Shield of Lies (21 page)

"I know I have made mistakes," Ulfrik said through the cover of his hand. "Too many to count. Perhaps this could have been the worst one of all. I saw a chance that surely the gods themselves must have set before me, and so I grabbed at it like a child does a toy. Every word you have spoken today is the truth, and is a shame on my judgment. You are my son, not bait for a trap. Not even my father would've have spoken so carelessly, and he was a callous man. I am humbled by your courage, son. You knew I was wrong, and you told me so."

Letting his hands drop from his face, he flashed Gunnar a suffering smile. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and circled in black. Gunnar searched his father for something of the man he had known, but found only a face that resembled him. Nothing of the force that had driven him for so many years remained. Had this ordeal with Hakon drained him so, or was there more on his mind yet unspoken?

"Hakon's safe return is our first task," Gunnar said, moving to the bench beside his father. "Clovis is a different matter."

Ulfrik nodded, and slapped Gunnar's knee. He stood and stretched. "Of course, you are right. Wait here a moment," he said, then went to his chambers at the back of the hall.

Gunnar watched him shamble toward the darkness and waited, his foot tapping nervously. As his father disappeared beyond the door, he mulled Ulfrik's plan and grasped the shrewdness of it. Maybe the gods did plan justice for Throst and Astra, for diverting their plots to gain advantage was as satisfying as it was just. Hakon was not in danger with Konal and his crew to watch over him. Indeed, it was a cunning plan and his part, if not glorious, was key to it all.

His father reappeared, and in his hand he carried a sheathed sword. He held it forward to Gunnar. "I was wrong to take this from you. You are a man today and have been longer than I cared to admit. Take this sword, wear it with honor, battle with it for glory, and die with your hand upon it."

Taking it into both hands, Gunnar stood and held his father's eyes. He smiled and the two embraced. Ulfrik hugged him close and whispered softly, "I am sorry, my son. You deserved better from your father."

"These are trying times," Gunnar said, struggling to find the words as the two stepped back from each other. He weighed his sword in his palm and a smile played on his lips. Raising a brow, he met his father's eye again. "Now we must hurry and inform Toki of your plan. We must act fast if we are to lure out Clovis and send that Frankish bastard to his grave."

Ulfrik's eyes widened in surprise, and then the two of them laughed together.

Chapter 31

Runa's hair spilled from the hood of her cloak and brushed her face in the morning breeze. With a snort of irritation, she stuffed it back inside and lowered her head so none could see her face within. The chicken pen beside the northern hall, where Toki and his crew lodged, was a ramshackle affair that only contained the chickens if they chose to remain within. The girls who tended these feisty hens were in awe when she suggested they leave the feeding to her. Now she took her time with the feed basket, scattering stale bread, grains, and scraps of other food for the noisy birds. Though she undertook the task for another purpose, the scent of the hens and their frantic scramble took her back to a simpler time when this chore might be one of many to occupy her day. Now there was nothing for her but to sit at a loom or give orders to servants.

And too much time to think.

A hen pecked at her foot, impatient with her lazy pace, and she shooed it away with a squawked protest before casting more feed on the cold earth. She continued to watch the doors of the north hall, noting all the visitors and turning her head at any glance spared for her. More people arrived at this hall than expected, but since Ulfrik had closed his hall for some mysterious purpose, hirdmen and tradesmen alike had drifted to the other barracks for their meals. She considered this morning might not have been the ideal time to spy on Halla, particularly when she was not certain what to expect.

Einar and Bera had taken Aren for her without question, as Aren always seemed more at home with Einar's girls than his own brothers. In truth, she probably could have used Aren's keener eyesight, for at her age people in the distance were becoming smudgy and indistinct figures. In fact, Aren seemed to be the sanest of all her family since Hakon's kidnapping and he was merely a child. She could stand some better counsel than what she had in her husband.

"What am I doing out here?" she muttered to herself as she crumbled the last of the feed from her hand. "You've lost your mind, Runa, that's what you've done."

She flung the basket into the corner fence, several hens jumping in protest, and then collapsed onto a tree stump that served as a stool and a collection point for debris. An old bucket filled with scummy water sat next to it, and the morning light reflected on the surface. Runa saw her reflection in it, obscured by the floating junk, and kicked it so that the ripple erased her image. She did not want to look at what she had become. Folding her arms into the plain wool cloak, she tightened against the chill.

Men in fur hats and heavy cloaks arrived at the north hall, greeted at the doors by friends, some with great warmth and others with hardly more than a nod. Many faces were familiar, others complete strangers. Once she had known all the men and women of her hall and the surrounding farms. They had relied on her, looked to her for leadership and protection. Their relationship had true meaning and real benefits. Now here, in this place called Ravndal, she was nothing more than a symbol to the men and mistress to the women. Strangers were the norm, and these strangers guarded her and her family. Hakon relied on these men, men she hardly knew, for rescue.

Then she remembered what she was doing here and her jaw set with purpose.

While Ulfrik shamed her and himself with drunkenness and inaction, she had to do something. None of these strangers cared for her son. None of these men, without an order from their jarl, would step away from their cozy hearths and search for Hakon. Her husband had been enfeebled since his confrontation with Konal. This morning he seemed a different man, but how much time had passed without Throst showing as expected and nothing at all being done to find Hakon? No, her purpose here on this chill and bleak morning was to do whatever she could to bring Hakon home.

She knew, beyond any doubt, that Halla had somehow betrayed them all to Throst.

Peering at the log walls of the barracks, she imagined Halla inside, partaking of hospitality while plotting against her betters. Her brother, however dear he was to her, was a fool and always had been a fool in matters of the heart. He could not see Halla for who she truly was. Maybe now with daughters to care for, he chose to not see. No matter. He had dragged her from those cold and foggy islands at the top of the world and spread her poison here. Runa had to stop it.

"You're searching for someone to fight," Ulfrik had told her after she had confronted Toki. "You can't get to Throst and so imagine Halla is your enemy."

Runa rubbed her nose violently as she scowled at the barracks hall. She wanted to believe him, but Halla always seemed to wear a smug expression since the fire. She wanted to leave these lands, and if she could not then she wanted to hurt those she blamed for keeping her here. She knew something more, and Runa would find out.

The thought repeated on her like a bad stew gurgling up from her bowels, increasing in intensity as the cold of the morning wore on. When she thought to give up, she spotted Ulfrik and Gunnar striding purposefully for the barracks. Her heart leapt. What if he caught her at this? As if catching her fear, the hens clucked and one began to chase another in a circle and sent feathers twirling up. She turned her head aside, not wanting to be humiliated. No matter how important she felt her task, squatting in a shit-strewn pen with hens cavorting at her feet would be a shameful and embarrassing thing to explain.

Both Ulfrik and Gunnar huddled together, her husband's excited animation clear in the way his hands swept at invisible landscapes. Gunnar nodded and inserted his own gestures as the two arrived at the hall. They stopped to be greeted with a curt bow and then vanished inside. Runa sat straighter and wondered if she should try to listen, or if directly joining them was a better idea. Unable to decide, she sat back on her stump and waited. Soon, they emerged out the back door with Toki. The three huddled together like boys planning to prank the serving girls. Whatever they discussed, all three seemed excited and Toki continually looked north as if expecting something. She could not hear them from this distance, and feared to move lest she give herself away. Their meeting lasted longer than it would take Runa to cook a dinner, and she began to lose patience. At last Toki and Ulfrik embraced, followed by Gunnar, and they departed.

Runa covered her head again, as Ulfrik and Gunnar cut around the barracks and passed close to the pen. She overheard scattered words, but none of them were coherent. The tenor of their speech was of excitement and anticipation. She noticed Gunnar wore his sword, and seeing it flapping at his waist nearly drew her to her feet. They passed her, both wrapped in their plans, and returned the way they had come.

"Now what?" she muttered to herself. "Something is happening, but not what I came to learn."

Stubbornness alone saw her wait longer, and only a few men left the hall, hirdmen who picked up shields and spears and tightened their furs against the breeze as they drifted off to their duties.

Then the gods rewarded her persistence.

Halla appeared behind the barracks now. She was alone, wrapped in a gray cloak, but her platinum hair was brilliant even in the shade. She paused and then looked about herself. Runa's heart stopped beating when Halla looked directly at her, but her gaze slid past. As if she might melt, Runa steadied herself on the stump and watched carefully.

Halla disappeared from view as she stepped back to the barracks, but then came out again with an empty bucket and ladle. She walked a short distance to the tree and then placed the bucket in the crook of its roots. With a glance over her shoulder, she carefully arranged the ladle to lean against the bucket and then stepped back from it before returning to the barracks.

Craning her neck higher, Runa wanted to investigate the bucket yet was not certain if Halla had gone inside or if she was just out of sight around the corner. This was a strange thing for anyone to do, and falling right on the heels of Ulfrik's visit only heightened the suspicion. She determined Halla had gone inside, and prepared to approach the tree where the bucket lay.

Then a horn sounded, one long note to summon their hirdmen to the main hall. The reaction was almost instant, though the single note indicated only a summons and no danger. Men were flowing out of the barracks and surrounding building and heading toward the hall. Runa would have to join Ulfrik, or her absence would arouse worry. She glanced at the bucket, but already men were exiting from the back of the hall. Toki would surely join them.

She cursed in frustration at the timing, but she retired from the pen, scattering hens as she left. That bucket was a signal to someone, she knew. If she could not learn now, she would learn without any more delay who Halla wanted to signal. For the moment, she had to answer the call of the horn. But as she took the back path to the hall, she smiled. Halla would be revealed for the traitorous witch she was, and she would know where Hakon was being held. It had been a good morning after all.

Chapter 32

Gunnar constantly touched his sword as if to assure himself it would still be there. Several warriors had congratulated him with a back slap or friendly knock on his head after Ulfrik gathered the hirdmen to announce Gunnar's mission. He burned with pride for it. He was one of them now, even if not yet tested in battle. That would come soon enough, he thought. The day had refused to warm despite the bright sun and his breath curled before him in threadlike wisps as he waited at the center square for Toki to prepare his men. A few of his friends clustered with him and idled in the midmorning cold. They joked about Gunnar presenting himself to Hrolf the Strider on his father's behalf. "You'll have to kneel before him, something you don't know how to do. You should practice with me," one said to the amusement of the others.

Gunnar smiled but his thoughts were far away. His uncle had his own preparations to make for the journey, and so did Gunnar. While Toki was busy arranging supplies for what would normally be a week-long foot journey, Gunnar had to see Astra one last time. He scanned the approaches for her as his friends continued chattering and laughing. She was long overdue by his estimation and should have come for him after the announcement at the hall.

At last he saw her, entering the square from the northern path. Their eyes met, and his stomach burned. She had changed. No longer did she seem a radiant beauty whose every motion was a mystery of womanhood. Her hair no longer shimmered like gold, nor was her face a clear pool of beauty. Now she was a common girl, dressed in plain gray skirts with a smudged overdress. Her smile was a falsehood to conceal her snake's tongue. When she paused in her approach, Gunnar realized his face might have revealed too much of his thoughts. Even as his stomach roiled he schooled his expression and waved to her. Excusing himself from his friends, he met her at the edge of the square.

"I came as soon as I could," she said and stepped closer. Gunnar stiffened and she hesitated, biting off her next words.

"Sorry, I am nervous for this journey," he said. "It could be dangerous."

"I've heard you are leaving with a band of men, and that your father plans to sacrifice three goats to Thor to safeguard your trip. Is that all true?"

"Of course it is." He swept his hand behind him. "I am leaving right after the dedication of the sacrifice."

Astra searched his face and he glimpsed the faint squint of her eyes. How often had she appraised him like a sack of grain at market, he wondered, and yet never saw it for all his foolish infatuation. It galled him to realize she was far less skillful than he had thought, and himself far more gullible.