Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (43 page)

Engilbert cried out. "God, please no more killing!"

Vilhjalmer clapped his hands together. "Marvelous! I want you to teach me how that is done!"

With a laugh, Ulfrik tore his surcoat off then ranged his newly acquired sword at the crowd. "Back away or you'll get cut."

The crowd melted like snow before a torch, but one large man stood his ground. He was wide with a nose broken too many times and a flat head made flatter by greasy hair clinging to it. "You're not one of us. You can't kill our people."

Ulfrik flung the bloody surcoat over the brute's head and in the moment of confusion cut deep into his leg. The brute growled then crumbled, and Ulfrik yanked Vilhjalmer into the alleyway. The crowd screamed in indignation, and four or five of them gave chase. Ulfrik had no idea where he ran, only that he had to put distance between his pursuers while keeping Vilhjalmer in his grip. The boy laughed in glee as he kept pace. "This is fun!"

"Gods, lad! Our lives are at stake!" He also gritted his teeth at the pain in his legs as he ran, but held that to himself.

Engilbert dropped behind them, and then there was a huge crash. Ulfrik turned to see he had knocked over barrels and crates into the alley they had just exited. They continued to run until the stitch in Ulfrik's side became unbearable. They rounded a corner into a quiet street and regrouped. Engilbert collapsed to the ground while Ulfrik leaned on his knees. Vilhjalmer, with his youthful vigor, danced in circles around them. "What an adventure! My father will not believe all we've done."

"Keep the details from your father," Ulfrik wheezed. "No need to give him more gray hair."

Pedestrians stopped, seeing Engilbert on the ground, but Ulfrik grunted at them and hoisted Engilbert to his feet. The old priest dusted off the seat of his black robes. "Take me to Wibert now. I've done all you've asked."

"You've done more than I expected," Ulfrik said. "If I live through this, I will be sure the skalds add your name to the songs that will be sung of this deed."

Engilbert's lips wrinkled in a disgusted grimace. "Dear God, have mercy upon me."

They returned to the streets, joining the flow of traffic until Ulfrik felt anonymous once more. The bell tolled in the background, but no one around him paid it any attention. At last, he stopped and got his bearings. "Priest, I do not know this city well. We are to meet Wibert and my young friend in the northeast section by a row of destroyed buildings. I'm trying to navigate by the sun, but these cursed streets funnel me in the opposite direction."

The priest gave a long sigh and began to trudge back the way they had come. "Wibert had best be alive after all I have done."

"Bold words," Ulfrik said, sticking close behind Engilbert with Vilhjalmer at his side. "What will you do if he is dead?"

The priest remained quiet, but Ulfrik saw his ears turning red. Time was running out and the alarm bell might have put Finn on edge, particularly with all the other tasks Ulfrik had left to him. It would be a shame if he had killed Wibert given how arduously Engilbert had worked to save his friend's life. As they wended through streets, the bell stopped ringing and only the hum of city life remained. Ulfrik remained alert of betrayal or discovery, but pedestrians flowed around them while lost in their own concerns. At last they came to the row of burnt-out buildings.

"These have never been rebuilt since your kind failed to defeat our city years ago." Engilbert tilted his chin up in pride as they regarded the row of jagged timbers and piles of debris.

"Then your people are lazy," Ulfrik said. "That mess has been sitting there over ten years."

They circled the ruins, having to dodge a pair of guards rushing through the streets. By now Ulfrik expected the bishop had recovered to tell his story and guards would be combing the city for him. It was still early afternoon and the guards had plenty of light by which to search. They stepped out from behind a corner and approached the ruins. Finn whistled within the most intact building.

"You made it out," he said, the excitement in his voice straining to remain hushed. "Guards are looking for you everywhere. What happened?"

"We had a few diversions, but here's Vilhjalmer." Hrolf's son stood straighter and Finn bowed low, then his freckled face reddened when Ulfrik smirked at him.

"Well, his father is the strongest jarl in the land. Well met, Vilhjalmer, you'll be remaining close to me."

Hrolf's son turned a skeptical eye at him, "I prefer to stay with Ulfrik, if it's all the same. He's an amazing fighter."

"Where's Wibert?" Engilbert brushed past Ulfrik to confront Finn. "You had best not harmed him."

"He's fine, if a bit bored." Finn motioned him forward. "He's against the post in here."

The priest grew still and seemed to shrink. Ulfrik grabbed Engilbert's arm in case he decided to run, and he yelped. Ulfrik dragged him to where Finn gestured, and Father Wibert sat tied to a post with a cloth in his mouth and a welt under his left eye. Finn put both hands on his hips. "Told you he's fine. He just got a little hard to handle, so I tied him up."

"Well, untie him," Engilbert said, his courage inflating him back into form. "I've done everything you demanded."

"That you have, but you can't be reunited just yet." Ulfrik tightened his grip on Engilbert's arm. "I've got to get out of the city, then you can be freed. Wibert will remain tied here for you to release later."

"How long will that be?"

"Of course, I will need the cover of night to mask my escape. I'm sure he'll be fine until then."

Father Engilbert sagged once again, and Wibert struggled against his bonds. Ulfrik turned his attention to Finn. "You've done as I've instructed?"

"Everything is ready."

"Then show me to the passage under the wall."

"You know about that?" Father Engilbert asked.

Ulfrik nodded. "Is that passage widely known?"

Father Engilbert fell quiet, and Ulfrik yanked him hard to loosen his tongue. "Well, some of the priests know of it. I've known of it for a while."

"No matter, the plans are already set. Vilhjalmer, you must do what Finn instructs. Everyone depends upon your doing exactly as he tells you."

Vilhjalmer straightened up and patted his dagger, looking like a miniature version of his father. "We will have nothing less than victory."

"What will Wibert do?" Engilbert asked. "It's dangerous at out at night. What should he do if he's discovered?"

"The same thing we will do," Ulfrik said. "Pray."

CHAPTER SIXTY

Ulfrik cursed the bright moonlight that flooded the city in silver light. Where the streets were in shadow the darkness was so complete he could not see his hand before his face, and where an opening appeared the moon blazed like cold fire. Without the benefit of torchlight, he had to inch along with a hand on the walls of buildings, and Father Engilbert and the others behind him clutched the hem of the man's shirt in front. The darkness of a city at night was more complete than even the thickest forest, and Ulfrik had discovered another cause to detest these large cities.

"Hold," he whispered, facing a small church. It sat across a wide street that was bathed in light. "There's the door, but we'll be completely exposed while getting to it. Stay in formation, but move swiftly."

He waited for Engilbert to tap his shoulder, then they scurried across the open street like a giant centipede, four hunched shapes linked together. Ulfrik crossed into the darkness of the door, and checked that the others had disappeared into the shadows of the wall. He saw points of orange light from towers and had seen torchlight in the distance, but for now no one approached. He pushed on the door and it opened with a gentle swish.

Again Father Engilbert had proved invaluable; he had negotiated payment to this church for use of the passage this night. So not only was the door opened, but inside he found a candle burning in a dull iron holder next to the trapdoor on the floor. Ulfrik patted the priest's arm. "You know, you have served me well. I'd say your life here is ruined. Why not continue on with me? I could use a man of your skills."

In the fluttering light of the candle, Engilbert's face contorted with a frown. "A life among barbarians is worse than the penance the bishop will assign me."

"You aided the murder of royalty," Ulfrik said as casually as if discussing a favorite hunting spot. "I bet the count's family will want blood for that, and it sure won't be mine. Wibert might get away with the hostage excuse, but not you. Well, it's your choice. You go down first."

He popped open the trapdoor and held it for Engilbert, who stared at the quiet darkness in absolute defeat. Ulfrik had not meant to ruin the priest's life, but he was honest in his appraisal of his chances. Killing him outright might be kinder to him if he refused to join. For now, he watched the old priest clamber down the ladder with the candle held in one hand. The globe of light shrank until he reached the bottom, where it swayed around as Engilbert checked the room. His whisper echoed in the tunnel. "It's just me and rats down here."

"All right, you two next," Ulfrik said, helping the cloaked and hooded figures down. When they were halfway, he drew his own hood over his head and disappeared into the tunnel.

At the bottom, all four of them were crowded into a space large enough for three men. Engilbert had been pushed into the small tunnel. "Give me the candle and I will lead the way." He drew his dagger, a sword useless in such cramped quarters, and squeezed into the lead position. The candle smoke filled the tunnel that must have been dug by children. It was all dirt, supported at intervals with wooden beams, and plunged down into darkness. Ulfrik imagined dwarfs living deep in the earth, and a chill came to his hands. He had not considered how the restricting earth and unremitting darkness would gnaw at his guts as he journeyed deeper underground. Soon the tunnel leveled out for a dozen feet before sharply inclining. He doubled his effort to climb out of this evil place and promised himself he would never travel under the earth again.

"We're at the end," he said, his voice flat and dead in the tight earthen confines. "I can't imagine smuggling women through this. Their hair must be full of dirt and worms by the time they get to the church."

He placed his hand against the ladder leading up to a trapdoor, then tested the rungs with his foot. He handed the candle to Engilbert. "I'll go first, then help the rest of you out."

He scaled the ladder without difficulty, though the rungs sagged under his weight. He stretched to place his ear against the trapdoor, but heard nothing other than the beating of his own heart. With a gentle shove, the door opened a crack and sand fell into his face. He turned aside as the trapdoor opened, dropping more dirt, then climbed out into the promised cover of bushes and trees. The gurgle of the Seine and its mucky scent greeted his arrival. He let the trapdoor down carefully, then leaned his head into the opening. "Pass the candle to the man behind as you climb out, then the last one extinguish it. The walls are close, and we don't want to mark ourselves for the guards."

"They look away from what happens here," Engilbert said as he climbed next. "I believe they actually anticipate activity since they extort the church for their silence."

"You know much about these dealings. I wonder if you have your hand in the pot as well?" Ulfrik hauled Engilbert out, then the remaining two, until all were hooded dark shapes crouched in the bushes. The rowboat was beached ten feet away, and the Seine was a glistening black strip behind it.

He stood straight and motioned for them to follow. No sooner had he stepped out of the trees did the dark shapes of other men follow him out as well.

His heart skipped a beat and his stomach burned. A dozen men had crouched in the same bushes, waiting patiently in ambush. He heard the clink of iron, saw the flashes of moonlight on drawn blades, and realized a perfect ring had formed around them. The dagger in his hand also caught a spark of moonlight, but it was the wrong weapon for a fight against the swords and spears arrayed against him. Engilbert shouted in surprise and tripped back into the bushes with a rustling crash.

The laughter was cold and deep, and the giant shape of one of the men stepped into the moonlight. He was broad-shouldered in a shining mail coat, and he moved like a wolf on the prowl. A long braid of hair hung to his waist. Grimnr the Mountain had found him.

"How did you find me here?"

Grimnr laughed again, putting a giant hand over his belly. "From you, of course. My men spotted your young friend over there," he pointed past Ulfrik, "earlier in the day, and it did not take me long to guess where you planned to escape. The gates are all watched and the entire city is looking for your group. An old Northman with a boy, a priest, and a runt make an easy mark. Where else could you flee?"

Ulfrik bowed his head. "I knew I should not have trusted this way out."

"You didn't leave yourself any choice," Grimnr said as if he sympathized with Ulfrik's plight. "Killing a Frankish count in a church gets a lot of attention. The nobles don't want to believe they're that easy to kill. They're burning for justice."