"Foolish words," she scolded playfully and he laughed. Yet in her heart, she meant them. Ulfrik courted glory, more than ever before. Back in Nye Grenner, he was prideful, if naive. Since coming to Frankia and serving Hrolf, he had grown into an appetite for glory and station. Victory alone was no longer enough, but had to be achieved in a way that earned the envy of men. His battle plans, to Runa's limited understanding, had become more convoluted and dangerous, all in the name of "being worthy of a song."
"Yet you don't count gold a foolish reward," he said to her, drawing her back from her thoughts. She decided not to foul his good mood with worries. The battle had long finished, and Ulfrik had assured her Clovis had been dealt a hard blow from which he could not recover before winter.
"True, now get yourself ready for the evening meal, and my own reward for you later tonight."
Chapter 6
"He claims to have served you, Lord Ulfrik. He leads seven men in full war gear, who are waiting outside the southern gate. He gave his name as Konal Ketilsson, and said you'd let him inside."
Everyone at the high table spoke at once, and the messenger below them stepped back in surprise. Ulfrik snapped his head to Runa, who sat straighter at the name and pursed her lips. Her eyes narrowed and her head shook with studied caution.
"Konal has returned?" Gunnar stood, his face bright with excitement. "This is great news. Father, of course you'll let him in."
The messenger turned an expectant eye on Ulfrik, as did all the others within the darkening hall. Twilight had arrived and the moon would soon rule the night. Already men were gathering their families in fire-lit halls, drawn to savory cooking pots simmering with an evening meal. The arrival of visitors at such a late hour was uncommon, and many faces showed open worry.
Ulfrik's gaze skimmed past Gunnar, meeting Runa again. She had not shifted from her expressive silence. In the knit of her brows and the throbbing vein showing in the gentle curve of her neck, he witnessed all her fear. Konal had owed Runa a life debt, which he counted as repaid, but Ulfrik also secreted a fortune in gems that had once belonged to Konal. He had stayed on in Frankia with his twin brother Kell, hoping to find their lost gems. They believed Anscharic possessed them, but as Bishop of Paris he was as unattainable as an evening star. Konal and his brother eventually departed for Ireland, and Anscharic died four years ago. No one had expected to see Konal or Kell again.
"We must tell them something, Lord," the messenger said.
"Father, you can't doubt Konal?" Gunnar frowned at Ulfrik. "He saved my life once. Why would you doubt him?"
Ulfrik smiled, patting Gunnar's shoulder. Runa blinked hard and turned aside.
If only you knew, son
, he thought,
there's more reason to doubt him than to trust him
. Then he saw Aren, sitting quietly next to his mother, face placid and eyes darting from person to person like a master assessing his charges.
"Allow them inside as long as they surrender their weapons. Lead them directly to me." The messenger bowed to the command and made to leave before Ulfrik halted him. "Konal is a friend, and as long as he behaves as one you will treat him with courtesy."
The hall fluttered with the news of a new arrival. Many of the hirdmen recalled Konal, more for being a twin than being an outstanding warrior. Gunnar's excitement spread to Hakon, who was too young to remember Konal but jumped in glee nonetheless. From the far end of the high table, Einar shrugged at him and returned to his wife, Bera, and their daughters. A spasm of envy overcame Ulfrik, wishing he could share Einar's carefree indifference. Instead, he smiled falsely and called for a servant to fill his mug. When Snorri finally hobbled down from his seat with Einar, he whispered in Ulfrik's ear.
"You can't fool me; you're worried about him. Why allow him in?"
"Why deny him?" Ulfrik countered, constantly scanning the servants and hirdmen circulating through the hall, nodding to those whose glances searched him for reassurance. "He has never done me any wrong."
He did not want to look at Aren, but he did. Runa was stroking his hair and hunched to speak to his tender ears. She blocked his view, and so he turned back to Snorri. His scarred and craggy face looked hard into his own, and Ulfrik knew how well his old friend read his thoughts. "What do you think of my son?"
He held Snorri's stare, until he shook his head and turned away. A fierce anger erupted and he latched hard onto Snorri's arm. "I asked a question and want your answer. For six years you've held something in your heart you won't tell me."
"And here is the place to tell you, where a hundred ears lean in while pretending to be busy? Have some sense, lad."
Releasing him, Ulfrik scowled and turned aside in sullen quiet. He studied the table in front him, wrapping himself in his thoughts. Snorri doubted Aren's parentage, he was certain, but he had more to say. Aren was a strange child who was unsmiling and distant to all except his mother. Still, Ulfrik had attended his birth and raised him as his own.
He roused from his black mood as people flitted about the edges of his vision. Gunnar spoke incessantly about all he could recall of Konal. Runa offered platitudes, but from her tone Ulfrik knew she wished to speak of anything else. He sat up straight in time for the hall doors to open again, now a dark square lit only by two men carrying brands overhead. Yellow points gleamed from the forms of armored men between them, and the hall's chattering hum died as the group entered.
Hearth smoke laid a white haze through the spacious hall, sapping colors from the air, but still the lead man's bright yellow hair was unmistakably Konal's. Ulfrik's hirdmen had not dressed in mail, but stood with painted shields and spears to form a corridor through which Konal and his men would pass. Behind them, curious children peered through gaps or stout women raised on their toes to glimpse the new arrivals. The two torchbearers doused their brands at the door, and showed the men inside.
Konal led his small band, a russet-colored cloak covered him and he left his cowl drawn so that once he entered the fire-brightened hall shadows swallowed his face. His seven followers wore mail over their clothes, thought they bore no weapons, and followed Konal with their eyes lowered. Their armor jangled as they passed deeper into the hall, where Konal finally stopped before Ulfrik.
"Konal Ketilsson," Ulfrik proclaimed, standing in greeting. Runa slowly rose with him, as did Gunnar. "You have journeyed far to bring gladness to my hall. Be welcomed."
The hirdmen flowed behind the visitors, essentially trapping Konal and his men. Ulfrik could have waved them down, but he still did not know Konal's mind.
"My men and I come with peace in our hearts, Lord Ulfrik." He bowed, keeping his cowl up so that his bright hair spilled out as he leaned forward. "We humbly ask for your hospitality."
"Of course you shall have it." Ulfrik now waved his hirdmen back, and they slowly dropped their shields and faded back from the visitors. "You and your men will sit with me as honored guests. Come, share a meal with us."
"Do you remember me?" Gunnar stood forward, his eager face split with a smile. Ulfrik pressed a hand to his chest and shot him a frown. Despite his excitement, he had to demonstrate reserve as a leader. Gunnar tucked his head down and fell back, chastened.
Still, Konal only replied with a slow nod of his hooded head.
Ulfrik ordered his servants to begin serving the evening meal, and families and hirdmen shuffled amongst each other to find places at the tables. Talk began anew in the hall, yet most remained fixed upon the visitors, who had not moved. Runa and Ulfrik exchanged puzzled glances at Konal's inaction.
As he and the others took their seats, Ulfrik asked Konal to join him again. "What has brought you so far from home?"
Konal's head subtly turned to the man closest to him, a warrior with grizzled hair tied into a long braid. Their pause drew stares and the hall again grew silent.
"We have all come far to offer our oaths to the one man worthy of us." All of the men, Konal at their lead, bent to one knee and bowed their heads. "Let our lives be sworn to you and our swords fight for your banner."
Runa's gasp echoed Ulfrik's surprise, his own hand rising to his chest. Even Einar, who had thus far leaned back in indifference now raised his brow and sat straighter. Ulfrik's first instinct told him to deny the request, yet Konal had admirably served his wife and children in the past. The absence of his twin brother, Kell, made him wonder at Konal's motives.
"You do me a great honor," Ulfrik said, finding his words as the men remained kneeling before him. "We certainly have much to discuss before I can accept your offer. Come sit with us. You must have a story to share."
Konal and his men held their position for a moment, then Konal rose. As he did, he pulled the cowl from his head and again Ulfrik heard Runa gasp. The left side of Konal's face and all of his neck were terribly scarred. Ulfrik recognized it as burn scarring, Konal's skin ruined as if a flaming finger had stirred through his face turning it to white and red whorls of tortured meat. His beard no longer grew where flames had torn his neck.
"The story is both long and painful," he said. "And I will tell it in full, if you will hear it."
Chapter 7
Space at the high table was cleared and Konal sat opposite Ulfrik with his men shoulder to shoulder beside him. The meal was a soup of barley and leeks with chunks of mutton. Runa had sent Hakon and Aren to eat with others of their age at the far end of the table, while Snorri and Einar leaned in to hear the story. The steaming bowls sat beneath them, untouched as Konal related his tale. Ulfrik broke off a stiff piece of rye bread, dipped it into his soup, then chewed as he listened to Konal. He studied the man across from him, unflinching from the wounds etched into his flesh. After a life of war, he had seen far more hideous disfigurement. Instead he sought holes in the story, or signs that Konal intended something other than offering his oath.
He had described his life after returning to Ireland, and forsaking the recovery on their treasure. The details were inconsequential until he began to describe the familiar rivalries that develop between powerful jarls. He found himself grimly nodding to Konal's descriptions of the battles and betrayals he and his brother fought against family rivals.
"My father had grown too old to lead his hirdmen, and it fell to Kell and me. Our other brother had died in battle two months before our return, which my father believed was a sign from the gods. We had fared badly, and for all my father's ferocity, we could not hold the land. We'd been pushed back. Finally, we were trapped in our hall one night, all of us. My wife and daughters, Kell and his family, all of us. They arrived in the night, eliminated the guards, and burned us all inside. Me and the others sitting here tonight are the only survivors. All of us carry the scars of that night, though the gods have chosen to write my failing upon my face."
"It's no failure to survive a hall burning," Ulfrik said. "Few do."
Konal held his gaze a moment, as if weighing the comment as an insult. He filled the pause with a sip from his bowl, then continued. "I went back for Kell, into the fires of Muspelheim, but it was for nothing. I felt his death," Konal placed his hand on his heart, and Ulfrik noted the red scars circling his fingers. "I should've died with him, but my men pulled me out. Scattered before our enemy's spears, running like rabbits to the woods. We'd lost everything but one ship, and I took it with whomever else I could find to join me."
"And you came here?" Runa asked, her hand clutched upon her chest, echoing Konal.
"No, that was over a year ago. We hid in Ireland, nursed our wounds and let the scars form. The pain, I can tell you, never goes. One of our brothers threw himself overboard holding a rock, such was his agony." Several of his companions bowed their heads at the words. "After wasting months finding no place to welcome us, I decided to seek you out, Lord Ulfrik. I own only what I carry upon my back and a small, leaking ship. We've wearied of scurrying into dark holes like vermin every time a bigger ship appears on the horizon. None of us have family any longer, no more ties to Ireland. I thought of my time in your service, and realized this is the closest I have to family. In that, I am luckier than the men following me."
He shifted his gaze to Runa, then to Gunnar, finally fixing on the bowl before him. Ulfrik leaned back, refusing to look to either his son or his wife, though feeling their eyes on him. Instead he looked to both Snorri and Einar, who both sat with arms crossed and offered only a brief shrug.
"Your story is tragic, but all too familiar. Only a coward cannot face his enemies on the battlefield." Ulfrik offered the words both as sympathy and a test, since he had used a hall burning once in the events that led to his possessing Konal's treasure. If Konal recalled this detail, he made no sign but merely grunted and slurped his soup.
They passed the meal with lighter conversation, mostly led by Gunnar's memories of training with Konal back in Nye Grenner. Konal smiled and chuckled, but his preoccupation was obvious. Both Snorri and Einar asked pointed questions about Konal's fighting ability, which he offered to demonstrate at any time. "The burns have not taken the fight out of me. In fact, I feed on the pain in battle and let the rage carry me."
After the meal finished, benches and tables were pushed to the walls and families and hirdmen sought their places for sleep while some left for other beds. Konal patiently awaited Ulfrik's decision and his followers matched his decorum. They neither ate nor drank more than enough to sate their appetites, and remained seated placidly on their bench. As the groups broke up, Ulfrik sent Aren and Hakon to bed and in a brief moment of privacy had words with Runa.
"I don't like this," she whispered as she carried a sleeping Aren over her shoulder. "He is a good person, but what if he knows about ..."