"You don't have anything to give us," said another man. "You're full of golden words, but have no real gold to put on my arm."
"You all know Jarl Ulfrik Ormsson. What if I told you we could have his treasures?" Throst smiled and let his offer take hold, the men sharing skeptical glances. "That's how big my plans are, and how much more you can ever get than following Pepin. Who is with me in this?"
The largest man, his head and beard forming a frizzy circle of red hair around his head, went to his knee before Throst. "If your promises are true, I will give you my oath. Ulfrik is no friend of mine, but neither is he so easy to defeat. What can you offer me to prove you are true?"
"Give me six days and you will have proof that I will be able to defeat Ulfrik. Then you can swear loyalty to me."
The men considered his offer and soon all of them agreed to his terms. Throst grinned and imagined the horror Ulfrik would experience once he realized what Throst had done to him.
Chapter 12
Ulfrik slouched in his chair, his joints throbbing and body burning in a dozen places where cuts and bruises reminded him of his battle of the day before. His feet were studded with blisters, and swaddled in leather boots they felt as if they were on fire. Discomfort only added to his foul mood as he sat in his hall with his two sons kneeling before him. The hall had been cleared of all but family and those who were witnesses to Gunnar's lies. The late morning light splashed from the high windows at the left, a silvery color that emphasized the bruises and cuts on their skin. Hakon sniveled while Gunnar held his silence. Runa sat in her chair at his right, her face a tight mask of hot anger.
"You've both had all morning to think on what you've done," Ulfrik said. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"
Hakon peeked at his older brother for a sign, but Gunnar knelt with his head hung in shame. At the first light of dawn, a group of Ulfrik's hirdmen had found the two of them at the edge of the woods. After reuniting with his boys, neither Ulfrik nor his sons spoke a word the entire trip home. Once inside the hall, Runa had examined their wounds, judged them healthy, and kissed each their heads before consigning them to a corner of the hall.
"So you've nothing to say?" Runa asked, her voice far calmer than Ulfrik knew her mood to be.
"If you call yourself a man, Gunnar, then behave like one." Ulfrik straightened in his chair, his back protesting with a stripe of pain that made him grunt. "You defied me, lied to both Konal and Snorri, and took your brother into danger. What kind of punishment does a man deserve for defying his lord and betraying the trust of his friends?"
Gunnar did not stir and Hakon continued to steal glances at him. Ulfrik gripped the armrest of his chair and pulled himself forward, screaming. "Answer me! I am your father and your jarl! Would such insolence come from another, I'd have him whipped until I could count his ribs. My father would have had no hesitation to do the same for you. So do not tempt me further. What were you thinking?"
Never before had Gunnar received such fury from his father, and the shock of it raised his head and widened his eyes. Runa's hand drifted to Ulfrik's arm and she squeezed it as if to ask would he truly whip his son.
"I wanted to participate in the victory over Clovis," Gunnar said, his eyes darting between his parents.
"So I remember," Ulfrik said. "Let's not cover what we both know. You lied to Snorri and Konal, and defied me. I trusted you with defense of Ravndal."
"You never expected an attack," Gunnar dared as he met Ulfrik's eye. Despite his aching body, he leapt out of his chair.
"Do you dare question my decision? If you are so clear on what I expect, then you should never have spoken those words. You shame yourself. Tell me why you took your brother."
Gunnar again bowed his head but now glanced sidelong at Hakon. "For that I am truly sorry. He wanted to go, and threatened to tell everyone what I had done if I prevented it. I thought I could protect him and still take part in the battle. We followed close behind, and no one paid us any mind. But once in the woods, everything became confused. When the fight started I did not know where to go. The fight was everywhere and there was no one to stand with me. I covered Hakon with my shield and we fled."
Pausing to swallow, Gunnar closed his eyes and remained still. Ulfrik returned to his seat, and Runa glanced worriedly at him. They both waited for their son to resume his story.
"I had to flee because Hakon was too vulnerable and the battle too wild. We ran until the sounds of battle faded, but then became lost. Whatever paths men left behind, I could not tell if they were from our own or the enemy's. After night fell, we slept until I found the edge of the trees and the rest you know. That is the whole truth of it."
"I saw Odin," Hakon said, standing up and forgetting himself. "He was walking between the warriors and he saw me. He had one eye and Hugin and Mugin sat on his shoulders. He smiled at me!"
The revelation froze Ulfrik to his seat. Hakon beamed while Gunnar remained on his knees with his head down. Runa gasped and leaned forward. "Are you certain of what you saw?" she asked. "Few people ever see the gods, and fewer still are recognized by them when they do."
"As soon as he smiled at me, I never feared." Hakon touched his chest with a dirty, scabbed hand. "Odin blessed me with his smile. It's true."
Ulfrik looked over his shoulder to see both Konal and Snorri peering at Hakon as if he were standing before the setting sun. "And what did Gunnar see?" Ulfrik asked.
"I saw nothing. But Hakon did call out for Odin and he was calm after that moment."
Silence filled the room and both Ulfrik and Runa sat back in their chairs. The battle had been fierce and Odin reveled in such carnage; he could easily have been drawn to the ferocity. Perhaps his son had been seen and preserved by the All-Father. Such an amazing event bespoke of a great destiny, and presented everyone with a puzzle. When so many grown warriors had died, why had Odin favored a child? He could not answer the question, and soon roused himself from the same thought in which the other adults were doubtlessly absorbed.
"We will put that matter aside for now," Ulfrik said. "The gods do as they please, and we cannot understand them. For now, there is only the matter of punishment. Hakon, you are young and foolish. Other children are still knocking you out of the shieldwall during practice. Do you believe you could stand with men?"
His moon-bright face darkened and he lowered his head, shaking it. Ulfrik let the silence linger a moment, knowing Hakon was only acting like any other boy his age. The true issue was Gunnar, who now raised his head in anticipation of the punishment.
"You have gravely disappointed me, son. I understand your eagerness, no matter how confused you believe me to be. But I did not jest about my father's whipping. He would not have stopped to ask what was in your head, but just drag you to a post and whip you bloody. Could you bear such punishment?"
Gunnar raised his chin and wore the same defiant look he so often saw on Runa or his Uncle Toki. "I will bear whatever punishment you give. I am a man, Father. I will take it."
Ulfrik stood, and Runa grabbed at his arm with wide eyes. He pulled free and stepped down to where his son watched with shimmering eyes and a trembling lip. "Stand up."
Gunnar stood, and Ulfrik held his gaze steady. His son swallowed and sweat formed on his brow.
"Give me your sword." Ulfrik held his hand out for the weapon. "Until you can behave like a man, you will not carry the weapons of man."
"But ... what of the whipping?"
A vision of Ulfrik's long-dead brother, Grim, and memories of his father's murder passed through his thoughts. "I don't believe everything my father did was right. Besides, this hurts you more than any stripe across your back, doesn't it? You'll remember this longer. Give me the sword. You'll get it back when you prove you honor your words."
Unbuckling the weapon, Gunnar let the sword crash to the earthen floor. Without a word or a glance to anyone, he stormed from the hall. Hakon remained on his knees beneath his father, quivering as if he had been left i
n a snow storm.
Facing the others, he could not read their reactions. Runa sat holding her hands tightly at her lap, while both Snorri and Konal met his inquiring look with nothing more than flat expressions. He turned from them and followed Gunnar's exit from the hall. Now he understood why his father preferred the whip and decided next time he would follow his example.
Chapter 13
Runa stopped short when Konal stepped onto the track leading from the main square to the hall. Wooden longhouses flanked both sides, laughter and curses echoed deep inside. The women attending her did not notice and continued several paces before they also paused. They lowered their baskets of wool as they waited for Runa to regain herself. Konal smiled from behind them, his cowl drawn to soften the horror of his scars. His hand held in place against the cool morning wind, and for the first time she noted the red and white scars on the back of his hand. One of the women followed her gaze and soon others turned to face him.
"Go on," Runa said to her girls, placing her basket of wool on the dirt path. "It seems Konal wishes to speak with me."
"And so I do." Konal bowed with a wry smile. Even with half his face distorted with scars, he still projected the same swagger and confidence she remembered of old. "But if this is inconvenient, I will find another time."
The girls, many no older than Gunnar, did not know how to react to Konal who was still a stranger to most. Runa noted how a few stepped back and how others furtively touched their necks as if frightened. It provoked an odd reaction in Runa, and she suddenly felt keenly annoyed with her girls. Konal's scars had not turned him into a troll.
"In fact, this time is perfect. You girls go to the hall, and take my wool with you. I will be along shortly."
"Will you be all right, Lady Runa?" one of the girls asked with wide, brown eyes.
Runa stared at her, and not finding a kind word, restrained herself. At length, the girl gathered Runa's basket and joined the others as they moved down the track. Konal drew to her side as they both watched the girls leave, a few glancing back as if being chased.
"My days of impressing the girls are long done," he said with a sigh. "I rather liked the one with the big brown eyes."
Almost laughing, Runa reset her expression of annoyance. "What could you possibly want in returning here? Don't you remember what I told you when you left the first time?"
She folded her arms and Konal mirrored her, only his smile broadened. "I do, but I doubt you remember or you would not have asked me."
Hot shame flooded into her cheeks and she recalled encouraging him to return to his family to be a father and husband, and not to look back at her. "I meant leaving our relationship in the past. I'm sorry about your family. I have not had a moment to tell you so."
He shook his head. "Family is what I wish to discuss. Do you think it wise to speak here, where a dozen curious people pass us every moment?"
Regarding him levelly, she pointed with her chin at the track. "Walk with me and help me draw water from the well."
"The jarl's wife draws water from the well?"
"There is always work to be done and I can't abide sitting on a chair all day while others treat me as if I am made of straw."
They began to stroll as people hustled through their midmorning routines. A chicken wandered into their path, and fluttered and cried as the two drove it to the side. Neither looked at the other, and Runa felt her pulse quicken knowing full well what Konal intended to ask.
"So you no longer wear a sword and pants? I remember you swearing to bow to no one on that matter."
Runa laughed, a tense and nervous sound that made her wince. "When I ruled in Nye Grenner, I did as I pleased. Everyone knew me and understood why. Here, I have few friends and no understanding. I still practice my swordplay, and that is barely tolerated. I sometimes believe all the Franks need do to destroy this fortress is put all our women in pants. Every person would die of fright and the walls would collapse."
Konal's gusty laughter was warm and familiar, a soft touch of a time fast fading from memory. Despite the horrors of those days when he had dwelt with her, now with all of Fate's designs completed, she remembered them with fondness. Gunnar still had been a boy who clung to his mother and sometimes slept in her bed. Now things were so different.
Laughter fading as Runa grew pensive, Konal clasped his hands behind his back. "You practice still? That is good, but not so useful without a sword at hand in time of need."
"How little you know me. I keep a long knife strapped to my leg, beneath my skirt. I learned to draw it from a false pocket without it catching on the material. Without it, I feel as though I am naked."
Again he laughed, and Runa smiled with satisfaction. Her hand sought the knife handle at her left hip. The skin beneath the sheath had grown rough and thick, but it was a fair trade for protecting herself and her children.
"I pray the gods you won't draw it on me. You are a strange woman, Runa, and that is why I have always liked you."
Even such a banal comment cooled the air between them. She found herself stepping away. They continued farther in silence, until the hall came into sight.
"The well is just behind it," Runa said.
Once at the well, she positioned herself for an easy exit. Konal felt like the man she had once known, but if age had taught her anything it was that people change and not always for the good. Her hand again sought the blade beneath her skirt and Konal's eye was drawn to it.
"You really do carry a weapon under your skirt? I thought it a jest."
Runa stared at him blankly, until he withdrew his cowl and revealed his whole head. Up close, his scars were fiercer and angrier than when softened in shadows. He returned her blank stare, as if allowing her to see him the first time.
"No more idle talk, then. You asked why I returned. Ulfrik asked me the same. Here is my answer. I returned because I have no family left in this world. Kell's death has left me floating, and I need an anchor stone. I need a purpose."
"Justice for your family is not a purpose? Revenge? That is what honor demands, is it not?"
"Honor demands much. Revenge will come in time, but my enemy is strong. Imagine he is like the king of the Western Franks, Odo. He sits in Paris behind impenetrable walls with hundreds at his command. How would a handful of men avenge themselves upon him?"
"Sneak inside and kill him."
"Only to die in the attempt?"
"Won't you join your father and brother in Valhalla?"
"Would that be your hope for Ulfrik? Should he die in an attempt to avenge your death?"
"Is that not what men call glory?"
"So it is. And what if it were your son? Gunnar? Hakon?"
"Enough." Runa turned her head aside as her argument faltered. "You wanted to speak of family?"
Konal stood straighter and Runa turned a stern eye to him, her stomach tightening and her hands cold. She folded her arms across her chest, tucking them underarm to both warm them and conceal their trembling.
"Your son, Aren, has a peculiar look; would you agree?" Konal raised an eyebrow that tugged on the thin flesh of the burned side of his face. Runa did not answer, but folded her arms tighter as she listened. "When I left for home he was a babe, so small and sick that I feared he would not survive. But somehow I knew he lived. He is bigger now, and he reminds me of someone I once knew."
"Stop this, Konal. He is Ulfrik's son."
"Then why should Aren have my father's face? Why should he stand and walk like him? And most of all, why should I know in my heart that the sick child I left behind still lived?" Konal stepped forward as he drove his points, and Runa backed away with her hand falling to her hidden knife. Seeing this, he stopped and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
"Forgive my excitement, but I know my own blood when I see it. I have always felt the lives of my kin. Remember how I knew Kell survived the storm that wrecked me on your island? It is a gift of the gods."
Runa's heart beat against her ribs,
feeling like it would burst through the root of her neck. Whether she believed in his gift was inconsequential; she believed Aren was Konal's son. She had always carried the burden of that doubt with her, and Ulfrik saw her struggle with it, but never had the words been given voice. Konal stared at her with his chin titled up as if to defy any challenge, though his eyes shimmered with emotion. She spun around to put her back to him.
"You had best control your excitement," she said quietly. "I am none too pleased that you have returned, and further vexed that Ulfrik allowed you to stay."
Runa remained facing the hall. The sight of it made her think of poor Aren, a young child who did not know how to play with others and was liked by so few. Only Ulfrik accepted him, and then only because of Runa. If she ever died, she wondered what would become of Aren. Finally, Konal found his reply.
"He is my son, Runa; the only family left to me in the whole circle of the world."
"And what would you have me do? Ulfrik has chosen to raise him as his own. Did you come this far to insult Ulfrik and claim one of his sons for your own? Or do you have other designs?"
"I only desire to know my son, and be near family."
Runa smiled, but did not laugh. Troubles with Konal ran deeper than Aren's parentage. He had lost a fortune in jewels that Ulfrik now possessed in secret. To this day, only she knew of the treasure and its hiding place. As touching as Konal's story had been, his loss of status and wealth likely hurt him more. Could he have more in his heart than a wish to see his kin, she wondered. Could he be here to dig out treasure he long considered his own?
When Runa did not answer or face him, she heard him sigh then walk off. She closed her eyes and prayed the gods Ulfrik had not let a traitor slip into his own hall.
Chapter 14
Unable to locate Runa in time to respond to the news, he collected his three sons along with Einar, Snorri, and every hirdman in the hall and lining the track to the southern gate. The wind tangled his cloak against his body as he lined up before the dark log gates. The guards atop the walls and at the bar of the gate watched for his signal, which he gave with an impatient flick of his wrist.
Shield of Lies Page 7
