Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (36 page)

"Your wife suspected it. Where is he?"

The crowd plowed into them, panicked faces flooding past them for their burning ships. Ulfrik strained to find Konal but saw nothing more than rows of men in their drab colored shirts pressing forward. "He's lost to the chaos. Let's head for the fortress and worry for him later."

At the rear, men who did not have ships milled in confusion. As they dodged between these idlers, they heard fragments of worried talk. "Are we under attack? Should we man the fences? Is this a feint?"

"Raise the alarm," Ulfrik shouted. "Mord comes with his army! Hurry!"

Finn laughed and repeated the same false warning. Within moments, horns blared and orders to guard the western approaches were shouted. A new current of men flowed toward the plains where Einar had attacked. Across the camp, echoes of warning horns blared from Count Amand's fortress and the gates swung closed.

"That's not good," Finn said.

"They will man the front walls and not be looking for two men at the rear. Now come with me."

They stopped at Grimnr's hall, and Ulfrik slammed open the doors. At least six men were laid out on the floor and the interior stunk of human waste. Finn coughed and held his nose. "What are we doing here?"

"Arming ourselves for the task." The sick men did not protest, only one raising his arm as if asking for help. Ulfrik did not spare a glance for them, instead finding his mail coat, sword, and all his other belongings. Grimnr had piled everything on his bed, probably to be divided among his men after the hanging. "Help me get this chain shirt on, then we will find one for you."

"I'm not used to that weight," Finn said as he helped Ulfrik slip the heavy links over his head. "A shield and helmet is enough."

The familiar weight on his shoulders felt good, and he strapped on his sword and sax, daggers, and his shield. He threw his pack to Finn, then rummaged deeper in the hall. "Here's what we need. Finn, take these."

He pulled out a two-handed ax and a rope tied to a bucket. "Cut off the bucket and coil that rope. It's how we're getting over the walls. Be fast about it."

Guarding the door while Finn worked, he searched for signs of anyone returning to the hall. Every man raced west, sprinting through the fields with shields and spears ready. "I'm ready," Finn said from behind.

No one paid them any attention as they ran against the current. He continued to shout encouragement to those lingering. "Every man is needed to fill the line. Go now!"

They skidded to a halt by the front walls, and Ulfrik struck to the right where wagons of empty barrels and crates had been left. "More carelessness for our benefit," he said. "Hide behind them as we pass to the rear."

At last they came to the back of Count Amand's fortress, and as predicted, all men were stationed facing the imaginary attackers. An enemy could not approach in force from the rear, so at best a sentry or two might have been left behind.

"Have you ever scaled a wall with an ax?" Ulfrik asked. Finn's face was now full of color and his bright smile returned.

"Like the skalds sing about? That's what we're going to do?"

"How's your side?"

Finn covered it with his arm and lost his smile. "I'm completely healed. I can do this."

Ulfrik looked from him to the wall, which was twice as high as a tall man. "These Franks have built high. I'm not sure I can leap that distance. You're younger, but that wound could tear."

"Hrolf's healer told me I was the strongest lad she'd ever met and that I had no business surviving as well as I did. I can do this."

Shaking his head, Ulfrik took the ax in both hands and stepped back for a running leap. "I'll toss you a rope when I'm at the top." Finn groaned in protest, but Ulfrik had already started his run. His legs hurt with each pounding footfall, and just before the wall he launched himself with the ax pulled back. The black timbers flew at him and struck hard, but he did not reach the top. His feet broke the collision and he tumbled back to the ground, landing on his shield. Bright pain lanced through his body and he stared up at the blue sky.

"Are you hurt?" Finn's concerned face hovered over his.

"Just old. I think I have seen the last of my days leaping walls."

"That's right," Finn said, snatching the ax from the ground as Ulfrik lay motionless. "Time for me to try."

"I've got a better idea." Struggling to his feet, his head swam as he steadied himself. He pulled the ax from Finn's hands, then tied the rope to the head. "Give the rope a strong tug to test the knot."

Satisfied it would hold, he carried it to the walls and held it overhead. "Get back. If I miss you're likely to be split down to your crotch."

He sized up the throw and everything returned to him: the balance of the ax, the controlled breathing, the power of his stance, everything his old mentor Snorri had taught him since he was a child. Some things a man never forgets. He let the ax fly with the ease and grace of releasing a dove to the air. The weapon spun in a circle even with the rope thrashing behind, and it thudded home into the wood at the top of the wall. Finn gushed his admiration. "I can't believe that! How did you do it?"

"Forty years of practice. Now test the rope and up you go." Finn clambered to the top, lay flat over the edge, then waved to Ulfrik before he hung from the opposite side and dropped. He spoke to him through the wall, his voice muffled.

"There's no one here. I can open the side gate if you want."

Ulfrik considered the plan, and the throbbing in his left leg begged him to agree. "All right, but be on the watch for guards."

As he rounded the corner, he found Finn waiting for him in the small gate as if he had been there all morning. "What kept you?"

"This is no time for play. We must be swift." Together they fled into the main buildings, the hallways now familiar. They heard shouts and confused speech, and had to wait for a line of guards to pass as they hid in a pantry, but soon arrived at the inner courtyard.

"No one at the tower doors?" Finn asked.

"I don't like it, but there's no choice." With the morning sun filling the courtyard they were denied shadows, so they sprinted to the tower where Vilhjalmer was held. Only one woman scurried through the courtyard, head down and oblivious to them. Ulfrik tried the door and it opened. "Another bad sign."

They rushed inside, daggers drawn for a close quarters fight, but the room was empty. With a curse, they trudged up the stairs to find every room vacant, including Vilhjalmer's at the top. Finn stared at the simple bed which lacked any blankets, a sign of no one having slept there. "What now? He's gone!"

"They must have moved him, but where?" Ulfrik rubbed the back of his neck and began to pace. "We'll go to the source. Let's find Count Amand."

"Are you mad?"

"Yes, but I'm also right. I'm taking him hostage in exchange for Vilhjalmer."

"Won't he have guards?"

"Of course."

"Lots of guards?"

"We'll be smart about it, Finn. Now, unless you plan to overwhelm him with your worries, we are going to find that old bastard and slam his head off that pretty throne of his until he gives us Vilhjalmer. Let's move."

They threaded back down the stairs and into the main fortress. They encountered servants who blanched at their drawn daggers, but none cried out or raised an alarm. Ulfrik had been to the count's hall once, but he remembered the path. On the second floor, after tramping up steps that bounced under their feet, they came to the closed double doors. "Shouldn't there be guards here?" Finn asked.

"Not if they've gone to the walls. Let's just find out what has happened."

He slammed open the doors. An elderly man with fly-away white hair stood frozen in the center of the room beneath the giant wheel of candles. He cradled a silver crucifix in his arms, and appeared to have been wrapping it in blue velvet. All around boxes were laid out and the count's belongings were in various stages of packing. The old man's dull eyes met his, then he bolted for the opposite door.

Ulfrik clomped across the wood floor, his footfalls like hammer blows, and he collared the old man before he reached the door. He hissed at him in his poor Frankish. "Stop, and don't shout or this goes badly for you."

He whirled the old man around, and put the dagger to his neck. The servant's eyes hardened in defiance, and he held the crucifix to his chest. "You'll have to pry this out of my dead hands."

"Now that's a poor invitation to a Northman. I've splashed your god's crosses with blood far holier than yours." Ulfrik emphasized his threat with his dagger. He glanced at Finn, who was exploring the wood boxes piled around Count Amand's throne. "Good for you I'm not interested in the silver. Where's Vilhjalmer?"

"I don't know who you speak of."

"The Norse boy. He was Amand's hostage. Where is he?"

The old man's face bent in a frown. "I will not tell you."

"You're waiting for help to arrive. If you tell me, I let you go. If help gets here before you do, I'll slit your throat."

He appeared to consider Ulfrik's threat. "They left yesterday. The count took his personal guard and the barbarian child. I don't know where they went."

"That's a good start." Ulfrik hooked the old man's leg and pulled it from under him. He crashed to the floor with a feeble cry, the crucifix still held to his chest. Ulfrik put his boot on the man's head and began to press. "If I squeezed your brains from your nose, would that help you remember where they went?"

Finn shot Ulfrik a surprised look as he wandered behind the throne. Ulfrik shook his head; he believed the old man but wanted to be certain. There was no honor in abusing the elderly when it served no purpose. To the old man's credit, he wormed and struggled but revealed nothing more.

"Get your foot off me, you loathsome toad."

"Tell me where they went." He shifted more weight onto the old man's head.

"They went to Paris."

The answer came not from the old man, but from the double doors. Ulfrik whirled and recognized Amand's captain standing in it with five other guards. They wore mail and conical helmets, and carried spears and shields. The captain had his sword drawn and was as heavily armored as the others. Ulfrik removed his foot from the old man's head, who immediately scrabbled away.

"Will you let me draw my sword at least?" Ulfrik said, holding out his dagger. "It's not much of a fair fight otherwise."

The captain snorted in disdain. "Fair fight? I think not, my cunning barbarian friend. I save such things for men, not animals."

Ulfrik began to shift toward the throne, where Finn stood transfixed. The captain strolled into the room, bringing his guards in a tight rank behind him.

"Now you're calling me names?" Ulfrik slid closer still to the throne, and the captain continued forward.

"It is what you are. All of you. The count has shamed all of Frankia for consorting with your kind. He goes to Paris to beg forgiveness by offering the king an important hostage. Maybe then he will redeem himself."

The captain and his guards had crossed halfway to the throne, and Ulfrik now stood beside it. The captain stopped and pointed his sword at him, his guards lowering their spears with wolfish grins.

"I will delight in sending you and your friend to hell."

"What is it you Christians do for the dead? Yes, I remember now. I'll light a candle for you."

Ulfrik swept back and up, Finn shrieking in surprise as the dagger flashed past him. Ulfrik cut into the rope that held aloft the wheel of candles that was secured behind the throne. The rope resisted only a heartbeat, but it was so taut that one cut unwound it.

The captain looked up in horror as the massive wheel of candles crashed down, slamming him and his guards to the floor with a wooden thump.

"Finish them," Ulfrik shouted, then leapt onto the pile and began stabbing, Finn right behind him. Whether from the crushing wheel or their stabbing, the captain and his men were dead. Ulfrik stood back from the bloody carnage and regarded the pile of bodies.

"Looks like we're headed to Paris."

Finn turned a blood-splattered face to Ulfrik and scowled. "Can we at least get back to Gunnar's ship?"

"Of course, I wasn't planning on walking." Ulfrik turned to see the old man seated against the far wall. He stared at the bodies as if he could conceive of nothing more terrible. "I think we can use the confusion to escape back to the river. Let's go."

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Runa did not know how her head broke the surface, but she sucked air into her burning lungs then coughed on the river water dragged in with it. Her arms and legs thrashed in all directions. The hull of Gunnar's ship filled her vision, but she had no control over her body as she flailed in the river. Water filled her mouth and nose, and her hair clung to her face like a mask. Panic gripped her and she could think of nothing but breathing, yet her head continued to dunk beneath the water. Her legs grew heavy and she felt as if two icy hands were hauling her down to the muddy bottom.