Sword Brothers (24 page)

The great hall of Eyrafell was nothing compared to Aren's father's, but among the halls of other jarls it was large. The building showed its age in the gray, rain-stained wood, but a roof of new thatch gleamed like gold in the pale light. White curls of smoke chugged out of the smoke hole and a savory smell reached them.

While Aren could not identify the scent, it summoned to mind an association with Snorri. He had not considered whether Einar had received the news of his father's death, and knowing he might have to deliver it filled him with dread. Einar was a good man, and his father had been legendary for his age and his wisdom. Aren had heard from his mother that Snorri did not like him in his youth, but as he aged they discovered they had a great affection for each other. The full weight of Snorri's passing had not even hit Aren yet. Now, with the possibility of having to stay with Einar for a while, the hurt of his loss would be all the more keen.

They were let into the hall, where their escort left them with the hall's door guards. He gave Aren a sly look, then said to his fellow guards, "Here's Halfdan Halfdanarson and his companions. They come with news from Ull the Strong. I'm sure whatever he has to tell Jarl Einar must be important."

Aren inclined his head at the escort, and then waited to be announced to Einar. After long moments where Aren felt every passerby recognized him, the doors reopened and the guard called them inside. The darkness of the hall blinded Aren while his vision adjusted. He picked his way carefully into the main hall, where servant women tended a large iron pot that was lost in smoke from the fire. The hall was milky white with the haze, but Aren still clearly saw the giant shape of Einar at the far end of the hall. He had two other men in conversation with him.

"Halfdan Halfdanarson from Ull the Strong," announced the guard. Heads all turned toward Aren and his three companions, and they all knelt out of respect. Aren made certain to give a blank expression to Einar, who now peered down at them.

A faint ripple of surprise came over Einar's round face, manifesting in a slightly raised brow. He sat back on his bench and waved his guard away. "Thank you. I have been expecting this news. All of you, leave us."

The men at Einar's side huffed at the disturbance, and both glared at Aren. They seemed familiar, but Aren could not place them. The other servants and hirdmen left, leaving only a slave to attend to Einar's needs. When the hall had cleared, Einar finally let his smile break.

"Halfdan Halfdanarson? Did you just make up that name on the spot?"

"It was all that came to mind."

Einar stepped from the high table to embrace Aren in welcome. The giant man had once been his father's standard bearer, and later became a mighty jarl in his own right. He was old now, in his forties, but time had barely frosted his beard with gray and only touched his hair at the temples. His strength was undiminished by age, and he crushed Aren between his strong arms.

They stepped apart, and Einar's smile vanished. "I was only just at your father's hall weeks ago, but now you arrive unannounced under a false name. Whatever your news, it must be grave."

Aren had rehearsed his delivery of the news dozens of times since he had fled Rouen. In each imagined scene he had been articulate and bold, not timid and voiceless which is how he felt under Einar's questioning gaze.

"Have you heard no news in Eyrafell?"

Einar motioned them all to sit at a nearby table. Mugs of half-finished ale sat where hirdmen had left them. Einar cleared them aside with one muscular arm, then shook his head. "If anything, it has been too quiet. Seeing we are at peace now, I thought it was a favorable sign."

"Anything but that," Aren said. He shared a glance with Gils, who for lack of anyone else had become Aren's support since their flight from Rouen. "There is no easy way to begin all the stories. I will start with what concerns you directly. Your father took ill shortly after you left him with us. At first it was nothing serious, but he worsened. We sent a messenger to call you back, but it seems you were never contacted. Your father died about two weeks ago. We were all at his side. He wanted you to know how proud he was of you."

Einar's expression remained blank, as if Aren spoke a foreign language and he awaited interpretation. For an instant Aren feared he had done something wrong and Einar would blame him, but the giant man only blinked.

"It is hard news to hear," Aren said. "My father was greatly saddened, and he had Snorri laid to rest in a temporary grave until you could be contacted."

"Of course," Einar said, his voice a whisper. "He was old, but strong. If I had known it was his time, I'd have not left him."

"No one knows the time of a man's passing," Aren said, sounding now more like the voice he had rehearsed. "There was nothing for you to do. You will see him again in the feasting hall of heroes. I don't mean to be disrespectful, for you know how I loved your father, but this is only the beginning of the bad news. Worse must still be told."

Einar's eyes widened and he swallowed. Aren took a breath and delivered all the news of Gunnar's priest problem, the murder of the bishop, and his father's banishment. He told him of the attempt to frame him for a plot against Vilhjalmer and his escape to his hall. When all had been told, Aren himself could scarcely believe the world had changed so much in so few days.

"I cannot get back home," Aren said. "Hrolf has placed guards at all the best crossing points. For a short time, at least, I ask for shelter with you."

"Of course," Einar said. He appeared dazed, absently touching his beard.

"Don't be so quick to agree. While I want your hospitality, you would be defying Hrolf if you shelter me."

"How would I know what Hrolf demands? He has kept all of this from me." Einar rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "I doubt he has told anyone for fear of the resistance. The Church wants to force his hand, and to have that witnessed by his jarls would be a shame. There are men who would say your father was not wrong in what he did. If I were threatened in my own hall, I might do the same. Banishment is a heavy price, maybe even worse than death."

"My family will likely leave before I can return to them. Vilhjalmer knows where I am and will send me information as he can. I think it is best for no one to know I am here, so that I can plan to reunite with my father."

Einar nodded. "You have given me much to think on. I will have a servant see to your needs, but I must ask for time alone. Your news was indeed grave."

Aren stood along with Gils and the others. "I thank you for this. I only hope it does not bring you more troubles."

Then Einar froze in place and shook his head as if disgusted. "Those men who I spoke with at the high table earlier, did they get a good look at you?"

"They glared at me as if I had pissed on their boots."

Einar laced his hands behind his head. "We already have worries. They are visitors from Mord's hall, and I wager they are leaving with news of your arrival even as we speak."

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Ulfrik now faced the open sea, standing on the beaches of Neustria with his four ships hauled onto the strand. A line of people threaded from the ships toward the tree line, where a path led back to a seaside village. They were farmers and their families, carrying their belongings on their backs and herding the remains of their meager flocks.

"Is it wise to let them go?" Gunnar asked. His sons, Finn, and other hirdmen stood behind Ulfrik as he watched the waves crash onto the beach. He missed the open sea for its salty flavor and cold winds. It rolled away endlessly, forever uncaring of men and their troubles. On it a destiny could be found or lost, depending on the whims of Fate.

"I will not drag them along with me," Ulfrik said. "If they claim I am unlucky and that this journey is cursed, then how can I deny them? It has not been a promising start, has it?"

No one spoke, but Gunnar renewed his questioning. "What of their oaths? Men cannot walk away from their promises, or what would happen to the world?"

Ulfrik laughed, a dry and bitter sound. "Men have broken oaths and yet the world endures. I have broken many. I'm breaking one now by standing on this beach and planning my revenge."

"We will need men to carry out that revenge," Finn said. Ulfrik turned to his young friend, his freckled face uncommonly serious.

"We need men willing to fight for no better reason than a desire for gold and glory. Those people leaving would fight willingly for their homes, but not for my revenge. For that, their reluctance would be my undoing." He paused and looked his sons in their eyes.

"I must shed the mantle of a jarl and return to my roots. I came to this land as a raider, and so must I return to it. For that, I need a new kind of men. My hird is strong and loyal, but they are not enough. So while it seems I am losing what I most need, it is not so. I am as a snake, shedding its old skin for the new. Let these people go back to Hrolf. I gladly release them from their oaths, but they are also no longer under my protection. When I return, if Fate wills it, I will find these people again and they will regret their decisions."

Ulfrik turned again to the sea and let his words sit with his sons. It was high tide, and they would have to launch back to the sea before it ended. He had only burned his wife the night before, and now stood with a world of new choices to make. Sleep had eluded him and he felt weary beyond measure. His left leg throbbed from the moisture in the air, and a dozen other old wounds pained him. How much more could his body withstand? He was prepared to find out.

"That's the last of the oathbreakers," said one of the hirdmen. "We convinced the smith to remain with us."

A thin smile reached Ulfrik's lips. "I hope he was convinced without fear of injury. There are many other smiths in the world, and we cannot carry a forge on a ship."

"He has no family ties to this land," said the hirdman. "Someone has to maintain our war gear."

Ulfrik now faced the remainder of his men. "Whatever bondi have remained, I will make them part of my hird. Let there be no man who stood by me today feel as though his loyalty was not recognized."

Approving nods circulated among the men who remained. Both Gunnar and Hakon stood apart, with arms folded and sour expressions. Gunnar's eye was still swollen and Hakon's lip scabby and fat. Ulfrik realized a rift had widened between the two. Something had always existed between them. Years ago when Ulfrik was presumed dead, Gunnar's quick departure had angered Hakon, at least that was the story Runa had told him. His sons never spoke of it in front of him. The two had found a tentative peace, but the death of their mother had shattered it. He could not have that divisiveness in his family.

"I have a new plan," Ulfrik said. "But it requires us to rebuild our strength and then surpass it. If there is any man who doubts I can do this, speak now. I will settle your fears."

No one stirred, though he noted a half dozen of his hirdmen sneak glances to their sides. Ulfrik folded his arms behind his back and began to pace.

"All of my hirdmen will be awarded a share of silver for your loyalty today. For tomorrow, I promise you we will carry away the hoarded wealth of Mord Guntherson and his father, Gunther One-Eye. We will do better than this. We will extract from Hrolf a ransom worthy of the Count of Rouen, and if he fails to pay it we will do to him all that he inflicted upon the Franks."

Even his sons frowned in confusion, and a murmur circulated among the rearmost of his hirdmen.

"You have seen what wealth I carried from hall. It sits upon my ship, and you guard it with your lives. It is ours, after all. But there is my own wealth that I have kept since many of you were yet to be born." He held up a pouch heavy with jewels. "Here is the wealth of a king's gift to another king. Long ago, the King of the Franks sent the King of Wessex a gift of gold and jewels. Both kings are long dead, but the treasure they would have shared has remained with me. These jewels will buy us ships and men in the numbers we need to do as I have promised."

Every eye went to the pouch that he held before them. Even his sons, who had only known about the jewels in recent years, looked greedily upon it. Ulfrik suspected more than one among his hird might be tempted to steal them, so rather than display the gems, he put the pouch back on his belt. "Such wealth is the seeds of the future, and so I keep it close."

A rumble of excitement came to the group as men discussed the potentials of so much wealth. Hakon remained frowning, and when Ulfrik raised a brow to him, he spoke over the voices of the men.

"Gems only have a use if converted to gold. Who would buy yours and how can you be guaranteed a fair price?"

Ulfrik smiled, and wondered if Hakon asked the question for himself or the benefit of the men. "A good question, and it leads to the next step in my plan. We must raise ships and men, and that requires gold beyond what is packed upon my ship. So these gems must be sold, and my time on a merchant ship was well spent in this regard. I know where to take these for a fair trade. The markets of Hedeby in Jutland have all that we require, both shipbuilders and merchants prepared to trade. Of course, with such wealth at stake, I will need my loyal hirdmen to guard it. For that service, I shall decide upon a share of the gems' value to be given to all, after the final trades are made."

Now the hum of excitement grew louder and Hakon nodded with approval. Gunnar smiled at the other end, but he seemed lost in his thoughts. Once the rush of buoyant talk dwindled, he raised his hand to speak.

"So Hedeby for gold and ships, but what of men? To ensure Mord and Gunther's destruction and to challenge Hrolf, we will need hundreds of men. Maybe even thousands."

"Hedeby is also a hub of news. Trust me when I promise you our arrival with so much wealth will attract attention. We need merely to announce we seek fighting men for adventure in Frankia, and we will draw hungry swords from every corner of the world."