Banners of the Northmen (7 page)

Gunnar stood behind Ulfrik and he felt his son leaning close. Gunther drained his horn, dropping it across the table then wiped his thick mustache with the back of his hand. He fixed his single eye on Gunnar, then leaned toward him.

"Does my eye scare you, boy?"

Gunnar shook his head, but Ulfrik felt him press closer.

"He thinks you're Odin," said a hirdman seated beside Gunther, who exploded in laughter. Ulfrik put a comforting arm over Gunnar, and drew him forward.

"That right, boy? Do you think I'm Odin? Sitting with your Da and drinking his ale?"

"No, lord," Gunnar ducked out from Ulfrik's arm, his face reddening. "I wondered how you lost your eye, lord."

"Your manners are a compliment to your father." Gunther raised his brow at Ulfrik. "He calls me 'lord' and not 'a drunk.' Did you hear?"

"I did, but he'll learn soon enough."

More laughter lightened the mood, and Gunther wiped his face with a paw-like hand. He leaned down to Gunnar's height and met him eye to eye. "Odin sacrificed his eye to Mimir for a drink from the Well of Wisdom. But old Gunther got his plucked out against his will."

"How did it happen, lord?" Gunnar's eyes widened, and his fingers drifted to his own eye.

"With a spear. One moment's distraction in a shield wall, and an enemy spear plucked away my eye. Just like that!" Gunther jabbed at Gunnar's eye with a gnarled finger, causing him to jump in surprise and drawing laughter around the table.

"Did it hurt, lord?"

"Hurt?" Gunther leaned back, a bemused smile twisting his lips. He glanced around the table before answering. "No, it didn't hurt. At the time I was too drunk to notice."

Men hurled backwards in an uproar, even Ulfrik burst out laughing. Gunnar's blush deepened as he smiled, and Ulfrik guessed he missed the humor.

Soon the meal was served and Runa and her women circulated through the crowd with steaming bowls. Humbert had been pressed into reluctant service, filling mugs and drinking horns. He distributed them with an expression that made it seem he handled urine rather than ale. He spilled a horn over someone's head, Ulfrik guessed intentionally, and he received a reflexive punch that sprawled him on the dirt floor. Another was following, but Gunther stopped the man with a shout.

As the feast proceeded and men ate and drank, then sang songs or told riddles, Ulfrik's mood lightened. Even Runa, now seated beside him with Hakon on her lap, smiled and laughed. For a short time, he forgot his worries and reveled in celebration. However, each time he met Gunther's toasts with a raised mug or answered one of his simplistic riddles, dread smoldered in the pit of his gut. He still did not know Gunther's purpose.

At last, late in the night when most of his men were face down on tables or fallen beneath them, he lifted his one eye to Ulfrik's. True to memory, he had consumed copious volumes of ale but remained sitting straight and clear-faced. Ulfrik had paced himself, knowing the moment for real talk would require his full wits. Gunther's single eye drifted to Runa, who sat defiantly for a moment before rising from the bench.

"A good night to you, then," and Runa strode toward their room where Gunnar and Hakon had already gone to bed. Ulfrik watched her go, then turned to Gunther.

"You didn't just come to sample my hospitality." He gestured Snorri to slide closer while Toki, Einar, and Ulfrik's other trusted men leaned in to listen.

"Your hospitality is as great as it ever was, nor has much changed in three years." Gunther's single eye squinted, while the ruined flesh of his other eye wriggled. "I expected you'd have expanded since defeating Hardar."

Ulfrik sighed, while his men bowed their heads or turned away. "After you left, winter was hard. Every winter has been hard. It took all my wealth to rebuild, and to rebuild Ingrid's lands. And ships and weapons cost, as you know."

"That they do," Gunther agreed. "But I thought you wealthier."

"I was, but I had lands to the north that now need tending, and blood prices to pay after the war with Hardar." Ulfrik found himself glancing at the red-faced and frowning Thrand the Looker, who sat at the farthest end of the high table. "Summer raids have not been good. We're just returned from one that barely paid for itself."

"Why not raid farther south? What's wrong with Mercia or Ireland?" Gunther belched, then raised his horn for another drink. Humbert emerged from the darkness to fetch the horn.

"We can't be gone so long. Hardar's cousins harry us. They just robbed me of half my flock. Imagine what they could do if I were gone an entire summer."

Now Gunther turned away and a few of his men smirked. Realization sparked for Ulfrik.

"You've come to summon me, haven't you? Jarl Hrolf has not forgotten me after all."

Gunther sighed, nodding his head. "Jarl Hrolf the Strider is summoning all bondsmen to attend him with as many men and ships they can muster. You have a month to prepare and travel to the meeting place in Denmark."

Ulfrik straightened, then steadied himself before speaking. He projected confidence into his voice, though his mind raced through the depressing implications. "Hrolf makes war on the Danes, then?"

"Not at all; he has allied with them. Jarl Sigfrid is a mighty Dane, much like Jarl Hrolf. He had led an army to Frankia and demanded payment from their king. He refused, and now Sigfrid plans to plunder Frankia as a show of strength. He spoke with Jarl Hrolf, and the two made a plan to assemble a great army."

"Like the great army in England?" Ulfrik had heard stories of the great army's victories against the Saxons, but considered them overblown.

"A greater army," Gunther spread his arms as his voice rose with excitement. "This army will swallow the Franks. We are going to sail up their rivers and destroy everything in our path. Sigfrid is demanding seven hundred pounds of silver!"

Ulfrik sucked his breath at the enormous sum, as did others gathered to listen. "Even a king would struggle to raise that much silver."

Gunther and his men laughed. "Now I know you've been on these islands too long. The kings of Frankia are wealthy beyond imagining. But wealthy and weak. Their fat bastard of a king couldn't even hold a knife in battle. The king is a reflection of the people. We'll stomp the Franks into the earth if they find guts enough to oppose us."

Gunther's men grumbled and nodded in agreement. Humbert, hovering at the periphery with Hrolf's refilled horn, used the moment to present it to him. Ulfrik watched the slave, who trembled as he handed over the horn. He recalled the promise of hidden gold inside the walls of Paris.

"Tell me this, do Hrolf and Sigfrid plan on attacking Paris?"

"More than plan on it. The fortress town is on an island in the middle of the river that gives access to the richer cities beyond."

"The Seine," said Humbert, who lingered at the table. His dark eyes flashed and he glanced hopefully at Ulfrik.

"He speaks Norse?" Gunther asked.

"A little," Ulfrik said. "He is a Frankish priest I've taken as a slave."

"He'll be useful to you then. But yeah, it's called the Seine or something like that. It's a big river with plenty of ripe towns along the way, waiting for us to beat the gold out of their churches. How do like that, slave-priest?"

Men laughed, but Humbert did not flinch. Instead Ulfrik saw a wave of irritation pass across his face.

"So you've come to summon me and my crew, but find us under attack. I'm afraid I can offer only two ships at best." Ulfrik looked to Toki and Snorri for support, and both nodded. Gunther's laughter died.

"Then it's two ships you bring. I ensured Hrolf remembered your name, and came to ensure you didn't miss this chance."

"Gunther, I appreciate your troubles. Yet being away over winter will invite disaster come summer. If word of my absence travels north, my enemies might even dare a winter attack. I am bound to protect my people."

Leaning back on his bench, Gunther's expression flattened and his men looked to him for a reaction. Ulfrik held his gaze steady. The two regarded each other for long moments before Gunther replied.

"First, we will be returned before summer. The Franks cannot withstand an army of Danes and Norsemen. We'll rip them apart and leave rich as lords. Second, you are bound to serve Jarl Hrolf, and that comes before anything else. But third, and this is most important, I want you there."

"Why? I'd bring eighty more men to share in the spoils. It's better if you had less."

Gunther waved his hand between them, wrinkling his nose. "Jarl Hrolf sees to me, no worries there. You must go because Jarl Hrolf sees farther than Sigfrid. There's potential in Frankia to not only demand wealth but land as well."

He let the words resonate with his listeners, Ulfrik catching himself leaning forward. "Land is a great thing, but I am surely a small and unknown jarl. When land is handed out, I might get a scrap to farm if I am lucky."

"But you are lucky."

Gunther's seriousness drew a dismissive snort from Ulfrik. "I'm holding onto this land by my fingernails."

"Bah! You are the right man for this. Hrolf needs leaders, strong war leaders, and you are one. Remember what I told you? I find a man like you once every ten years, if that. Were you truly so poor, truly so unlucky, you would be alone at this table. But men still follow you, and that's a sign to me. I'll put you near Hrolf in the battle line and you will do the rest."

Snorri clapped Ulfrik's back and other men banged the table in support. The loyalty of his men warmed his chest, and he nodded to each of them, even Thrand who merely scowled.

"Your praise does me honor, but why do you care for my fate? Let's be honest, there must be a benefit for you or you would not have undertaken the journey. Tell us, Gunther, why would you help me so?"

Gunther winked, then guzzled his horn of ale until it spilled out the sides of his mouth. Finishing, he slammed the horn on the table. "Because I like to win. Hrolf is breaking with his father. He had troubles with Harald Finehair, as you can imagine. Losing his father's support means losing some capable warriors. Whether or not Hrolf wants to admit it, he needs men like us to realize his vision."

"So it's just plain loyalty that drives you, nothing more?"

"Aye, plain loyalty to the winning side. I will be high on that winning side, and I want my own friends beside me. Do you take my meaning?"

Ulfrik stroked his beard, his eyes darting among the faces of his friends. Each man searched him for a sign of his thoughts, which he made no attempt to hide. A bold plan was forming: a promise of glory, land, and position in a new kingdom and a chance at Humbert's treasure to fund his estates. Yet he was time-bound by the seasons to complete everything before summer returned enemies to his home. Such a daring plan would entertain the gods, and they favored men who bring them entertainment. His smile widened as he twisted the tip of his beard.

"I take your meaning, Gunther, and I like what I hear. I am glad you sought me out, but I will have to discuss with my men before giving a final answer."

"We have talked much tonight, and I'm finally beginning to feel that ale. I'm going to curl up in a corner and let you sleep on the matter." He stood, stripping the wolf pelt off his shoulders and folding it over a thick arm. "Think carefully. If you refuse, I'll take my ships and never return, but you'll never be free to sail from these islands again. You'll be an oath-breaker, and a wanted man. So decide if you really love this land of sheep that much."

Despite the threat, Ulfrik laughed and stood with Gunther. "You've given me much to think upon. Rest well, Gunther One-Eye."

Men drifted from the tables, though Humbert approached Ulfrik. He said nothing, but gave a knowing stare and a slight smile alighted on his face. Ulfrik provided a subtle nod, his pulse quickening to the promise of glory and adventure.

"Duty and honor require me to answer the summons of my lord." Ulfrik surveyed the faces of his ten closest men, those who had followed him from Norway or those who had earned their seats, like Thrand. Toki and Snorri flanked him and the others sat around the high table in the empty hall, a wan light of a gray afternoon streaming in from the open smoke hole. Ulfrik heard Gunther's men loitering outside, gruff voices vibrating through the walls. "I don't plan to disobey, but you are my closest companions, and I desire your counsel."

The gathered men nodded, though Thrand, sitting at the furthest end and still drunk from the prior night, spoke first.

"What counsel can we give you? I don't want to be named an outlaw. So we go to Frankia, and maybe find treasure worth the risk to our lives."

Others grumbled in agreement, and Ulfrik inclined his head to concede the point. "True words, but is everyone willing to risk being gone for all of winter? What if word of our absence travels north? Could you live with yourself if your families were butchered because we were not here to defend them?"

"It's the risk they take for a better life," answered a square-faced hirdman, Gran Redbeard. "No great deed is without danger."

"I agree," Ulfrik said. "And my family will share the same danger. But think on this, what awaits us in Paris? A long fight for the glory of a foreign lord, then a small share of the ransom and whatever else we can carry away. Then even that will be divided with Hrolf."

"You heard Gunther, lad," Snorri said, rapping the table with his knuckles. "It's more than money, but glory and land. He's letting you in on something grand. Don't piss your pants wondering about your sheep and hall. More is at stake."

"You know me too well to think I worry for sheep over my wife and son. Make your words useful."

"Take family with us," Snorri countered, unperturbed at Ulfrik's irritation. "Abandon this place and start anew."

The suggestion caused Ulfrik to sit straighter. "After all the men who bled for this land, I won't abandon it for a vague promise. Our flocks would die in winter, and we'd have nowhere to return if Hrolf's adventure failed."

"Then make sure he doesn't fail. It's why Gunther wants you there, said so himself."