Sword Brothers (14 page)

The column drew their mounts to a halt in the grassy field over a spear-toss away. Gunnar smiled at the caution, and wondered if they expected to be resisted. Depending on what they told him, a battle might be in the offering. The leader dismounted, then the others climbed down out of their saddles. The banner man joined the bulky form of the leader then five of them approached.

"Let's hear their news," Gunnar said, not bothering to look behind. "Hakon, Aren, and Mother, with me. Let no one else approach yet."

Halfway across the grass Gunnar stopped, forcing Hrolf's men to cross to him. As their leader approached, a fire flared in his stomach. He recognized the leader's hooked nose with a red scar on its bridge and the weathered, lined face sizing him up was assured and cool.

"Magnus the Stone," Gunnar said. "What a misfortune to see you again."

Magnus rubbed his legs and groaned, apparently unused to riding. His voice was as rough as his namesake. "I see your brother has recovered. Sorry about the scars."

Gunnar held his arm across Hakon's chest. "We're all glad you are not a good shot. Now, why have you taken the pains to cross the Seine with two dozen riders and head straight to my father's hall?"

Magnus ignored the question, cold eyes flicking past him to study Gunnar's hirdmen lined up beyond. His gaze landed on Runa, and he pursed his lips. "Glad the whole family is here. I've got news for all of you, the wife especially."

Runa stepped forward and Gunnar fought his instinct to drag her back in line. If it had been any other, he would not have tolerated another stepping before him.

"You fly Hrolf's banner, but you are Mord Guntherson's man. Who do you speak for?"

"Jarl Hrolf, or as the Franks call him, Count Rollo." He played with Hrolf's baptismal name and his companions chuckled at the mangled pronunciation. "He selected me especially for this task. Didn't want men too attached to your husband to deliver this news."

They all stiffened at the hint, and Magnus smiled to reveal yellow teeth. Runa alone dared to challenge him.

"Deliver your message then take yourself from my lands. You are not welcomed here, no matter who you represent."

"Ah, the famous bitch-wife of Ulfrik Ormsson and her equally famous tongue. You are still a good-looking woman for your age. Maybe you'll want to bed down with another man before this day is done. You've still got the face to trap a man."

Gunnar's hand flew to his sword, Magnus and his men matching him. His vision hazed red with rage, but Aren threw his arms around him from behind, preventing him from drawing his sword.

"Don't! It's what he wants. You're falling into the same trap. You strike him and we are all dead." Aren squeezed, but it was his words and not his strength that prevented Gunnar from struggling. Magnus kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"We are evenly matched. I'd split this bastard's head in two before he can beg forgiveness."

"And there could be a thousand men waiting across the Seine to follow up on your rash action." Aren released him and stepped between them. His wide face was red. "Let him deliver his news. Look at Mother. She has not even moved."

Runa stood with arms folded across her chest, unruffled but stern, glaring at Magnus. Gunnar felt the shame for his stupidity, but felt better when he noticed Hakon dropping his hand from his own blade. "Out with your news, Magnus."

"For the murder of Bishop Burchard, cousin to the Lady Poppa, Ulfrik Ormsson is named an outlaw and banished from Normandy. Furthermore, all his direct relations," Magnus paused and stared at all three brothers as if they did not realize he meant them, "are also outlawed and banished. Lands will revert to Jarl Hrolf the Strider. Your men will have to decide to either follow you into banishment or swear a new oath to Hrolf. During this time, Ulfrik is held hostage to your peaceful behavior. Any violence to Hrolf or his representatives will mean Ulfrik's death." Magnus paused again and smiled playfully at Gunnar. "Too bad you didn't get your cuts in. Would make it a lot easier to string up your Da and have done with this."

Gunnar felt his entire body brace as if he were about to jump into battle. The same breathlessness that comes before facing death seized him now. Yet he did not reach for his blade nor lash out. He had expected a judgment like this and had been prepared. Next he looked to his mother, who had turned away and lowered her head. She said nothing more but retreated from the meeting.

"Jarl Hrolf did not set a time for you to clear out," Magnus said. "But I wouldn't take too long. Best to get these things over before they get out of control."

"Go back to your master," Gunnar said. "And tell him we'll not do anything until my father is released."

His brothers whirled to face him, but he ignored them and focused on Magnus's widening smile.

"You're in no position to make demands, but I'll deliver your message anyway. I'm sure he'll enjoy it."

Magnus and his companions returned to their horses, where they all remounted then rode away.

"I'll take the men and follow on foot," Hakon said. "No telling what they might feel entitled to do now."

Gunnar nodded and Hakon left to gather the hirdmen. Only Aren remained, and his face burned red now. "Are you mad? Hrolf could hang Father if he wanted. Are you daring him?"

"I'm buying us time," Gunnar said, not looking at Aren but at his mother. Runa stood alone, arms wrapped around herself and head lowered. He wanted to comfort her, but understood she needed a moment alone.

"Time for what? Do you think Hrolf is going to change his mind? Or do you think we should fight him? What can be gained by insulting the new Count of Rouen?"

Hakon led a column of hirdmen along the trail, nodding to them as he passed. Gunnar returned it, then put his arm around Aren's shoulder. "Remember your plan, that I would organize a response if things went badly for Father? Well, that is what I am doing. I need time to send word to the other jarls and to await Einar's arrival. Once they learn of Father's fate, they will rise up in his defense and pressure Hrolf to reverse his judgment."

"Did you not hear that the bishop was a relative of his wife's?" Aren pulled out from beneath Gunnar's arm. "It's worse than pressure from the Church, but his own family relations are part of this problem. He can't excuse Father so readily."

Gunnar walked off, letting Aren trail him. His brother was correct, as he always was, and the sense of helplessness drowned him. Were they so readily defeated? Was everything he achieved in this life dependent upon the whim of one man? There had to be a way to fight back and not just meekly pack a cart and drift away.

"This is all that dog-shit Father Lambert's fault. He lied about his leg. I just know it." He stopped, and Aren, who followed behind, bumped into him. "He couldn't have been present for Father's hearing. Hrolf would have seen the priest had both legs and the Church's lies would've been revealed."

"Men in power make their own truths," Aren said. "It doesn't matter what facts are presented to them."

"It would have to Hrolf. He can't possibly have wanted Father's downfall. He would've taken any chance to forgive him this accident."

Aren tucked his head down as was his custom when considering new information. As his brother debated, Gunnar realized what he had to do.

"I'm going to find Father Lambert and bring him to Hrolf. That will prove he had been deceived."

"What?" Aren shook his head as if awakening. "There's no deceit in the bishop's corpse. Father killed him. No one can deny it."

"But the reason for the whole accident was based upon the lies Father Lambert told. Don't you see? It was a trap."

"I see the trap, but don't see how producing Father Lambert will change Hrolf's mind. If anything, it may anger him more."

Gunnar left Aren to his worries, knowing his solution was the right one. Once Hrolf saw how they had all been deceived, he would throw out his father's sentence. He only had to locate the priest before Hrolf's patience wore out.

He went to his mother, gently touching her arm so as not to shock her. She lifted glittering dark eyes to his. "You have that mischievous look. Please don't do anything to get your father killed."

"Nothing of the sort. I have the answer to our problems. Don't worry, Mother, I will have Father freed and our name restored."

Runa gave a feeble smile. For the first time in years he noticed how old his mother seemed. The lines between her brows were deep, and more gray than brown spiraled through the tight curls of her hair. "Don't risk too much. I am happy just to have my family back."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Aren was not used to having to take charge. Yet as he sat in the hall, a horn of mead clasped in both hands, Hakon and Finn both staring at him expectantly, he found himself with no other choice. His mother had gone to lie down, claiming the news had exhausted her. The hall was empty of even servants. No one was to know his father's fate, not yet, so words echoed like they were plotting in an underground cave. Only three conspirators gathered at the table, with Aren at the middle. Oil lamps lent an unearthly glow and fetid taint to the hall.

"So Gunnar doesn't even know where he's searching?" Hakon asked the same question for the third time. His brother, Hakon, was a brave but simple man, and Aren loved him for it. Yet now it grated on him.

"He couldn't be persuaded to change his mind," Aren said. "And Mother was too shocked to try. She's the only one he'll listen to."

"His wife, Morgan?" Finn asked.

"Of no account," Aren waved his had dismissively. "Gunnar has gone to do what he thinks is right. We have to work around that."

"That's always been his way," Hakon mumbled. "Gets a fire in his belly and flies off in whatever direction he's facing. Last time Father disappeared he was gone for five years."

Aren drank the mead to buy a pause in the discussion. He savored the sweet taste of it, but a hint of bitterness lay beneath. It was an apt comparison to their recent life. After the peace and the handing out of rewards all was sweet, but underneath that was the bitter taste of jealousy and betrayal. Why no one else recognized the hidden rancor was a mystery to Aren. He and Vilhjalmer seemed the only two people aware of the anger lurking in the hearts of men. Aren had seen men stare greedily at his father's success, and Vilhjalmer heard the grumblings of those who thought they deserved more. Yet neither of their fathers had deigned to hear of it. Perhaps as men aged they ignored troubles rather than face them. Yet now their self-inflicted blindness trapped them, and Aren had to seek a way out for his own father.

"What are we going to do?" Finn asked. He had been an innocent, freckle-faced boy when his father had met him, but Aren only knew him as a cunning woodsman and hunter. He respected Finn for his loyalty and even-handedness, both of which were needed now.

"I fear Gunnar may bring us more trouble. Kidnapping a priest can go wrong in so many ways." Aren sighed, dreading to state what everyone had understood. "And if anyone is hurt during it, Hrolf could take it as an excuse to execute Father."

Finn shook his head. "I just can't see Hrolf doing that to Ulfrik. He was in tears when they reunited. How could he want him dead now?"

"It's the Church," Hakon said. "And his wife. I guess the bishop was her cousin."

"The fact remains that Father is now a hostage and we are all outlaws." Aren set his drinking horn aside, the dregs flowing over the table. "We have to consider securing our wealth before Hrolf or the Church decides to claim it. We also must spread the word of Father's captivity. At the least it will prevent further aggression toward us. Right now the Church has a free hand to work in secrecy, but a spot of light upon them will bring modesty."

"So we hope," Finn said. "They seem to do as they please no matter who is watching."

"All men have limits, and we will find the Church's," Aren said. "Einar should arrive at any time, unless he has been intercepted. That is very likely given Magnus's arrival today."

"But his father's body is here?" Hakon said. Aren blinked at him until Hakon lowered his head in shame. "Of course, they won't care about that."

"Now we have to plan on Gunnar's actions to worsen matters."

"It's an ill thing to assume disaster," Hakon said. "But Gunnar has a history of rash action."

"So that means Father will be in greater peril," Aren said. Both Finn and Hakon were staring intently at him, and for the first time he felt truly like a leader. They expected a plan from him, one based on reason. "He must be safeguarded against whatever might come. Contacting the other jarls favorable to our side will help, but take too much time. We possess no way to help Father directly."

Both Finn and Hakon slumped in defeat and stared at the floor. He had not provided what they had hoped, yet his mind churned over the options. They sat in silence while he dredged his thoughts, and when the plan emerged from the muck of his confusion, he shot up straight on his seat.

"Of course! I'm such a fool," he said. Hakon and Finn looked up, smiling. "I will go to Vilhjalmer. He is not yet in his full power, but he has sway with men who expect him to succeed his father. He loves Father like an uncle, and thinks him a hero worthy of a saga. If anyone could appeal on his behalf, Vilhjalmer is that man."

Finn fell back laughing. "A brilliant idea!"

Hakon frowned and folded his hands on his lap. "How are you going to contact him? You're an outlaw, remember?"

"I'm also just one young man. Hrolf and his lackeys are watching for armies of men, not a lone traveler."

"You can't go alone," Hakon said flatly. "Even in times of peace that's dangerous, never mind after today."

"I will take a small escort. You pick the men. I know how to find Vilhjalmer, trust me. We both had ways of escaping his mother and teachers when we wanted time for mischief."

"You and mischief?" Hakon raised an eyebrow. "Did it involve women? Do you even know what to do with one?"