Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (32 page)

The audience room of Count Amand's fortress was as large as the halls Konal had seen of the greatest jarls, only Hrolf the Strider's hall being larger. As he waited for Grimnr the Mountain and the old count to finish their whispered argument, he scratched his chin and studied the room. Christian symbols adorned all the empty spaces, from crucifixes to statues of their small gods. Candles guttered in silver holders and above him on a great wheel. He folded his arms, both against the evening chill of the room and his worry. Grimnr had not killed Ulfrik outright, and now he sat in a prison awaiting execution. If the Franks decided to press him for information, it would just give Ulfrik more time for his luck to work him out of the trap.

The argument reached a peak, hissed whispers rising to a sharp shout from Amand and his guards lowering spears. Grimnr the Mountain looked like a wolf about to pounce on a flock of sheep, unafraid of the guards and their spears. Konal held his breath for the heartbeats they stared down each other, and Count Amand finally waved them back with an irritated sweep of his arm.

"Enough posturing," he said. "Let us reserve our decisions until we've spoken with this one."

"Konal Ketilsson, come forward," Grimnr said, his voice little more than a growl. His hulking form heaved with anger and his mouth was bent in a frown. He held up a hand when Konal stood beneath the wheel of candles. "Close enough. Your information on Ulfrik was correct. He answered to his own name."

"Did he? That seems unlike him to make such a simple mistake."

"Well, I caught him off guard attempting to get close to Halfdan."

Konal frowned at the name, then recalled Halfdan was the false name Vilhjalmer used to disguise his true identity. "Still you allowed him to live?"

Here Grimnr's eyes shifted to Count Amand, and he folded his massive arms. The count stroked his mustache as he reclined in his chair. His voice was airy and aloof. "I need to learn whatever I can from him. He will be spend some time with one of my more ... energetic men, and if he has not told me all I want to know before his teeth are gone, then we shall work on his fingers until I get it. Then he will be killed."

Konal's repulsion must have been plain on his face, for Count Amand smirked. Grimnr shook his head and his gaze fell to the floor.

"It's a mistake to torment him," Konal said. "I can tell you all you need and more. Besides, I promise you he is the luckiest man I've ever met. The longer he lives the more likely he will elude your justice."

Amand raised his brow and his hand went still on his mustache. "By now I trust the words of no Northman besides Grimnr's, and after this I begin to doubt his judgment." Grimnr snarled but did not take his eyes off the floor before him. "Yet I do have your ship and crew as hostages. Tell me what else you know."

"Only on the condition you execute Ulfrik immediately."

Pushing himself straighter on the chair, Amand gave a playful smile. "You are setting conditions with me? Is that all?"

"I want protection for me and my crew and a promise you will allow us to leave unharmed. It is a fair trade for what I will offer you, I can assure you."

Grimnr glanced at Amand, who slowly nodded. The giant man turned to Konal, his smoldering gaze setting a fire at the pit of Konal's guts. "You have terrible scars on your face and hands. Did Ulfar ... Ulfrik give you those?"

"He gave me scars of another kind," Konal said in his hoarse, whispering voice. "My history with him is deep. It was much easier when he was dead." Both the count and Grimnr expressed confusion and Konal waved his hand. "As I warned you, he has escaped death once already. Do not linger in your decision to execute him. I assume you asked about my scars because you wonder why I betrayed him. Let me make it clearer to you. I married his wife and sit in what would be his hall. That should explain my actions."

"By now Einar must know you are here," Grimnr said. "How will you return to your wife and hall when he knows you for a traitor?"

"I have a plan for that. Your concern flatters me, but do not think of it."

"The prattle of you barbarians is enough to try Job's patience." Amand slapped the arm of his chair, a gold ring clanking against the deep brown wood. "Tell me what you know, or perhaps I'll have you hanged alongside Ulfar."

Konal narrowed his eyes at the old count, but Grimnr tilted his head in challenge. Konal swallowed, trying to recall a time when such a threat would have sent his hand for his sword rather than a skin of ale. Still he found himself wishing for a drink under that feral gaze. "I assure you Ulfrik is alone. He was sent specifically by Hrolf the Strider to contact his spy, Eskil. His mission was to break out the hostage you know as Halfdan."

Grimnr nodded as if he had known this all along, but Amand showed only confusion. "I knew Mord was close to Hrolf, but never expected him to take an interest in Mord's son."

"You never gave your word on my demands," Konal said. "Before I say another thing, I want to know you will execute Ulfrik tomorrow and allow me safe passage out of here."

"Only if your information has value and is true," Amand said.

"I already revealed Ulfrik to you. How much more assurance of my honesty do you demand? I work for myself and none other. I want him dead, and to give Hrolf a black eye as well. Now do I have your word?" His voice was scratchy and faint, but no less powerful for it. Again Grimnr nodded, and Amand let out a long sigh.

"You have my word on both demands. I swear it before our Lord God. Satisfied?"

A smile swept Konal's ruined face. "Very. Now, you know all there is about Ulfrik. Only you do not know the one you call Halfdan's real name. He is not Mord's son, but Hrolf's. He was Mord's guest when he slipped away to find adventure. His name is Vilhjalmer. You have in your custody Hrolf's first and only son, the most precious person to him in the whole circle of the world. All the jarls know it, from Mord to Einar to Ull the Strong. They all play for time for Ulfrik to rescue the boy. Otherwise, imagine how you could make Hrolf bend knowing his son is at your mercy?"

Count Amand now sat back in his chair as if slapped into submission. Grimnr's mouth hung agape, making small, noiseless movements. Konal smiled and folded his arms. "Put your so-called energetic man to work on Vilhjalmer and he will soon confirm what I've told you. You have as a hostage what your people call a prince. Is learning that worth my demands?"

Count Amand nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on some distant landscape in his own mind. "Worth it all. You may leave with my blessings, but are invited to remain for Ulfrik's execution. We'll hang him at dawn."

"I wouldn't miss it."

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

"I heard Hrolf's orders," Gunnar said, spitting over the rails of his sleek longship. "But on my ship my commands are all that matter, and please, Mother, try not to speak to me as if I were a child. I will hear no end of it from my crew."

Runa sank back with a smile trembling on her lips. "Of course, I overstep myself. It's fear that rules me, makes me worried that your father is so close to us, but might as well still be in Iceland."

Gunnar leaned on the rudder with a grunt and the ship angled around a bend in the Seine. "I know how you must feel. Attempting to join with Count Amand's men is not a good plan for what we must do. Hrolf has never been a thief, and does not know how best to steal from an army of angry Northmen. We send in Finn, learn what we can of Father's situation, then offer him help from the outside. He will need a ship readied to sail at a moment's notice, and we won't have that ability if we are being tested by suspicious enemies. Besides, we are sailing up the Seine and could not have come this far without Hrolf's permission. Of course they will not trust us. We just have to stay out of sight, which the bends in this river make simple."

She inclined her head to her son's decision. She could not find fault with the idea, and liked his reasoning. Gunnar worked the tiller as skillfully as a man with both hands. He had strapped a hook to his right arm that he claimed held the tiller just as well as a normal hand. The ship still had the glow of fresh wood, and creaked and popped as it plied up river. He had twenty oars, ten on each side, each manned by fierce men with broad shoulders and battle scars. The water splashed as they grunted at the oars, Gunnar shouting a curse whenever he thought the pace slackened.

"I will want a sword and shield of my own," she said to Gunnar, her voice edged with defiance. To her surprise, he grunted agreement.

"Pick a shield from the rack. There are more than I have crew for. You can have my sax, since I guess Konal has continued to forbid your practice. Am I right?"

She watched the dark line of trees glide past, and her silence answered for her. "After I thought your father died, I let everything go. He did not need to forbid practice, since I would have been glad to die under the sword. It wasn't until I learned Ulfrik returned that I realized I too had been dead."

"Hard words. Do not think so lightly of yourself. You are still a shield maiden."

Runa laughed. "At my age I am more a shield matron. I suppose my arms remember what to do in a fight, but if pressed I will be in trouble."

"Stay near me. No enemy will harm you."

She watched Aren and Finn review the rigging, and only the clipped conversation of the crew and the swish of water along the hull made any sound. Her hand groped for the silver Thor's hammer hanging from her neck and she spoke under her breath. "I pray we will not fight at all."

They fell into silence, and Runa took stock of the ship. Clustered about the mast were casks and crates, creating an island that forced men to the sides of the ship when crossing the deck. She pointed at the pile. "You do trading?"

Gunnar shrugged. "I do whatever makes gold for the crew. Those are casks of oil from Lundene, which I bought at a price little better than thievery. The crates are filled with spun wool on top, but gold coins on the bottom. I thought I'd have to pay my way back into Hrolf's graces. Looks like Fate had a better plan."

Runa winced. "A problem solved with gold is better than one solved with blood."

"I've missed your wisdom, Mother." He smiled at her, and they both shared a laugh.

At length Gunnar guided his ship to the shore, and Finn prepared for his task. Men leapt the rails then hauled the ship to the shore, and Runa had to grasp the rails with both hands or fall on her face. Gunnar set a gangplank for Finn, then slapped his back. "Tell my father I am impatient to see him again. Bring him and Vilhjalmer as fast as you are able."

Finn's bright, freckle-splattered face lit up with a smile. "I'm excited to see him again, too. I owe him my life for the second time, so I hope this will pay for one."

Aren clasped arms with Finn, then frowned as if confronted by a puzzle he could not solve. "Good luck," he said.

He leapt onto the rail, paused and unbuckled his sword baldric. He handed it to Aren. "It's too big for the sly work ahead of me. My sax and dagger are all I need. If I have to pull this out I'm in a lot of trouble. So you hold it for me."

The sword dangled before Aren's wide, swollen face, and he looked sheepishly at Runa. She smiled and pointed at the sword with her chin. He took it into his hands as if it would break, then slipped it over his shoulder. "I will keep it dry and safe for you."

"Use it if you have to. Swords need to be bloodied or else they bring bad luck. That one's been clean a bit too long."

Runa let him amble down the gangplank and flit away into the trees without a word. A lump caught in her throat and she did not know what to say.

Gunnar posted a guard at the bend to check for approaching ships. Other guards watched the tree line and opposite shores. Runa felt as if everyone had a purpose but her, and soon she felt foolish for having joined this trip. She gave Gunnar space to lead his crew, but she stole glances at him. He ruled his crew with a blunt ferocity that was not characteristic of Ulfrik. His gruff, harsh words motivated them, but it reminded Runa more of Ulfrik's father Orm or his brother Grimm and she did not care for that change.

After a long morning of idleness, she had settled onto the beach to stare thoughtlessly into the cloudy sky. The shout of the guard at the bend roused her.

"A ship," he cried. "Full sail, twenty oars."

Men began to rush back to the ship, several of them already pushing it back into the water. "Hurry!" Gunnar shouted from the prow. "Mother, get back on the ship. We have to leave!"

She scrambled up the gangplank, artlessly falling over the gangplank. Aren helped her up, his newly acquired sword swinging loose on his shoulder and unbalancing him. She heard the splash of water and the pop of the sail unfurl. She staggered to Gunnar, who pulled hard on the tiller making the ship tilt and moan with the strain.

"We can't afford to be caught now," he said through clenched teeth.

"But what of Finn? How will he get Ulfrik to safety? We have to return."

Gunnar shook his head. "Not too soon. They'll see a ship beached recently. I'm a thrice-cursed fool for doing so. The patrols will become more active."

"They'll know we were here just from that?"