Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (2 page)

Ulfrik glanced at Finn, and he gave a slow nod. An angry fire warmed his belly, and Ulfrik's mouth pulled tight in anger. "The Franks are my sworn enemies, as are the dogs that sit under their tables and eat their scraps. Your life is done, you traitorous pig."

The man grabbed Ulfrik's arm, but the knife cut into his neck. Hot blood poured over Ulfrik's hand as he sawed deep into the throat. A thick jet of blood sprouted and the man went limp with a gurgled curse. Ulfrik shoved him to the ground, tossing his knife aside and standing over the crumpled body.

Neither he nor Finn spoke as the spout of blood slowed to a trickle that the earth drank up. The forest sounds of cracking branches and distant birds filled their silence. When Ulfrik spoke, it was slow and sonorous.

"We are going back to war, Finn. The enemies here are fierce and do not deserve our mercy. They would offer none to us."

Finn shook his head, the flush still a red stain on his cheeks. His thin red beard did not conceal it.

"If Northmen are joining the ranks of the Franks instead of Hrolf, then it is a bad sign. I fear I may have taken you into a danger far greater than I had expected."

"It's all right, Ulfrik. I chose to accompany you."

They scavenged the bodies for useful items, each of them taking a helmet along with silver and supplies, then set out along the path again. Their long foot journey north had revealed a changed Frankia. He no longer understood it, and it had not welcomed him as he had dreamed it would. He feared the pile of dead Northmen behind him were only the first signs of something far worse.

CHAPTER TWO

Ulfrik sat on the mound of dirt, legs crossed, arm folded to his chest, one hand clamped tight over his mouth. His leg pumped with nervous energy as the red sun sagged behind the fat oak at the west. He studied it, a bead of sweat rolling down into his eye making him squint. The shadow of the main trunk stood out in a stark V shape as the disk of light set behind it. He uncoiled at the sight, a heavy sigh of relief following.

"This is the right place," he said. "See the arrow shape against the setting sun?"

Finn, who was stripped to his waist and standing in a hole almost as deep, drove his shovel into the ground and paused to look. His face broke into a wide smile. "Hey, I see it. It's as straight as you said it would be."

"This is definitely the place. Keep digging."

"Are you going to help?"

"I'll carry the treasure, if that's what you're asking? You just dig."

Despite recognizing where he had buried his treasure, he still fretted for finding it. The memories were hazy, and he did not have his giant-sized second in command, Einar, at hand to remind him of what he had done. They had wasted days digging in spots that yielded nothing, or finding his treasure cache had been plundered. Now he regretted not killing a slave to bury with the treasure, for without a guardian spirit the silver had fled him. They were still in Frankish territory, lands that had once been firmly under Hrolf. No doubt the greedy Franks had sought plunder caches and had cleared his away.

The small field was notable for a copse of aged oaks with straight trunks and the stream that gurgled behind them. Finn's shovel crunched against rocks and he cursed. Ulfrik constantly scanned the surroundings for followers, but only a gentle summer breeze stirred the grass into a thin whisper. When the shovel came down again, he heard a wooden thump.

"I've got something!" Finn tossed dirt out of the hole, then threw his shovel after it. He began to dig with his hands.

Ulfrik dropped down into the pit, his heart pounding.

"I recognize that box. Here, let me help." He began digging out the small box, racing with Finn to extract the treasure. Relief spread through him as they worked it out of the ground, a fat worm twisting in the hole left beneath it. They lifted it together, though it was light and small enough to tuck beneath a single arm. Ulfrik could not remember what he had buried here, but from the size of the box it must have been jewelry.

"I can't wait to see a real treasure hoard," Finn said as he pulled himself out of the hole. He extended his arm to Ulfrik, and helped haul him out. "This is so exciting."

"Gods, lad, don't piss yourself. This is a trifle of what I've buried in these lands, and even less of what I had buried in my hall." Ulfrik thought back to the banner he had flown at the siege of Paris, a red robe that he had taken from a slave who had turned out to be a bishop. A king's fortune in jewels had been sewn into its hems, more wealth than even Hrolf the Strider had at the time. No one but he and Runa knew of that treasure.

The cover had been latched with a simple bolt which, now rusted, fought Ulfrik as he worked it open. When it snapped free, he carefully opened the top. Finn crowded at his shoulder, as if ready to dive headfirst into whatever Ulfrik revealed.

"No," Ulfrik said. The box lid dropped into the dirt as he stared at the contents.

"Look at that," Finn said. "A gold chain."

"A single gold chain," Ulfrik said, fishing out the braided chain with his finger. He held it out as if it were a stinking fish. "I buried more than this."

"Well, it's got to be worth a lot." Finn reached out to touch it, and Ulfrik shoved the chain into his hands as if it were cursed. He turned back to the pit, hands on his hips looking down into it blackness. The final light of the day was fleeing and leaving a trail of shadow.

"Someone dug up the rest of it," Ulfrik said.

"There's nothing else in here but a red stone. Looks valuable." Sounds of Finn tapping the box followed, but Ulfrik remained staring into the pit.

"I remember now. There was a cross on the chain, set with red and white stones. There were supposed to be other things here too. Silver plates and cups. Why did the thieves not take the chain?"

Only the swishing of the grass answered him. He heard Finn stand, his knees cracking. "Maybe if they left some of the treasure behind they'd avoid the curse you left on it?"

"I didn't leave a curse on it."

"Thieves wouldn't know that. This is better than the other places we searched. This chain has got to be worth a herd of goats, at least."

Ulfrik whirled on Finn. "A fucking herd of goats! I'm going to win back my lands and titles with a herd of goats?"

"I was just--"

Snatching the chain out of Finn's grip, Ulfrik thrust it skyward. "This is all you gods left behind for me? This is all that's left of my treasure? A chain worth a herd of goats?"

He flung it into the dirt, and Finn rushed after it. His freckled face, normally bright and open, was dark with shame. Finn rubbed the chain on his pants to clean the dirt away. Ulfrik stared after him, heaving as if he had been rowing at top speed.

Their silence was heavy and sullen, Finn burnishing the chain while Ulfrik stared in disbelief. It would have been easier to accept if thieves had taken everything or he had failed to remember where he had hid his treasure. Finding only a piece of it forced him to confront his poverty, and how much he had once possessed.

"Let me see that a moment." Ulfrik held out his hand for the chain. Finn did not turn to face him, but dropped it into his waiting palm. He bounced it a few times, feeling its weight and the warmth left from Finn's touch. "It's not so bad, really. We'll hack it down to bits if we have to. It's a place to start."

"If this is only a part of your treasure, I can't imagine what the rest of it is like."

Ulfrik raised a brow at Finn. "You really have not seen much gold in your day?"

"Never until we joined the merchants, and never so much as this piece. It's the most gold in one spot I've ever seen."

"Then you're in for some pleasant surprises once we get our affairs in order." He draped the chain over Finn's neck. Though a strong youth, he did not possess the same mass as Ulfrik, and the chain appeared huge around his neck. "You dug it up, so you enjoy wearing it until we need it, and if we don't need it you keep it."

As Finn gawked at his award, Ulfrik combed through his options. He was not returning to his family without at least enough gold to provide for his own care and Finn's. Reasonably, the necklace he had just found would allow that much for a short time. But he needed mail coats, better helmets, and shields if others were to seriously consider him a warrior, much less a returning jarl. All of this required gold far in excess of one chain.

"If I go back to my family without gold, they will have to support me." Ulfrik said. Finn stopped petting the gold chain to look up at him.

"Shouldn't family do that for their own?"

"Not the family of a jarl. I don't know what has become of my wife and sons and stepdaughter. What if they need my aid, and I am unable to help them because I lack resources?"

"They've been without you all these years already."

"All right, but think on this. I've been dead to them all these years. What then is the legal status of my gold? What if it has been divided among my sons and men? What if my former oath-hold Hrolf the Strider laid claim to it? I need to secure what is mine before I tell the world I yet live. To do otherwise might risk me remaining in poverty."

Finn nodded, but Ulfrik had learned to recognize the difference between Finn's nod of agreement and his nod of patronization.

"You don't understand the world you are about to enter. Even if I were fine to stay as I am, others would not be so gracious. Men who once might have called me friend because of my gold and power would be just as glad to drive me under their boots when I am poor. And if you think it's all my pride, then consider the shame and sorrow my family would feel to see me a beggar not fit to lurk outside their hall. It's better I remain a rich ghost than a poor burden."

He also remembered Throst's lasts words to him, that Runa had sent him to his death. While he did not believe it, a fear lingered at the back of his mind and warned not to return home helpless. Such fears did not bear imparting to Finn, so he rubbed his mouth and kept silent.

Finn's posture relaxed and he nodded again, this time in agreement. "I understand. But what do we do?"

"There remains one place yet where my treasure should be intact. It's a long distance from here, and will be difficult to get. Yet it's our best choice." Finn gave him a puzzled look. "Remember, I was proclaimed dead and my head sent home. If I know my wife, she'd have burned that head and buried the ashes along with my treasures in sight of my hall. We're going to rob my own grave."

CHAPTER THREE

The burial mounds were gone.

Ulfrik crouched behind a tree at the edge of the clearing, the rough pine bark cool against his hand. Old stumps littered the expanse of field that led to the burial mound he had created for his wife's brother and dearest friend, Toki. He remembered clearing those trees to build Ravndal atop its craggy perch and to deny enemies cover in an attack. Now he stared out of the forest where once Franks spied on his fortress and envied his power. The fortress Ravndal still remained, but yellow and blue pennants of the Franks fluttered above its black walls.

Two scars of earth jutted where Toki's mound and what he guessed had been his own stood. Grass like a young man's beard flecked the displaced ground, and the sun broke through the clouds as if to accent the insult.

"The farmer told the truth. Everything is gone," Finn said. He squatted beside Ulfrik, hugging another tree and scanning the wide field. "Is that Ravndal where you trapped the Franks?"

He nodded, words stuck in his throat. All the long trek north he had heard news from fellow travelers that the Franks had pushed the Northmen west toward the sea. Ravndal now went by its Frankish name of Randal and housed Frankish troops. The land had once been theirs, Ulfrik had seized it from them, and they had reclaimed. How much blood had watered these fields, he wondered, and to what end? The Northmen would reclaim it again and more Franks would die.

"There's people coming down from Ravndal," Finn said, tapping Ulfrik's leg. "We better pull back."

A thin line of black shapes ambled downslope, a wagon between them. They were safe at this distance, but Finn was right. There was nothing worth remaining to see. "Let's go back to the farm."

Though the Franks had reclaimed their lands, many farms still belonged to Northman families that agreed to pay the Frank's taxes. Some of the younger families, though Norse, had no memories of their ancestral homes and were forgetting the ways of their fathers. One such family managed a farm nearby, and though they claimed to have liked Jarl Ulfrik Ormsson well enough, they cared more about the land than who ruled in Ravndal. When asked about Ulfrik's family, they did not have much information. They only knew Runa the Bloody had taken her family west to join Hrolf the Strider and that the Franks occupied Ravndal thereafter. The eldest son, Gunnar the Black, was said to have disappeared.

"Do you think there's a chance the Franks left something behind?" Finn asked. They tramped through the pine forest, retracing their path back to the farm. The air was cool in the shade of the trees, and birds chirped in the branches above.