Sword Brothers (31 page)

Ulfrik hung his head. "I am shamed. You are right. We carry on no matter what the challenge. This defeat has shaken me, but I will not let it rule me. We will camp on this beach until we are sure all our surviving ships find us. After that, we will travel inland and meet the so-called free jarls who challenge Hrolf's rule. If we can ally with them, then we will have the numbers again to challenge Hrolf and avenge ourselves on Mord."

The ship drew closer and Ulfrik turned hopefully to it, both Gunnar and Finn straining to see who commanded.

"It's not Hakon," Finn said, his eyes sharper than the rest.

"He will return," Ulfrik said. "He did not die in the storm."

No one challenged how he could make such an assertion. In truth, Ulfrik did not know, but the statement was the only prayer he knew to offer his son. Not all ships were scattered and seeking a path back to shore. Some had broken apart and sank. He closed his eyes and imagined Hakon and Elke together on their ship, sailing for the signal fires.

He had to believe Hakon was not dead.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Four days after landing on the Contentin beaches, Ulfrik had his ships back in the sea. He stood once more in the prow and watched his vastly reduced fleet slip by him as he sailed to the front of the formation. Gunnar and his family stood proudly at the rails of their dark ship, its red striped sail full of an eastward wind that would carry them to their destiny. Of the nearly thirty ships that sailed from Jutland, only ten remained. The others had wrecked or been lost, their crews blown off course or otherwise fleeing the bad luck that hung over their journey.

Hakon and Elke again waved from their ship. They had returned only the day before, and Ulfrik's eyes were wet when he embraced his son on the beach. Even Gunnar wiped the corner of his eye. "And here I thought you dead just when I was starting to like you better," he had told his brother. They had lost most of their crew as well as their mast, making for a long journey. Ulfrik force-fit the mast of another ship that was judged unfit for open sea, and now they were rejoined in their journey home.

"I hope Aren will find us before we attack," Ulfrik said as he took the tiller from Finn. The ship slotted into the front of the others and gulls screamed overhead, racing with the ship as if to see it off.

Finn shrugged. "He is a canny man. I'm sure he has planned something for your return."

He left out the assumption that Ulfrik's message had even been delivered. Aren never sent a return word, nor did the messengers return. Their travels would have been fraught with perils in the best of times, and far worse in today's world. Ulfrik scratched his head and grabbed the tiller.

"He's a smart boy. He'll be ready for us."

"What about your oath to Vilhjalmer?" Finn rotated his shoulders and winced. Everyone still carried their pain from battling the storm.

"What of it? If it is convenient for me to honor it, then I shall. I'm an outlaw already, or have you forgotten? What worse can be done to me?"

They spent a day sailing carefully along the coast. Debris in the water could have been the remains of his ships or of another unlucky vessel. The floating garbage plunked against the hull as Ulfrik sailed through it. Once they came to an estuary, they slipped deeper into the woodlands of the Frankish coastline. The Seine lay further north and here was land ruled by numerous jarls that loosely respected each other but bent a knee to no man. They lived their lives like men of old in a system Ulfrik's father would have recognized. He would never have bent a knee to either the Franks or Hrolf.

Ten ships of fighting men were difficult to hide, and after an afternoon of rowing upriver, the local jarl's men formed up on the riverbank. Only every fifth man wore chain, though all carried shields of various faded colors and patterns. Ulfrik's men outnumbered them, though not by much. He had cut a hazel branch before setting sail and now had a man waving it from the prow of the ship. A lone figure, probably the jarl, dressed in mail and helmet, raised his open palm in acknowledgment. He stood before his men ranked up on a grassy bank, and behind them a forest of mixed pines and deciduous trees formed a black stripe.

"I will take ten men in the ship's boat to speak with their leader," Ulfrik said to Finn. "You will remain aboard and if trouble starts I expect you know what to do."

"I'd like more of a plan than that," he said. Ulfrik supervised his men untying the ship's boat and preparing the short oars. They lowered it over the side and dropped a rope down to it.

"There will be no trouble," Ulfrik said as he climbed down the rope to his waiting men. Gunnar and Hakon had similarly lowered their boats and now rowed for shore. The larger knarrs carried small rowboats, unlike the smaller longships whose main function was to deliver men to the place of battle.

Once ashore, Ulfrik led his group of thirty men up the bank to the waiting jarl. He was a tall man, though still shorter than Ulfrik. His stomach bulged against his mail shirt, but his arms showed firm muscles entwined with gold armbands. A wavy lock of his graying brown hair hung over his left eye; his eyes were large and piercing. Ulfrik raised his hand in peace.

"Hail, I am Ulfrik Ormsson and these are my ships. We mean no threat, though we come dressed for war." Ulfrik smiled at the way the jarl's eyes widened and his men stirred at the mention of his name.

"I am Jarl Oskar Scar-Foot and these are my men." His strong arm swept over his lines of troops. "And we mean to protect our lands."

"As well as you should," Ulfrik said. "You have heard of my name and reputation?"

"You were Hrolf's do--um, second. Your reputation is well known." Oskar gave a weak smile to Ulfrik's raised brow. Calling him a dog would be fitting for how these men thought about serving a high king, but it would still be an insult. Ulfrik realized changing their minds would not be simple.

"So then you know of my banishment?" Oskar nodded and the men lined behind him murmured among themselves. "Well, I have returned with an army at my back and an oath of revenge upon my lips. I need a place to camp my men before we head north to bring war and death to lands that once knew my protection. I would ask such a favor of you."

Oskar's eyes brightened at the mention of war, but he instead stroked his beard as if in careful deliberation. "You bring many men. How can I be certain you won't cause trouble in my land?"

"You have my word upon it. If you wish to exchange hostages, then we should discuss it."

Waving as if he smelled something foul, Oskar said, "No, I have heard rumor that you would return, but never guessed you would come here. I am not prepared to receive so many men, but I will make you and your guests welcomed in my hall tonight. You may find a place to camp, so long as you do not take from any man's property nor harm his home in any way. I must have your word on your good conduct."

"Of course, I give it freely," Ulfrik said. "And I am grateful for your hospitality."

He and Oskar grasped arms and his men relaxed their stances. Smiles went around both groups, and at last Ulfrik was back in country and ready to begin his revenge. Yet he was still not at peace, for Aren should have done more to prepare for his arrival here. He had specifically asked him to travel south to negotiate with the jarls there.

"Tell me, Jarl Oskar, has no one come to you before my arrival today?"

Oskar's wide forehead wrinkled as he raised a brow. "Nothing. You were first spotted entering the river, and the alarm was raised. I mustered every man I could find and rushed here, guessing this would be your best landing."

"It is the best landing," Ulfrik said, sharing a knowing glance with his sons. "I had planned to come to this land long before I set sail. I had sent messengers to warn you. I'm sorry for surprising you as I did."

"The greater the distance the greater the chance a messenger won't arrive," Oskar said. "That's been my experience."

"Well, no matter. I am here now. And I do not wish to be a burden to you, but I have one more favor to ask."

Oskar paused and stared, his big eyes of faded green searching him. "You'll have to provision yourself, if that's your need. There's plenty of men that'll sell to you."

"That is good to know, but not my need. I have something more to ask, something that would be of great interest to you and your fellow jarls in these so-called free steadings."

"Ah, so you want to strengthen your shield wall with more warriors."

"I want revenge, Jarl Oskar. I'm not as driven by gold as I used to be. I have found it does not keep me warm at night. The men I will make war upon will have much gold, and I should be glad to share it if men would fight beside me. For my part, I want to kill the men who ruined my name and murdered my wife."

Oskar's smile widened. "Let's talk about it in the hall. You might have my interest."

"I will need more than your interest alone, as welcomed as it is. I will not just take war to my old lands, but to the walls of Rouen itself. I need all the jarls to bring their spears and shields to this battle. I plan to tear down what I helped build and drown the land in blood. That is what I intend, Jarl Oskar."

The smile fled Oskar and he nodded. Ulfrik's plans would frighten even the mightiest jarls, for even the king of Western Frankia had not dared fight Hrolf. But Ulfrik did not dream revenge in small denominations. If revenge had become his life, then it would be the grandest revenge he could imagine. He only needed the aid of glory-hungering men to make it reality. Oskar Scar-Foot and men like him were not much different from the Hedeby raiders he had lost to the storm.

"Then we will have to gather the jarls and see how you might persuade them to your cause." Oskar pointed to the ships still in the water.

They returned to their ships with the good news. When Finn asked about Aren, Ulfrik shook his head and said nothing. He feared his son was lost.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Oskar Scar-Foot's hall was a meager building full of darkness and stinking of stale beer, smoke, and sweat. Six jarls and their closest hirdmen packed the hall, turning a chilly evening into a swelter. The light from the hearth embers throbbed as if gasping for breath. Ulfrik certainly felt as if he was, sitting at Oskar's right hand at his head table. He had no stage to raise himself above his men. The hall was not large enough for it.

His wife served both of them as a sign of respect, and slaves tended the rest of the guests. Oskar's wife would have been a beautiful woman but for a wall-eye that made holding her gaze dizzying to Ulfrik. He simply held out his mug for a refill of the poor drink that accompanied the tasteless meal of venison and boiled onions. Down the table Ulfrik saw Finn chatting with Oskar's eldest daughter, who had neither her mother's bad eye nor her otherwise good looks. She was Oskar in the body of a young woman. Despite her unfortunate manliness, beside Finn she had two other men competing for her attentions. Finn was emphasizing the gold armband Ulfrik had taken from his own arm and awarded Finn for saving his life. He had done the same for the other two men who had helped him. His own arm was lighter for it, but such dedication was never to be ignored.

"That gold has my daughter's eye," Oskar said, his breath a reeking blast on the side of Ulfrik's face.

"It was well deserved," Ulfrik said. "I would give a dozen such rings for one more man like Finn."

Oskar stared at him, his large eyes now red with drink. "You have that much gold?"

Ulfrik laughed, but Oskar continued to stare at him, expecting an answer. "I have lost much of it to this disaster my enemies have visited upon me. But were it only a matter of gold to find good men, then I should do all I could to gather it. Gold buys a sword for a short time, but not a man willing to risk his own life for the gold-giver. Finn and two more of my men were so willing, and have followed me through every hardship and shame a man can endure. Gold is a poor payment for such loyalty, but it is all that I may give with my hands. The rest must be repaid with my heart."

The circle around him had stilled at his words, and Ulfrik woke to the other men staring at him with admiration. Oskar slapped his palm on the table. "Now those are the words of a noble man! I drink to that!"

Mugs were raised all around and they toasted Ulfrik. He suddenly wished his sons were at his side to witness the small moment of glory. However, the ships and their valuables required guards and both sons had women to entertain them. So he raised his mug and toasted all the good and loyal men in the world, which to his mind could be counted on his hands.

"The night grows ever shorter, and we grow ever drunker," Ulfrik said. "It is time we discuss what we have gathered to hear."

The men close by growled their approval, but outside the circle, hirdmen continued to drink, share news, and boast as men from different lands often did when brought together under a peaceful roof. It took Oskar's standing on the bench and shouting for silence from his fellow jarls. When the hall settled into a low murmur and all eyes turned toward him, he finally addressed his audience.

"You've had enough of my hospitality tonight. Time you pay for your meals with some attention." Light laughter rippled up and Ulfrik smiled. In truth, Oskar was not a wealthy man and his insistence on holding the feast was likely beyond his means. Ulfrik regretted his disparaging thoughts of the meal Oskar had provided.

"We all know the reputation of Ulfrik Ormsson," Oskar said. "If you're like me, then you've cursed his name and called him Hrolf's dog." More laughter followed and Ulfrik smiled placidly, understanding too well how these men felt about him. "And if you're like me, you're glad he never turned his fangs on you. If anyone has delivered Hrolf his kingdom, then it is Ulfrik Ormsson."