Shield of Lies (29 page)

"Ulfrik," a thin voice addressed him. He looked up and Halla and her children were before him. Runa had already taken Aren to bed, and Halla must have waited for her opportunity to approach. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I am just frightened for Toki."

He smiled at her and nodded. "No need, we all share your worry. But he is a tough man, and he will hold his own. Do not fear for him. I will not rest until he is free and returned to your hearth. You have my word upon it."

She inclined her head, then gathered her children to her. "I prefer to stay in the bed you provided to Toki and me. It's better, I think. I feel nearer to him that way."

"As you wish. A good night to you, Halla." He winked at her children, who clung to her like frightened rabbits.

Returning his well wishes, she turned to leave.

It was an errant glimpse, a chance sweep of his gaze, but it made his hands chill. The murky light obscured it, maybe he even imagined it. Of course he only imagined it. It could not be what he had assumed it was.

As she had turned, her skirt spun and spread around her legs. The back of her skirt hem was darkened with heavy black stains as if dipped into a thick fluid. Though his eyes had seen blood stain and splatter a thousand times over, he had to have been mistaken. Surely she had dragged her skirt unknowingly through something. Not blood.

She left and he remained sitting straight at the high table. Suddenly he no longer felt groggy, but intensely awake. In the morning, he would have to satisfy himself that it had only been mud on Halla's skirt.

Chapter 43

Throst waited in a crowded stone room that smelled of wood smoke and sweat. Rotten straw scattered on the floorboards added a hint of grass to the odors. The only things smelling worse than the room were Dan, Olaf, and himself. His head itched constantly and he realized he hadn't bathed since Ulfrik ejected him from Ravndal. Crates and barrels, mostly empty, competed for space with the rough table where he and the others sat. A broken pair of tongs were propped against the wooden interior wall, laced with cobwebs. The three men tried to appear relaxed in the square of light cast through a single window, though Throst judged his companions poor actors.

"This is taking too long," Olaf said, rubbing both his shoulders as if cold.

"You have to be somewhere?" Throst asked, and Olaf turned away with a frown.

"You shouldn't have surrendered Hakon without taking our ransom first," Olaf said. "It was a stupid thing to do."

"Weren't stupid," Dan said, his voice deepening with threat. "Do you forget the arrows and spears pointed at us? What was to be done?"

"Not coming here in the first place would've been better." Olaf continued to rub his shoulders and faced the light slanting in from the window. "More likely we'll be dancing from the end of a rope by day's end."

"I'll pull your legs if you promise to shut up now," Throst quipped. "You were not bound to follow me, but here you sit. That promise of silver was too much for you to resist after all. Maybe we're not going to be paid anything, and maybe Clovis will bury us in gold. But we've been too useful just to kill us out of hand. How could we have known he already captured Gunnar? That was a nice piece of luck for him, but made our news worthless. Still, delivering it showed him our value. It was not a poor choice to come."

"That's right. Shut up, Olaf." Dan's pronouncement drew a sneer from Olaf, but Throst chuckled.

Clovis had held them overlong, and had not even offered a drink. They had retained their weapons, and therefore could not be considered prisoners. Still their treatment did not bode well for the future. Throst would not admit the defeat Olaf was always prepared to embrace. Coming to Clovis was indeed a risky proposition, but Throst now lived in a world brimming with ridiculous risks. There was no choice that would not end with a blade through his guts, so he chose this path. At the least, he had the possibility of a reward.

Footfalls and murmured voices at the door preceded its opening. Framed in the entrance was regal Clovis, his clean and bright face full of wicked delight. Throst swallowed hard, but forced a smile.

"Pardon my delay, but your arrival surprised me." Clovis inclined his head slightly. "Hakon is now with his family, and it was actually a touching reunion given their circumstances."

Clovis did not enter the room, and figures backed him up. Throst did not enjoy the sense of entrapment. He stood carefully, wanting to show respect but not willing to be looked down upon.

"It was my pleasure to deliver Hakon to you, as well as news of Gunnar's vulnerability."

"Yes, Gunnar is the prize that makes keeping his runt brother worthwhile. Ulfrik is ruined now, unless I misjudge him."

"He stakes much pride on his sons," Throst said, daring to step closer. Clovis's eyes flickered with anger and his lip curled, so Throst halted. "He will pay whatever you ask of him, I am sure."

The men beyond the door stirred and at last Throst glimpsed a gangly young man hovering behind Clovis. The stump of his right arm was clutched against his belly, identifying him as Clovis's son. He was a sadder, more defeated version of his father, like something left submerged so long that its color had drained away. Clovis caught Throst's glance and he smiled, stepping aside to reveal his son and three more guards as well.

"You see my son's hand, how it has ruined him? Gunnar will return to his father just the same, ransom or no. That is the price for what he did to my family. How can he lead without a sword hand?"

Throst did not follow the logic, but Clovis's son sagged lower each time his father mentioned him. He would pour through the floor in a moment, and Throst pitied him. Yet, Clovis's battles with Ulfrik were no longer his concern. Unless Astra either killed or kidnapped his third son, their battles were done. He merely wanted his reward and a chance to flee with his small band.

"You will have justice for such a pitiless crime," he said, and his words drew frowns like he had fouled the air. Moving past his error, he pressed Clovis. "Now, there is the matter of the ransom price."

Letting the words linger, he watched as Clovis shared glances with his son and men. Then he spread his hands wide. "For such fine service, I grant you the very highest reward I can give. I will spare your miserable life."

"Are you joking with me?" Throst's vision flashed white with anger and he stepped forward into spears that rushed at him. He swatted one aside, though two more stuck into his ribs and halted him. "You promised a fucking reward. Now you throw me out with nothing more than your thanks?"

Clovis's face turned red and rather than anger he burst out laughing. The guards held their faces stern a moment, then joined him. Only the son did not share their laughter. "Then you'd rather I take back my offer?" he asked. "It is no matter to me. Your head will be a fine gift to Ulfrik. It will be my token of sincerity when I bargain with him."

The spear points in his ribs pressed harder and broke through the cloth of his shirt. The hotness of his anger turned to chill fear, and he stepped off the spear points with raised hands. "No, of course I will accept your offer. Forgive my outburst. I had high hopes."

"A little too high for such a small man," Clovis said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Though your boldness does entertain me and you've proved yourself to be a resourceful little rat. Since you've got nowhere to turn, and I have use for your talent, you may stay on. Not with the regular men, not for a while. But you'd be a freeman, and have a warm hearth with ready food. In time, you might become a regular in my army. How's that for a generous offer?"

Throst imagined Clovis lying on the floor, both hands on his throat and blood bubbling through his fingers. He imagined stomping his face until nothing but red mush clung to his foot. He imagined this whole fucking stone prison crumbling into a mound of flaming ruins. "We would be overjoyed at your generosity."

Both Olaf and Dan exhaled behind him as Throst inclined his head. Clovis again laughed. "Not those two lumps of shit. They've no place here."

His eyes flicked up to meet Clovis. The arrogant bastard still smirked but his eyes flashed with deadly seriousness. Something cracked in Throst's heart, and at that moment he would rather die than bend one more time to this man's will.

"Then I go with them. You cannot have me without them. They are loyal men, and deserve better than to send them out alone."

Clovis stared at him, long and hard. His tongue probed his cheek as he considered, then he shrugged. "As you wish. You all go."

Throst's gaze did not flinch. Clovis straightened at the challenge and the muscles in his jaw began to work. Throst felt his own palm itch for his weapon, even with spear points a thumb's distance from his torso. He cared not at all for his own life, not if it meant he had to live with a boot on his neck.

"Wait." The son spoke at last. "Father, we need his talent for spying. He has access to Ulfrik's hall, and we shouldn't let that get away. Keep his men; it's no burden to us. Take their weapons until they've proved their loyalty."

"Ulfrik is already defeated," Clovis said, not unlocking his eyes from Throst's. "I don't need to know what's happing in that dung heap."

"Still, until the deals are settled isn't it better to have such tools available if we need them?"

The silence stretched until it grew uncomfortable, and at last Clovis capitulated. "My son has a good deal of wisdom. If you relinquish your weapons to me, and swear an oath of service, then you may remain for a while. All three of you."

Without waiting for his companions' responses, Throst bowed his head. "We will agree to that."

Clovis grunted and waved back his spearmen. They relieved Throst and the others of their weapons while Clovis and his son observed. He met the son's stare, who surprisingly did not turn away. Throst let a weak smile lighten his face and tipped his head.
My thanks to you
, he thought.
I will spare your life when I tear this whole place to the ground and piss on your father's corpse
.

Chapter 44

In the dawn of the next morning, Ulfrik awakened from a shapeless nightmare to Runa's hands shaking him. Her words oozed like sap through his sleep haze, but at the instant of comprehension he bolted upright.

"Messengers from Clovis have arrived. They're held outside the hall right now. Get up." Her smooth, cold hands pressed against his numb flesh as she hauled him to his feet. She began piling clothes next to him, while Aren held a wooden bowl of water for him to splash his face. After several moments of fumbling, Runa roughly combed his hair and Aren fetched him a cloak pin of polished silver to complete his transformation into a jarl.

"How many have come?" he asked as he ran his hand through his beard, tugging on the knots.

"There are four, one messenger and three guards. They have surrendered their weapons before entering the gates. Snorri and Einar are all over them." Runa pushed him toward the door, and Aren swung it open for him. He smiled at his son as he shuffled past, but Aren remained as stale as ever.

Taking his seat in the hall, Runa joined him. Snorri stood just inside the hall door and when Ulfrik motioned he opened the doors and spoke to the men beyond. A pale yellow light streamed down from the smoke hole and through the eastern windows. No one but a few servants remained in the hall, but that changed in moments. Snorri held open the main doors for hirdmen to file inside, taking up positions on the long walls of the hall. Next, Einar's giant frame filled the door, and finally the messengers were herded inside by the last of his own hirdmen.

They wore their hair in the Frankish style, straight and blunt-cut across their brows. They wore impractically bright clothing, fresh blue shirts with yellow pants. Royal colors, Ulfrik knew, but colors that proclaimed them to any enemy within a dozen miles. Mud stains splattered their legs from their journey, but otherwise they made a rich showing.

The lead man stopped before Ulfrik. Einar flanked them and pointed at the ground, demanding they kneel. They appeared shocked, but Einar's face reddened and snarled. The Franks quailed and took to their knees before Ulfrik. He left them kneeling until he noted their discomfort, then bade them to rise.

"You've got a message for me?" Ulfrik asked in Norse, trusting one or all of them to understand. The leader nodded and dusted off his pants with barely concealed disgust.

"I am sent on behalf of Baron Theodoric and Clovis. Your two sons, brother Toki, and twelve other men under your protection are hostages to my lords."

"Get on with it," Ulfrik demanded. "I know their names already."

"As you say, Jarl Ulfrik. My lords have commanded me to deliver you this message. For each man, excluding your two sons, the price is set at ten pounds of silver. To aid your understanding, that is one hundred thirty pounds of silver."

Gasps circled around the room but Ulfrik marshaled his feelings, showing no sign other than irritation at the assumption he could not add. "For your understanding, I can count that high."

The messenger pursed his lip and shrugged, continuing the demand. "For your two sons, silver alone is not enough, so it must be land. You are to evacuate this fort and turn it over to Baron Theodoric. You and all your people will be allowed free passage to your master in Rouen."

Runa glanced at him, her face taut with worry that the ransom would be too much for him. The land could never be surrendered unless Hrolf the Strider allowed it. That was a plain fact to everyone listening. Ulfrik nodded to her, knowing he had to delay while he considered a way out of the problem.

"Your lords demand a terrible sum from me. They seek to destroy my wealth and deprive me of my land. They ask me to die."

The messenger shrugged once more, as if he agreed, but said nothing. Ulfrik leaned forward.

"To raise so much silver and arrange for all their other demands, I will need time. I will also need surety that all of these men and my sons are still alive. Your word is simply not good enough, so do not offer it to me. I am insulted they would send you four in their stead, for I am sending you back this morning with my reply. I must see all of the hostages and be satisfied of their welfare. Then, I will discuss with them the terms of their ransoms."