"Piss on your shield! I've seen all your tricks and I'm through with them. Let me go then I'll set your wife free. "
Ulfrik frowned, then carefully placed his sword and shield next to his feet. He unhooked a throwing ax at his hip. "You've not seen this trick."
The plan flashed through Runa's mind. She yanked violently back and to the side. The blade point dragged across her flesh like a hot brand.
Ulfrik lined up his throw as if he had all day to make it. She closed her eyes but heard Clovis's intake of breath, then felt him jerk her back toward his sword.
She opened her eyes.
The ax flew.
A swoosh of air passed her head and a wet crack followed. Hot blood splattered the side of her face, and Clovis stumbled back. She did not turn around, but pushed forward from his dead grasp, content to hear him thud to the dirt. She rushed into Ulfrik's arms.
"No more hostages," he said as he pulled her close. "And no more tricks. The Franks are defeated. Our family will be together again, here in our home."
A wry comment formed then died in her throat. Was the madness finally over? No more fear and worry, no more dreams of dead children. She wanted to laugh but instead buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.
Chapter 57
Throst turned Astra's comb over in his hand. The day was late, the wind cold, and the lone oak tree on the hill had shed its last leaf. It was the dawn of winter and he had to secure a haven now that Ulfrik had defeated the Franks. What a lucky bastard, he thought and shoved the comb back into his pack. From the top of this hill he could see Ravndal's smudgy outline. He had been staring at it for days, telling Olaf and Dan that he was hunting without much luck. Only his mother knew the lie, and she had enough sense not to try him. His reasons for staring at Ravndal were unclear even to himself. It squatted atop its perch, hearths chugging smoke into the sky, its black walls defying all enemies. He imagined it collapsing into fire, but it never did. It endured.
The comb had been a promise of a meeting. Someone had left it after he had gone the prior day, carefully laid out on a rock. To deepen his interest, a small wedge of silver rested atop it. Another promise. Whereas Olaf would sensibly tell him silver can't fill a belly, wealth of any sort would see him a long way toward finding passage to safety away from here. So he waited all afternoon, circling the area and biding his time until boredom threatened to overwhelm him.
Then he spotted the figure in the distance. A woman shrouded in a heavy green cloak. She picked her way carefully, but with an artlessness that made Throst wonder how she navigated the unfamiliar paths. He thought of going downhill to spare the woman, but reconsidered. He did not know her or her purpose, and maybe this was all part of Ulfrik's final trick. So he watched the woman stumble up the hill.
He leaned against the tree, feigning nonchalance but keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword. He had filched it from the battlefield outside Ravndal, along with mail coats, helmets, bows, and Frankish surcoats. Those would be handy for crossing Frankish territory. They had even found a horse that had escaped the battle.
"Throst," she said, panting from her effort. "You found the comb, I see. It has been no easy thing to meet you here, but I am glad Fate has put us together at last."
"What's your game, woman? You're too old to warm my bed, if you came all this way for it."
The woman's expression was lost in the shadow of the cowl, but she drew up straighter, a pale white hand touching her chest. He noted the clean nails, fine-boned fingers, and smooth skin. Blue veins stood out, but otherwise these were the hands of a woman who made others work for her. A wooden cross of the Christians hung from a plain cord around her neck.
"I hope I haven't risked so much for a fool. Astra had nothing but praise for you."
"For all a dead girl's praise means to me. Thanks for her comb and the bit of silver, got me interested in meeting you. Want to tell me who you are?"
The pale hand slid up to the edge of her cowl and she pulled it back. "We have never met directly, though your lover may have spoken of me."
She revealed a pretty face marred only by a snub nose. Her hair was nearly white, and might have been beautiful in her youth though now its luster had exhausted.
"My name is Halla Hardasdottir."
He shrugged. "She did not speak much of you. Other things were more important. We had work to do and little time for it."
"Of course. I have had much work myself."
"Hard to believe, with those precious hands of yours."
Halla's eyes flashed, and it was as if she saw right through his bluster to the heart of his failure. "Hands are all anyone talks about these days. Did you know Ulfrik's son lost his hand before he was ransomed?"
"I'd heard something like that."
"Did you? You hear what goes on inside Ravndal since Astra died?"
He stiffened at the confirmation of her death. He had sent her on a suicidal task, but hardly expected her to die in the attempt. The thrill of a woman sacrificing her life for his whim was only a fleeting spark that failed to ignite anything better in him. Considering how everything had turned out, he regretted the decision. Such blind loyalty was irreplaceable, and he sorely needed followers now.
"Time is short," she said. "I assume you found the comb and the silver bit I had delivered to your meeting place?"
"I did, and guessed Astra's informer wanted to meet. I was curious how you were going to get here without being caught. Astra had a talent for it, but you plainly don't."
"The chaos of these last few days has allowed me to move at will, but that will soon end. My husband is still recovering from his captivity. I understand you set him free. That's what cost Gunnar his hand, and nearly cost my husband his life."
"So that's who you are? No wonder Astra knew so much. You're the wife of Ulfrik's brother." He put a hand on his head and laughed. "No wonder she wouldn't tell me where she got her news. I'd have come up with something better than snatching children if I thought I could get at Ulfrik's brother."
"He's Runa's brother," she said, eyes drawing to slits. "Now listen to me, Throst Shield-Biter." She twisted his name as if it were a joke, another mark against her. "I've come with an offer that you would do well to accept."
"Unless you're offering a ship across the sea, I'm not interested."
"Do you know how Astra died?"
"Bleeding."
"Yes, but by Runa's hand. Astra tried to kill her son, no doubt on your foolish orders. Well, they don't call her Runa the Bloody for no reason. She chopped her head off right in the hall, hacked her body till it was mince. I saw it myself, and I'll never forget it." Halla covered her face as if witnessing the horrible scene again. "It was a horrifying death."
"Death by the sword is hardly anything else."
"Don't you want revenge on the woman who did this to your lover?"
"I want revenge on all of the people shitting in that den of bastard dog-fuckers. Ulfrik killed my father, threw me out, humiliated me. Ruined my life."
"Yes," Halla's sympathetic urgency even frightened Throst. He recoiled from her as she leaned closer. "And his wife did the same to me. Now I've got to live out my days under her heel. Imagine all you've endured until now only for the span of years. All the while you've got to bow and scrape before Ulfrik. You've got to care for his children and smile in his presence, listen to his bragging and watch him revel in what he stole from your family. Everyone around you speaks of him as if he were a god. Oh, and he'll remind you every day that your father and mother were his enemies and their deaths were just. That's my life, Throst Shield-Biter, and I want to change it."
"Best of luck with that, then. I'm none too interested in your problems."
"We have a common interest." She stepped back, cooed the words as if to seduce him though all Throst felt was revulsion. "I want Runa dead and you want to hurt Ulfrik."
"I have hurt him. Now I just want to be away."
"Did you?" She cocked her head, one eye wider than the other. "Your na
me is already forgotten. Hakon is safe and doing well. All anyone worries about is Gunnar, and who dealt him that blow? It was not Throst Shield-Biter." Again she mocked the name. "You're just a bit of unfinished business, a rodent to stamp out once the bigger things are in order. Before the winter is done, all of your schemes would have left no mark on Ulfrik. You'll be forgotten, and as well you should. At best you were a nuisance. Was that your grand revenge? To annoy Ulfrik? Astra threw her life away just to spoil his wife's evening meal?"
"Your words are a bit sharp." Throst laughed off the shame, but every word was a hot brand on his soul. What in the name of all the gods had he achieved? What lesson had he taught Ulfrik? The white-haired bitch was right, and he hated her for it.
"Your plans held promise, but Fate was unkind to you." She placed a light hand on his shoulder, and feigned sympathy that could not fool a child. "Now is the time to leave a mark that will last forever. Take from him something that can never be replaced. Strike down his wife, that whoring, murderous bitch. Claim the true revenge that has eluded you. Make him grind his teeth at the thought of your name."
Throst swallowed. "An attractive idea, but I prefer a simpler target to his wife. That's why I went after the children in the first place."
"I'll make it easy for you, and offer payment. You can't be too rich, or a silver bit wouldn't have kept you waiting for me today."
He nodded. "True."
"Kill Runa. The time and the place are prepared. I'll get you access inside the walls."
"You're a powerful woman to arrange all that." Throst folded his arms and glanced past her toward Ravndal. "You're going to do this under their noses?"
"No one pays me any mind, but for Runa who has falsely blamed me for so many things that no one listens to her. My husband is like a brother to Ulfrik, and my husband tells me everything I want to know."
"Why not just piss off from this place if you've got gold to spend? Seems a fair bit easier than treachery."
Her head lowered and the crazed response Throst had expected emerged only as a thoughtful pause. She rubbed her face before answering. "She killed my mother, cut out her tongue. Took her a year to die from the wound, and all that time Runa whored around with Konal and scorned me. Wouldn't attend my mother's funeral, or even recognize her death. The day she left for Frankia was the greatest day of my life. But now Toki has vowed to serve Ulfrik again. He sees glory and riches here. I can't deny him, nor convince him to leave. But that doesn't mean I intend to live with that witch. The only good for coming south is the chance to avenge my parents, my mother in particular."
The wind filled the silence between them. Throst considered her reasons understandable if not practical. He wouldn't dissuade her, especially if she planned to bring chaos to Ulfrik's home. Besides, it wasn't his concern.
"What's the payment for taking your revenge?"
"So you'll do it?"
"Payment, enough for me and for my men. They'll have to help."
Halla's smile widened like a child discovering all the toys in the hall were hers. "Good gold for all of you. Rings and chains, a golden cross carried from the north. It will be enough for you all to barter a safe passage to anywhere you desire."
"Sounds like a pittance." It sounded like a hundred times more than he possessed, but he looked again at Halla's clean fingers and guessed more was available.
"This is your revenge, too. How much should I pay for something you'd do anyway?" She glared at him, but he did not flinch. She shook her head. "I've got three pounds of my own gold. Any more and I'd be stealing from my husband, which I can't do. Take that offer or not."
"I've a mind to take you and get a bigger reward for exposing your plot."
Her face paled and hand touched her neck, then just as fast she recovered. "And who'd believe you? Only Runa and that's not saying much. Besides, haven't we been partners all along? Astra was just our go-between."
Throst shrugged and laughed. "I wasn't serious about that. The price is fair. Tell me how to put Runa in the ground, and how you'll pay me, then you better get gone before twilight. Don't want your treachery discovered before all the fun starts."
Halla giggled, the disconcerting titter of a person touched with madness. She stepped closer, as if her plan might be overheard. "Killing her will never be easier."
Chapter 58
Ulfrik sat beside Gunnar's bed, hand resting on his son's leg. He realized Gunnar was awake from his shifting beneath the covers, but did not disturb him with words. He just waited for Gunnar to decide if he wanted to talk. He had not parted with many words since returning home. Looking at the arm hooked over the blankets and furs and lying across his chest, Ulfrik understood his reticence. He could not help imagining if they ignored the wound, then his hand would grow back. Yet the clean bandages changed during the morning were already spotted brown at the stump. No magic would restore him. No hero, however beloved of the gods, regrew a lost limb. It was one boon the gods never chose to grant a man.
Outside the low murmur of voices vibrated through the walls into the dark. Only a candle offered fitful light, glistening in the sweat on Gunnar's forehead. Noticing this, Ulfrik dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, wrung it out and dabbed Gunnar's head. He turned to the side in protest.
"If you are hot, remove these skins." Ulfrik began to pull back one and Gunnar clamped it down with his stump. "All right, then. How is the pain? Do you want more ale?"
He shook his head, the rustling of his pillow the only sound.
Victory lacked the sweetness Ulfrik had anticipated. His son lay crippled in his bed, sullen and unspeaking. He had lost more men than he had hoped, and Ravndal had taken more damage than expected. All cost him a good share of gold to make right. Gunther One-Eye had claimed Clovis's land as price for his aid, and was now out raiding the countryside for whatever he could carry away. But worse than any of these losses was the silence of his son.
The door creaked open. The light and sound it allowed into the room drew Ulfrik from his dark thoughts. Hakon's shape hovered in the door, and Aren was behind him. A yellow block of light framed them hesitating, but Ulfrik waved them closer.
"Your brother is awake. See if you can cheer him better than me."
Hakon stepped into the candlelight, coming to Ulfrik's side. He smiled and patted Hakon's shoulder. Though he had grown thin in captivity, the ordeal seemed to have left no other mark upon him. Perhaps it was his youth that gave him resilience, or the damage was not yet made visible. Ulfrik was grateful for Hakon simply returning to his old life as if he had only been gone with friends.
"How is your hand?" he asked Gunnar. When he did not answer, he pushed on him as if to awaken him. "Uncle Toki says you will learn to fight with your left hand. He says it can be an advantage."
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Gunnar faced the opposite wall. Hakon's big eyes fixed on Ulfrik's and he shrugged. Hakon lowered his head and stepped back from the bed. Aren waddled up to the edge, gripping something in his small hand. He stretched on his tiptoes to place a flat rock next to Gunnar's side. "For you," he said. "Found it at the creek."
Aren stepped down, not waiting to see if Gunnar recognized the gift, which he did not. Ulfrik, however, thought it curious and picked up the rock. It was flat and smooth from being in the water. It was a blue-gray rock with a vein of white through its heart. He smiled and placed it back where Aren had left it.
"Why this rock for Gunnar?"
"Because it is special and hard, like Gunnar."
The reason struck Ulfrik as too profound to be from a child, but Aren was unlike any child of his own age. Even Gunnar turned to glance at the rock, but then flipped back over. Neither Hakon nor Aren seemed to know what to do next, so Ulfrik gestured for them to leave. "Your brother is tired now. Go tell your mother I will join her in a moment."
The door shut behind them, the yellow light and clear sound shut out from Gunnar's world of silence. Ulfrik sighed and waited, but Gunnar did not move.
> "Fate has woven a black thread into your life," Ulfrik said, folding his hands around his knee and staring into the darkness. "But it does not mean the whole cloth will be black. You are a man now, son, and my pride for you is fierce. Toki told me you insisted on rescuing the others. He also told me that he was a coward, and your bravery shamed him. I am no judge of what was the right choice at that moment, but to stand with your crew and hold their lives as valuable as your own will never be wrong. You are a leader, not because you are my son, but because you are in your heart."
Gunnar remained facing the opposite wall in silence. Ulfrik watched the shadows from the candle dance across the lump of his body, then continued.
"I had tried to protect you from the ugliness of the world. Such is my arrogance that I believed Fate would not touch you on my command. For that I made you suffer, and I am sorry. And my scheming from glory led you to this black thread. Had I chosen to be more practical and less bold, perhaps you would not have lost your hand."
"It's not your fault." Gunnar's voice was weak and quiet. He still remained facing away. "The Franks surprised us all."
Ulfrik nodded. "I can't help but feel responsibility. If I had only returned from Gunther faster ..."
"It's not your fault. Don't say it anymore."
Glad to have his son speaking again but loath to sour his mood with the topic, he sat in chastened silence. Soon Gunnar flipped to his back, and the streaks of tears on his cheeks glittered in the candlelight. He stared up for a long moment before speaking.
"I will never stand in a shieldwall, never gather any glory to my name."
"You will stand in front of the shieldwall. You will point your sword at foemen and they will quail before you. None would even dare charge."
Gunnar snorted. "Don't joke with me, Father."
"I have seen it done, and I don't joke. A shield will be lashed to your right arm, and your left arm will become stronger than before. You have the heart of a bear and the fangs of a wolf. You will learn to lead and fight and make widows by the score. You will not falter and die like Clovis's son. Men will swear their oaths to you because you will bring them glory."
Shield of Lies Page 29
