Sword Brothers (6 page)

Their arrows were leveled at him.

"Wait, it's me!" he shouted.

The shafts flew, and Ulfrik dove at Hakon who did not seem to notice. He missed his son, landing face-first in the mud, but scrambled up as fast as he had fallen.

"Hakon, get down!"

His son stumbled with a cry. Ulfrik could hear his heart beating. He dashed for Hakon and flipped him over. His face was covered in blood and an arrow stuck through his right cheek and protruded from the left side of his face. His eyes were wide in horror, but he still lived.

Ulfrik looked behind him. Nearly a dozen Franks charged at him and were a spear-throw away. All his pain vanished and he hefted Hakon off the ground. "You're fine, boy. Get up and run."

He felt a burning tug at the inside of his calf, looked down to see a thick gash through his torn pants, then glared at the men on the barrier. It seemed they had shot again, but now others were wrestling with them. At least a dozen of his own men had leapt the barrier and were now charging for him.

"It's Ulfrik," he called out. The men rushed to him, and Ragnar, who had been so guilty for leaving him, helped to carry Hakon. "What were you thinking, shooting at us?"

Ragnar shook his head. "It was the others, not ours. They must've mistook you for Franks."

More men streamed past and from behind he heard their battle cries and the crash of blades. His only concern was for Hakon, who staggered along in a daze with blood drizzling from his mouth. He choked and coughed on it, but Ulfrik and Ragnar hauled him to the barrier where Finn waited to help them over.

"I don't know why they shot at you. I told them you were behind me." Finn's freckled face was white with shock, and he stared at Hakon's wound with open revulsion.

"They'll pay for that mistake," Ulfrik said. "But after we get on the water. Let's get Hakon aboard then launch the ship."

Hakon's protests were incomprehensible with the arrow skewering his face. The men who had shot at them lingered behind the barrier. There were three and now they were not interested in shooting nor helping their companions drive back the Franks. Ulfrik glared at them, but returned to Hakon. Finn leapt aboard and took Hakon's arms while Ragnar and Ulfrik pushed him over.

In the distance, the Franks were in retreat and Ulfrik's men were shouting victory. He hoped they had sense to return rather than chase down any stragglers. To his relief all of his men were uninjured and Hrolf's men had only taken superficial wounds. The three men sulking by the barrier were Mord's, and having learned that, Ulfrik burned with rage. Once all were at the ship, he ordered it launched.

"That was a scouting party to follow us. The main force is just behind them and we have to flee now." He stopped Mord's men, who had not offered an apology. He recognized one as a veteran, a hard man with a red scar across his nose who had served Gunther One-Eye. His name was Magnus the Stone. Before Magnus boarded the ship Hrolf had left them, Ulfrik grabbed him by the shoulder. He looked as if Ulfrik's touch sullied his armor.

"You should have known better than to shoot at us. If I were a suspicious man, I'd say you wanted to kill us." Ulfrik held Magnus's cold eyes, and he knew he had guessed right. The veteran glanced at Ulfrik's hand.

"We thought you were Franks. Sorry, my eyes are not what they used to be."

"Good for me or that arrow would be in my neck," Ulfrik grabbed Magnus's beard and pulled him closer. "You'll pay the blood money you owe to Hakon. And if I decide you intended to kill either of us, then you'll pay with your head."

Ulfrik released the veteran's beard, whose lined face broke into a smile.

"Of course, Jarl Ulfrik. It's only right." He stepped back and looked at Ulfrik's leg. "How's the old wound? I bet it hurts every day. It's a hard thing to grow so old yet still fight against men half your age."

The veteran mounted the ship without another word, and Ulfrik decided that his disagreements with Mord had taken a deadly turn.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ulfrik smiled as he emerged from the trees and saw his hall seated atop the gentle hill, dozens of buildings spread out beneath it with peaceful curls of hearth-smoke rising from their rooftops. His legs and feet were still sore from running, but he was glad to make the short walk from the Seine River where his ships docked to his hall. Hakon's expression was lost beneath the rust-stained bandages swaddling his face, but his eyes were bright with joy.

"It has been a long summer away from home, hasn't it?" Ulfrik put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'll be glad to stretch beside the hearth with a horn of fresh mead. No more of that stale piss we had to drink for so long."

Hakon nodded, still unable to speak. It had only taken four days to arrive home from Chartres, and Hakon still moaned with the pain of his wounds. He had lost two teeth, shattered by the arrow, and his tongue had been cut deep. Finn had stitched the tongue together as best as he could while on a rocking deck, but the wound was in an awkward position, and Hakon could not bear the agony. For now, he could only drink and not eat. The puncture wounds on his cheeks would leave deep scars but not affect him otherwise. Ulfrik seethed with anger at Magnus the Stone's ignorance. His heart burned for vengeance, but as a jarl of high standing he had to behave with more grace and accept Magnus's payment. In truth, it was Hakon's duty to demand and collect compensation, but Ulfrik knew that arrow had been for him.

"Do you think they've prepared a feast for our arrival?" Finn asked. He walked at Ulfrik's left, and the rest of his crew fanned out behind them, walking with a light step and full of laughter.

"Gunnar's ships were at dock, so I'm sure by now he's told my wife a lie about how we were only a day behind him. I've no doubt a feast has been ready since he returned, and that he has had one for himself already."

"Well, that's unfair," Finn said.

"You could have left with him."

"What we did was more glorious. I made the right choice."

All laughed, even Hakon through his injuries. At last they came to the stockade walls and found Gunnar, his crew, and the rest of Ulfrik's hirdmen waiting. When the gates swung open, the cries of welcome echoed to the skies and Ulfrik forgot all his pains and worries as they parted for his entrance.

"You'd never guess we're returning in defeat," Finn said.

"After the summer we had and the narrow miss being trapped, I'm proclaiming this a victory worth celebrating."

The men welcomed him with cheers and pats on his back. Families and lovers rushed to each other. At the edges of the crowd Ulfrik saw the forlorn expressions of those whose fathers or husbands would never return. He would later meet them all, pay blood prices, and tell them how bravely their man died, even if he had not witnessed it himself. For today, however, he was content to see his own woman, Runa, standing beside Gunnar with her hands folded at her lap.

Time had stained the tight curls of her hair with gray, but had not diminished the fullness of it. She had at last succumbed to pressure and wore a head covering like every other married woman. Her waist had thickened and lines had worn between her brows, but she was as beautiful to him as ever. He was conscious of the limp bought on from all his running, and struggled to walk straight to her. When he enveloped her in his arms, more cheers went up.

He felt drunk on her sweet scent and her warm, soft body against his tired skin was a salve to all his pains. They kissed deeply, and when they drew apart he looked into her dark eyes. "Sorry I was delayed. It pleases me to find you well and happy for my return."

Her smile deepened, and she put a warm, smooth hand to his cheek. "Welcome home, Ulfrik."

She turned to Hakon, and Ulfrik knew she did not recognize him at first glance. Gunnar also seemed to not recognize him until Hakon presented himself. Runa gave a short gasp and ran to him. "What happened to you?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Ulfrik said, pulling his wife back from Hakon. "We had some difficulties escaping the Franks. Hakon caught an arrow through the mouth. He's lost a few teeth and his tongue was cut, but give the boy time and he'll be spitting and cursing again."

Runa's face was pale with shock and her dark eyes were like two dots in circles of white. Her hands hovered around Hakon's face, unsure of what to do, but he gently grabbed her wrists and lowered them. He tried to speak, yet only muffled words escaped the bandages. Runa's eyes teared up.

"His tongue was cut? Will he speak again?"

"Of course, Finn stitched it back together." He turned to point at Finn, but discovered he was lost in the arms of his own woman.

"Stitched it back together?" Ulfrik did not think she could grow any paler, but she did. Gunnar shook his head and led Ulfrik away by the arm.

"Father, you've spent too many days talking to warriors and have forgotten how to speak to your wife."

"Well, wasn't she Runa the Bloody once? You know what your mother's history--"

"You're missing the point, Father. Hakon is her little boy. Come with me. You've got grandchildren waiting for you."

They pushed through the clumps of people embracing in welcome. Some were families reunited, others were younger boys crowding their older peers, others were just tradesmen come to enjoy the happiness of returning warriors. All around them was jovial chatter and laughter, Ulfrik's favorite part of returning from a long raid. His hall dominated a wide swath of crucial farmland and river trade along the Seine. Everyone here had a stake in his successfully demonstrating strength.

Gunnar's wife was a woman he had captured in England during his dark years as a raider. A full-bodied woman who stood no taller than Gunnar's chest, she went by the name of Morgan. She had learned to love Gunnar and gave him many children, though most had not lived. Not until Gunnar settled his own lands next to Ulfrik's did his family begin to prosper and his children survive. He had two girls and a son, and all three were a delight to Ulfrik. The boy was only two years old, but looked like him with bright blue eyes and golden hair that had Gunnar's strong curls.

Standing with his grandchildren was Aren, or Broken-Tooth as others had come to call him. It was a cruel name, for his true father had smashed his front teeth in a fit of rage. Yet he did not disagree with it, and made up bold lies of how he had come by the disfigurement. His wide, inscrutable face regarded Ulfrik with an outward coolness that Ulfrik knew masked a fierce love. Though not his son by blood, Aren was his wife's son, carrying both her passions and her loyalty. To that he bought his own keen intelligence that made him a master of both men and strategy. At twenty-one years of age, Aren had not filled out and remained far less imposing than his half-brothers, nor did he possess Finn's wiry strength.

He stood with arms locked behind his back as Ulfrik approached. Aren's eyes swept Ulfrik's body head to toe, examining all the cuts and scars he had earned on this campaign. Most did not show on the outside, but Aren was adept enough that he would eventually see those internal wounds as well. "Welcome home, Father. You look well."

"That I am," he said, then gave Aren a bear hug that he returned with a weak pat. "No worries while I was gone?"

"I saw to everything as you would," Aren said. Ulfrik had left him in charge, for, though lacking physical strength, his sharp mind and insight into the hearts of men made him a formidable leader. He would anticipate trouble long before even the troublemakers themselves considered it, then stamp it dead at the root.

"I have news," Ulfrik said. "I want your opinions on the matter when we have time to talk alone."

Aren's eyes flicked over Ulfrik's shoulder, and he turned to see Runa fussing over Hakon's injury. "I watched you trying to explain Hakon's wound to Mother. You seemed ill at-ease. Would that be part of our discussion?"

Ulfrik nodded and Aren flashed a small smile. "As perceptive as ever. Tell me, did Vilhjalmer bring you a woman while I was gone? Hrolf seemed to think the two of you would be up to mischief."

Now Aren's face flushed bright red. Despite his ability to read a person, he had little skill with women. He had told Ulfrik it was because he saw through all the women who wanted him for his riches and status. Ulfrik saw no problem with those intentions, but it bothered his son.

"Vilhjalmer is not allowed to do anything without a dozen guards. You know that, Father."

"The lad is fifteen now, that's a man in anyone's eyes. He's become your best friend, and I'm sure he can do as he pleases."

"Your grandchildren," Aren said with a raised brow. "They're patiently waiting."

"Of course!" He turned to Morgan, who smiled then released her three children to run for Ulfrik. He gathered them together as they clamored for his attention. The eldest girl, Hilde, gave him a soft, gentle kiss upon his cheek and Ulfrik laughed with joy. He swept Gunnar's youngest, his son Leif, into his arms and put him on his shoulders. The middle child Thorgerd, a red-haired girl with green eyes, took his hand, and together they all made for the hall.

The reunion celebration lasted all day and filled his hall to bursting. Though he had wished to recapture Ravndal, he had been given Konal's lands shortly after his return. Not satisfied with that parcel of land, he threw himself into conquest and expanded Hrolf's borders south of the Seine. The work of the last six years had been to pacify this area and provide Hrolf a choke hold on the western Seine River. His reward was this massive swatch of land, and he left Konal's old lands to Einar. He built a great mead hall, twice the size of what he had at Ravndal, second only to Hrolf's great hall outside of Rouen. His success and fame attracted people from all over Hrolf's expansive territory, and even from beyond. Whatever he had lost when Konal had betrayed him to his enemies, he regained and then added to it. He never had to tap the fortune in jewels that Runa had recovered from Konal.