The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga) (2 page)

I touched my finger to the tip, feeling its sharpness, and for a brief moment my thoughts took me back to Paris. Where was Genevieve now? What was she doing? I remembered the last words she had spoken to me. She’d brushed my cheek with her hand, and whispered, "I will pray every day to my God to watch over you and protect you. I will pray to Him to shelter my love from wind and wave on your long journey back to your land." Then she had turned and walked away without looking back.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of thoughts of her. I could not afford to be distracted by memories of the happiness we’d shared so briefly then lost. I had a man to kill. Perhaps many. All of my thoughts must be on that for now.

I led our force of warriors from the forest’s edge that lay just below the crest of the low hill overlooking the longhouse down on the shore. It was atop this hill where the bodies of my mother and Hrorik had been burned and sent upon their death voyage. Harald had found me here, the morning after their funeral pyre. The burial mound within the standing stones that formed the outline of their death ship had grown a lush cover of tall grass since I had last been here.

In the great feast hall of the gods, did my mother know what I had become? Did she think it was worth the sacrifice she had made? And what did Hrorik think now of his slave son? When Harald had reached Valhalla, he would have told them of how he’d trained me, and of my first battle—the one that had cost him his life. But much had happened since then. Did my family know these things, where they dwelled now in the distant land of the gods?

Morning fog shrouded the hilltop. We spread out into a long line, Hastein at its center. Torvald, Tore and I, with the rest of the warriors from the
Gull
save the skeleton crew who were sailing it round from where we’d landed yester-night, aligned ourselves to his right. Ivar and his men formed to Hastein’s left. Hastein’s two captains, Stig and Svein, and their warriors anchored the two ends of the line, barely visible now in the thick mist.

Hastein drew his sword, waved it overhead, then pointed it toward the longhouse. We moved forward slowly across the hilltop and down its slopes, the fog muffling the sound of our advance as it blurred our shapes. From the longhouse below—had anyone been watching—we would have looked like an army of ghosts gliding silently through the mist. 

When we reached the base of the hill, Stig and Svein and their men trotted ahead, curving the ends of the line forward to encircle the longhouse within a wall of armed men that touched the shore at either end. The trap was closed, and those inside were now surrounded. No one would be able to escape.

Ivar raised his horn to his lips and blew a long, challenging peal. After a moment, he blew it again. From out over the water, we heard another horn give answer. The ships, which had rounded the point and were waiting for the signal, would pull for the shore below us now that they knew we were in position.

The door to the longhouse opened, and a head peered out. Seeing us, it jerked quickly back inside and the door slammed shut.

I thought it lax of Toke that no sentries stood guard outside during the night. Even though the estate lay in the heart of the lands of the Danes, he was a man with enemies.

Hastein called out in a strong, clear voice, "You, inside the longhouse. Hear this! My name is Hastein. I am jarl over the Limfjord district. I have business with Toke. I come in peace, so long as violence is not offered to me and my men. On that, I give my word. But those inside must come out now, bearing no weapons. You are surrounded. If you do not come out and meet with us in peace, blood will be shed."

For a long while, there was only silence. I spent the time recalling in my mind images of the longhouse. If we had to breach its walls with a ram, where would be the best place to attack? Hastein was not Toke, nor was I. We would not burn the building with innocents inside.

Finally the door opened, and a voice from within shouted, "We are coming out. We bear no arms."

Gunhild lead the procession that filed out of the longhouse door. That I had not expected. As much as I hated her, I could not deny that she showed courage in doing so. Behind her, one by one, peering fearfully at us as they left the safety of the longhouse, came the estate’s carls, their wives and children, and the thralls who lived and worked on the estate where most of my life had been spent.

Toke and his warriors were not among them.

"Does anyone remain inside the longhouse?" Hastein shouted. "If you are not truthful, it will go hard on you."

Gunhild shook her head. "There is no one left inside."

Hastein murmured to Torvald, "See if she speaks the truth. Take Halfdan and Tore. Be careful."

The three of us strode toward the open door of the longhouse. Tore and I had our shields slung across our backs and our bows raised and at ready. Torvald, advancing between us, held his shield angled in front of him, covering his chest and neck, and carried a spear cocked back, ready to throw. The moment when he entered the doorway would be the most dangerous.  Tore and I would cover him as best we could.

Something nagged at the back of my mind. I stared at the faces of the frightened folk huddled behind Gunhild and realized that Toke and his men were not the only ones missing.

"Wait," I said to Torvald and Tore in a low voice, then turned toward Gunhild and snapped at her in a louder one, "Where is Sigrid? Where is Ubbe?"

She’d looked pale before, but at my questions, the blood remaining in her face drained from it.

"Who are you to know those names?"

It was not surprising she did not recognize me. The light was still dim—it would be a while yet before the sun rose—and the mail curtain hanging from the sides and back of the helm I was wearing partially obscured my features. Also, I was not the boy she had last seen.  I was a warrior now. The boy who’d left here was now a man, wearing a shirt of Frankish mail, and a Frankish helm, with a fine sword hanging at his hip. I‘d grown taller in the months since I’d left, and the beginnings of a beard lined my jaw. Around my right arm was the torque of solid gold—a treasure such as a king or jarl might wear—that Ragnar Logbrod himself had given me. I wore it now because I wished to make a strong impression when I first reappeared at my former home. I was no longer Halfdan, the former slave. I was a warrior.

"I am called Strongbow," I replied. "Answer me. Where are Sigrid and Ubbe?"

Someone said, "I know that voice," and a man in a shabby, soiled tunic pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

"Get behind me, thrall," Gunhild snapped, but he ignored her.

"Is it you?" he asked in a quavering voice. "Is it Halfdan?"

I had not counted on this. I loosened the strap under my chin and pulled my helm from my head. "Fasti," I answered. "It is. I have returned."

Gunhild staggered back. She would have fallen had those behind not supported her. "But you are dead!" she gasped.

"It would seem I am not." To Fasti, I added, "Quickly. You must tell me. Where is Toke? Are he and his men still inside? Where are Sigrid and Ubbe?"

The expression of wonder that had filled his face a moment before was replaced by a look of pain and fear.

"Toke is gone. He and all of his men. He killed Ubbe, and took Sigrid with him."

After our ships landed, Hastein sent parties of warriors out to the edges of the fields to stand watch in case a force came from the nearby village, or from the forest as we had done. "Toke may be gone from here now, but he and his men could still be nearby. We must take no chances," he said.

The rest of our men lounged at ease around the yard outside the longhouse, while the leaders of our party gathered inside to hold counsel. In the center of the longhouse, near the hearth, Hastein and I sat Fasti down on the long bench against the wall and were questioning him, trying to learn more about what had happened. Hrodgar, Ivar, Bjorn, Stig, and Svein were seated at the high table nearby, listening. Torvald was with them, too.

It was proving difficult to get clear answers from Fasti, for he was distracted. The assemblage of chieftains and warriors who had taken possession of the estate, seemingly with hostile intent based on their warlike appearance, clearly unnerved him. It did not help matters, either, that Gunhild was hovering nearby, scowling at him.

"I need to know more, Fasti," I told him. "You must tell me everything that happened."

"It was after the ship came," he said.

"Ship? What ship?" Hastein asked. With a sinking feeling, I felt certain I already knew.

"The
Sea Steed
," Gunhild volunteered.

I had feared we were tarrying too long on our voyage home from Frankia. The night of the duel in Paris, after I’d killed Snorre, some of our sentries had reported to Ragnar that a ship had left its mooring and was headed downriver in the dark. It had not taken long to determine that it was the
Sea Steed
. Snorre’s crew had slunk away to their ship and fled. No doubt most of them had been with Toke and Snorre up on the Limfjord, among the party that had burned the longhouse there and killed my brother Harald and his men. Perhaps they’d feared, after Hastein had exposed the treachery of their attack, that they, too, might be in danger. I’d urged Hastein to pursue them, but he had not wished to leave Frankia ahead of the main fleet.

"What happened when the ship came?" I asked.

"I do not know what news it brought, but Toke was very upset," Fasti answered. I glanced at Gunhild. She added nothing, but glared back at me defiantly. She had regained some of her composure and was acting more like herself now.

"And then?" I prompted.

"Toke was very upset," Fasti repeated. "Many of us felt his wrath."

I turned to Gunhild. "Do you know what news the ship brought?"

She did not answer. "Do you know where the ship had been?" I asked. I knew the answer, of course, but I wondered how much she knew. Still she remained silent.

Hastein stepped forward until he loomed over her. Although he’d removed his helm, he was still wearing his mail brynie and his sword, slung by its baldric over his shoulder. His left hand was resting lightly now on its hilt at his hip. He snapped, "Speak, woman! You are wasting our time."

Gunhild flinched. An angry jarl, dressed for war, is admittedly an intimidating sight. "I know that the ship had been raiding in Frankia. With the fleet that sailed against the Franks last spring. Its captain was a man named Snorre. He was one of Toke’s most trusted men." She paused for a moment, then added, "He did not return with the ship."

At that, I smiled a grim smile. Hastein continued questioning Gunhild.

"What news did the ship from Frankia bring? Did Toke tell you?"

Gunhild shook her head. "I do not know. I swear it. Toke insisted on speaking with its crew in private. He sent everyone out of the longhouse while he did. Even me. But whatever news they brought him, as the thrall said, Toke was very upset by it."

I could well imagine. I asked Gunhild, "Do you know what happened to the ship’s captain, Snorre?"

"Only that he died in Frankia."

"
I
killed him, Gunhild," I told her. Her eyes widened. "I cut his throat," I added. She looked at Hastein, alarmed.

He shrugged. "It was in a fair fight. A duel. With witnesses. Many witnesses. I was among them. As were all the men here with us this day."

There was a question I had long wanted an answer to.

"What do you know of how Harald died, Gunhild? He and his men?"

The change of subject took Gunhild by surprise, and obviously disturbed her. Again she glanced at Hastein, as if looking for support, but she found none in his cold gaze.

"I…I know nothing," she stammered.

"Nothing?"

"Only what Toke told us. That the farm up on the Limfjord where Harald had gone was attacked by bandits, and all its folk, including Harald and his men, were slain."

"All of Harald’s men were slain? Including me?"

"That is what Toke said." Gunhild looked confused. And worried.

"How did Toke say he knew this?" I asked her.

"He said he’d been sailing through the Limfjord, heading back to Ireland, and by chance happened to be camped for the night not far from the farm when it was attacked. He told us the longhouse had been burned by the bandits in the attack, and he and his men saw the flames and went to investigate. He said he was able to catch and kill most of the attackers, and avenge Harald’s death."

I’d wondered how, when he’d returned to the estate, Toke would have explained his presence at the site of the attack. Certainly Sigrid and Ubbe, knowing the ill will Toke had long felt toward Harald, and of the recent conflict between them, should have been suspicious. So he’d claimed he was on the Limfjord because he was heading back to Ireland. That was a twist I had not expected. It even sounded plausible. Toke was a clever liar.

I turned my head and spat upon the floor of the longhouse to show my disgust with the story, and with Gunhild for believing it. Hastein scowled at me disapprovingly. In truth, it was ill-mannered of me, but I did not care.

Gunhild looked indignant. "How dare you! Toke himself was wounded when he sought to avenge Harald’s death, and many of his men were slain in the fighting."

"Wounded?" Hastein asked. "How?"

"He was struck by an arrow in his chest, when he and his men attacked the bandits. It pierced his mail."

Toke the hero, wounded while fighting those who’d caused Harald’s death. Winning honor for himself by claiming to avenge murders that, in truth, he himself had committed. I turned my head and spat on the floor again. "Halfdan!" Hastein snapped.

"Do you not wonder, Gunhild, that I am still alive? That I am here, standing before you this day?" I asked her.

"I do not understand it," she admitted.

"There were no bandits. It was Toke and his warriors who attacked the farm on the Limfjord. It was they who killed Harald and his men. And they killed every woman, child, and thrall on the farm, as well. Only I escaped."