"We're not Franks; so keep your voices down if you don't want to summon every man in this tower."
Toki was on his feet and Gunnar regained himself. Throst had Dan to flank him and Olaf to block the exit. His two weapons flashed candlelight, and Toki's eyes flickered to them.
"And you don't seem much like friends, either. Who are you?"
"You would not recognize me, but your nephew should. Olaf, bring that candle closer."
Throst smiled as Gunnar studied him. He enjoyed the rapid transition of expressions, from confusion, to curiosity, then to recognition and finally rage.
"Throst, you fucking bastard!" Gunnar leapt forward but Toki barred him with an outstretched arm, his eyes never leaving the gleaming point of the sword facing them.
"Voices, please. Only the guard on this floor is dead but the others are quite alive. The sun will rise soon, and so will they, if you don't awaken them now."
"What is this all about?" Toki asked, pulling Gunnar closer to his side. "If you're here to kill us, then you won't get the quiet you demand."
"Killing either of you was never my intent, at least not directly."
"Then what about Hakon?" Gunnar hissed, and again Toki laid his arm across his chest.
"Your father hanged my father then tossed my family into the wild. That should be all the explanation you need, but let me be clearer. My father was a stupid drunk, worthless to everyone. Your father knew it and I'm sure he was glad to be rid of him. Honestly, so was I. But it's not for anyone to take what is mine and no one treats me like your father did. No one."
Throst checked his own growing rage and cleared his throat. "I had a chance to build something great, or at least I thought I did, and a chance to make your father pay. I've done that part, I would think. But now everything is different. My plans are all failures. I've gotten nothing for my efforts, but for these two friends with me this morning. Clovis stole my only hostage, your dear brother, and has stripped me of my honor. He has me shoveling horse shit. Do you know how much one horse can shit in a day, never mind the dozens that Theodoric has stabled here?"
Gunnar and Toki stared at him as if he were mad. Perhaps he was, and he did not care. He was telling them the truth and it felt good. No one treats a freeman like a slave, and makes a skilled warrior a stable boy.
"Your hardship touches me," Toki said. "It's too bad that deceit and treachery don't pay more coin."
"I agree, for I should be a rich man by now. I should've grabbed Ulfrik's first offer and ran, but there was more for the taking. I just couldn't get it. Now Clovis will have all the fun. Or at least he thinks he will."
Throst let their confusion bloom in the pause, then he lowered the sword to the floor, keeping his ax at the ready. Toki and Gunnar stared blankly at the weapon as he backed away from it. Dan stood poised to bash them with the heavy wooden bolt if they attacked. Both edged to the door, and Olaf was tugging at the back of Throst's shirt. "Hurry, dawn is coming."
"I've no means to get back at Clovis other than to ruin his plans. Take this sword and find your way out, or earn yourself a good death. As long as Clovis can't profit from you, I'm happy. Now I've got to go. Your brother is held on the floor below us, and the rest of your men somewhere below this tower. I've never seen that place."
"By Freya's tits, man, shut up. I'm leaving," Olaf pulled back, but Dan caught him before he could go.
"How are you getting out?" Gunnar asked.
"This ax, darkness, and a rope is all I need." Throst winked at him. "But I'm not leaving it behind for you."
Gunnar stepped forward to retrieve the sword, he pointed it at Throst and hissed as loudly as he dared. "This bit of help won't save your hide. When I find you next, you will die."
"You won't find me, not unless I want you to, little boy."
Olaf glided down the stairs, followed by Throst and Dan covering the rear. Neither bothered to check if the others followed. At the exit of the tower, Olaf extinguished the candle and they flitted into the shadows between buildings. Throst glanced at the tower behind them, wondering how Gunnar would fare. He shook his head. That whole adventure was over now. He had to settle a few more things before moving on.
"Dan, the coil of rope." Throst held out his hand. "I'll take a running leap at the wall, and once Olaf and I are on the other side we should be able to anchor this rope well enough for you to climb. But you've got to be quick."
Throst hefted the ax, ran for the wall and jumped. The ax head bit into the wood just short of the top, and he let out a stifled shout of success. Working quickly, he pulled up and straddled the wall, then dropped the rope down to his men. As he waited for Olaf to grip it, he surveyed Clovis's fortress, noting a few orange lights wink into life.
"I hope Gunnar drives that sword into your smirking face, Clovis," he said to himself. "I only wish I could stay to see it."
Chapter 50
Gunnar ranged the sword in the gloom before him. Throst may have left a weapon, but he left no light, and they could not afford to wait for dawn. A dozen misshapen plans crowded his thoughts, and none made any sense. He had prayed often enough for a rescue, but never planned to have to conduct it himself. Shame fought with fear as he stepped onto the barest outline of the stairs leading down. Toki had his hand upon his shoulder, having declared Gunnar's eyes better than his own. He wanted to remind Toki that youth did not grant the ability to see in the dark.
The stair creaked, and once he found the rhythm of the steps, he guided them to the floor below. Now what? The layout of this floor was the same as the one above: a living area for guards and a cell with a bolt across the wooden door. He could guess a path through the room by the faint light that filtered down from a single window. The snores of the guards were the only other clues. The killing had to be swift and confident, or the alarm would destroy the tenuous plans Gunnar managed to hold together in his excited mind.
Toki still gripped his shoulder, and his fingers were like iron nails digging into his flesh. In his other hand he held the wooden door bolt. It was the best weapon they had until they could find another. He tugged Gunnar toward the beds in the dark. The blue-gray outlines of breathing lumps under covers were the targets, though he could not tell legs from heads. If he stabbed a foot, their surprise would be nullified.
Raising his blade, he stopped short as Toki yanked his shoulder. He could hardly see his uncle in the dark, but his head shake was clear. Gunnar's heart thundered such that he feared it could wake the guards. One of them turned on his side, and his snoring ceased. Gunnar worried the man may have awakened, yet Toki had him remain still. At last he released Gunnar's shoulder and began to move carefully toward their victims. Toki's raised bolt was outlined in white light above his head.
Gunnar focused on what appeared to be a man's head, lining up his sword with it as he drew nearer.
Then his hip caught a table, and the sound of it dragging sounded like thunder.
A jug toppled and crashed with a splash on the wooden floor.
The head turned, and for a moment Gunnar did not understand a face was looking directly at him. It seemed an eternity that the sleepy, confused eyes shined out in the darkness.
Another rose up, and Toki's door bolt slammed down across the head with a wet crack. The body slumped with a groan.
A third man stirred, mumbling Frankish nonsense.
Another strike from Toki's bolt landed across his chest. He gasped but his breath vacated from his lungs, and Toki smashed him again. This time his face caught the blow and he snapped back onto his bed and lay still.
Gunnar's man was already rising, finally comprehending. Gunnar lunged and the sword caught the side of his face.
The scream was ghastly, and the man thrashed in agony as blood splashed between his fingers and over the blanket. Toki swung from the side, as if striking at a ball, connecting with the man's head and sending him crashing out of bed. He whimpered, and Gunnar wasted no time in plunging his blade into the dark mass beneath him. He did not see where he had struck, but it was deep and he felt the man's pulse thrumming in the blade, weakening until it stopped.
They froze, awaiting the alarm they expected. A noise from Hakon's cell drew both their eyes. The door shook, probably as Hakon tried to peek beneath it.
Toki and Gunnar stared at each other across the darkness. At last, when it seemed there would be no alarm. Gunnar withdrew his blade from the corpse at his feet. The body shifted, but the man was dead. Hot blood leaked beneath Gunnar's feet, and he skipped back from it.
Nothing moved. Gunnar held his breath. He refused to look toward the stairs leading down, as if to peek at it would summon more guards. Toki stared at him, the whites of his eyes bright in the gloom. No one came, and soon Gunnar let his breath out and Toki relaxed.
"There must be weapons here and upstairs." Toki began rummaging in the dark, shoving bodies aside like sacks of grain.
Gunnar wiped his sword off on a blanket, feeling a queasiness he had not anticipated. He had just killed a sleeping man. Even if he had been an enemy and only death could decide their fates, it still stank of murder. He had trained for war and glory, not gutting a man in his sleep. That had been the crime for which Throst's father had hanged. He shuddered at the thought, reminding himself of the circumstances.
Toki pulled up a sword with a purr of satisfaction. "This'll do fine. And a knife, too. Hey, what are you doing? Grab another weapon and let's move."
If his uncle's words did not galvanize him, the crowing of roosters did. Their crowing was like the calls of demons from the mist realms of death. Gunnar could think of no better comparison, for they had no hope of escaping in daylight. Toki paused, then strode to the bolted door and lifted it off without hesitation.
Hakon stumbled out, crashing into Toki's arms. He began to sob, clinging to his uncle with both arms. Toki stroked his head, but gently plied him off.
"You are well? You can walk? Take this knife and use it if you must."
Hakon nodded, wiped his nose with the back of his arm, and when Gunnar approached he began to cry again.
"It will soon be over," Gunnar offered. "We've only got to rescue the others before we escape."
"Do you trust Throst to have told us the truth of their whereabouts?" Toki asked, and now he started down the stairs first. The darkness was no longer so deep that he needed young eyes to aid his own. Gunnar glanced at the corpses, all but one still appearing as if they were only asleep in their beds.
"I don't know," Gunnar said, turning from the grisly scene and tugging Hakon along with one hand. "If he wants to get back at Clovis, he'd tell us the truth."
"And if he wanted us to get lost and die fighting, setting us against the Franks so that both of his enemies kill each other? He might be misdirecting us."
They reached the bottom floor, where nothing but supply barrels and crates were piled against one wall, and other detritus was stacked under the wooden stairs. A single trapdoor was set into the floor opposite the exit. A rooster crowed again.
Toki stared at him, a hard and fierce cast to his eyes. At first Gunnar considered Throst's words, but as Toki's silence swelled he began to understand. The realization staggered him.
"You don't want to look for the others?"
No answer, just a sharp and cold expression.
"They are your men. You must protect them. Toki, you can't be thinking of leaving them?"
"Fifteen of us are not going to sneak out of here in the morning light, and we won't find enough weapons for everyone before we're caught."
"They don't need weapons," Gunnar said, his voice rising from the careful tone of a moment earlier. "They need a chance to fight. Even if it's to die, they die as men."
"We've no time to waste. If we go now, we can hide and steal a chance to escape before Clovis locks down his gates. If we search, even if my men are under our feet, we will be caught."
"I want to go," Hakon whined. "I want to see Ma and Da again. Please, Gunnar."
All that he had imagined of how men conducted themselves in war vanished. The noble battle, the glorious sacrifice, the proud battle scars, all of it was horseshit. Sworn men were cast aside so that a privileged few might live. Though they were bound to serve their lord in any circumstance, their lord only served them when it was convenient. Such cowardice, and from his own uncle, a man who he had idealized all his life. He could not be part of it.
"I am in charge. We look for the men." Gunnar stood straighter, and glared at Toki. He shot back his own withering gaze.
"Gods, I have a family to get back to," Toki said. "Think of your brother."
"Think of the men you swore to protect. Think of the oath you gave my father."
Toki's face turned grape-dark and his nostrils flared. Gunnar did not back down, even as Toki's hands flexed as if to strike him. At last, he growled in a low voice, "I am thinking of the oath I gave your father. Now, we waste time. Come with me or I will drag you out by the three whiskers on your chin."
Blinking in shock, Gunnar watched Toki gather Hakon to his side and pull open the door to the outside. He did not know what to do. The trapdoor pressed on the back of his head, as if he could hear the voices of men imprisoned beyond it. Yet there were not such voices, and Toki was already pulling Hakon out the door into the thin light of morning. He had to make a choice.
He followed. His stomach sank, his heart cracked, and he meekly obeyed his uncle. He was right about the odds of escape; fewer people stood a far better chance. There was no more true choice in this than there had been in killing guards while they slept. This was truly war, all shit through and through.
Fresh, bracing morning air was a welcomed taste after the stink of the tower. Toki and Hakon were already sprinting for nearby buildings where the darkness was deepest. A white stain in the clear skies warned of daylight. They had to gain the gates before anyone discovered their absence and then await an opportunity to slip away. It was desperate and inarticulate, but was the only plan Gunnar could keep in his head.