Shield of Lies (27 page)

Then sounds of a door opening in the adjacent room and thumps on the floorboards. Both Gunnar and Toki turned to the door, and Gunnar peered through the spaces between the heavy slats. He could see only shadows, but the Frankish voices of Clovis and his guests were clear. Rattling metal and creaking leather obscured their voices, but Toki urged Gunnar to translate. He raised a hand for silence, then pressed his ear to the door, holding his breath to listen for every detail.

The first voice was of the leader who had captured them. His royal baritone filled the room, and even through the door commanded respect. "You're badgering is both unsuited to you and tiring to me, Clovis. Please stop. King Odo has answered your call with me. Understood? When I speak, it is with the king's authority."

The shadowy forms stilled in the wake of the rebuke, but Clovis did not hesitate for long. "I am not defying the king's authority. Are you questioning my loyalty?"

"Never," was the long-suffering reply. "But I am questioning your judgment. I know you want the boy. So do I, and I have captured him on the field of battle. He is my hostage, to use however I wish. I may just have his head mounted on my standard and end your peevishness today."

Gunnar pulled back from the door, and Toki hissed at him for a translation. He provided a smattering of the talk, but quickly pressed his ear back to the door. The voices had drawn closer in that moment.

"I will pay you whatever you think Ulfrik will, more if I must. And there'll be no trickery from me, unlike that Northman snake."

"Oh you will? You cannot pay what I ask, because you do not possess the lands I want. Lands you have ceded to the Northmen and have failed to reclaim. Lands that should be awarded to one capable of holding them."

The door shook as hands grabbed the locking bars and both Gunnar and Toki fell away. Spear points would enter first, and neither wanted to lose an eye to carelessness. Yet the door remained closed, and Clovis's voice was bright with anger.

"Those lands have been held by my family for generations, and I am the rightful ruler. King's authority or not, you've not the power nor right to take the land from me."

"Well, I'd be taking it from Ulfrik, wouldn't I?"

The door opened and the expected rush of spear blades pushed Gunnar and Toki into the room. The man who had captured them was dressed in fine clothes, a contrast to the mail and leather he had worn in the field. He flashed a hawkish smile as his two spearmen continued to drive into the room. Clovis followed close at his heels, his face red and shining with sweat, his jumpy posture like a man who had just stood after falling from a horse.

"My God, Clovis, not even a piss pot? Do you want your floorboards to stink of Northman for the next decade?" Their captor frowned and snapped at the two guards to stop prodding. Gunnar tried to bat away a spear, but the blade flashed close to his hand and he recoiled. Toki, however, snagged a spear in his grip and tugged it, just to warn the Frank before releasing the weapon. The two stared at each other, and Toki's lips curled in a smile.

"Tell your protector to calm himself," said their captor. "He'll get through this alive if he behaves."

"He wants you to stop fighting," Gunnar translated. "He says you'll stay alive longer if you do."

Toki sneered at the Franks. "Says the wolf to the hare. But I'll go along. He's here to decide our ransoms, no doubt."

"I am Theodoric, and now, little man, you know what name to use for your song. I am here by the direct order of King Odo of West Frankia, and I bring three score of cavalry troops and three dozen footmen in my personal guard. You've seen what they can do. Counting the men under Clovis's banner, we are strong enough to wipe the stain of the Northmen from this land. More accurately, to trample it into the dirt. I will plant my banner in your father's heart, and I will have your mother shared with all my men. My spears will sag with the heads of your friends and kinsmen. Your homes will be smoke and ash, and nothing will remain to prove your filthy people ever polluted my domain with your repulsive countenance. And you will not be singing, little Gunnar Ulfrikson, not one note, for your body will be ground up and fed to pigs. Translate that for your friend."

Gunnar stared at his captor, Theodoric, and scowled. He turned to Toki, who waited for the translation. "He says he's going to defeat us."

"The Franks love to boast, and to hear themselves talk. Is that all he said?"

"He really dislikes our people." Toki snorted in laughter, and Gunnar joined him. The desperation of this situation, the complete hopelessness of it, left him no choices other than laughter or total collapse. He would not dishonor himself before going to Valhalla.

"Ah, bravado if the face of danger," Theodoric said. Clovis began to huff as if about to explode, but Theodoric commanded silence with a raised hand and thoughtful smile of his own. "Such is the way of your people. Believe me, I understand you pagan barbarians better than you think. Behind that brave face, you are as frightened as the child you are."

Theodoric's men had kept their spears leveled, and he had stood between them. Now, he stepped forward to Gunnar and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know what you are worth to your father. Clovis has explained it to me. Your friend? What is he to you? A kinsman?"

Suddenly Gunnar no longer felt bold, and his stomach tightened with dread. He blinked at Theodoric, whose smile contorted his face so that his high nose further resembled a bird of prey.

"The two of you look so similar, and so unlike others of your kind. Of course you are kinsmen." Theodoric patted Gunnar's shoulder. "Your expression tells me all I need. Now, I will send messengers to your father. Wouldn't he be more inclined to reason if he understood that not only his son but another of his kin were held here? His name?"

Gunnar swallowed, glanced at Toki who stared back without expression. The spear points hovered before them and Clovis seemed to lose patience with every heartbeat, wringing his hands and grinding his teeth. "His name is Toki, my uncle."

"Of course," Theodoric stepped back and clasped his hands behind himself. "I love neither death nor ruin, and wish it upon no man. The horrors I have foretold are avoidable. All your father need do is cede his lands to me. He can keep his gold, his men, his pride."

"An outrage," Clovis exclaimed, exploding forward. He grabbed at Theodoric's shoulder, but stopped short. Theodoric held still, flicking his eyes toward Clovis as if nothing more than a shadow had disturbed him. The tense moment passed, as Clovis stood down, snarling at Gunnar as he faded toward the door. Theodoric continued.

"Help me convince your father. Spare your people the shame of defeat and death."

"Shame and defeat are all you offer. Death in battle is glory." Gunnar turned up his chin, and repeated the words in Norse, so his uncle would understand. Theodoric smiled thoughtfully.

"Just like all of your ilk. If you will not leave, I will dig you all out by the roots. I wonder how glorious your women and children will feel when my horsemen catch them in flight?" He smiled at Gunnar before he turned for the door. "Your help was not expected, and I was a fool to try. But God has seen my attempt to do right, and that is all I required."

Theodoric exited before his two men followed. Clovis lingered and glared at both Gunnar and Toki, then he seized Gunnar's right arm. "As brash as your father, and just as stupid. I have a son, you know. He's without a hand thanks to your father. I'll see he's repaid in kind before you leave this place. Depend upon it."

He thrust Gunnar's hand away and stormed from the room. The bolts dropped back into place and both he and Toki stared after the door for long moments in silence. At last Toki settled to the floor and spoke. "Your father will pay whatever is demanded. Don't worry."

Gunnar nodded, but turned to face the wall, placing one hand on the damp cold rock. He wondered if his father really would, or if he even could, surrender everything for two lives. The doubt clawed at his heart, and he closed his eyes and touched his head to the wall.

Chapter 41

Ulfrik's weary procession across the cleared fields to the weather-blackened gates of Ravndal seemed to last all day. To the north, the hanging tree clawed the morning sky and the shadow of a corpse dangled from a muscular bough. He scowled at the corpse, cursing the fool who had sparked this strange fire that consumed his life. Gudmund, Throst's father, must be laughing even as he wanders lost in the icy fog of Nifleheim. It made Ulfrik wish he could hang the bastard a second time, for all the suffering his drunken rage had caused him.

The gates opened after Ulfrik answered the challenges. Both he and Einar were pleased at the vigilance of the men left behind, recalling a time when careless watchmen would allow any snake to pass for the right coin. Had it only been a few weeks, a month ago? Ulfrik shook his head as he led his troops in somber quiet through the gates. Time had become something longer and more painful than anything before Hakon had been kidnapped. Time had become an elusive enemy, always retreating out of reach yet never losing the battlefield. How much time did he have now that Gunnar was in Clovis's grip?

The flat and cold day fit the hunched and defeated gait of the men. No battles had been fought, but brothers had been buried. No defeat but no victory, and no glory nor any shame had been earned. They shambled home like men dazzled by lightning that had struck too close. They assembled in the main square, and Ulfrik released them with his thanks. Within moments of return, groups of his warriors formed and floated away to their barracks or families. He would gather them again in the coming days, but not before he saw Hakon.

"Where is everyone?" Einar asked as he waited with Ulfrik for the last of the men to disperse. "Our women are too busy for us?"

"Konal should have returned with Hakon, probably last night. They must all be in the hall, recovering from the celebration." Ulfrik smiled thinly as he imagined his family worn out from a tearful reunion.

"Then let's not waste any time," Einar said, then paused as he realized their arrival brought ill news.

Ulfrik faced the main hall and sighed. "This is one of the hardest moments of my life. All of this is my fault, and I deserve their scorn."

Einar cocked his head and his eyes flashed with warning. "No more of that, Lord Ulfrik. You are the jarl and no one should hear you speak of defeat."

Ulfrik laughed despite the fear welling inside him. Not long ago, Einar was a boy looking to him for direction but now he stood a head taller and admonished him on points of leadership. Even short-lived laughter gave him fortitude to deliver his news, and the two went directly to the hall. No one stood guard outside, and Einar shook his head as he opened the door. "Must have been quite a celebration."

Inside the hall, Ulfrik found nothing resembling celebration.

The hearth had collapsed to glowing embers throwing a feeble heat. Windows remained shuttered and the smoke hole cover had not be properly drawn, throwing the hall into a gauzy haze. Darkness pressed on the outlines of people hunched at tables or curled up on the floor. At first he thought they had all been killed, so lifeless were their postures, but a figure stirred from the high table.

Runa stood up from the shadows of her chair. Others lifted their heads, squinting into frame of light cast from the door. Now Ulfrik caught the scent of blood mixed with the pungent smoke of the smoldering hearth. He surged into the room, scanning for Hakon.

"By all the gods, what has happened here?" He met tired and uncertain eyes, none willing to hold his for long. Halla stood, then her children beside her. Her face and hair were starkly pale in the darkness, and her expression panicked. One hand hovered at her chest, and when she did not see her husband she covered her mouth.

"Where is Gunnar?" Runa swept down from the high table, her voice taut with control that threatened to break. As if to accent the disastrous news, Snorri had appeared and fully opened the smoke hole cover to blast the room with white light.

Ulfrik shook his head, and held Runa's eyes. It stopped her dead, and both hands went to her mouth.

"And Toki?" Halla rushed forward to grab Ulfrik's arm. He gave her the same solemn shake of his head.

"Both have been captured. Most of the others are dead."

Runa collapsed and a commotion of servants and hirdmen gathered to her. Halla began to sob, asking how it happened even as Ulfrik pulled free of her to tend his wife. Bera was beside her, fanning her face with her hand as Runa stared ahead with unfocused eyes. Others crowded her, a servant offering a cup of water that she did not acknowledge. The feeling of helplessness was so overwhelming, and the confusion of what had occurred while he was gone so complete, Ulfrik stood like a man made of stone.

"What is happening?" he mumbled to himself. "Where is Hakon?"

Then he saw the familiar faces of Konal's men, and then Konal himself. He was laid out on a table, and his eyes were empty as he stared at him. Ulfrik's guts turned to watery ice, for if Konal was dead, then so was Hakon.

Then the lifeless eyes blinked, and Konal began to stir.

He left Runa, surrounded by her servants and friends. Halla chased after him, demanding to know what had happened to Toki. He ignored her and came to Konal's side. Snorri met him and placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. His voice was low and hoarse. "He only returned last night. Ornolf did what he could for the wound, but it's butcher's work."

Konal tried to raise himself, but Snorri pressed him down. A wool blanket covered him, and as he struggled it fell away to reveal his naked torso. Ulfrik peeled it back and saw the ragged gash in Konal's side. It was angry red and thick cord held it shut, Ornolf's handiwork. Ulfrik knew the agony of those stitches. Each stitch required a hole to be poked through the flesh with an awl before feeding the thread through it. Men went blind from such pain, usually passing out before it was done.

"My burns were worse than this." He tried to smile and rub his face, but instead he grimaced and dropped his hand to the table. "But I'll be pissing blood for while."