"I came to rescue you," he said, even as enemy spears prodded him.
"Enemy ship?" Konal said, whirling on her. "Is that what you call me now? What happened to husband?"
"I divorce you, Konal Ketilsson!" Her declaration drew sharp looks from the crew. Konal's scarred face crunched into a murderous frown, then he backhanded her.
She slammed to the deck and saw a white light as her head struck the wood. Konal dragged her by the feet, exposing her legs to her hips as he did and shouted to his crew, "Tie her down!"
"Konal," she heard Gunnar screaming from his ship. "You murderous coward. I'll kill you myself."
Runa heard no more as two men handled her no better than a wet sack of grain. One held her down while the other tied her legs together. He patted her thighs and winked at her. She spit at him, but only drew their laughter. In the time it took to dredge up more spit, they had tied her legs together and her hands at her lap then dropped her back to the deck.
Men were already at their oars, rowing furiously and ignoring the corpses at their feet. Konal leaned on the rails, ducking when a smattering of arrows chased his ship away. Aren growled in frustration as his captors removed his sword and bound him in ropes. Runa set her head down and watched the clouds slide past. The ship rocked and creaked and the men cursed. The corpse of a sad-eyed man lay an arm's length away, staring at her as his blood ebbed and flowed with the motion of the ship.
"You should have thanked me for saving your life," Konal said, reappearing over her. She turned her head aside and stared at Aren as he sat against the gunwales with his hands tied and head bowed in shame. Konal waited then sat beside her with a groan. His whispering voice set her teeth on edge. "What were you doing on that ship?"
"I should ask you the same," she said. "But I know what you were doing with the enemy."
"You don't know anything," he said. "And was that Gunnar?"
She faced him now, a cruel smile on her face. "It was, and he will not rest until he frees his brother and me."
Konal snorted then laughed. "I taught him how to fight. I've nothing to fear from him."
"He's no longer a child, and I've seen him in battle. You would do well to let us ashore and sail as far away as you can."
They sat in silence while the crew rowed, the splashing of the oars loud in her ears. The man at the tiller called out that they had escaped pursuit. Konal groaned and stood, brushing debris from his wet pants. "I will sail as far as I can, but I'm taking you two with me. Time to return home and introduce my son to the land of his father. Ireland is far better than this rat's nest."
As he stepped away, Runa closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. She would never see Ireland, no matter what Konal believed.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Ulfrik awakened to Finn shaking him. A shapeless dream skittered away as he rose with a gasp, but Finn's dirty hand clamped over his mouth. He had drawn his sword, smeared with mud to prevent it from shining in the dark. Ulfrik's own blade remained sheathed and laying in the grass beside him. Finn pulled back Ulfrik's cloak and slid the weapon up to his side.
Contented that Ulfrik would remain silent, he removed his hand. In the blue gloom of the crescent moonlight, Finn was a blurry lump wrapped in a cloak. He pointed hard to the east, then held up three fingers. Ulfrik nodded, then he placed each approaching enemy by chopping the air at their location. They were fanned out and approaching from Count Amand's camp.
He stood and strapped on his sword, unhitching the loop that kept it tight in the sheath. Finn hunkered and watched the trees. Ulfrik shook his head, still unable to see their pursuers. These Franks were persistent, even working through the night to find them. He expected Grimnr to set a large bounty for their capture, driving every man with gold lust to search for them. They had spent all day running along the Seine searching for Gunnar's ship, yet finding nothing but burned ships and the mast of one ship sticking out of the shallows as if it had sunk only moments before reaching shore.
They leaned their heads together to whisper, Ulfrik laying out his battle plan. "You're more skilled at fieldcraft. You go wide to the right, and herd them toward me. I will make myself a target they can't miss."
"It's three to one," Finn said.
"They're expecting us to be unaware. We have all the advantage, plus I expect you to make it an even fight before they get me. Make it a noisy kill, and they won't know which way to turn."
He released Finn, and he flitted away into the dark. Ulfrik had slept in his mail, and now without a cloak it gleamed in the moonlight. He leaned against a tree as if he were on lookout and bored, but his senses stretched all around him. At first nothing stirred but for an owl hooting in the distance. Rustling of woodland creatures on their nocturnal adventures had ceased, and that alerted Ulfrik to nearby danger. A silent woods was a dangerous place. He heard a muffled snap to his left, but he resisted the urge to turn for it. He gently rotated his head until he saw a darker shape amid the shadows of bushes and trees. The form observed him as if it were holding his breath, and he nearly dismissed it as imagining until he saw it move. The shape slipped something from its shoulder, and Ulfrik's heart began to beat harder. He heard a creak, then realized the form was carefully lifting a strung bow to point at him. He continued to feign ignorance, but his hand slipped to the hilt of his sword.
A scream broke the silence. The shape in his peripheral vision jolted, and Ulfrik broke into a charge.
His sword was out and gleaming with blue fire of the crescent moon. The bowstring snapped and a shaft zipped past his head. The shadow cursed and dropped the bow for another weapon. Ulfrik felt his blade carve into flesh then bite into bone. The form before him howled and Ulfrik kicked into the black shadow of the man's face, his heel slamming into something hard. With another stab, he drove his sword into the soft flesh of the man's stomach and he groaned in death. Unable to see more of the victim, he searched for the third attacker.
A black shape suddenly sprinted in the dark. Ulfrik bounded after him, but only took five long strides before his foot slammed into a rock and sent him crashing to the ground. With a curse, be struggled to his feet, the heavy weight of his mail saddling his effort. He growled in frustration, seeing nothing but hearing the crunch and snap of the enemy darting away.
"Finn?" he called out. "Tell me you're alive."
"I'm here," Finn answered from close to his back. He stumbled toward Finn's voice, eventually finding him hunched over in the gloom. "They were our people. This one has a silver armband."
"Take it for your own," Ulfrik said. "Anything else?"
"Nothing we need." Finn stood and dusted down his pants. "The last one escaped. So we have to keep moving, and I didn't get a chance to sleep yet."
"Well, the few hours I had were hardly better. We'll have to keep traveling west until we reach Hrolf's lands. I don't think we will meet Gunnar on these shores. Burning those ships was like beating a hornet's nest."
Finn laughed. "We added to that, didn't we?"
"We certainly did. I think Grimnr figured that out, too."
"So it was more like throwing a rock into a bear's den."
Traveling the woods at night was a slow and frustrating process made worse for their unfamiliarity with the geography. Ulfrik knew his position but did not know the folds and nuances of the land, leading to smashed toes and at least three solid falls for both of them. They cursed, knowing they left an easy trail but counting on the distance solving the issue of pursuit. Horses could not navigate woods, and so Grimnr's men would also be slogging along the same terrain.
By dawn, Ulfrik's eyes were heavy with sleep and Finn yawned incessantly. Yet in the early morning he saw a ship anchored in the river, tugging against its anchor stone sunk into the river bottom. Finn stumbled up behind him, leaning against a tree and studied the long ship with bleary eyes.
"You're going to be angry," Finn said after a long pause. "But I don't remember what Gunnar's ship looked like. I suppose that might be it."
Finn grumbled and looked around for a tree branch. "There are no hazels?"
"They'll get your meaning. Just be careful and ready to run." Ulfrik watched Finn trot out to the shore, waving a long branch he had cut from a thin poplar tree. He shouted at the ship and leaned back as if ready to run. At first no one answered, but then Ulfrik noted a few blurry shapes waving from the deck. Finn called back to them, and soon tossed aside the branch and motioned Ulfrik forward. The ship came to life at the same time, men drawing the anchor stone while the sails were lowered.
"That's Gunnar's ship," Finn said. "That's Gunnar in the prow. Interesting fellow, he is."
Ulfrik strained to see Gunnar, but at this distance the shapes were still indistinct. "How is he interesting?"
"He's a lot like you, but there's something I don't trust in him. Sorry, I know he's your son. But something tells me he'd spill my guts if I told him it might rain tomorrow."
"Then don't talk about the weather." Ulfrik watched the ship approach. As it drew closer, his experienced eye took in all the details that turned his blood cold: arrows in the mast and hull, missing shields from the rack, a grappling hook stuck in the rail that still trailed rope. "Odin's balls, they were boarded."
As the ship nosed onto the bank, men jumped out to lead the ship onto a safe mooring. Gunnar jumped into the shallows and waded with his arms thrown wide. His shirt was torn, and collar to boot was splattered with brown stains. His wavy black hair flowed to his shoulders and his dark eyes gleamed with happiness. Ulfrik's heart lifted with pride and he blinked away tears.
"My boy," was all he could say as the two embraced on the muddy bank. His ship moaned as it slithered to a halt on land next to them. Ulfrik pulled back and studied Gunnar's face. He had new scars and his skin had grown leathery and hard from life at sea, but it was his boy's face nonetheless. "You've grown to be quite a man, Gunnar the Black."
"And you look solid for a ghost," he said, clapping his father's shoulders. "I never dreamed I'd see you again, but when I heard the stories in Yorvik, I knew you lived. You did well to spread your tale, for it led me home."
"We both have tales to tell," Ulfrik said, then searched over Gunnar's shoulder. "But now's not the time nor the place."
"Not while standing up to our ankles in river mud."
They laughed and embraced again, but now Ulfrik turned toward his ship. "Finn told me your mother was aboard. Is she too shy to greet me?"
Gunnar's smile vanished, and he put his arm on his father's shoulder. "Really, let's not speak any longer in the mud. Come with me up the shore and I will tell you what has happened."
"You were boarded," he said, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice. "Is she alive?"
"Yes, she and Aren both are alive, but during that fight she fell overboard. Konal was aboard one of the ships pursuing us, and he picked her out of the water. I know he saved her life, but you haven't seen what he did to her. Her face--"
"Just stick to what happened next. I will deal with Konal when I find him." Ulfrik thought of Konal's betrayal, and knowing how close he and Gunnar had once been, did not want to describe how he intended to kill him. Gunnar nodded as they mounted the short slope. A gentle breeze rustled the grass and birds sang in the morning light. The river was placid and on the opposite bank deer ventured to the water's edge.
"Aren saw she had been taken aboard Konal's ship, and that it was shoving off from us while we were tied to another enemy. So he jumped the gap and landed on Konal's deck. I couldn't see what happened to him. Konal had already beaten Aren's face out of shape, so I must believe he would be less gentle with him now."
Ulfrik pressed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't understand what happened. What drove him to this? I trusted everything to him when I was away. He was like a brother."
"Well, brothers can turn on one another," Gunnar said. "I did with Hakon, though not so badly as that. Our differences drove me to leave him and everyone behind. My part in all this is big, Father. When this is settled I will ask your forgiveness, but I would not give it were I you."
Waving his hand to dismiss the thought, he said, "That's because you have no children of your own, or you'd understand how easy it is to forgive one's blood for these mistakes."
Gunnar stared at him without expression. Ulfrik let out a long sigh, and punched his fist into his palm. "This is so frustrating. Vilhjalmer has been taken to Paris, and Runa is gone with Konal, Fate only knows where. I can't go in both directions at once, but choosing one path almost guarantees the other path will close. I can afford to lose neither my family nor my future."
"It is a hard choice," Gunnar said. He glanced back at his ship, which had not disembarked. "With either choice, we cannot stay here longer. Whatever ships we did not burn will be upon us now that the sun is risen. I delayed in hopes you would show, but we cannot risk another boarding. My crew does not warm to risks without immediate rewards, and they have no love of my family."
Ulfrik stared west over the Seine to where it vanished around a bend. Geese splashed down into the water as he watched. He wished he could fly as they did, and head straight to Paris before the sun reached the peak of the sky. His landbound feet could only take him so far, and Paris was at least two days away on foot. He took a deep breath and faced Gunnar.
"I'm going in both directions," he said. "I ask for two of your crew to accompany Finn to Paris. He is skilled in fieldcraft and will be able to reach the city on foot and get inside. I need to have him scout the city while he awaits me there. I just hope the Frankish court moves slowly and Hrolf does not learn what has happened."
"You'll have the men," Gunnar said. "Now what about Konal and Mother?"
"I will pursue them first. There is no sense in saving my future with Hrolf if I let my wife and son be stolen from me. I will find them and there will be no doubt that I have returned to bring an accounting for all of Konal's crimes."
He stared into Gunnar's eyes but was surprised to find no wavering or regret, only a hard look of satisfaction. "You intend to kill him?"
"He was behind my betrayal to Throst. He came to witness my hanging. There ends whatever loyalty I may have had for an old friend. The best I will do for him is make his death swift."
"It is the right choice. Now where do you think they have gone?"
"I don't think he planned to find Runa as he did, so he was probably not ready for a sea voyage when he left Grimnr's camp. He must have returned to his hall to prepare. Can you take me there?"
Gunnar smiled, "Nothing would make me happier."
They broke up, and Ulfrik described the plan to Finn, who was excited to lead an independent adventure into Paris. Gunnar provisioned him with food and enough mead for a few days on the road, and then he set out. Gunnar's ship sailed farther west for Konal's fortress, and Ulfrik prayed he had not already slipped away.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Runa paced in the hall that had been her home and now served as her prison. She and Aren sat alone by the hearth, the squalid light of a bleak day dribbling in from the partially opened smoke hole. Every shuffling footstep, every frustrated sigh echoed in the emptiness. Looms sat abandoned against the wall, baskets of thread sitting beneath them. Konal had chased everyone from the hall upon his arrival and tossed her and Aren in like two sacks of old clothes. She paused at the front door and tested it. They were still barred from the outside, a spear unceremoniously shoved through the door handles.
"How long will he be gone for?" Runa asked, her pale hand trembling against the door.
"He's loading however much he can take from this place before he flees. He could be hours yet." Aren tossed scraps of thread into the hearth fire, watching them burst into flame and float up with the smoke.
"At least he untied us," she sai
d, massaging her wrists as she turned back to the hall. "That gives us an opportunity to act."
"I think he's aware of that," Aren said. "He won't return alone to face the two of us."
Runa glanced around but found only makeshift weapons, the best one being the iron poker for the fire. "We have to escape long enough for Ulfrik to find us."
"What makes you believe he will?"
She stared at her son and read the defeat she saw in the slouch of his shoulders and the downcast eyes. "Because we bought him time to escape. Gunnar will find him and send him here."
"Do you see the future now, Mother? We are within a walled fortress of enemies. How will he find us here?"
"Then on the water," she said. Aren turned aside and she grabbed his arm, pulling him to her. "You are only defeated if you surrender. I speak from my own experience. Look at my life since I believed my husband died. I gave up and earned the scorn of the gods for it, and they were sure to make me miserable. But all of this has awakened me to fight again. You must learn this lesson now, that no man may defeat you until you have defeated yourself."
He shrugged and continued to look away. "But still we are barred into this prison and await Konal's pleasure. There can still be defeat even if we choose not to believe it."
Runa let him go, not wanting to push his already sour mood. In time he would see the truth of her words, and for now was not wrong to see only their capture but not their escape. Even she did not see the end clearly, but trusted Fate was in motion and on her side. She had seen this too many times before to not recognize the gods at work.
As she continued to pace, the door trembled as the spear was drawn from it. She stopped, her hands cold and clasped together beneath her chin. Aren stood, stumbling back as if he wanted to shrink beneath the benches lining the walls of the hall. The doors swung open and Konal stood framed within, two men at his back. No one moved, until at last Konal stalked into the hall, a wavering shadow in the gloom. Runa stood beneath the high table where in happier years she presided over a full hall. Now she strained to keep her body from quivering as she watched her former husband pause beneath the milky light at the center of the hall. She could smell the mead on him.
Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) Page 27
