Shield of Lies (38 page)

"Best of luck with that, then. I'm none too interested in your problems."

"We have a common interest." She stepped back, cooed the words as if to seduce him though all Throst felt was revulsion. "I want Runa dead and you want to hurt Ulfrik."

"I have hurt him. Now I just want to be away."

"Did you?" She cocked her head, one eye wider than the other. "Your name is already forgotten. Hakon is safe and doing well. All anyone worries about is Gunnar, and who dealt him that blow? It was not Throst Shield-Biter." Again she mocked the name. "You're just a bit of unfinished business, a rodent to stamp out once the bigger things are in order. Before the winter is done, all of your schemes would have left no mark on Ulfrik. You'll be forgotten, and as well you should. At best you were a nuisance. Was that your grand revenge? To annoy Ulfrik? Astra threw her life away just to spoil his wife's evening meal?"

"Your words are a bit sharp." Throst laughed off the shame, but every word was a hot brand on his soul. What in the name of all the gods had he achieved? What lesson had he taught Ulfrik? The white-haired bitch was right, and he hated her for it.

"Your plans held promise, but Fate was unkind to you." She placed a light hand on his shoulder, and feigned sympathy that could not fool a child. "Now is the time to leave a mark that will last forever. Take from him something that can never be replaced. Strike down his wife, that whoring, murderous bitch. Claim the true revenge that has eluded you. Make him grind his teeth at the thought of your name."

Throst swallowed. "An attractive idea, but I prefer a simpler target to his wife. That's why I went after the children in the first place."

"I'll make it easy for you, and offer payment. You can't be too rich, or a silver bit wouldn't have kept you waiting for me today."

He nodded. "True."

"Kill Runa. The time and the place are prepared. I'll get you access inside the walls."

"You're a powerful woman to arrange all that." Throst folded his arms and glanced past her toward Ravndal. "You're going to do this under their noses?"

"No one pays me any mind, but for Runa who has falsely blamed me for so many things that no one listens to her. My husband is like a brother to Ulfrik, and my husband tells me everything I want to know."

"Why not just piss off from this place if you've got gold to spend? Seems a fair bit easier than treachery."

Her head lowered and the crazed response Throst had expected emerged only as a thoughtful pause. She rubbed her face before answering. "She killed my mother, cut out her tongue. Took her a year to die from the wound, and all that time Runa whored around with Konal and scorned me. Wouldn't attend my mother's funeral, or even recognize her death. The day she left for Frankia was the greatest day of my life. But now Toki has vowed to serve Ulfrik again. He sees glory and riches here. I can't deny him, nor convince him to leave. But that doesn't mean I intend to live with that witch. The only good for coming south is the chance to avenge my parents, my mother in particular."

The wind filled the silence between them. Throst considered her reasons understandable if not practical. He wouldn't dissuade her, especially if she planned to bring chaos to Ulfrik's home. Besides, it wasn't his concern.

"What's the payment for taking your revenge?"

"So you'll do it?"

"Payment, enough for me and for my men. They'll have to help."

Halla's smile widened like a child discovering all the toys in the hall were hers. "Good gold for all of you. Rings and chains, a golden cross carried from the north. It will be enough for you all to barter a safe passage to anywhere you desire."

"Sounds like a pittance." It sounded like a hundred times more than he possessed, but he looked again at Halla's clean fingers and guessed more was available.

"This is your revenge, too. How much should I pay for something you'd do anyway?" She glared at him, but he did not flinch. She shook her head. "I've got three pounds of my own gold. Any more and I'd be stealing from my husband, which I can't do. Take that offer or not."

"I've a mind to take you and get a bigger reward for exposing your plot."

Her face paled and hand touched her neck, then just as fast she recovered. "And who'd believe you? Only Runa and that's not saying much. Besides, haven't we been partners all along? Astra was just our go-between."

Throst shrugged and laughed. "I wasn't serious about that. The price is fair. Tell me how to put Runa in the ground, and how you'll pay me, then you better get gone before twilight. Don't want your treachery discovered before all the fun starts."

Halla giggled, the disconcerting titter of a person touched with madness. She stepped closer, as if her plan might be overheard. "Killing her will never be easier."

Chapter 58

Ulfrik sat beside Gunnar's bed, hand resting on his son's leg. He realized Gunnar was awake from his shifting beneath the covers, but did not disturb him with words. He just waited for Gunnar to decide if he wanted to talk. He had not parted with many words since returning home. Looking at the arm hooked over the blankets and furs and lying across his chest, Ulfrik understood his reticence. He could not help imagining if they ignored the wound, then his hand would grow back. Yet the clean bandages changed during the morning were already spotted brown at the stump. No magic would restore him. No hero, however beloved of the gods, regrew a lost limb. It was one boon the gods never chose to grant a man.

Outside the low murmur of voices vibrated through the walls into the dark. Only a candle offered fitful light, glistening in the sweat on Gunnar's forehead. Noticing this, Ulfrik dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, wrung it out and dabbed Gunnar's head. He turned to the side in protest.

"If you are hot, remove these skins." Ulfrik began to pull back one and Gunnar clamped it down with his stump. "All right, then. How is the pain? Do you want more ale?"

He shook his head, the rustling of his pillow the only sound.

Victory lacked the sweetness Ulfrik had anticipated. His son lay crippled in his bed, sullen and unspeaking. He had lost more men than he had hoped, and Ravndal had taken more damage than expected. All cost him a good share of gold to make right. Gunther One-Eye had claimed Clovis's land as price for his aid, and was now out raiding the countryside for whatever he could carry away. But worse than any of these losses was the silence of his son.

The door creaked open. The light and sound it allowed into the room drew Ulfrik from his dark thoughts. Hakon's shape hovered in the door, and Aren was behind him. A yellow block of light framed them hesitating, but Ulfrik waved them closer.

"Your brother is awake. See if you can cheer him better than me."

Hakon stepped into the candlelight, coming to Ulfrik's side. He smiled and patted Hakon's shoulder. Though he had grown thin in captivity, the ordeal seemed to have left no other mark upon him. Perhaps it was his youth that gave him resilience, or the damage was not yet made visible. Ulfrik was grateful for Hakon simply returning to his old life as if he had only been gone with friends.

"How is your hand?" he asked Gunnar. When he did not answer, he pushed on him as if to awaken him. "Uncle Toki says you will learn to fight with your left hand. He says it can be an advantage."

The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Gunnar faced the opposite wall. Hakon's big eyes fixed on Ulfrik's and he shrugged. Hakon lowered his head and stepped back from the bed. Aren waddled up to the edge, gripping something in his small hand. He stretched on his tiptoes to place a flat rock next to Gunnar's side. "For you," he said. "Found it at the creek."

Aren stepped down, not waiting to see if Gunnar recognized the gift, which he did not. Ulfrik, however, thought it curious and picked up the rock. It was flat and smooth from being in the water. It was a blue-gray rock with a vein of white through its heart. He smiled and placed it back where Aren had left it.

"Why this rock for Gunnar?"

"Because it is special and hard, like Gunnar."

The reason struck Ulfrik as too profound to be from a child, but Aren was unlike any child of his own age. Even Gunnar turned to glance at the rock, but then flipped back over. Neither Hakon nor Aren seemed to know what to do next, so Ulfrik gestured for them to leave. "Your brother is tired now. Go tell your mother I will join her in a moment."

The door shut behind them, the yellow light and clear sound shut out from Gunnar's world of silence. Ulfrik sighed and waited, but Gunnar did not move.

"Fate has woven a black thread into your life," Ulfrik said, folding his hands around his knee and staring into the darkness. "But it does not mean the whole cloth will be black. You are a man now, son, and my pride for you is fierce. Toki told me you insisted on rescuing the others. He also told me that he was a coward, and your bravery shamed him. I am no judge of what was the right choice at that moment, but to stand with your crew and hold their lives as valuable as your own will never be wrong. You are a leader, not because you are my son, but because you are in your heart."

Gunnar remained facing the opposite wall in silence. Ulfrik watched the shadows from the candle dance across the lump of his body, then continued.

"I had tried to protect you from the ugliness of the world. Such is my arrogance that I believed Fate would not touch you on my command. For that I made you suffer, and I am sorry. And my scheming from glory led you to this black thread. Had I chosen to be more practical and less bold, perhaps you would not have lost your hand."

"It's not your fault." Gunnar's voice was weak and quiet. He still remained facing away. "The Franks surprised us all."

Ulfrik nodded. "I can't help but feel responsibility. If I had only returned from Gunther faster ..."

"It's not your fault. Don't say it anymore."

Glad to have his son speaking again but loath to sour his mood with the topic, he sat in chastened silence. Soon Gunnar flipped to his back, and the streaks of tears on his cheeks glittered in the candlelight. He stared up for a long moment before speaking.

"I will never stand in a shieldwall, never gather any glory to my name."

"You will stand in front of the shieldwall. You will point your sword at foemen and they will quail before you. None would even dare charge."

Gunnar snorted. "Don't joke with me, Father."

"I have seen it done, and I don't joke. A shield will be lashed to your right arm, and your left arm will become stronger than before. You have the heart of a bear and the fangs of a wolf. You will learn to lead and fight and make widows by the score. You will not falter and die like Clovis's son. Men will swear their oaths to you because you will bring them glory."

Closing his eyes, Gunnar turned his head aside. Ulfrik swallowed, fearing his own voice might crack, but he believed all he had said. Though the figure in the bed was of a man, he was still Ulfrik's little boy and he would never abandon him to failure.

"When this wound is healed you will believe all I've said. You will taste success and desire more."

"What if I fail? If I can't learn to fight with my left hand?"

"You can learn, and you will succeed. I will not let you fail. I will hold you up until you can stand again, and when that day comes I will be behind you as proud as any man can be. You must believe me."

Gunnar met his eyes through the gloom, and Ulfrik read all the conflicting fear, hope, despair, and desire shimmering in them. He knew Gunnar's path would be hard and fraught with dozens of holes to trip him on the way. He did not need to show Gunnar that now, only just set his foot on the path.

"I want to believe."

"Then do. In the end you must believe something, and why not believe in success?"

Gunnar smiled and Ulfrik patted his shoulder. They sat in a more pleasant silence, and soon Ulfrik decided he had accomplished all he had set out to do for Gunnar today. He stood and stretched, then paused at the door before leaving.

"Everyone needs to have their spirits raised, so I've announced a feast with games and plenty of drink to be held within two days. We must celebrate the destruction of Clovis and the Franks, before King Odo sends more to harass us. Rest up so you may join us. It will do everyone good to see you out of bed, particularly your mother. At least consider it for her."

Gunnar nodded, and Ulfrik closed the door behind him. He worried a feast and games would stretch their stores for winter, but something had to be done to make victory feel less like defeat.

Chapter 59

Throst had found the north gate of Ravndal unbarred, just as Halla had promised. He gently widened it only enough to slide his body through the crack. He had to hold his bow in one hand and quiver in the other to pass. Sounds of celebration carried high over the black walls, so far that even Dan and Olaf had commented on it when they left him at the edge of the woods. "Don't stay for a drink," Olaf had quipped. "We're going to have to run faster than last time."

Only now Throst had a horse. The Franks raised obedient beasts that could fly like ravens over the ground even under his unskilled direction. He left the piebald tethered to a rock within sprinting distance of the walls. The celebration consumed the attention of every person in Ravndal. After all, there were no enemies remaining in the land worth watching. He had ridden to the walls without a care, passing the wreckage of battle and stopping to examine overlooked bits of potential value. Nothing of worth turned up, but then he had already picked the best days ago.

Inside he clung to the walls. The scent of roasting meat filled the air, where only days ago it had been the scent of the burned dead. Ravndal bore the scars of its recent battle. Fences were destroyed, barrels shattered, and walls breached. Animal pens were mended but doors still sat crooked in their frames, having been battered down and not properly rehung. Rust stains dappled the wall of a home as Throst sneaked past it. He noted a bloody handprint that had slid down to the dirt. The cheering and laughing celebration in the distance was a stark contrast to the vestiges of death.