"My thirty men are not battle tested," Toki said, lowering his voice. "They've tired of life in Nye Grenner and followed me here, but I would not trust them to hold against hardened warriors."
"Practice will come soon enough," Ulfrik said, then guided Toki by the arm to start back toward the hall before the way grew too dark. "Now I have better news. I have a share of treasure I've held aside for you. There is much I owe you for your service, but I could never send it north nor leave my duties here."
He stopped short of explaining it was the share of the treasure they had sought together in Paris. With Konal's return, secrecy had to be preserved.
"That is well," Toki said with unexpected indifference. "It would have only served to trouble me in Nye Grenner, but now I am glad for it."
"Who did you leave in charge of Nye Grenner? I am not eager to abandon those lands, not after so much blood has soaked that grass to keep it mine."
"Gunnbjorn Red-Hand. He is Frida Styrdottir's son and her family is well respected. He has sworn a public oath to me, and I believe he will serve the people well. He is one of them, unlike me."
"I remember them both. Gunnbjorn will be a fine leader," Ulfrik said. The two walked a short distance before he summoned the courage to ask his next question. "Halla is not pleased to be here. What have you promised to gain her agreement?"
"She is a changed woman," Toki said, choosing to examine the stars above. "There is nothing left in Nye Grenner with her family all dead. I promised there would be many Christians here for her to deepen her understanding of her god."
Ulfrik snorted. "She still clings to her faith in the dead god? She wastes her life on a weak god. The dead god's priests are worse than snakes and we kill them by the score without any notice from him. But when we call out to Thor or Odin, they answer in thunder and war. The new god is failing his people in Frankia; anyone with eyes will see as much."
"Let Halla discover this on her own, and don't share your thoughts." Both men laughed as they closed the final distance to the hall. Ulfrik stopped them on the track.
"Look, Runa has not mentioned your wife in six years. I am hopeful she has left her anger behind, but I cannot be sure. I will find you and your family a place in my fortress, but it might be best to keep you separated for a while. Has Halla put aside her differences?"
Toki remained silently searching the night sky, as if his answer were hidden there. Ulfrik could not help but follow his gaze to the brilliant eyes of the night sparkling overhead. In time, Toki spoke his answer softly.
"My sister, your wife, cut out Halla's mother's tongue. The wound never healed and she suffered two winters before she died in agony. I say keeping Runa and Halla separate is a good idea. For all that Halla speaks of her god's love of forgiveness, she has little place in her heart for it."
Chapter 15
Throst clung to the shadows of Ravndal's stockade walls awaiting his prey. His heart raced, not from fear but from anticipation. The sun was diving toward the western tree line, and already the cold air of nightfall chased people back to their hearths. Crows lifted from rooftops, protesting the end of day as they winged toward their woodland nests. His hands trembled with excitement and he wrapped his right hand tighter into the sack of rocks that he had cushioned with old rags. He weighed it in his other hand as he pressed against the cold, rough logs of the wall.
Regaining access to Ravndal had been simple. Ulfrik had taken pains to keep an army from sneaking upon his fortress: clearing trees and other hiding places, digging ditches and lining them with wood spikes, not to mention setting his fortress atop the highest hill in the valley. A single man would still find challenge in threading this gauntlet to reach the gates, but not if that man still had friends inside.
Killing his father and tossing Throst and his family across the border let Ulfrik believe he had finished them. Yet, he had not paused to consider friendships and other relatives. He had even appeared bored at the execution of Throst's father, as if impatient to dispense his duties. Throst's father still swung from the hanging tree, and he planned to ensure Ulfrik would regret that day. Whatever people had thought of his father, Throst had friends left behind and some who had owed him life debts. One such man watched the western gate, and had abused his position to extract bribes from the vulnerable. Contacting him had been too simple, and after Einar had beaten him nearly to death, he was all too eager to help.
Tonight he found the gate ajar and no one watching the approaches for a lone traveler. One man can often go where many cannot. His father had told him so, though it was his excuse for sneaking about and robbing others. Throst had grander designs.
He roused from his thoughts as the two boys came into view. Murky light rendered them indistinct, though the fine clothing of one of them was more than enough to confirm for Throst that his young accomplice had succeeded.
"It's just this way," said the accomplice, a brown-haired, lanky boy of seven or eight years. "Hurry up before it gets dark."
The other boy, Throst's prey, hesitated. Throst felt his heart flop at the pause, but the accomplice was talented. "I know it's scary, but you said you weren't afraid of dead things. This body has been dead forever, just bones. Come on and see it."
"I should tell my father first." Hakon's voice was thin and frightened, but at the same time Throst could see him looking into the shadows to see what waited.
"Our parents would only ruin this. Hurry up. Just behind this building. I'll go first." Throst watched the boy skip around the corner, and call back to Hakon. "See, it's safe. You're not afraid, are you?"
"No," Hakon replied in a small voice. He crept forward and the accomplice led him back step by step.
"See, nothing happened."
"But where's the skeleton?"
Throst leapt from the shadow and slammed the bag of rocks over Hakon's head. He crumbled like a brittle twig and gave no sound other than a moan once he hit the ground. Throst bashed him again, not certain how hard he needed to hit a small boy until knocked out. Blood flowed from Hakon's nose, so Throst stopped and crouched to find Hakon's pulse. He pressed the soft neck until he felt a throb beneath his finger.
"That was good work," he told his accomplice. "Help me get him in the sack."
Throst unrolled a large, heavy linen sack and laid out a length of rope. Both he and the boy glanced around as they gagged Hakon and then folded him into the bag.
"You've got my reward?" the accomplice asked. He was a half-Frank named Atli whose father had died and left him with only a dumb sister. Throst had used his contact to arrange for the boy's complicity.
"Yes, here it is," Throst said as he reached into the folds of his robe. Atli extended his hand. Throst seized it and yanked the boy to him. In one deft motion, he snapped Atli's neck, the crack no louder than stepping on a branch in the forest. He followed Atli to the ground as he died, and laid him against the back of the building where shadow now engulfed them. "You'll keep my secret better if you're dead."
With his grizzly work complete, he hefted Hakon over his shoulder and accompanied the shadows of the walls back to the gate. Night had fallen and the risk of tripping and revealing himself demanded he tread carefully. Once a guard in heavy leather armor and a shield glided by with a guttering torch, but he held his breath until the guard rounded a building. At last Throst arrived at the gate and his contact awaited him.
"Olaf," he whispered, "is it safe?"
The man named Olaf leapt at the voice from the shadow, and Throst shook his head in disgust. Such jitters were not only unseemly but would draw attention. His contact nodded, his shape a black mass rimmed only by a faint glow of torches on the walls. His bulky form was filled out with a sword and shield as well as a large sack tossed over his shoulder. He stepped closer, and his face was revealed in the light. Throst had not seen him up close since his beating, but now the swelling and bruises were accented in the shadows. He looked like a walrus without tusks.
"We've only got a short time before the others return. Hurry."
Throst hefted Hakon again, the boy giving a murmur and shifting in the bag, and crept forward while scanning the area. No one was close, everyone gone to their halls as the last light of the day fled. "You are coming with me?"
"Well, I can't stay here," said the man named Olaf, his swollen eyes barely opening with his shock at Throst's question. "Once they know what happened, they'll come looking for me. So is that Ulfrik's kid?"
Throst patted the sack. "It is. I suppose you're right about leaving. I could use another fighting man too. But if you follow me back, you must swear an oath of service."
"Yeah, anything," said Olaf, as he began to back toward the gate. "Whatever it takes to get out from Einar and Ulfrik and hurt them on the way."
"Oh, I'll hurt him," Throst said, smiling. "Now let's get this kid out of here before anyone knows he's gone. They'll be looking for him now, and we've got to flee."
Barely cracking the gate, Olaf slipped out and Throst followed. It was all he could do not to laugh with delight, and once Ravndal was no more than a dark smear crowned with points of torchlight, he did laugh and dreamed of the riches and revenge that lay ahead.
Chapter 16
The hall was filled to capacity now that Toki and Konal had added their crews to the evening meal. Runa moved among the press of people, hirdmen and craftsmen and others who Ulfrik favored. Their voices joined together into a tumultuous din that Runa found both comforting and bothersome. Loud, friendly talk was a sign of good times, but the demands of overseeing so many tired her. She slid past two red-faced men in the early stages of a shoving match that would result in one of the many quick fights that punctuated each night. Fighting men never knew when to stop fighting, she thought as she passed them for the high table.
Ulfrik sat flanked by Toki and Einar with Snorri and Konal opposite, and the square of men were talking over each other and laughing like boys. Runa's smile faded as she skimmed past Halla, who sat with her two girls at the far end of the table. Over the years she had thought Halla no longer mattered to her, but as soon as Runa reunited with her brother's wife, all the old feelings rushed back. She hated the woman, and it was mutual.
Putting aside the thought, Runa circled around the table to where Aren waited patiently and alone. He studied her as she approached, his icy eyes alive with an intelligence that made him different from all the other children. As she sat next to him, she patted his head and could not resist a glance at Konal, who appeared to be straining not to look at her. "Where are your brothers?"
Aren did not answer, but pointed across the hall to where Gunnar stood at the far end. Over the tousled hair of the men and the covered heads of the women lining the benches, Runa saw her son with a girl. The two stood too close together and Aren noted his mother's reaction with his own observation. "She is not as pretty as other girls that like Gunnar."
"What's her name?" Runa asked, recognizing the face but little else. Then she realized Aren's comment was beyond a child of his age. "And who told you that?"
Aren shrugged and looked away. When Runa turned back to Gunnar, he was already alone and pushing toward the high table. When he arrived, he ignored his father and the other men and slid up to Runa's side without anything more than a mumble.
"Where's Hakon?"
"He's not here?"
"He was with you last, but I see you ended up with someone else. So where's your brother?"
Gunnar's face flushed and he lowered his head. His answer was barely audible over the crowd, and Runa asked him to repeat it. "I said he went to play with another boy. I thought he'd have the sense to come home by dark."
Runa folded her arms. "You mean you shoved him off to someone else so you could have time with your girl. We'll talk about that, but your brother comes first. Who did he play with?"
"Atli Hrappson, I think it was."
"The orphan whose father died last spring? He's a bad seed, that boy. Why would you let Hakon go with him?"
Gunnar did not answer and Runa blushed once she intuited the answer. Her anger flashed hot, but Hakon was gone and probably up to no good. She stood and scanned the hall, but a small boy amid so many would be impossible to find. She drew Snorri's attention and in turn all the other men stopped to regard her. "What's wrong?" Ulfrik asked.
Not wanting to create a disturbance, she stepped out from the bench and went to Ulfrik's side. "Hakon has not returned, and he was with that troublemaker Atli."
The four men glanced at each other, and Ulfrik put his arm around Runa's waist. "Atli is not a troublemaker; he tends the riding horses and raises chickens with his sister. Good work for a boy his age and no other kin to guide him."
"All the same, Hakon is not back and it's dark. We should look for him."
Ulfrik's arm dropped and he gave a sigh that Runa knew was a prelude to protest. She headed it off. "If you will not look for him, then I will."
"All right," Ulfrik said. "I'll go find the boy. What has gotten into these kids?"
"No, if you go looking it will cause a stir." Einar put his hand on Ulfrik's shoulder as he interrupted. "I'll round up a few men to find him. Stay and enjoy your meal."
"I'll go with you," Snorri said, limping up from his bench. "It's not like the boy to do this."
Runa sat beside Ulfrik where Einar had vacated, and he patted her back before returning to his meal. Konal stared at her, and she gave him a wan smile before turning aside. Her concerns had silenced the men's jovial conversation, but she knew they were genuine. She worried for Hakon's vision of Odin. While her son took it as a favorable omen, she knew Odin All-Father to be a capricious and untrustworthy god whose blessing was hard to gain and easy to lose.
"He's probably still stinging from the shame he caused Gunnar," Ulfrik offered, his mouth full. "Snorri'll bring the young master home."