Sword Brothers (18 page)

"Before you take him away, let me give him a something to remember me by." Vilhjalmer stepped in front of Aren and drew his dagger, smiling. If Aren did not know better, Vilhjalmer seemed eager for blood. "One of you hold him still for me."

The frizzy-haired leader gathered both of Aren's arms behind his back. Vilhjalmer put the cold dagger blade to Aren's cheek and drew closer. "I'd say we both learned a few important things from this."

Vilhjalmer drew the knife back and gave Aren a solemn nod, then spoke louder. "I'm going to drive this right into your eye."

"Um, Lord, be careful not to kill him," said the guard holding Aren. For an instant, Aren felt bad for the man.

"I don't think I will," he said with a smile.

He thrust at Aren's head and he leaned away as if dodging the strike. In fact, Vilhjalmer's dagger went wide and plunged into the biceps of the frizzy-haired guard. The scream shattered Aren's ear and he was suddenly free. Vilhjalmer fell forward onto the guard, shouting panicked apologies. The other three stood staring in shock, while Vilhjalmer's own guard laughed.

Aren darted away. Vilhjalmer crowded them, shouting. "By the gods, I'm sorry! He just twisted away at the last moment."

He was laughing even as his heart pounded in terror. The alley he had spied earlier was dark and narrow, filled with trash that he leapt with ease. Behind he heard angry shouting, but as he emerged from the opposite end of the alley, their voices were already distant. This street was busier, filled with men streaming both ways from the docks. Horses plodded along with wagons filled with barrels. Porters carried sacks of goods, and knots of grungy fishermen clustered at the sides of the road. Aren's only distinction was his clean clothing. He threw away his cloak and slipped into the crowd.

Looking back, he saw no one in pursuit. His violent push drew more attention than he wanted, and one burly porter slammed him aside with his girth, cursing him for a fool. He slowed down, wiping the sweat from his brow and stepping into the shade of a building that stunk of urine and fish. The afternoon sun was sinking and the city gates would close. If he could get back to the docks, then he could get the ship launched before being found.

His pounding heart finally calmed as he swam against the flow of late afternoon workers and returned to the river dock. By now he was strolling as if in a fine mood. He had secured Vilhjalmer's help and confirmed what he had long suspected about Gunther One-Eye. Convincing his father to accept this betrayal might be the harder part of rooting out Gunther's evil. Ulfrik was notoriously loyal to his friends, as his naively presenting himself to Hrolf's judgment proved.

At the dock where he had left the ship, he found Gils and the other two guards standing idly with their packs at their feet. They stood on the dock itself which was now empty of the merchant ship. He noted how they strained too hard to appear as if not searching the crowd for him. Gils appeared more nervous than the others. Aren considered leaving and contacting them after dark, but he suspected they did not have that much time left. He wandered over to them, and when Gils noticed him he only inclined his head.

"You lost your cloak," he said.

"The least of my worries now." Aren stood beside them, scanning around for what had unsettled his guards. There were dock patrols, but these were common soldiers more interested in kickbacks and finding shade for relaxation. A different set of Norse warrior in chain shirts had spread out into the docks and appeared to be straining to watch laborers and crews at work. "Where's the ship?"

"After you left, men from Hrolf the Strider announced to the docks that sons of Ulfrik Ormsson were fugitives from Hrolf's justice and that they might be seeking passage to Rouen. Anyone aiding them would be judged guilty as well. So our weak-bellied merchant decided his business could not afford to be ruined, and ordered us off the ship and left."

"But I paid him good gold." Aren winced at how childish his words sounded. "That bastard's promise is worth nothing. If ever I find him on this river again, I'll take my gold back before I have his head mounted on a spear."

Gils nodded, still scanning the crowds. "Did you contact Vilhjalmer?"

Aren told him all that had happened. "So it's only a matter of time before they warn their friends waiting here. They are going to accuse me of attempting to take Vilhjalmer captive and could use that as an excuse to execute my father. We have to get back across the river."

Now all three guards shared fearful glances. "That might be impossible," Gils said. "The borders to our lands are being closed down, and any crossing we make from here will be right into Hrolf's guards. Something seems to have quickened Hrolf's pace."

As Aren listened, his fist balled up and heat came to his face. Gils noted his anger and picked Aren's sword from the deck. "You'll need this if you expect to fight out of here."

Taking it in hand, he realized just how little he had practiced with it. Ulfrik thought it shameful that he was not better with the weapons, but unlike his real father, he did not pressure Aren to be who he was not. Ulfrik had always told him his strength was in his mind and not his arms, and such men were both rare and valuable. Though he had warned him being handy with a sword would serve every man, and now he wished he had heeded that wise advice.

"There were four men sent to find me, and at least seven others we can see here." Aren slipped the baldric over his shoulder and adjusted the sword at his hip. "These are hirdmen come to escort Vilhjalmer home, and so there are at least two times as many more we don't yet see. There's no fighting out of here, and if you're right about crossings into my father's lands, then we are stranded."

"We can't stay here," Gils said, and the other two guards agreed with him.

"Not even a moment longer. There is but one road open to us, probably just as perilous as the others. We will travel to Eyrafell where Einar Snorrason will shelter us. He will help me return to my family once this is settled."

With the decision made, Aren went ahead of his guards so as not to attract attention. Hrolf's men never noticed them, and by sunset they were on the road heading east for Eyrafell. It was their only choice, but Aren wondered if he would ever see his family again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Hakon sat at the high table of his father's hall, chin resting in his hand and heart thudding in his breast. His mother sat beside him, her face hard and inscrutable as if searching a distant horizon and hoping to find land. The morning light filtered through the open doors at the front of the hall, filling the entrance with an impenetrable yellow glare. But for slaves and servants the hall was empty, all the benches and tables cleared to the sides. The hearth was cold and filled with ash, and the black cooking pot hung empty on its trestle.

"You have done your best," his mother said. Her voice was weary but resolved. Hakon knew she had not slept well, but yet held herself with confidence.

"How do you stay so strong? Just the thought of facing these men turns my stomach to water."

Runa smiled, but continued to stare into the morning glare. "Fate dictates our lives. Who are we to worry for it? These men all have a fate that either follows ours or separates from us today. We sacrificed riches to the gods in the darkness before dawn. We begged them for success and luck. You have spoken to these men as a brother and a jarl, and given them the truth. We have done what we may. Now the Three Norns weave what fates they will from the fabric we have given them. Do not fear to face these men, for each will do exactly as he must."

She at last turned and placed her thin, warm hand upon his. His mother was old now, nearly fifty, and Hakon did not know how much longer he could lean on her. Not many other women lived to this age, and yet still appeared as healthy and young as his mother. She had always been his strength, and though he fought like a wolf in battle, for all other matters he looked to her for guidance.

"You always have the words I must hear," he said. "Of course you are right, and whatever I must face outside of this hall is what Fate has decided. We did all we could do. I put a good amount of gold into that bag, and I only hope it has persuaded Odin's favor."

Having seen the One-Eyed All-Father in his youth, Hakon believed he had a special connection to him. He often found when he begged Odin for aid, he would receive it. Why the god listened to him was a question none could answer, but even his father had asked him more than once to implore Odin for luck in battle. Each time Odin favored them with victory.

Today had to be the same.

His mother retracted her hand and smiled at him. "You look just like your father did at this age. When I found him in the forest so long ago, I was nothing but a scared slave girl running from death. He was like a golden god, full of young strength and power. Go show that to these men, and they will follow you."

"I can never imagine you a slave," Hakon said, then stood. He checked his sword, straightened his clean blue cloak, then ran his fingers over his hair.

He paused at the doors, turned back to see his mother sitting at the high table in a frame of golden light. From this distance she lost all age and all weariness, and again became the shield maiden men had once celebrated.

"You must come with me, Mother. The men will take heart as I do to see your strength."

At first she did not stir, then she rose and joined him at the door. She gave a gentle, small smile to him and gestured he should step outside.

The fresh morning air of summer smelled of wet grass and the cool air braced him. He turned from the eastern sun to the fields north of the hall. He averted his eyes until the last moment, not wanting to see only a handful of hirdmen and bondi left to his command. But as he lifted his eyes, he gasped with shock.

Rank upon rank of armored men stood silently awaiting him. His father had commanded two hundred hirdmen, the professional warriors at the core of his force, and could summon half as many bondi from the surrounding farms to fill his rank with spears and swords. As far as Hakon could count, not one was missing from the gathering. There were more men than ships to carry them into banishment. Hakon opened his mouth to speak but no words exited.

Runa appeared behind him, but said nothing. Instead she touched Hakon's shoulder and prompted him to stand before these warriors. At the front rank Ulfrik's standard of black elk antlers on a green flag waved in the breeze. Finn held the pole, his freckled face wide with a smile.

Hakon stood before the ranks, his mother next to him. With this many loyal men, he felt nothing could prevent them from rescuing his father. He shook his head in amazement. At last he spoke.

"I have no words. Your loyalty is as fierce as your strength. You are invincible. You are the sons of Odin."

"We honor our oaths," Finn shouted, and the men behind him joined, raising their rough voices to the sky. "We go with Jarl Ulfrik, for where he treads victory and glory follow!"

After the shouting subsided, Hakon looked to his mother who simply raised her brow. "You don't want to say anything to these men."

"They know me only as Ulfrik's wife. You are their jarl now, so command them."

Hakon licked his lips and met as many eyes as he could, and the grim faces of hardened warriors stared back. "We must expect victory but plan for the worst. Be prepared to leave on a moment's notice. Finn Langson returned last night and reported warriors massing at our borders. If we cannot persuade Hrolf to relax his sentence, then we will have no choice but to seek new land. Again, for those who wish to stay there will be no shame and Jarl Hrolf will take you. But for those who remain, I can only praise your honor and assure you the gods will see how you have chosen and judge you worthy of Valhalla."

The men shouted approval or stamped their feet. Hakon raised his hand for silence, then continued. "Go now and prepare yourselves. Prepare your families. There will be hardships to face, but none that men such as you cannot defeat. Be ready to answer the call to glory and know you have the admiration and gratitude of your jarl. Your loyalty will never be forgotten."

After more shouting and back-slapping, the assembly broke into smaller groups that lingered and eventually wandered off in all directions. Finn joined with Hakon and Runa, a wide grin on his freckled-face.

"That's a speech worthy of your father," he said. "I doubt any man would shame himself by running away now."

"No matter what they say today," Runa said, all reticence vanished, "many will shift loyalties if Hrolf continues to push us into homelessness."

"We don't have enough space on the ships to carry all of them anyway," Hakon said, his laugh dying under his mother's glare.

"Those men on the borders are keeping away any aid we might receive," Runa said, then folded her arms. "And they cut us off from Einar. Are you certain you had no sign of his approach? He was not rebuffed at the borders?"

Finn shook his head. "I found nothing of Einar nor the men originally sent to tell him of his father's death. I doubt he ever got the news, but just returned to Eyrafell. If he knew his father had died and was awaiting a proper burial, then nothing would have prevented him."

Runa nodded, then searched the horizon again like a sailor seeking land. Hakon hated the pensive expression, for he knew his mother feared more than she said. Neither Aren nor Gunnar had returned, and no word had come from Hrolf. The dearth of news worked on all of their nerves, but his mother's took the worst of it. No one hated inaction more than her, but in this situation nothing else could be done without risking Ulfrik's safety.

"Gunnar has returned," she said. Hakon roused from his gloomy thoughts to see a line of men approaching from the north. Groups from the assembly had stopped to talk with Gunnar's men, no doubt sharing news.