Shield of Lies

by Jerry Autieri

  "Odo can't get his ass out of Paris these days," Snorri quipped. "Don't mind him in your plans."

  Ulfrik shook his head, knowing he had dealt Clovis a blow that should have ended his raiding season. Whatever had drawn him out must have been at the order of a higher power, maybe King Odo himself. The Franks had remained woefully uncoordinated during the break up of their empire, but recent years showed them cooperating more fully. The suddenness of the move gave some credence to that possibility; had he been building for an attack, Ulfrik's lookouts would have noted it, but a sudden order into action would have gone undetected. He had his reservations, but he also had a hall of bloodthirsty fighting men watching him think. Then he thought of Clovis and his horses stretched into a line, their fortress left with only a bare guard, and knew he could not let it go.

  "I have decided." Ulfrik paused, playing the moment for his men and ensuring he had their silent attention. "Ull will have to contend with whatever attack is coming to him, and we will have no way to send warning. But we will cut the snake off at the head. His fortress is close enough to strike while he is gone. No matter how he fares with Ull, he'll return to ruins and be finished."

  Cheers greeted Ulfrik's decision. Einar shouted out assembly orders to the men, and their war band would be marching within the hour. Ulfrik appreciated Einar's efficiency of command. He took over the details of running organization better than any before him. Runa's brother, Toki, had taken long years to grow into the role Einar filled fresh out of his youth. He caught Snorri smiling, and the two shared a brief moment of shared pride.

  The hirdmen broke up and leapt to their duties, boasts of how they would capture Clovis's banner or dance on his ramparts flowing out with them into the morning light. Ulfrik turned to prepare, and ran into Gunnar standing behind him with his hand on the pommel of his sword. He read his son's thoughts and responded without delay.

  "You'll remain here. I'm leaving archers on the walls, and you will lead them."

  "I don't want to lead archers; I want to be at the front of the battle with you. I want to carry our banner."

  "Gunnar, you'll be hard pressed to keep your head in one piece without the burden of a banner to guard. Do as I say and remain in the hall."

  Runa emerged from their rooms, Hakon following closely behind her. Once he saw the scowl on his brother's face, his own lit up with glee. "You've got to stay here with me! See, you're not so big!"

  The words hit Ulfrik harder than he expected. Out of dark memories, he recalled the very words from his own younger brother, a man who had poisoned their father and nearly murdered Ulfrik. "Respect your brother!" he shouted, setting both Hakon and Runa back in shock. "He will lead here in my absence and you'll obey him as you would me. Is that clear to you?"

  Hakon's bright eyes had widened like a fish and he nodded slowly as he shrank behind Runa's skirt.

  "Gunnar, are you clear?"

  "When will you take me into battle? This is not fair! A victory is at hand and you'd deny me the chance to be part of it? Some of the hirdmen are only a few years older than me."

  When Gunnar grew flustered, he looked so much like Toki that Ulfrik nearly reacted as if it were his wife's brother before him. Ulfrik felt hot stares from Snorri and Runa, and knew Einar studiously ignored the conflict while he ushered the last men from the hall. No matter what anyone thought, Gunnar was his to raise and he judged Clovis an enemy never to be underestimated. Furthermore, Clovis would delight in the chance to maim Gunnar the way Ulfrik had maimed Clovis's son. He could not accept the danger. He loved all his sons, but Gunnar was most dear to him.

  "Gunnar, your day will come, but not now. I promise you, as my son, your whole life will be nothing but fighting the moment you take up your sword as a man. Do not be so eager to kill; for all the bragging men make of their battles, it is to hide the fear and disgust of what they have witnessed. One day, you will drive that sword you carry deep into an enemy's guts and you will feel his heartbeat throbbing up your blade before it fades away. His eyes will lock with yours and you will see in him the faces of friends or family, and you will know a mother or a wife will weep for the life you slashed from the world. But you will have to press on, for the slain man's friends will seek vengeance and so you will kill until the end of your days—until that day when your attention wavers and you see the blade flash too late as it punches into your breast and blood fills your mouth. Then you will lock eyes with your enemy and his hatred will be your last sight of this world. So don't be so quick to step on this path. You'll be on it soon enough, and you will never step off."

  Ulfrik straightened himself, realizing his heart pounded and his breathing labored. Gunnar held his eyes for a moment, then dropped his gaze to the floor. He nodded to his father and mumbled something before leaving. Ulfrik considered calling him back, but he had already spoken his heart to the boy. Instead, he returned to preparing for the upcoming battle, looking at no one but Runa who nodded appreciatively. He paused by her side, and her cool, smooth hand touched his cheek.

  "He is in love with the stories of glory and battle," she said. "Konal's arrival has rekindled all those foolish tales he used to weave when Gunnar was a boy."

  "It's not Konal." Ulfrik took Runa's hand and kissed it gently before returning it to her. "He is ready to be a man, but Clovis ..."

  "I know. I will leave Gunnar alone for now, but will try to get through to him later when the sting is gone. I expect he'll look to his girl for comfort anyway."

  "That's what I have always done." Runa laughed as he turned from her, Hakon still huddling behind her. "Now I'm gone to crush a Frankish lord so that his back is broken for good."

  Chapter 9

  By midday, Ulfrik's war band had marched into the woods of black trees now crowned in the red and gold of autumn. No sooner had he stepped onto the brown carpet of leaves and forest debris than he realized he was marching into a trap.

  He stopped the loose column of men with an upraised fist. Hands sought weapons and shields raised in anticipation of a foeman's unseen strike. Einar halted, carrying Ulfrik's banner and shouldering his long-hafted ax, and his green eyes were wide behind the shadows of his helmet's noseguard. "Do you see something?"

  Ulfrik pulled off his own helmet, an over-mended trophy he had claimed from his brother over a decade ago, and tucked it under his arm. He scratched his scalp with his free hand and grimaced. "I see that I am an overeager fool running into the jaws of a wolf. Our scouts reported Clovis is taking cavalry to attack Ull the Strong. Horses can't run up walls. Why would he need cavalry?"

  "To run down Ull's warriors in the field." Several men drew closer to listen as Einar offered his opinion. Konal and his crew joined the small group as the larger army held to silence.

  "Why are Ull's men in the field?"

  "Because he's retreating."

  "Do you know that Ull's retreating? I haven't heard such news."

  Ulfrik studied the realization spreading from Einar to other listeners. The forest was silent but for the crackles and creaks of men lingering among the trees, impatient for the order to resume. Konal rubbed his neck and laughed, and others shared concerned glances. Einar's face now darkened with an angry flush.

  He dropped his ax head-first into the soft ground. "He's coming after us."

  "He lured us out of a place of strength to fight on a battlefield of his choosing. As soon as our scouts departed, he turned back and marched all night to set an ambush along the path to his fortress. His cavalry will burst out of hiding and trample us as we merrily run for his abandoned stronghold. We'll get hit from behind, totally surprised, and he'll hack us to bits. Why did I not see it? I followed what he wanted me to see, rather than what I should've seen for myself."

  Ulfrik flung his helmet into the dirt and spun on his heel. He folded an arm across his chest and ran his fingers through his beard as he thought. Those around him dropped their heads and moved back. Hundreds of lives depended upon his decisions, and acting with disciplin
e little better than that of a greenhorn put all of these people in unnecessary jeopardy. His only relief was in recognizing the trap before it was sprung. Pacing in a tight circle as he weighed options, he met no one's eyes. All looked to him for leadership and a safe escape from the trap. Clovis likely had seeded the approach with scouts who would spot a withdrawal and bring Clovis in close pursuit. He twisted a finger into his beard, and stopped as a plan began to assemble in his imagination.

  Einar stepped into his vision, holding Ulfrik's helmet in two thick hands. "You've got a plan; I see that look upon you."

  Ulfrik accepted the helmet, brushed a clod of mud from the faceplate, and donned it again. "Clovis still thinks we're stupid barbarians because we won't sing songs about his dead god. That's quite an advantage he gives us."

  "And he wouldn't expect us to realize we're being baited," Konal said. "So he will expect us to head straight for the prize he's waving before us."

  "But we won't do that. We will comb these woods until we kill all his scouts and find where his men are hidden. Then we will attack inside these trees, where his cavalry are useless."

  "And so is our shieldwall." Einar raised a brow in challenge, but Ulfrik only laughed.

  "The Franks are tired from marching up and down these lands and expect surprise to carry them. They will try to drive us toward their fortress where I don't doubt scores of archers await panicked targets. But we're not giving them any of that. I'll trade the shieldwall for the pleasure of destroying those plans."

  "I'll get the best scouts we have ready to go." Einar shared Ulfrik's smile, and hefted his ax onto his shoulder.

  "In the meantime, we'll continue to march ahead as Clovis expects. I don't doubt the first of his scouts are nearby and we don't want to raise suspicions. If we do this right, we might still get what we want."

  The column resumed the march, most of the men unaware of Ulfrik's plans. He did not doubt his men's ability to adapt to a new plan. The majority had fought with him for years and they all knew Clovis had a weakness for complicated bluffs. Even with so many aware of Clovis's wiles, they had all been misled when offered what they wanted. He would not forget this lesson again.

  He had kept progress slow enough to give the scouting teams time while not arousing suspicions of Clovis's hidden watchers. Men began to cluster and bunch, and Ulfrik used it as an excuse to stop and reorder as well as whisper the new plan to his warriors. Soon, scouts returned with fresh blood sprayed on their leathers or fewer arrows in their quivers. They reported no fewer than ten kills along the lightest pathways through the woods. Most anticipated was the location of Clovis and his main force. As expected, they hid at the edge of the woods, with cavalry and their horses a good deal away from the main lane of approach so that the animals would not betray them.

  Now Ulfrik began his encirclement. Among his men were Franks who served him, just as other Danes had gone to serve the Franks. These men had proved their loyalty and usefulness too often to count, and Ulfrik had clapped gold armbands on them to ensure they never had cause to leave him. He found two of them now, and sent them on an important task.

  "Go ahead of us, to where Clovis's scouts were set, and send word back to Clovis that we are delayed with an argument in our ranks, but are coming as expected."

  "What if we are found out?"

  "You won't. Be hasty and play your part well. Don't approach their main line, just relay your message to the first man you find. Speak from the shadows. Just as we so readily believed what we wanted to hear, so will Clovis and his men."

  Knowing smiles shared all around as the two Franks slipped farther into the brown darkness of the underbrush. Ulfrik now let his scouts lead them to where the cavalry was positioned. The proud animals were patient and quiet, constantly comforted by their riders who stared out of the edge of the woods toward the bright field of amber grass. Two dozen mounted warriors awaited to spring their trap and not one noticed Ulfrik's careful approach.

  He drew his men into two lines to hit from different sides. Swords remained sheathed and helmets and mail had been hastily splashed with dirt to prevent an errant glint of the dappled light filtering from the canopy of leaves. Every snapping branch or disturbed bush made Ulfrik seize in fear, yet the Franks waited oblivious. Nearly upon them, he slowly drew his sword and others followed, a gentle sigh of metal echoing through the trees.

  A horse began to nod and toss its head and its fear spread to its companions. The Franks stood in confusion, and Ulfrik knew the moment had come. "Kill the horses first. Go!"

  Hundreds of screaming warriors burst through the trees at the astonished Franks. Horses screamed as axes and swords bit into their necks and spears drove into their bellies. The lightly armored riders barely had a moment to arm themselves before fending against a dozen strikes. Blood sprayed the ground, men shrieked in death, and war cries shattered the silence. A few horses bolted into the field, one with a spear hanging out of its flank.

  Ulfrik did not strike a blow beyond the first hapless Frank he met, chopping him at the shoulder and then through his neck as he flailed on the ground. Confident the isolated cavalry had been defeated the moment he had ordered the charge, Ulfrik turned to his rear lines which now became his main defense. Einar, Konal, and his other best men formed this group, for they would turn to receive Clovis's charge.

  "A sad waste of horseflesh," Ulfrik said as he joined Einar. "We'll not be able to carry all that back to Ravndal, and I hate that we just did Clovis a favor." Einar gave him a quizzical smile. "He's got two dozen fewer men to feed and hundreds of pounds of horse meat for the others."

  Their laughter was short-lived. With no more need for stealth, the Franks bolted through the trees with curses and war cries driven ahead of them. However, the first clash did not come from the front where Ulfrik expected. Franks sprung up from Ulfrik's right and were among his men before anyone realized.

  "Where in Loki's name did they come from?" Einar shouted, not knowing which way to turn. "Are those Clovis's men?"

  "Who else?" Ulfrik saw the first flashes of enemies from the front hurtling through the spotted light. "Must be guards for the cavalry that no one saw. No matter now. This is going to be one gods-be-damned fight!"

  Einar planted Ulfrik's green banner emblazoned with black elk horns and readied his ax. In moments, Clovis's banner of a white swan in a black square appeared and the first of his men rushed to battle.

  Ulfrik braced his shield as screaming enemies launched themselves over fallen logs and low rocks to collide with the loose line he had formed. Throwing spears flew over his head, though the trees, and chaos foiled ranged attacks. The first Frank rushed forward, but Einar stepped in with his long-hafted ax and slammed the man away as easily as hitting a child's ball. Einar's ax was intended for use in the second rank to hook or break shields for front rank attackers to exploit, but he was tall and mighty enough to wield it as his main weapon. He worked in tandem with Ulfrik, for after he struck he appeared overextended and enemies targeted him only to find Ulfrik's sword in their guts. The ploy worked in every battle, for few lived to warn their companions.

  More Franks joined and Clovis's banner wavered and dipped as he fought through to where Ulfrik stood defending his own. Weapons hammered on shields and men shrieked in pain and anger as metal found flesh. In moments, the battle became a swarming mass of men hacking and cursing each other. The woods offered horrible footing, increasing the lethality of the combat. Rocks, roots, slippery leaves, and logs tripped men from both sides and falling to the ground in combat meant death followed in moments.

  Ulfrik moved little during the battle, tenaciously holding his ground and avoiding the problem of footing. He fought in a tight circle about the banner, sending men reeling with blood trailing from their wounds. The carnage was the worst he had seen since Paris. A Frank who had taken a spear to his face staggered past him with his eye missing and the meat of his cheek torn to reveal his teeth. One of his own men had his sword arm hacked off at
mid-arm, but instead of falling he howled in rage and stuck the bloody stump into his enemy's face while bashing him with a shield. Another man rested in the bole of a tree, holding his glistening guts in his hands as he cried. Dismembered corpses littered the ground, piled atop each other like stacks of firewood. All around his banner disorganization and chaos consumed the men, so that any semblance of lines had disappeared.

  He watched Clovis's banner drawing nearer, and finally he stood before his own standard and shouted. "Clovis, come meet your death. I am right here if you're man enough to get through to me."

  Both he and Clovis understood each other's language well enough. While Ulfrik had forced himself to learn the Frankish language, his mouth could not form the misshapen and twisted sounds. His challenge had its intended result, for Clovis broke through to Ulfrik.

  He was not a large man, but strong and fast. He had a narrow and royal head with close-cropped black hair turned gray at the temples. Even in the heat of battle, smeared with mud and gore and wading through ground smelling of blood and urine, he still appeared above the disorder. He was clean shaved, wearing only a thin mustache that framed his disdainful snarl.

  "You ignorant fool," he shouted at Ulfrik, drawing his shield to his body and setting his bloodied sword low for a strike. "You are trapped here. Now die!"

  With no time for a rejoinder, Ulfrik danced away from Clovis's strike, but lamely hit him on his mailed shoulder as he spun past. All around them, men chopped and stabbed and bled and choked in death. Clovis recovered, drawing up short before Ulfrik's banner. He paused as if considering whether to topple it, and Ulfrik jumped into that moment, slamming into him with his shield and following through with a wicked stab. His blade turned on Clovis's mail, but he heard the crunch as links broke. Clovis screamed as Ulfrik's blade dug into his shoulder blade.