Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (19 page)

"A lifetime of practice does it," Ulfrik said. The crowd's boisterous laughter softened and many struggled forward to hear the answer.

"Aye, no lie in that," Grimnr said. The plump serving girl set two mugs of ale before him then shrank away. He did not acknowledge the drink, but studied Ulfrik. "I have to wonder why I've not heard of Ulfar the White before today."

"You have," Ulfrik said. "I met you five days ago."

He burst out laughing at his own joke, but no one else followed. He was already feeling weak from too much ale on an empty stomach, and his bad joke alerted him to be more cautious with his words.

"Your name has reached my ears at least once for each of these days," Grimnr said. He looked at him with a gimlet eye. "It seems in battle there's little you can't do, and your sword brothers are mightily impressed. So let's see how a battle of drinks goes for you."

He shoved one of the mugs across the table at him, ale splashing over the side. The surrounding hirdmen clapped and began to place their bets.

"Vigrid has already poured me three mugs in a row. I feel like crawling under the table."

"Three mugs?" Grimnr's lip curled in a sneer, then downed the mug before him. "I've had two already. Now it's fair. We begin."

He slammed the board and a roar went up from the hirdmen. Ulfrik found himself staring at his mug while Grimnr chugged a fresh refill. Vigrid prodded his shoulder. "Drink, you fool. I'll keep the ale flowing."

He slugged the ale down, spilling as much as he could without being called a cheat. True to his word, Vigrid had a mug ready when he was done with the last. Three mugs later the room began to swim, and after another two he fell forward on the table.

Rather than cheers, he found himself being hauled onto the board. There was no sound but for the rasp of a dagger clearing its sheath. Grimnr held him down, his face red and frowning.

They know who I am, Ulfrik thought as Grimnr's massive hand crushed his neck. They're going to kill me right here.

The dagger point was at his eye and Grimnr snarled. "What's your real name?"

"Ulfar the White," Ulfrik managed to say through the choke hold. He tried to punch Grimnr but discovered men pinned both arms and legs to the table. He was as good as tied down.

Grimnr released his hold, then backhanded him hard enough for Ulfrik to see stars. He repeated the same question and Ulfrik gave the same answer.

"Where are you from? Who did you last serve?" The men dragged him up while the questions fired at him. His legs were like wilted stems and he collapsed. Rough hands hauled him upright and Grimnr appeared before him, dagger in hand. "Answer my questions."

"I served Leif the Unlucky. I am from Trodheim in Norway." He gave the answers he and Gunther One-Eye had prepared. Leif had been a real jarl who had died in battle along with most of his crew.

Grimnr growled in frustration, then Ulfrik was being shoved through the throng. They punched him in the gut, clapped him in the head, or beat his face as they cycled him through the crowd. Each one asked the same questions Grimnr had, and as drunk as he was Ulfrik held on to the lie. They had attempted to weaken his mind, and now they weakened his body as well. He crashed to the floor when a flurry of kicks landed all over. He crumpled into a ball to protect his face and body.

"Let me through." He heard Grimnr's voice, then felt his massive hands fall on his shoulders and flip him to his back. "Get his arms and legs."

He was held like a hunter's prized boar between two men. Grimnr guided him to the hearth where hot embers glowed. Ulfrik struggled as they set his head beside the fire, the heat scorching the right side of his face. He vomited and it hissed as the puddle flowed into the fire. Grimnr's hand pushed his face onto the hot rock of the hearth and it scorched his cheek. With his other hand Grimnr drew out a burning brand from the fire.

The searing heat was inches from Ulfrik's face, making his eyes water. The more he struggled, the harder Grimnr pressed his head.

"Last time, or I burn out your eye. Who do you serve?"

"You!"

"What's your real name?" The brand thrust closer and Ulfrik squeezed his eyes shut.

"Ulfar the White!"

Grimnr roared, and Ulfrik braced for the flames. Then he heard a wooden clunk and sparks landed by his face. He opened his eyes as Grimnr released him, then he slid to the floor.

Someone doused him in cold water, and a cheer went up. Leaning against the hot stones of the hearth, he looked up at a smiling Grimnr. Behind him, the hirdmen were giving approving nods.

Holding out his hand, Grimnr said, "Sorry about that, Ulfar. I had to know if you were honest. Trouble with spies recently. You understand."

Ulfrik nodded, water running off his face as he sat. He took Grimnr's hand and the giant man pulled him up to a crushing bear hug.

"Ulfar is one of us today," he proclaimed. The hirdmen cheered and clapped Ulfrik on the back, each friendly hit like a hammer against his weary flesh.

Despite everything, he laughed and accepted the welcome. He had succeeded in becoming a member of Grimnr's hird, and the sensation of success was a warm spot in his chest.

Yet somewhere beneath the thick blanket of drunkenness and pain, Grimnr's words began to bore home. Trouble with spies, he had said. As Ulfrik accepted his welcome, his mind drifted to worry for Vilhjalmer. He had to find Eskil before he was subjected to something worse than Ulfrik had endured.

Outwardly he smiled at his sword brothers, yet in his heart he cursed his foolish pride. The time he had to finish this task had shortened to nothing, and he had to complete it as soon as eyes were off of him. Unfortunately, he realized he had put too many eyes on himself.

Secrecy and deceit had never been his strongest skills, and now he had to execute flawlessly or become a causality of his own vanity.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Runa stood outside Hrolf the Strider's mead hall as a drizzle pattered atop her hood. The two guards at the door pulled into their cloaks and folded the material over the shafts of their spears. Both were young enough to be her sons and both appeared miserable. Runa shifted her weight, tapped her foot, and shot a frustrated look at the half of Einar's crew that remained with her outside. She understood that a woman was not accorded the same respect as a warrior, but to be made to stand in the rain while others entreated Hrolf for an audience on her behalf was shameful. There had been a time when Hrolf's doors swung open to her without effort, but now status and power kept his doors shut against all no matter how old the relationship.

Rain dripped off the edge of her hood and onto her nose. She snorted it away and it was as if that blew open the hall doors. Her men reappeared and were smiling. "He'll see you," said Reist, the hovedsmann of Einar's ship that had ferried her down the Seine. As the leader of the crew, it had been his duty to present to Hrolf even if Runa was a jarl's wife.

"About time," she muttered, pushing past Hrolf's guards. "The rain is getting worse, and I'm cold enough."

Inside the front room, guards checked her escorts who willingly surrendered swords and daggers. As a woman she was spared the attention and was first to be shown inside. The humid warmth inside the main hall clasped her face as she entered. Hrolf was sitting at his high table, his mousy wife Poppa at his left and the giant Gunther One-Eye at his right. None of them smiled, and Hrolf's usual charm was as scarce as his manners had become. She noted how his golden-ringed fingers absently thrummed the table.

After bowing to Hrolf and receiving his permission to speak, she looked over her shoulder to Reist, then back to Hrolf. His expression was stern and inscrutable. She knew the pain of a kidnapped son and what it did to a man's heart, but she almost felt anger from his stare. She could not understand how a simple audience could irritate him so, particularly since a man of his station did not need to grant it. Swallowing, she raised her head back and spoke clearly.

"Jarl Hrolf, I know this will seem a strange request, but we should speak privately."

His thrumming fingers stilled and Poppa sniffed, only Gunther One-Eye smiled slightly. The scar tissue in his eye socket twitched as leaned toward Hrolf to whisper something. He broke his cold gaze from Runa then spoke in low tones to Poppa, whose face grew more offended at each word. At last, she huffed and stomped from the hall, a dozen maids and servants scurrying after her.

She turned to Reist. "Thank you for all you have done, but my business with Hrolf is not for your ears. Please await me outside."

Having just complained about standing in the rain, she wondered if Reist would resent her for sending him back into it. Yet he only acknowledged the order with a nod and left without complaint. Now she stood with Hrolf and Gunther, feeling no bigger than a mouse standing beneath the two tallest men she had ever known.

"I know why you are here," Hrolf said, his voice toneless. "But in case I am mistaken, tell me why you have sought this audience with your jarl."

"Ulfrik is alive, and a man he traveled with named Finn is recovering here." Hrolf's eyebrows raised and his clear eyes widened, but he did not move. Gunther One-Eye shook his head and laughed silently. "I tell you this so you know I understand the task you set for Ulfrik."

"You do?" he asked as if inquiring about nothing more pressing than the weather. "How did you come by that knowledge?"

She told him of Ulfrik's visit with Snorri, and Hrolf's expression shaded from mild irritation to red-faced anger. His voice did not betray his mood, remaining as level as before. "So you are here to see Finn, I assume, and learn what you can of your husband's life these years we thought him dead?"

"I would like that, Jarl Hrolf, but there is more urgent news relating to Ulfrik and Vilhjalmer." He leaned forward and spread his hands to indicate she should share. Licking her lips, she described all Einar and Snorri had told her about Count Amand's men and what Einar feared may happen. Hrolf listened dispassionately, and Runa stumbled more than once wondering how he maintained such a distance when depicting the threats to his own son. When finished, she waited for him to agree. Instead he fell back in thought, steepling his fingers before his lips.

After an uncomfortably long silence, he sat up straighter and met her eyes. "This is dire news, and I am grateful for the haste and care taken to deliver it to me. Who else knows of Ulfrik's task?"

"None but my sons, Snorri, and Einar. Snorri would not have betrayed his promise to Ulfrik had he not learned your spies were followed by Count Amand's men."

"You are certain they will not speak to anyone else?"

"They place their honor above all. You know this to be true, Jarl Hrolf."

He nodded appreciatively. "Aren? He is young yet, maybe inclined to tell his love this great secret?"

Runa suppressed a laugh, for Aren was nothing if not a complete failure with girls. "He is wise beyond his years, and would never speak such a crucial secret to anyone."

He stared at her a while longer before speaking. "You have done me a great service. I will have a slave see to your comfort while you are here and put servants at your command."

"Is that all? What are you going to do with the news?"

Gunther One-Eye slowly nodded his head as Hrolf smiled at her like she were a precocious child. "I will consider what is best for my son. I expect you to observe strict silence on this as well. Not even my dearest wife knows what has happened. She still thinks Vilhjalmer is with Mord, and I do not want her informed otherwise."

"I understand that, Lord. But Ulfrik's life is in danger, and if he acts while Count Amand is searching for spies, it could be doom for both your son and my husband. You must send word to him."

She expected him to explode in fury, but instead his shoulders fell forward and a glimpse of the old Hrolf glimmered in his troubled expression. With a touch to his shoulder from Gunther, the iron returned to his voice.

"I appreciate your concerns and how hard it is to learn Ulfrik lives but is in danger. Do not think I would entrust him to this task if I did not believe him capable of facing whatever the Fates have planned for him. This is the life of my son and the future of my kingdom we are discussing. I have placed it all in Ulfrik's hands and I know I have not misjudged him. If you knew the details of what he survived to return to us, then you would not fear his safety. He will succeed."

"But I don't know the details," she said with forcefulness she regretted. Hrolf and Gunther both leaned back in surprise. "At the very least he must be alerted to the threat. Don't leave it to the gods to decide, for they have ever loved to toy with my husband."

"I will consider what you have said." Hrolf stood to signal the end of his patience. Runa's pulse throbbed in her neck and her hands trembled. This was not enough. She had to be sure Ulfrik was safe, and if Hrolf would not act, then she would.

"Do not consider, but act. How long can you delay before he is discovered? What will happen to him and your son?"

Hrolf's face turned red and he pressed his lips together. Gunther One-Eye stepped down from the high table to gently take her by the arm. "You're cold and tired from your trip. News like this must hit hard. Take a rest and you will feel better."