his sons to show up like this? He shook his head.
"Maybe it's best to move on after Hrolf's son is saved. Still, I would like to at least see my family one more time, even if only from a distance. I want to carry away a memory of them all in happiness. Last I saw Runa, we had only recovered from a terrible argument the night before. I would like to replace that memory with a more pleasant one."
"You're good at moving in disguise. Last night you got close enough to give Hrolf a kiss before anyone stopped you. Maybe pay them a visit after this is done."
"No, I may have to leave quickly after that. I'd rather see them before I go. How far is their new home?"
"Hardly an afternoon's travel by horse. It's on the way to the Frankish border anyway. I won't mention that trip to Hrolf, if you choose to make it."
Ulfrik put his hand on Gunther's shoulder and squeezed. "Thank you for that. It will be good to see my family one last time before I leave them for good."
Gunther smiled. "Let's go see your friend, Finn, and let him know he'll be going home a richer man."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ulfrik approached Konal's fortress with his heart beating and his breath ragged. He wore his now-perfected disguise of a traveling wise man. The sky above the dark stockade walls was gray and threatening rain. A low rumble of thunder rolled out of the distance, and the wind blew strong and cool against his face. He did not wear a blindfold, wanting only to glimpse his family a final time before moving on. All his war gear and weapons remained in keeping at the last farmhouse he visited. Unlike the situation at Gils's farm, Gunther One-Eye had accompanied him and paid the farmers to care for Ulfrik and his belongings. The farm sat at the turning point south to Count Amand's lines, and so he would have to backtrack to it, making the farm a logical place for them to part company.
"Eskil will not know you," Gunther told him before they parted. "But if you tell him that you've heard of dolphins in the mouth of the Seine, he will know you come from Hrolf."
"Do you know I have heard of dolphins in the mouth of the Seine?" Ulfrik laughed and he and Gunther embraced before parting. "Take good care of Finn for me. It pains him to not accompany me on this adventure, but promise him greater glories for when I return."
The giant that was Gunther One-Eye left him with a clap on the shoulder and directions to Einar's hold. Locals were headed in with trade goods, carts of empty barrels and crates as well as stacks of furs, and Ulfrik was placed among them for cover. Now they all approached the open gates, and the group's leader turned to Ulfrik. "One-Eye says you have business inside that requires secrecy. So you're my dumb brother come along for the ride. Just look at me if anyone asks you questions."
Ulfrik gave a curt nod and stared up at the guards studying them from the walls. None of them smiled, and several set their bows in view.
"Never mind the show," said the leader. "Things are always tense on the border. They'll recognize us soon enough."
As promised, the guards relaxed at their approach, and three men at the western gates inspected their wagons and waved them through. A guard looked Ulfrik over, but his eyes slid past in boredom. He still felt hot and weak for the scrutiny, and began to think this bid to see his family was foolish. He already could not stand to see Runa with Konal, and so settled for a chance to see Hakon along with Einar and Snorri. Once inside the walls, he realized getting close would be impossible without arousing suspicion. He cursed his stupidity.
The carts rolled toward the central square, bouncing along the black boards that lined the main roads. Ravndal had been the template for Einar's fort, which locals called Eyrafell. Ulfrik could guess at where buildings like the forge or smokehouse would be and find he had been correct. A strange sense of both returning home and being among enemies overcame him. He pulled his hood over his eyes and lowered his head.
"Here's where you should go do whatever you need," the leader said. "It's not a long visit today, and we'll be heading back before sunset. Is an afternoon enough time to do your business?"
Ulfrik nodded, then slipped off the cart and took up his walking stick. The leader turned his attention to his companions and they began to unload their goods. Ulfrik wandered off into a side alley, no one caring enough for the passing of an old man. He let his feet lead him, taking paths that were familiar but strange. Sometimes a path did not turn where it should have or there was no path at all. A curious old woman stopped him, the mother of the fletcher, and gossiped with him until he grew restless to leave. He did learn, however, that both Aren and Hakon were here together and that Aren was prone to wandering on his own.
No sooner did he learn this information when he rounded a corner into a side path and stood face to face with Snorri and Aren.
Despite the changes in both of them, recognition was immediate. Snorri was softer, more gaunt and stooped, but under wisps of gray hair and beneath wild brows stared out the intelligent and alert eyes of his oldest friend. His arm was locked with Aren's for support and his other spotted hand held a walking staff much like Ulfrik's own prop. Aren now stood at Snorri's height due to his stoop, and his face was wide and clear. A beard had begun to sketch onto his chin and jaw, auburn hair like Konal's in his youth. He looked directly into Ulfrik's eyes, his expression grave and his eyes radiating a fierce intelligence. Looking into them, Ulfrik saw fear, anger, and disdain flash in their gray depths.
Pulling himself away was like tearing flesh from frozen iron, but he tucked his head down and immediately began walking in the opposite direction. His heart thudded and blood roared in his ears. Yet a simple word from Snorri arrested him.
"Lad?"
The voice had been clawed with age and pain, but it was Snorri's and it struck to Ulfrik's heart as sure as any arrow. His foot came down, but his other refused to move. Don't do this, he told himself. You've got to get away.
"It can't be true." Aren's voice had changed, now a young man's, but it was no less arresting. It was the voice of his son.
Aren grabbed his shoulder and tugged him around. "Who are you?"
Ulfrik did not resist, but let himself be spun around to face Aren. His raptor gaze searched him from head to foot as Snorri stumbled the short distance toward them.
"I know that face," Snorri said as he hobbled up to Ulfrik. "Why are you hiding it?"
"Take off this hood," Aren said, then pushed it back from Ulfrik's head. He peered at him with keen interest and nodded. "Speak."
"Are you so convinced of what you see?" Ulfrik asked them, his eyes not wavering from Aren's. In reply, Snorri collapsed forward and both he and Aren had to catch him before he fell.
"Lad, you are alive or I am dead. Which is it? I know who owns that voice, and I knew his father as well. Tell an old man he has not lost himself to ancient memories."
Tears stood in Snorri's eyes, and Ulfrik blinked back his own. "I did not mean for us to meet again, at least not like this. But as fate has reunited us, then I will hide no more. I am Ulfrik."
Snorri stared at him with shimmering eyes, mouth open but wordless. Aren steadied Snorri, then gave Ulfrik a skeptical look. "I do not want to believe it's you, but I've not forgotten your voice nor your bearing. Are you really my father?"
"I was your father once. I raised you from birth as my own. There is a scar on your left foot from when a servant girl dropped a knife on it. You were only a child then, but I'm sure you remember the pain. You cried for days aft
er and refused to walk."
Aren hesitated then embraced Ulfrik, pinning his arms to his sides. The emotion behind that embrace surprised him, as Aren had always been a cool child, so unlike the hot blood of either his mother or true father, Konal.
"I knew that head Einar returned with was not yours." Snorri now gripped Ulfrik's arms and his squeeze was feeble. "But he insisted you died, said Throst took him to find your body at the foot of the tower. What happened to you? Why has your hair turned so gray for one still young?"
Ulfrik laughed. "Would that I felt young, old friend. I survived the fall that Einar witnessed, but he was not shown my body until the next day. During that time, strange people found me and exchanged my body with a murdered slave's. They carried me off to Iceland, and it has taken me all these years to fight my way back home."
Both Snorri and Aren stared at him in awe and confusion. Aren's brow wrinkled and he cocked his head to the side. "There is much that makes no sense in that tale."
"Explaining it would make even less sense," Ulfrik said. "They were madmen and the tortures I endured under them aged me beyond my years."
"Whatever happened, I am glad to have you back," Snorri said. "No matter what my heart told me, the truth was you've been dead these long years. Now I want to know all that I missed of your life."
Ulfrik shook his head. "There is no time, my old friend. I am not here to stay, but only to glimpse my family a final time before I leave."
Both Aren and Snorri stood back, blinking. Aren put his hand on his chest. "A final time? You can't leave. We need you. Mother needs you."
"She has Konal now, and my return would only complicate matters. It is best I remain dead to everyone, and let life here continue without the worry or shame of my presence. Look upon me, and you see all I possess. I can offer you nothing but more suffering. Let Runa and Konal live their days in peace."
"Konal is a beast," Aren said. "I've often thought of killing him myself."
"Aye, lad, he's not who you remember, nor is Runa. Both have been poison to each other and your memory is like a sword that cuts them both."
Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) Page 8
