Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (20 page)

"What? I'm not so helpless that I have to lie down. Do you take me for one of those delicate flowers the Franks so love, that all my petals will fall at the first strong wind? We have to do something about this news today. You must see that?"

Gunther nodded, but his grip on her shoulder tightened. Her eyes widened at him, then she turned to Hrolf. His face was still red and he leaned on the table with both fists. "What happened to your face?"

The shift in topic threw her. The shame of her beating was the last thing she wanted to describe to Hrolf. Reflexively she pulled her curly hair over the bruise. "It is nothing."

"I understand a lot of nothing happens in Konal's hall."

Runa gasped. How could he know such details, and why would a great jarl concern himself with the details?

He smiled at her reaction. "Yes, I know the hearts of all my men. What they fear, what they love, who they know, and where they travel. It has grown harder over the years, but key men I make a habit to watch. I wonder what Konal will ask you when you return? What will you tell him?"

"That I went to visit Einar as I said I would." Her voice shrank and she did not even convince herself.

"Of course, but he will discover your visit here sooner rather than later. Maybe he already knows? Then he will beat you until you relent."

"He would not do that," she said, her voice diminishing. "And I would never tell him the truth."

"A common belief until the pain becomes too much," Hrolf said. His expression shifted from anger to concern. "But he'd have it out of you, and then what would he do knowing Ulfrik lives? Of all the people to fear his return, Konal has the most cause for it. He took Ulfrik's wife and home, assumed Ulfrik's life for his own. It was all honestly done under the assumption Ulfrik was dead. But now questions will arise. He might panic at word of Ulfrik's return and his mission might leak. Such starling news may travel faster than anyone might expect straight to Count Amand's ears. What of Ulfrik's safety then?"

"That will not happen," Runa said, tipping her head back in defiance yet realizing her assurances meant nothing.

"Of course it will not." Hrolf smiled and extended a hand to her. "You will remain my guest until Ulfrik returns. I will send word back to Einar for you, and instructions that will guarantee he does not repeat what he knows."

"You can't do that," she stepped toward him, but Gunther held her back. "Konal will know something is amiss and take it out on my son."

"Leave your son and Konal to me. For now, I will keep you with Finn and he will tell you the details of Ulfrik's story."

Gunther tugged her arm and she lowered her head and nodded. Further arguments would bring nothing good. "Please tell me you will keep Ulfrik safe."

"He will do that himself, and return my son. Have no fear for it."

Runa nodded, but she did fear. In her heart, she knew the gods looked down and laughed at the small hopes of mortal men. They would be entertained before men realized their dreams.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Konal sat alone in his hall, unwashed, hands still flaked with Aren's blood days after smashing his son's face against Ulfrik's memorial stone. Rain pelted the roof and thrummed on the hide cover over the smoke hole. A leak caused the hearth beneath to hiss and steam, mimicking the state of Konal's thoughts. He was all heat and vapor since Aren stunned him with the news of Ulfrik's return. Not a single thought remained whole in his mind, nor could he string them together to make sense.

Everyone had quit him, either at his own command or through his vile cursing. Groa, the old bitch, led a revolt of the free women and now only slaves remained in his presence. A single slave, an old Frankish man with a shaved head, lurked at the end of the hall to attend him. Otherwise, he had spent the last three days alone in gloomy silence. The hirdmen took meals at their barracks and sent food to him at the hall. A plate of cold pork sat before him, untouched from the night before. All he needed was a keg of ale to keep him alive.

The regret for beating Aren was overwhelming. He was a strange child, but was Konal's only remaining kin. Why had he abused him? Aren held onto Ulfrik's memory as if he were the greatest man who had ever lived. The boy just did not understand the truth and never would. Ulfrik had poisoned Konal's own son against him, ensuring years after his death that Aren still held him in higher regard than his own blood father. Every time Aren praised Ulfrik's memory, he wanted to crush it out. Every time Aren's face glowed at some account of Ulfrik's life, he wanted to smash it down. Every time, Konal's hands itched to grab Ulfrik's ghost and throttle it out of all memory. Yet Ulfrik had been dead, and the living were all he had in reach, so they bore the burden of his ire.

He tottered out of his chair, stumbling through the hall as he had three nights before. The old slave stood as he approached, but he continued past until he crashed out into the rain. Puddles spread like brown lakes across the center of his hold. People remained indoors, but Konal found the cold rain welcoming. He wandered through the muddy tracks until he came to a barracks. Inside, he found men passing time with gambling and drinking. All fell silent at his arrival.

"Find my son. Bring him to the hall."

He did not await acknowledgment but returned to the hall to await the completion of his orders. Back inside, he sloughed off his cloak by the fire, removed his boots, and stretched his legs out on the high table. He let his clothes drip into small puddles beneath his seat. He was dozing when the hall doors burst open and three men dragged Aren inside.

Fighting all the way across the hall, the three hirdmen left a trail of rain water behind as they deposited Aren at Konal's feet. The bedraggled men stood over the prone form, frowning. Konal set his feet on the ground and leaned across the table.

"Where did you find him?" His voice was a strained, thin whisper.

"With the cooper," answered one of the men.

"Groa's husband," Konal said. "Of course she would shelter him. You may all return to whatever games you were playing."

He watched them leave, ignoring the dripping, heaving form beneath him. Konal wondered if anyone had been keeping lookout duty, particularly in the rain when no one wanted the task. He needed to get back on these men, but not before he dealt with more pressing concerns.

"Stand up," he said. "I didn't break your legs."

Aren stirred, reluctant to obey, but eventually staggering to his feet. His hair was flattened to his head and plastered to his face, which he kept lowered. Rain water ran from his cloak into a puddle at his feet.

"Get out of that cloak and dry off. You look as if you just pissed yourself."

When Aren did nothing, Konal stood and fetched a dry cloak left against the wall. He approached Aren and began to remove his cloak, but his son pulled back.

"As you wish," Konal said, dropping the fresh cloak on a table. He turned back toward his own bench. "I've given thought to what you told me the last time we spoke."

"Is that what you call it?" Aren asked, head still lowered. "We were speaking to each other?"

"You've got a right to be mad." Konal strained to fill his voice, but his burn wounds forever rendered his voice thin and weak. "I took a heavy hand with you. But you know better than to bait me with your praise for Ulfrik. There is so much history you don't understand, but how could you?"

"So I deserved to have my teeth broken and face smashed?" Aren raised his head to match Konal's gaze. His square face was rounded with swelling, and brown scabs crisscrossed his forehead and nose. He flashed a wicked smile to reveal his front tooth had been broken in half. "Was I not ugly enough without this?"

"It's not so bad," Konal lied. The damage he saw filled him with self-loathing, but he would not reveal that to his son. "Since you're not a fighter, you'll need a few scars to give you some presence with your men. The broken tooth will do."

Aren laughed without humor. "I hope you die. Do you know that? I beg the gods to kill you."

"That saddens me. I wish things had been different between us. You are my only blood in this world. You look just like my father, but you've got my brother's mind. Kell was as clever as you are, maybe more so. He was the better part of me, and I the worst part of him. Maybe his death is why I've become what I am."

"Is there a point to this, Father?" Aren's eyes were small behind swollen flesh, but glittered with hatred.

"Tell me everything you know about Ulfrik. Where is he now?"

Aren recoiled as if struck and turned his head aside. Konal waited. He had to know the details surrounding Ulfrik's return and what he planned. Whatever Aren knew had to be told. "I'll get it out of you one way or another. Besides, you've already told me the most important thing, so what is it to tell me more?"

"I don't know much," Aren said, his shoulders dropping. "But here is what I know."

Konal then listened to the most fascinating account of survival he had ever heard. That Ulfrik could survive a fall from a high tower then imprisonment in Iceland was proof of his hardiness. Konal had grown to despise a great many things about Ulfrik over the years, but he had nothing but respect for his stamina.

"So he left for the Franks right away. Never met with Einar?"

"Not that I know. Neither Einar nor Hakon ever spoke to me about the return of my father."

Konal's fist clenched at Aren's use of the word "father" for Ulfrik, but he had to dig deeper. "And your mother? She has been called to visit Snorri upon his deathbed. Do you think it means Ulfrik has returned?"

"You now know as much as I do. May I leave?"

"No," Konal slammed his fist on the table, causing Aren to flinch. Beneath the table Konal's other hand touched the bag of jewels at his side. "Did Ulfrik say what his intentions were in returning? You said he planned to kill me. Why?"

Aren's swollen face blanked and he stared as if he did not understand the question. "That was just my anger at you. He said he only wanted to fulfill Hrolf's task and take his reward in gold, then leave."

"He would not ask anything of me or his former wife?"

"Nothing he told me."

The lie was plain to Konal. Aren was the smartest boy he had ever known, but was still a boy who did not understand guile as well as a man. He was a perfect copy of Konal's father, right down to the habit of rubbing his nose when lying. Aren dragged the back of his hand under his nose as he repeated his lie.

"Ulfrik will not come for you. He said to appear to Mother would be too disturbing and that returning was a mistake."

"And those threats to my life were your own words and not his?" Aren nodded. "Besides Hrolf, no one but you and Snorri know Ulfrik has returned?"

"Those are all who know." Aren did not touch his nose.

Konal sat back and waved Aren away. "Go back to standing in the rain, if that's your wish. You've told me what I need to know."

"You will not say anything about this?"

"Of course not." Konal resisted his own temptation to touch his nose. "I've no desire to bring more pain to your mother."

Aren left, his sopping cloak dragging up days old straw from the floor as he went. The hall doors opened to hissing rain and Aren disappeared into it. Konal sat still, waiting until Aren put distance from the hall.

Then he exploded with anger, flipping the table and sending his dish of uneaten food crashing to the floor. The slave cowered in the corner while Konal flung mugs, plates, jugs, anything that came to hand. He raged until he was out of breath, then collapsed onto a bench.

Ulfrik had defied death. If he was back in Frankia then it meant he had already taken his revenge on Throst.

And if Ulfrik had killed Throst, without a doubt he would have discovered Konal's hand in the plot to kill him.

It felt as if ages had passed since he set those plans in motion. Throst was eager for revenge, and Konal was tired of being left to guard Ulfrik's family and treasures while he played at being a hero to his people. Now he realized Ulfrik had him guarding the jewels he now had at his hip, a new insult after so many years. Ulfrik understood how he tormented Konal, forcing him to guard his wife, a woman he had never stopped loving, and then returning long enough to make love to her before his next adventure. His own son called Ulfrik father before Konal's eyes. The shame and humiliation had burned him worse than the flames that had marred his face.

When the opportunity to betray Ulfrik to Throst arose, he could not resist. Ulfrik would die and Konal could assume the life he had stolen from him. For the love of the gods, he had seen Ulfrik's head and heard Einar's account! How could Ulfrik be alive today?

Of course Ulfrik knew the truth, and the only thing preventing him from killing Konal was Hrolf's task. Konal had not fought a real battle in more than a decade. Despite the Franks being only a short distance downriver, he had managed to avoid combat of any sort. Ulfrik, however, had evidently kept his skills sharp over the years. A fight between the two of them would fare poorly for Konal, and he could not allow it come to that.