"They are coming," said one of the hirdmen, pointing at the group of shadows emerging from the distant gates. Runa swallowed. What had he summoned her to discuss if not the ransom due?
"You don't need to speak to him," Snorri whispered at her side. "We've got until tomorrow."
Runa waved him back without looking. He had repeated the same thing since receiving Clovis's messenger, and she no longer wished to hear it. Had he not been like a father, she would have been tempted to strike him.
Clovis arrived with his attendants, though Theodoric did not accompany him. The swaggering gait of the man irked her. She imagined kicking him square in the crotch and watching that smugness turn to agony. His hands fussed with his cloak, and jeweled rings glittered in the pink light of the evening. He scanned them, and not finding Ulfrik, his eyes did not know where to land. She stepped forward.
"Here, do you not recognize me?"
"I thought you a servant," he said. Runa's hirdmen growled and threatened, but she held up a hand to them.
"I am Runa the Bloody, and I lead while Ulfrik is gone."
Tipping his head to the side, he blinked several times before laughing. "Such a fearsome name, yet I've not heard it before. You are Ulfrik's wife?"
"I am that too. Now did you call this meeting to gawk at me or were you planning to surrender and spare me the trouble of teaching you how I earned my name?"
His mouth opened in genuine surprise and he had no words. Runa had long been known as the Bloody for the violence she saved for her enemies. She was glad Halla had been persuaded to remain with her children, as hearing that old title would make her even less tractable than she had been since Toki's capture. Runa gave a thin smile, her hand feeling for the blade hidden beneath her skirt. Let me show you how different I am from the women you know, she thought. It'd be your last lesson.
"Well, I summoned Ulfrik and he has not come. Do I take it to mean he is still away?"
"You are more clever than I ever expected," she said.
The jibe took a moment to penetrate Clovis's understanding. His face darkened and his bemused smile turned to a snarl. "Such a light spirit. I wonder if you will be laughing tomorrow when your husband fails to show."
Her cold hands trembled and she folded them under her arms to hide it. Annoying Clovis might not be a good idea, but provided mild relief for her urge to kill him. "He will return with your ransom. Now why did you summon me?"
"Because Theodoric and I are impatient with this delay. A week was more than generous, and tomorrow marks the end of it. If our demands cannot be satisfied by dawn tomorrow, your kin will die."
"We have through tomorrow," Runa said.
"Until tomorrow," Clovis said, his sneer widening. "It seems you barbarians are not smart enough to count as high as seven days."
"Trickery," Runa snapped. "You cannot change the day. It is breaking your word."
"Your failure to mark time is not my concern. And those men behind you look eager to strike. Remember your children. If I don't return, you will find their heads atop my walls."
Runa whirled on the men behind her, who had lowered spears or had their hands upon their swords. Even Snorri and Konal seemed ready to strike. "We're here to talk. Put up your weapons and don't risk my family's lives."
Clovis stroked his beard as if considering what to do. He regarded Runa with slitted eyes. "It seems I will not have my ransom. I should have expected it. Let me tell you what I am planning, Runa. By tomorrow morning, if there is no sign of your husband or my ransom, I will not kill Toki."
A rush of breath came from Runa, not even realizing she had been holding it.
"I will kill Hakon instead."
"You dare not."
"I do. I am tired of your arrogance, of the games you play, of everything about you. Your son is a brat, and if you won't pay for his life then I will dispose of him. The others are Theodoric's hostages, but don't expect him to be any more patient than me. In fact, he has wearied of this faster than I had expected. He's of a mind to kill all the hostages at once and destroy you now."
"He's bluffing," Snorri whispered from behind. "Their advantage isn't that big. If the hostages are dead, then we will pin them inside and all their horses won't matter."
"What are you whispering about?" Clovis demanded. "Do you have no answer for me?"
"Tomorrow you will have all you ask, whether Ulfrik has returned or not."
Snorri gasped, then rasped in her ear. "Lass, you can't do that. It's not our land to give."
She nearly bowled him over as she rounded to leave Clovis. Konal grabbed her arm, and their eyes met. Her glare withered him, and he let her go. No more games, no more tricks. If Ulfrik failed, then she was not surrendering her children to death. Let him live in shame, let him pay, but not her sons.
"Tomorrow at dawn," Clovis called after her.
The hirdmen fell in behind, and she closed her ears to their murmurs of protest. These games were finished.
Chapter 49
In the predawn light, Throst and his two companions entered the square tower where Clovis imprisoned the hostages. No one minded them, as all but a scattering of watchmen on the palisades still slumbered. The Franks had proved to be indolent people who looked to their slaves whenever real work needed to be done. The fortress was asleep, and would not awaken until the roosters forced them to accept a new day had arrived. They entered the empty ground floor and cautiously moved to the wooden stairs leading up.
"This is a fool's business," Olaf whispered. "If we're going, then let's be gone. This is the wrong fucking way."
"Shut up, Olaf," Dan grumbled and pushed him forward.
Throst glared at both of them, paused before setting foot on the creaking steps, then started up. In one hand he carried an ax which had been looted from the Danes, more than likely Ulfrik's people. In his other, he clutched a sheath sword of Frankish make. Both had been given to him for sharpening by one stupid brute who had not understood Clovis had forbidden them weapons. If it was not a sign of the gods' favor, Throst did not know what else would be.
The darkness was unbroken but for the candle Dan carried. They moved through a murky circle of light that barely revealed their feet, and Throst caught his foot on more than one step as they climbed. On the second floor two men slept on pallets covered in straw. One had his back turned while another lay on his side facing them. Neither stirred and both snored like thunder. They guarded a barred door where Hakon was kept.
Throst was tempted to say farewell to the boy. In truth, he was not a bad child, and had he been another man's son, Throst could have liked him. Still, he was a tool that had no more use. Today, unless Ulfrik produced his ransom, poor Hakon would die and no one at all would have benefited from all his suffering.
Continuing to the third floor, they paused and Throst gave a silent look to both his men. Dan nodded in understanding and handed the candle to Olaf. The light began to quake, and Throst smirked at Olaf's fearful quake. He shot Throst a frown and looked away. Using hand gestures, Throst pantomimed strangling a man with both hands. Dan mimicked him with a wicked smile. Throst stepped down and let Dan go first. Though he had an ax and sword, a silent death was necessary for their eventual escape. Besides, blood would run through the floorboards and alert the guards below.
Unfortunately, the guard on this level had already awakened. He sat at the edge of his makeshift bed, hair a tangle with bits of straw still clinging to it. He rested on his knees, and stared at them as if he hadn't yet awakened. Throst feared the guard would shout a warning, but Dan struck fast. His ponderous weight thudded heavily across the floorboards, loud enough to Throst's ears to awaken everyone between here and Paris. Yet Dan's thick hands seized the Frank's throat, and the two fell back on his bed.
The swaying light of Olaf's candle flashed across the struggle. The Frank began kicking, and Throst grabbed his legs to still him. A desperate choking sound was all the Frank managed, and ceased long before Dan released him. After a few
more moments, Throst tapped Dan's shoulder.
"Don't pop off his head," he whispered. "I think you can drop him. He's bluer than a dolphin."
Olaf hissed for silence, and the three froze. Olaf shielded his candle and all three watched the dark hole of the stairs down. Relieved it was nothing more than snoring, they returned to their task.
"Let's get gone." Olaf's voice cracked as he tried to keep it low. Throst ignored him, picked up his ax and sword, then faced the bolted door where Gunnar and Toki were imprisoned.
"Just a few more things to do, and we're finished." Throst drew the sword and placed the sheath by the dead guard. With both weapons in hand, he gestured for Dan to unbolt the door.
The heavy bolts lifted out of the brackets, and Dan gripped one like a hammer ready to strike. Olaf, lofting his candle high with one hand, pulled the door open.
At first Throst saw nothing in the darkness but the faintest rectangle of gray predawn light high to the left. Olaf's candle feebly lit the entrance and nothing but rotten straw showed. A terrible smell of sweat and urine spilled out of the room. Impatient, he nodded Olaf forward with the candle, which he hesitated to do until prodded with the point of Throst's sword.
The circle of light crawled across two sets of booted feet peeking from beneath a single wool blanket. Throst recognized Gunnar and assumed the other man was Toki. Both slept soundly, and Throst let out a relieved laugh. He had expected a rush from the shadows.
"Good morning," he said as he pricked at their feet with his sword. "Time to get up and face the most important day of your life."
Gunnar recoiled from the blade, his eyes wild and disoriented. Toki, startled by the commotion, reacted with more alertness. He too backed up, but he had already gathered the blanket into his hand to serve as a net if he needed it. Throst stepped back from both of them.
"We're not Franks; so keep your voices down if you don't want to summon every man in this tower."
Toki was on his feet and Gunnar regained himself. Throst had Dan to flank him and Olaf to block the exit. His two weapons flashed candlelight, and Toki's eyes flickered to them.
"And you don't seem much like friends, either. Who are you?"
"You would not recognize me, but your nephew should. Olaf, bring that candle closer."
Throst smiled as Gunnar studied him. He enjoyed the rapid transition of expressions, from confusion, to curiosity, then to recognition and finally rage.
"Throst, you fucking bastard!" Gunnar leapt forward but Toki barred him with an outstretched arm, his eyes never leaving the gleaming point of the sword facing them.
"Voices, please. Only the guard on this floor is dead but the others are quite alive. The sun will rise soon, and so will they, if you don't awaken them now."
"What is this all about?" Toki asked, pulling Gunnar closer to his side. "If you're here to kill us, then you won't get the quiet you demand."
"Killing either of you was never my intent, at least not directly."
"Then what about Hakon?" Gunnar hissed, and again Toki laid his arm across his chest.
"Your father hanged my father then tossed my family into the wild. That should be all the explanation you need, but let me be clearer. My father was a stupid drunk, worthless to everyone. Your father knew it and I'm sure he was glad to be rid of him. Honestly, so was I. But it's not for anyone to take what is mine and no one treats me like your father did. No one."
Throst checked his own growing rage and cleared his throat. "I had a chance to build something great, or at least I thought I did, and a chance to make your father pay. I've done that part, I would think. But now everything is different. My plans are all failures. I've gotten nothing for my efforts, but for these two friends with me this morning. Clovis stole my only hostage, your dear brother, and has stripped me of my honor. He has me shoveling horse shit. Do you know how much one horse can shit in a day, never mind the dozens that Theodoric has stabled here?"
Gunnar and Toki stared at him as if he were mad. Perhaps he was, and he did not care. He was telling them the truth and it felt good. No one treats a freeman like a slave, and makes a skilled warrior a stable boy.
"Your hardship touches me," Toki said. "It's too bad that deceit and treachery don't pay more coin."
"I agree, for I should be a rich man by now. I should've grabbed Ulfrik's first offer and ran, but there was more for the taking. I just couldn't get it. Now Clovis will have all the fun. Or at least he thinks he will."
Throst let their confusion bloom in the pause, then he lowered the sword to the floor, keeping his ax at the ready. Toki and Gunnar stared blankly at the weapon as he backed away from it. Dan stood poised to bash them with the heavy wooden bolt if they attacked. Both edged to the door, and Olaf was tugging at the back of Throst's shirt. "Hurry, dawn is coming."
"I've no means to get back at Clovis other than to ruin his plans. Take this sword and find your way out, or earn yourself a good death. As long as Clovis can't profit from you, I'm happy. Now I've got to go. Your brother is held on the floor below us, and the rest of your men somewhere below this tower. I've never seen that place."
"By Freya's tits, man, shut up. I'm leaving," Olaf pulled back, but Dan caught him before he could go.
"How are you getting out?" Gunnar asked.
"This ax, darkness, and a rope is all I need." Throst winked at him. "But I'm not leaving it behind for you."
Gunnar stepped forward to retrieve the sword, he pointed it at Throst and hissed as loudly as he dared. "This bit of help won't save your hide. When I find you next, you will die."
"You won't find me, not unless I want you to, little boy."
Olaf glided down the stairs, followed by Throst and Dan covering the rear. Neither bothered to check if the others followed. At the exit of the tower, Olaf extinguished the candle and they flitted into the shadows between buildings. Throst glanced at the tower behind them, wondering how Gunnar would fare. He shook his head. That whole adventure was over now. He had to settle a few more things before moving on.
"Dan, the coil of rope." Throst held out his hand. "I'll take a running leap at the wall, and once Olaf and I are on the other side we should be able to anchor this rope well enough for you to climb. But you've got to be quick."
Throst hefted the ax, ran for the wall and jumped. The ax head bit into the wood just short of the top, and he let out a stifled shout of success. Working quickly, he pulled up and straddled the wall, then dropped the rope down to his men. As he waited for Olaf to grip it, he surveyed Clovis's fortress, noting a few orange lights wink into life.
"I hope Gunnar drives that sword into your smirking face, Clovis," he said to himself. "I only wish I could stay to see it."
Chapter 50
Gunnar ranged the sword in the gloom before him. Throst may have left a weapon, but he left no light, and they could not afford to wait for dawn. A dozen misshapen plans crowded his thoughts, and none made any sense. He had prayed often enough for a rescue, but never planned to have to conduct it himself. Shame fought with fear as he stepped onto the barest outline of the stairs leading down. Toki had his hand upon his shoulder, having declared Gunnar's eyes better than his own. He wanted to remind Toki that youth did not grant the ability to see in the dark.
The stair creaked, and once he found the rhythm of the steps, he guided them to the floor below. Now what? The layout of this floor was the same as the one above: a living area for guards and a cell with a bolt across the wooden door. He could guess a path through the room by the faint light that filtered down from a single window. The snores of the guards were the only other clues. The killing had to be swift and confident, or the alarm would destroy the tenuous plans Gunnar managed to hold together in his excited mind.
Toki still gripped his shoulder, and his fingers were like iron nails digging into his flesh. In his other hand he held the wooden door bolt. It was the best weapon they had until they could find another. He tugged Gunnar toward the beds in the dark. The blue-gray outlines of b
reathing lumps under covers were the targets, though he could not tell legs from heads. If he stabbed a foot, their surprise would be nullified.
Raising his blade, he stopped short as Toki yanked his shoulder. He could hardly see his uncle in the dark, but his head shake was clear. Gunnar's heart thundered such that he feared it could wake the guards. One of them turned on his side, and his snoring ceased. Gunnar worried the man may have awakened, yet Toki had him remain still. At last he released Gunnar's shoulder and began to move carefully toward their victims. Toki's raised bolt was outlined in white light above his head.
Gunnar focused on what appeared to be a man's head, lining up his sword with it as he drew nearer.
Then his hip caught a table, and the sound of it dragging sounded like thunder.
A jug toppled and crashed with a splash on the wooden floor.
The head turned, and for a moment Gunnar did not understand a face was looking directly at him. It seemed an eternity that the sleepy, confused eyes shined out in the darkness.
Another rose up, and Toki's door bolt slammed down across the head with a wet crack. The body slumped with a groan.
A third man stirred, mumbling Frankish nonsense.
Another strike from Toki's bolt landed across his chest. He gasped but his breath vacated from his lungs, and Toki smashed him again. This time his face caught the blow and he snapped back onto his bed and lay still.
Gunnar's man was already rising, finally comprehending. Gunnar lunged and the sword caught the side of his face.
The scream was ghastly, and the man thrashed in agony as blood splashed between his fingers and over the blanket. Toki swung from the side, as if striking at a ball, connecting with the man's head and sending him crashing out of bed. He whimpered, and Gunnar wasted no time in plunging his blade into the dark mass beneath him. He did not see where he had struck, but it was deep and he felt the man's pulse thrumming in the blade, weakening until it stopped.
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