Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (40 page)

Konal's eyes fluttered open, rolling wildly until focusing on Ulfrik. He frowned, then coughed. His usually strained voice was even thinner now that he lingered at the edge of death. "My own son did this to me. Can you believe it?"

"There is little I won't believe anymore," Ulfrik said. His pulse beat in his temple and his chest felt tight. "It is no less than what you deserve."

"What I deserve?" Konal choked a laugh that turned to a fit of coughing. Blood splashed from his mouth as he did. "Fine words from the man who deceived me all these years. I found the jewels my brother and I spent our lives seeking. You lied to us about them, denied us our share."

"I returned that share to you tenfold. I gave you a home, a family, and a fair share of all my war spoils. And you repaid me with treachery. You sent word to Throst and connived to have me murdered. Then you stole my hall and my family. I lost everything to your petty jealousy and your anger over a few stones."

"A few stones? Those gems were a gift from one king to another. They must be worth a kingdom. You could never return my share."

Ulfrik leaned close. "I killed Throst. I threw him from the tower where he had contrived to murder me. But unlike me, the gods hated him. They smashed his body to pieces so that when I found him at the bottom I could not tell where his head should have been on that twisted lump of flesh."

Konal's frown deepened. "Do you think to threaten me? I am already dead. What worse can you do?"

"You're right," Ulfrik said, stepping back. "Just tell me why you did it."

He waited, but Konal closed his eyes and folded his hands over the sword. The silence stretched until Konal's wheezy breathing overwhelmed Ulfrik.

"Once you had everything you wanted, why did you mistreat it? Why did you hurt my wife and son?"

Eyes flicking open, he bared his red-stained teeth. "She was my wife and he was my son. Not yours! You were dead and should've stayed that way."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Because she is a stupid whore and he is a monster!"

Ulfrik clamped his hands onto Konal's throat and began to crush. He grabbed Ulfrik's arms in a feeble grip, but he was too weak to dislodge him.

"This is for me, and all my family," Ulfrik hissed through gritted teeth. "This is for all the lost years of my life and the broken body you left me."

Konal gasped and kicked, the sword slipping to the floor with a dull clank. His eyes were wide with terror as his face darkened. Ulfrik drove his thumbs into the base of Konal's throat, squeezing with all his force.

"This is for the ruin your petty greed and jealousy has wrought. I curse you to Nifelheim. May worms eat your corpse until Ragnarok!"

His hands flopped to his side and his body went limp in Ulfrik's grip, but he continued to squeeze. He crushed until the pain in his hands traveled up to his elbows, long past the moment when Konal had grown still. Only until he was sure Konal's last breath had been chocked off did he release. His hands burned from the effort. He felt for a pulse in Konal's neck and detected nothing, nor did he breathe or otherwise move. He lay on the bed as peacefully as if he had fallen asleep. Only that his legs and arms were splayed out did he show any sign of a struggle.

Konal was dead. Ulfrik wiped the sweat from his brow and blew out a long breath.

"My revenge is done," he said to the corpse. "Now to find my new life."

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Ulfrik's footsteps in the hall were the only sounds despite Gunnar having joined his ten men with the others already inside. The hall was again full of warriors and each one turned a dour face toward him as he took a seat at the high table. Runa sat in the opposite corner with Aren, both holding each other's hands. Gunnar studied him with arms crossed and face expressionless. Ulfrik sighed and leaned on his elbows at the table.

"It is done. Konal is dead and justice is satisfied."

Runa stifled a sob and buried her face in Aren's shoulder. Gunnar provided a slow nod, but otherwise he and his men demonstrated no care for the announcement. Only Konal's men seemed moved, each one staring at the other with wide eyes. At last one of the men stood. His brown hair was stained with gray streaks and his short beard was interrupted with a white scar at his cheek.

"Now we are men without a lord, little better than bandits. You say Jarl Hrolf the Strider supports you?" Ulfrik nodded. "Then we shall serve you, if you will lead."

"I will be honored to have you. Swearing of oaths will come when the arrangements are formalized with Hrolf. Until then, I'll charge you with the protection of this fortress until I return. No one, not even your former companions, may enter without leave from me or Runa."

The man inclined his head. "I speak for all of us when I say we had no love of our former companions. They were leeches, not warriors."

With the men settled, Ulfrik gathered Gunnar, Aren, and Runa to his table. He guided his wife with a gentle touch on her shoulder, and she flashed a smile at him through teary eyes. He understood the history between her and Konal, but did not understand how she could grieve for a man who had treated her with carelessness. He hoped time would heal those wounds. For now, he had more pressing needs.

"It was a hard thing I did," Ulfrik said quietly. "Even after all the pain he has caused all of us, he was once a friend."

His family kept their eyes lowered, but Gunnar frowned. "Some deeds can never be forgiven, and he made a list of them. I don't regret his death. It was a service to the world."

Aren nodded and sighed, patting his mother's hand. Runa blinked away more tears but could not speak. Ulfrik let them remain in silence, his own head clear after bringing justice to Konal. He had dreaded the moment, but now that it had passed he found himself sharing Gunnar's sentiments. He felt loose and excited for the next step in his plans.

"I sent Finn ahead to Paris, where Count Amand has taken Vilhjalmer. I will meet him there and rescue Hrolf's son once and for all."

"From Paris?" Runa asked, wiping tears from her cheek with the back of her wrist. "That will be even harder than the camp, and look how long that took you."

Ulfrik waved in dismissal. "That's because I had to infiltrate the ranks and sneak about the fortress. Paris will be much simpler. It is the hugest city I've ever seen. Only cities like Lundene in England might rival it. People of all races move within its wall, Norsemen included. We will only need gold enough to bribe my way through any guard curious enough to ask questions. Otherwise, no one will fear the arrival of a lone man."

"You don't really plan on just you and Finn doing this?" Gunnar asked, his dark eyes flashing with curiosity.

"More than a handful of men will just arouse suspicions. I've learned much about skulking among enemies from my time in Amand's camp. One or two are better suited to tasks such as this. But I have a role for you, if you can convince your crew. Hrolf will reward them, of that I am certain."

Gunnar sat up and grinned. "My men crave gold the way other men crave food and mead. Name the task and we shall carry it out."

"Sail me down the Seine to Paris. That means we will have to portage around Amand's camp and right now that will be dangerous."

"And on the return trip?"

Ulfrik turned to Aren. "You and your mother take four men and make haste for Eyrafell. I need Einar and Mord to launch another feint at the camp. Only a distraction to keep their eyes from the river as we pass. Without leadership, they may even surrender. Half that camp is wracked with disease, and without strong leaders they may crumble."

Aren nodded eagerly, but Runa shook her head. "How will we time it to coincide with your passing?" she asked. "It seems unlikely to succeed."

"The attack is all we need to break up that camp while they are distracted with Amand's sudden absence and the spread of disease. Count three days from the time you have left before Einar attacks. He won't have time to gather all his men for a full assault, but only a distraction is needed."

"What about inside Paris?" Gunnar asked. "How will you find Finn?"

"Finn will find me, no doubt. He should have already located Vilhjalmer, for the count probably holds him in a church. Any one of the big ones will do, and Finn will have scouted them all. After that, I will create my own distractions and deceptions." He smiled and tapped his head. "As I've gotten older, I've gotten craftier. The years have taught me some hard lessons about how people react to danger. I know how to make them do what I want."

"You make is sound simple," Runa said. "But the years have also taught me some hard lessons, one being that your schemes usually involve the greatest risk to your life."

Ulfrik laughed, and took his wife's hand once more. It was wet and warmer now, and he clasped it between his. "If the gods are not entertained, they will not bless me with victory. If I do not take risks that bring blood and glory, they become bored. That is my fate, Wife. I will be in the heart of the enemy's power, walled in by those who would kill me if they knew my heart. But I will walk out of Paris, and so will Finn, Vilhjalmer, and any other who goes in with me. This I swear before you and all the gods."

She pulled her hand back. "Do not swear lightly. This count knows the value of his hostage, and Vilhjalmer will be guarded like a king's treasure."

"True, but unlike gold or jewels, Vilhjalmer is a smart and courageous boy who will aid in his own escape. One other thing to consider, Paris is like a giant walrus. It is fearsome when roused to fight, but it is a slow and ponderous beast. You can't tip over a hay cart in that city without soiling the finery of some nobleman. All those leaders make Paris slow to react. I just need to be fast and confusing. We will be gone before they know what they have lost."

He scanned their faces, and his boys were ready to aid him. Runa pursed her lips, but relented under his assuring smile. "I should trust you more than I do, yet I can't help but worry. I don't want to lose you so soon after finding you again."

"Everything will be fine," he said, then stood. "I will have Konal's men bury him with his clothes and a sword. That will be a token of our old friendship, and from this day that is all I choose to remember of him. If any of you wish to place anything in his grave, see it is done before you leave."

Again all of their eyes fell to the table, and Ulfrik grunted. "Let's prepare for the journey. We've little time to lose. Paris is slow, but they are not at a standstill. Every day gives more time for Count Amand to take action against Hrolf."

After they broke up and Ulfrik dispensed his orders to his new men, he stepped outside to clear his mind before departing. He stared at the dead dog with three arrows running along its side like a spine. Despite all his assurances to his family, he feared this attempt would be the most foolhardy plan he had ever assembled. He wished he had something to sacrifice to the gods for their favor, but in the end all he could offer in sacrifice was the risk of his own life and the lives of his family. It would need to be enough.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

The stench and noise of Paris overwhelmed Ulfrik. It was no ordinary experience of foul odors and commotion, but a near debilitating crush of sensation. Fish, garbage, sweat, smoke, dung, and half a dozen other scents he couldn't identify filled his head upon entering the city walls. His ears throbbed with the cacophony of life, the only thing louder being the clash of shield walls. Hawkers cajoled him as he passed; people seemed not to speak but to yell; the endless procession of carts and horses followed by streams of people flowed around him; craftsmen hammering; goats, chickens, dogs, and horses bleating, clucking, barking, and snorting; pigeons swooping in great flocks from building to building. He wanted to fold into a dark corner and cover his ears, but knew he could never escape the assault.

He seldom entered large cities, and when he worked as a trader he spent his days aboard the ship. The largest he had ever entered was Yorvik in England, and it was a mere corner of this vast city. It was no wonder he and his fellow Northmen were unable to capture it, for swallowing a whale would have been an easier task. Yet not only the physical size of the city amazed him, but also the mass of people crammed behind these walls. Buildings leaned together over cramped streets, and he wondered how one unattended oil lamp or errant spark from a cooking fire had not burned the entire city to ashes. He had considered setting a fire as a distraction during Vilhjalmer's escape, but now he revised that plan. He might trap all of them within an inescapable inferno.

People jostled him through the streets, funneling him along their path of travel whether or not he desired to go with them. No one had patience for his delays, and when he halted someone would shout at him to move or simply shove him aside. His boots were already thick with animal droppings, which littered the roads. The city was a playground for fat, black flies which boldly landed on his face or buzzed around his head.

He angled toward the large church where the two men from Gunnar's crew said he would wait. Neither of them entered Paris, but had waited outside for Finn's report. Ulfrik told them how Gunnar had moored his ship upstream and to return with news he had entered Paris. He left all of his weapons and mail aboard the ship, knowing he would not be allowed inside with anything more dangerous than a dagger. He carried three, one in each boot and one at his hip. Paris was a city of churches, and he had visited one already and not located Finn. This final one was taller than the others, and in the location fitting the description. Though there were roads to follow, Ulfrik still found it easier to navigate by the sun to determine east from west.