Sword Brothers (20 page)

"I am an old man now and my fighting days are close to an end. What good will I do you in the future?"

"Let me worry for your usefulness. You can teach me your secrets, for one. For now, you must decide if you accept my offer."

Ulfrik stared at the blade then up into Vilhjalmer's smiling face. He took it lightly in his hands. "I swear loyalty to you, Vilhjalmer Hrolfson, never to be broken but in death."

Vilhjalmer sheathed his sword and raised Ulfrik to his feet. "In time, my father will understand why we did this tonight. For now, find your family and flee this land. Go south and trouble the Danes and petty jarls who are always bickering and fighting. One day I shall conquer that land, and it would be good for you to be already among them."

"Is that your first command to me, Lord?" Ulfrik could not help but twist the title in jest, and Vilhjalmer smiled at it.

"Just a suggestion. As for Aren, I doubt he will rejoin you in time to make your escape. I will find him and watch out for him. He is still an outlaw, but I will ensure he finds his way back to you when all is settled."

Ulfrik picked up the bag and the shield. "You've packed for me. What about my men? You'll have them released?"

"It's already done. I knew you would not leave without them. Good luck to you, Ulfrik. You once saved my life, and now I save yours. Our scales our balanced."

They clasped arms a final time before the door opened and Ulfrik stepped outside for the first time in weeks. The air was surprisingly fresh on his face, and in the darkness he saw the dull gleams of mail in the dim light of Vilhjalmer's candle. He was returning home a fugitive, but smiled nonetheless.

"You're certain you can prevent your father from attacking?"

"First there will be a crazed hunt to find where you escaped to, then I will tell my father in private what has happened. He will be madder at my going behind his back than your escape. Knowing you are sworn to me will ease his mind. Besides, I half suspect he knows what I am doing. Yet do not waste time. The Church has its own resources to find you."

Ulfrik nodded, then turned to join his escort and his freed men. Despite the promise of safety, he recalled Vilhjalmer's warning and his stomach ached at the thought. Violence might follow no matter what anyone wanted.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"I want you to kill the mighty Ulfrik Ormsson," Mord said, standing on the bank of the Seine. He searched the black line of trees on the opposite shore, thick pines like sharp teeth against the stale morning sky. "My spy is certain he has escaped, but is not sure how. He will gather his men and ships, then flee out of reach. You must get him before then."

The bandit leader standing beside him was called Knut the Hound, a thin, nondescript man with a bald head and a scar on his crown that formed a crater. Mord wondered if it collected water when it rained. His beard was dirty blond and wagged when he spoke.

"No easy thing. He will be on alert and surrounded by his men." Knut kicked a rock into the brown water. "I could never get close enough."

Mord sneered at him. "You are supposed to be a great killer, capable of deeds unreachable to normal men. You have worked for my wife's family, and they recommended you. Have I contacted the wrong man?"

"I'm your man," Knut said. He turned from Mord and began walking down the shore.

The insolence stoked a fire in Mord's belly, but he held his tongue. He was out of options now that Ulfrik had inexplicably been freed. The servant in Mord's pay reported that Hrolf was in an uproar at the news, but later he appeared calmer and had no immediate orders for pursuit. Ulfrik, that lucky bastard, had evaded sure death and someone had given Hrolf reason to pause.

"Then you will kill Ulfrik and his sons?" Mord asked, rushing to catch up. "He has been gone a day already, and must be at his hall by now. Maybe you can do a hall burning?"

Knut stopped and regarded him with hooded eyes. "If it's such a simple thing, why not do it yourself? Why pay my price?"

"Because I can't be shown to have a part of this. I will be ruler in those lands after Ulfrik is gone, and it would not do to be known as a murderer. Yet Ulfrik must die, or he will hover around me like a moth to a lamp. And it is no easy thing to kill him. So I need a man of reputation to make it happen."

"I have worked for the Franks many times, but not our own folk. It's not our way, really. You should challenge him to a duel and kill him there."

Mord blanched at the thought, remembering his father's warning as well as Ulfrik's uncanny swordsmanship. "This way is more practical."

They both stared at the river flowing past. A fat, high-sided trading ship, a knarr, rowed upriver with an escort of two sleeker fighting ships. When it had passed, Knut broke the silence.

"They will all be alert for trouble, but they will also be in haste to escape. That will work to my advantage. Ulfrik and his sons will be easy to spot, but I cannot possibly get all of them in the time that I have."

"You must kill the sons," Mord growled. "They will come back for revenge."

"I have a plan for the sons, but it relies more on luck than skill. I will need aid and some simple preparations to make it work. If you provide this I will have an assistant set the trap. Even still, it may not kill all his sons."

Mord laced his hands at the back of his head and sighed. "All right. You kill Ulfrik and his sons are targets of opportunity. I will pay you extra for every son killed. We don't have time to haggle, so let me hear your plan."

Knut gave a faint smile. With his plain looks and unimposing stature he appeared more like a wainwright than a skilled killer. The bald head made him seem older than he was. "There are two points where he will be vulnerable. Leaving his hall and boarding his ships. Before or after he will have too many men surrounding him. I just have to get close enough to him to cut him, and he will be dead before the sun sets."

"I'd prefer him to die straightaway," Mord said. "Why the delay?"

"Poisoned blade. But I will usually strike a fatal blow in the first attempt. The poison is just a precaution in case circumstances force me to flee."

"And how will you get so close to Ulfrik?"

Now a wolfish smile came to Knut's face and the killer inside of him shined through. "That secret is what makes me useful to the Frankish nobility, and why you are paying me so richly. I will get right beside him and he won't know the threat."

The sun peeked through the clouds and bounced off Knut's bald head. Mord stared at him through the glare. "I suppose that's all you'll tell me. Then here's the first half of your payment. The rest comes after confirmation of Ulfrik's death. Remember, get his sons as well."

"I will speak to your men about the sons. They must work fast if we expect to catch them." Knut then grabbed the pouch of gold Mord offered and weighed it in his palm. "But do not worry. I've not failed any job before, and I don't take work I think I cannot do."

"Good, then I look forward to hearing of Ulfrik's death tomorrow."

They parted, with Knut saying nothing more and ambling down the riverbank to his rowboat as if going fishing. Mord watched him go and heard the crunch of approaching footsteps. He did not bother to turn, but watched Knut launching his boat. The rocky voice of Magnus the Stone came over his shoulder.

"He says he can do it, then?"

"Only Ulfrik is guaranteed. I worry for leaving his sons alive."

Magnus gave a derisive snort. "The sons are all fools. Gunnar is like a wild boar that you can bait into any trap. The young one would probably piss himself if you came at him with a sword. Only the middle one has some potential, but he's not his father. As long as Ulfrik is dead, you will have no worries with the brothers. We'll handle them one at a time."

"My father thinks differently."

"I love your father dearly, but he is old. He worries like an old man. I don't think you need to even kill Ulfrik, but I can see why it makes sense."

Mord faced Magnus and narrowed his eyes at him. "If Ulfrik lives he will hound me incessantly. I cannot have him nipping at my heels forever. Besides, if he hasn't yet learned how I've maneuvered him into this disgrace, he will with enough time. Then it would be open war."

Magnus shrugged, then pointed with his chin toward Knut's boat. "Your wife says he murdered a count in his bedchamber. Do you believe it?"

"I don't know. He seems like nothing, but I sensed evil underneath his skin. I think he will be ruthless enough to do what we need, and by tomorrow morning I will be rid of Ulfrik's influence for good."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Ulfrik walked through his empty hall, his hands brushing tables stacked with used wood plates. His footsteps rustled over the rotted straw on the ground, echoing through the milky light of the hall. He had a mind to burn this hall to ash, but considered one day he might return to reclaim it. A slave grunted from the far end of the hall, the bald, old Frankish man struggling to drag the iron cooking pot to the front doors where hirdmen would retrieve it.

Despite the frenetic pace of his return and his rushed reunions with everyone, he now moved with slow deliberation. Was he really dragging everything including the cooking pot off to a new land? He could scarcely believe he had to flee, but now understood he had evaded a far worse fate. He had lost Hrolf's support but gained Vilhjalmer's, trading king for prince, or perhaps a better thought was trading the past for the future. Hrolf was old, and while he might rule many years, his son would doubtlessly inherit his power. He might even usurp it, and Ulfrik would return to the kingdom he helped forge.

The doors opened and the exhausted slave cowered from the light spilling inside. Rather than hirdmen, the curves of Runa's shadow appeared. He stepped up to the high table and extended his hand to her.

"Come join me here one last time before we leave."

She stared at the slave as she walked past, then turned her bright smile to Ulfrik. No matter how she had aged, she was a radiant beauty as perfect as the day they had met. She still moved with the grace of the young, lacking the bent and painful tilt of other women her age. "What are you doing in here? We don't want to load the ships at night. There won't be a moon tonight for all the clouds."

"There are not many memories in this hall," he said, looking up to the rafter where his banner had hung and now only cut rope dangled. "Still, it is hard to leave. I am being chased out like a rat."

Runa took his offered hand. Her skin was cool and rough from the work of spinning and weaving, and hard calluses formed where she had taken up her sword practice again. He guided her to his side and slipped an arm around her.

"This is a setback," she said, fitting into the hollow beneath his arm. "But we have loyal men, ships, and plenty of riches. You have the jewels?"

He slapped his waist. "I'll carry them myself for now. They're seeds for a new life. I suppose it is what Fate had always planned for us."

She nodded. "Aren will be all right?"

"He's with Einar," he said with confidence he did not possess. "Vilhjalmer will watch out for him, and will help him reunite once we send word of where we settle."

"I am not afraid," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "As long as we are together, it is all that matters to me. Do you think there is still land enough in the Danelaw?"

"We will make room if we must, but there is still much of Northumbria yet to conquer." Ulfrik had set his sights on England as a temporary landing for his people. "It will be good to take up the sword again. I don't know if I could settle for another year of peace."

Runa smiled, then squeezed him. "Strange as it seems, I don't think I could either. War is all we've known, and having you lying around the hall with no great plans to occupy your thoughts made for a hard year." They both shared a laugh, and she slipped from under his arm. "Be quick here. I will be with our grandchildren. They are excited for this."

"They don't understand what's happening." Ulfrik kissed Runa's forehead and walked her to the front door. "Go keep them from getting underfoot."

"And Ulfrik," Runa said as she paused at the door. "We are all angered with Gunnar, but he was trying to do what he thought would help. Do not humiliate him. I'm certain he's already feeling foolish enough."

"You said he was thinking. I don't think he was." She lowered her head and glared at him. "But I've not said anything to him, have I? Relax, Wife, I will keep the peace. I've learned a few things in my old age."

She gave him a slow nod, then smiled before exiting.

Ulfrik turned back to the hall, noting that the cooking pot remained by the door yet the slave had vanished. He owned a dozen slaves, and while they had been treated well. he wondered if they planned to flee. He never beat them, and he fed them well. Their clothes were plain, clearly the garb of slaves, but cleaned and replaced whenever they became too old. Still, people loved their freedom and he supposed they might slip away during the confusion. He would not have time to chase them down.

Leaving the pot, he again crossed the main hall and entered his private rooms. Runa had already stripped them and packed their valuables before he had arrived. Despite sleeping here every night, he struggled to remember how the room had appeared. He stared at his bed frame against the wall, which was too big to take but for the bedding. Snorri had died here, and now would not receive a proper burial until Einar could arrange it with whoever the new jarl would be.

He heard a foot slide across the wooden floor behind him. From its light touch he guessed Runa had returned and so remained staring at the empty bed.

"We had a few good nights in this, didn't we?" he said playfully.