Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (44 page)

"And you'll give it to them?" Ulfrik glanced at the rowboat. While he could reach it, he'd never get the boat launched fast enough. He might be able to back down the tunnel, but not with everyone else to consider.

"I don't care about justice for nobles. I am here for honor, something you wouldn't understand."

"It is honor that has carried me this far. I have sworn an oath to Hrolf to see his son saved. A man who cannot keep his oath is worth less than dust."

Grimnr inclined is head. "We both agree on that. But it seems you won't be keeping that promise. I've taken my best men with me, and you're surrounded. If you cough too hard you'll stick yourself on our spears. You've made a worthy effort, and you can be proud of it. But now you will hand over Vilhjalmer to me."

"Why? The count is dead and you owe nothing to anyone. Join with me and return to Hrolf. Strong men are always welcomed to fight the Franks."

"Don't imagine Hrolf would be forgiving of me."

"I will vouch for you, and Hrolf will understand. These Franks, you must realize, they are defeated. You fight for the losing side, no matter how many Northmen say otherwise. Our people have been set back in recent years, true. But we are the strongest of any nation. Our people are taking over the world, Grimnr. I have traveled almost all of it, and everywhere we chose to make our own we are victorious. Frankia will be no different. Hrolf will sit inside these walls one day soon, and a wise man would befriend him now."

Ulfrik searched the shadows of Grimnr's men, but they remained cloaked in darkness. Grimnr himself had not shifted, holding the point of his drawn sword in the ground. He raised it to point at the boy. "You make a fine speech, but that boy is worth a prince's ransom. I'll take Hrolf's gold and conquer some other land. No more delays. Hand over the boy."

Grimnr's eyes glittered in the dark as he waited in triumph. Ulfrik, however, began to laugh.

"What do you to laugh at?"

Ulfrik cleared his throat then beckoned the boy and his guardian forward. "I knew men would be watching us, and guessed you might have joined such a hunt. I have hard news for you. Both Finn and Vilhjalmer left via the West Gate this afternoon. By now they are on a ship sailing back to Hrolf. No one was searching for a man and his brother returning to their country home, but for a priest with two men and a boy."

He thrust the two figures forward and pulled back their hoods. "Here you have two beggars. The small one is actually a girl. I paid their mother in good silver to risk their lives in this gamble. Any spy watching for us would see exactly what he expected, and I would misdirect him to where I wanted. As long as my pursuers chased us through the city, Vilhjalmer would never be in danger."

Grimnr stared, his eyes wide in the moonlight. He roared like a bear, his voice echoing off the walls of Paris. The two beggars shrank to Ulfrik's side and he gathered them behind, even though the ring of enemies grumbled with anger.

"You cunning bastard!" He punched the air with his free hand and swung his sword in frustration. "You played out this ruse to the very end, even tried to convince me to join you."

"That offer still holds. You should serve me, Grimnr."

"Serve you?" Grimnr pointed his sword at him. "You should be begging me for your life."

"You left your camp with your best men," Ulfrik said, slowly herding the beggars behind him toward the trapdoor. "Before I departed for Paris, I sent word to Mord and Einar to attack again. Perhaps only the Franks will resist, but the rest of your army will scatter, at least those who have not died from disease yet. I would guess this handful of men with you will be all that remains of your command. I wonder how you will pay them for their loyalty? Count Amand's coffers will be closed to you now."

Grimnr bowed his head and his sword lowered. For a moment Ulfrik thought he would surrender to common sense, but the giant man slowly raised his head and a snarl contorted his face. "I hope you enjoyed your victory, for now you die."

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Father Engilbert and the beggars behind Ulfrik screamed in terror as the surrounding enemies closed their ring around them. Their voices filled the moonlit night, and if this did not bring attention from the wall guards, nothing else would. He had no chance to check the wall, as Grimnr closed with his sword flashing blue light. Ulfrik, still holding only a dagger, dropped to a fighting crouch.

"Is this how a man of honor defeats his enemies?" he asked. "Surround him like a wild boar and letting his dogs do the dangerous work."

Grimnr pulled up short as if awakening to his actions. "Halt," he called to his men. "He's right. This is for my honor, not murder."

Ulfrik relaxed his stance. "You'll allow me a real sword, not this cheap knife?"

"If you have one, draw it. Don't expect me to give you one."

Satisfied, Ulfrik sheathed his dagger and drew the Frankish short sword. He tested its weight and made a few cutting arcs to learn its balance. Franks made good weapons, but those went mostly to their nobles. This blade would serve for one fight, but not more. "This is between us. Let the priest and the beggars go."

"More conditions? You are an arrogant man."

"Actually one more condition. If I kill you in this duel, I want your men to swear I will be free to leave unharmed."

Grimnr's chuckle was slow and deep. "I've seen you fight. You're good, but not better than me. Still, it is not an unfair request." He turned to his men, and pointed his sword at them. "The priest and beggars are not our concern, so leave them. If I am killed in this duel, none of you avenge me and leave Ulfar the White unharmed."

Speaking in Frankish, Ulfrik repeated Grimnr's promise to Engilbert. "You are free to do what you think is best," he said to the priest, then glanced at the rowboat. He scanned the ground and located what he sought, then turned to Grimnr. "It is dark and the footing poor here. I suggest we hold our duel over there where the ground is more level and the moonlight falls evenly."

Grimnr did not check, but merely agreed. The giant man was stronger than Ulfrik, had a better reach, a better sword, and wore a mail coat. He did not need to check since no rational man would imagine Ulfrik defeating Grimnr the Mountain. He was a fierce warrior who cut a bloody path through his enemies. Grimnr the Mountain was a king of the battlefield, and it showed in his swagger as they relocated to the spot Ulfrik had chosen.

"I'm sorry we could not have been friends," Ulfrik said, gripping his short sword with one hand.

"As am I. But too much has come between us. It's a sad day when one so skilled must be sent to his doom. Now prepare to journey to the feasting hall."

Grimnr struck in a flash of moonlight reflected from his longsword. Ulfrik knew Grimnr's penchant for a decisive killing strike, and knew a man of his strength and size could deliver one from the start. So he faded left and the blade cut the air. Grimnr had too much experience to overextend himself, but Ulfrik had repositioned him.

They squared off again, this time Grimnr placing both hands on his blade and taking a careful measure of Ulfrik's stance. He jabbed at Ulfrik's outstretched sword, testing his guard. Each time he gave a little ground and Grimnr closed it. Ulfrik returned a low strike, forcing Grimnr to block, but it was a diversion for Ulfrik to unpin his cloak. He now held it to his neck with his left hand.

He struck a flurry of blows at Grimnr, none striking flesh, but forcing him to watch his sword as Ulfrik continued to shift back. Grimnr charged in with a roar and his blade shoved Ulfrik back as he parried. He felt his heels strike the knee-high, jagged rock he had found earlier.

Rather than stumble, he smiled, then waited for the follow-up strike. When Grimnr jabbed again, Ulfrik tore the cloak from his shoulders and slung it at Grimnr's sword.

The heavy wool wrapped the sword and dragged it down. Ulfrik dropped his weapon, grabbed the other end of the cloak, then leapt up on the rock behind him. Grimnr stumbled forward, still entwined in the cloak, and Ulfrik jumped off the back of the rock.

Grimnr's chest crashed onto the rock with a crunch of mail and his face struck with a wet crack.

Ulfrik lifted his foot then stomped down on Grimnr's head. He heard bone snap and Grimnr's grunt as his neck broke. The men around them, formerly silent, now groaned with sympathetic pain. Ulfrik brought his foot down a second time, and he saw the rush of blood black in the moonlight and heard the gut-churning crunch of Grimnr's skull breaking.

Ulfrik stepped back and stared at Grimnr's form slumped over the rock, his cloak-wrapped sword dropped to the grass beneath his limp hand. He felt for a pulse in his neck, but Grimnr the Mountain was no more.

"That was not fair," said one of the men. Others began to grumble as well.

"You didn't even use a sword. What kind of duel was that?"

Retrieving his sword from the grass, Ulfrik started for the river. "Remember Grimnr's promise. I'm to be let free."

"Not for killing him like an animal," said one, and the others shouted in agreement. Ulfrik dashed for the water, sinking into the mud and wading out to the Seine.

A spear flew after him and splashed into the water, but already the rowboat emerged out of the dark. Ulfrik flopped to it, and threw himself over the side.

"I thought you might abandon me," Ulfrik said to Engilbert, who was frantically rowing.

"If you die your friend will kill Wibert." A spear thudded into the side of the boat, then dropped into the water. Engilbert threw himself flat. "You row!"

Ulfrik grabbed the oars and left Grimnr's men stranded on the shore, screaming for justice. "I guess the guards really don't care what happens beneath their walls."

"Just tell me this nightmare is over now," Engilbert said, his voice muffled as he huddled against the bottom of the rowboat.

"It just might be done." The oars were like the wings of a gull taking off from the water and their rowboat sped toward the opposite shore. "Pray to your god those men don't find another boat to cross the river. Otherwise, Father, we both have our prayers answered this night."

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

By dawn of the next day, Ulfrik had journeyed up the south bank of the Seine to rendezvous with Gunnar's ship. He rowed up to the hull where Finn and Gunnar both hailed him from the rails as a crewman extended an oar to aid him in climbing aboard. He stood in the rocking boat and steadied himself with the oar before turning to Engilbert. "You won't come?"

The priest lowered his head. "Wibert needs me."

"You'll be blamed for what happened. Can you help your friend when you're dead? If you stay with me, then you have a chance to do some good."

"No, I am returning to Paris. God knows the reasons for my sins, and His judgment alone is all I fear."'

Ulfrik nodded. "What is Wibert to you? He is more than a friend."

"He's my son," Engilbert said, looking toward the far shore. "You are the first one to know that truth, and I don't even like you. Even Wibert doesn't know."

He clambered over the rails of Gunnar's ship to welcoming pats from Finn, then he leaned over the rails to salute Engilbert. "I wouldn't have guessed that, but protecting a son is a noble task. Good luck to you. I don't think we shall meet again."

"God willing I will never see another of your kind for the rest of my days." Engilbert began to row for the shore, and Ulfrik turned with a huge smile to greet Finn and Vilhjalmer.

"No troubles getting out of Paris?"

"It was boring," Vilhjalmer said, hands on his hips. "We just paid a gate tax and walked out. You had all the adventure."

Ulfrik laughed, but both Finn and Gunnar gave him a serious look. "Grimnr the Mountain has fallen. As expected, he had men watching us and waited in ambush when we emerged from the tunnel. I killed him in a duel."

"There should be a few good stories from that," Gunnar said. "But save them for Hrolf's hall. We sail straight for it."

They hugged the southern shore of the Seine as they approached Count Amand's camp. Already they found ships in disarray and depleted. Smoke hazed the river, filling their noses with the scents of burning wood. As they glided past the docks, they were ignored by any Norse ship still on the water. The camp was heavy in smoke, but the fortress beyond it appeared unscathed and blue and white pennants still fluttered from the towers.

"Einar and Mord either finished the traitor camp or they revolted," Gunnar said.

"Probably both," Ulfrik said, leaning on the rail beside Gunnar as he worked the tiller. He stared down at Gunnar's hook hand and nodded. "That seems to work quite well. Made it yourself?"

He shook his head, his dark curly hair falling across his eyes. "Gunther One-Eye had a blacksmith who helped design it for me. Even in a storm it holds fast, maybe better than a real hand."

"Gunther, eh?"

"He helped with a lot of things after you died. He lost an eye and knows how losing a body part affects a man. Seemed like he was the only one at that time who understood how I felt after I thought you dead. He understood how hot the fire of revenge burned, and how missing a hand made it feel like I would never lead a crew of my own."