Sword Brothers (32 page)

The laughter grew louder, a note of tension in it. Ulfrik surveyed the faces of the audience. Most were grim and weathered by years under the sun and scarred with marks of battle. None of them were rich faces. Gold and jewels did not sparkle in the low light, as they would have in a gathering for Hrolf's men. These were hard-bitten fighters who scratched their lives out from the land one sword-stroke at a time and received little more than blood and dust for it.

Oskar continued his speech, wobbling on the bench as he gestured to his audience. "News of Ulfrik's fall was a shock, but also expected when an ungrateful and uncaring bastard like Hrolf the Strider sets himself above all others. No one is safe from a man like that, even his greatest warrior. Never shall I kneel to him, nor any man who calls himself his servant. Today Ulfrik has returned, not sworn to any man, and he has a request of us. For my part, I have heard what he asks and I like it. You will like it as well, my brothers."

Oskar unceremoniously stepped off the bench before he fell from it. Heads turned to Ulfrik and so he stepped on the bench and spent a full minute looking over the men. The silence made many shift or look away. Those were the men he had to convince. Others held his gaze and were ready to hear the call to blood.

"I have been betrayed. Mord Guntherson, who Oskar tells me is now sitting in my old hall, sent a man to kill me. A poisoned blade." The audience hissed at the shameful deed. "I killed the man, but not before his blade cut my wife. Even from a cur like Mord, I'd have not expected poison, and my wife died in my arms before I realized what had happened. But the treachery is not with Mord alone. Gunther One-Eye plotted to steal my land. Hrolf the Strider was cowed by Christian priests. All these men deserve my vengeance."

The audience shouted approval and banged the tables with their fists. Not every man was so enthusiastic, but as Ulfrik waited for them to subside he noted which men still appeared reluctant. "I will not tire you with my woes. I have returned to kill Mord and Gunther for their treachery, and to tear out a bloody hunk of flesh from Hrolf's side. They are all war-weary men sitting in halls built atop their piles of gold. Hrolf cowers behind the walls of Rouen, too afraid to offend his new masters with a misstep. Gunther is bitter and blind, counting his riches in darkness. Mord is a spoiled fool who cannot hold his lands without a strong hand to protect him. There is much to take from these men, and I know how. For years I was close to them. I know their weaknesses. Join me in battle and we will take all of it. With all of our gathered strength, we could burn a path to the walls of Rouen itself. Hrolf would pay anything to have us leave, rather than embarrass himself before his new king. Think of the riches awaiting you."

More shouting and stamping feet filled the pause. Ulfrik saw a pinch-faced man frown and around the cramped hall at least two other men did the same. When the crowd settled Ulfrik left a gap for these men to speak and was not disappointed when the pinch-faced man shouted over his peers.

"We've all heard this before. Doesn't anyone remember Thor Gundarason? Where's he now?"

"Thor was a braggart and barely a man," Oskar said. "And he didn't have the numbers he needed to succeed. The fool earned his death."

Ulfrik had never heard of Thor, but did know the southern jarls had just as often attacked other Norsemen as well as their usual Frankish enemies. Hrolf and his jarls had put down a number of these raiding parties over the years.

"Still, it is the same promise of gold and land," the pinch-faced man continued. "But the gods have settled Hrolf and his dogs into their holes and now with a castle to shield him he will never be expelled."

"We're not talking about expelling him, Alvis." Oskar now stood beside Ulfrik on the bench. "And we're not talking about Thor Gundarason. We have Hrolf's greatest warlord to show us how to win. Thor was a boy, but Ulfrik is a man the skalds sing of in their tales of bravery. None of us have done the deeds he has, and none of us know Hrolf and his dogs as Ulfrik does. This is our chance for glory."

"It's too late in the year to be raiding," said the pinch-faced man, Alvis. "We should be preparing them for winter. It's going to be a tough one. I just know it."

Oskar waved Alvis's fears away like a buzzing fly. "You find one excuse after the next. You've no heart for this, so do not poison the thoughts of others."

"Let all men air their doubts," Ulfrik said. Oskar turned with his mouth open, but Ulfrik raised his hand for peace. "While I am certain of victory, men will be maimed and men will die. Let no one join me who is not willing to face those risks."

"We are not cowards," Alvis shouted and the two other doubting men grumbled in support.

"I would not call you a coward. You are all jarls, and your decisions affect the lives of those sworn to you. I have nothing but respect for a man who so carefully considers his duty to his people."

Alvis and his fellow protesters appeared mollified, and Oskar's open mouth closed. Ulfrik saw Finn smiling at him with Oskar's daughter leaning on his shoulder. He had to look away lest he laugh during this grave moment. Finn's bright red face and drunken smile brought a lift to his spirits.

"Now let's speak of those who will dare to plunder Hrolf and his dogs. You will all take a jarl's share and portion this to your men as you see fit. For my part, I desire only blood. I take only what I owe my men, the same as yours, and leave my share to add to your own. I ask only that you leave Mord, Gunther, and Hrolf for me and my sons. Who then will dip his hand into the treasure piles of Normandy?"

The hall reverberated with excited shouts as the men stood in answer. Oskar beamed proudly and Ulfrik smiled. Only Alvis and one of the two protesters remained sullen and seated. Ulfrik had reformed his army, however loose it would prove to be. He spoke so softly that no one but himself could hear.

"Your last wish will soon come to pass, dear Runa. A storm of blood and death awaits our enemies."

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

An army of nearly six hundred warriors marched north with Ulfrik and his sons at the fore. The land hushed as they trampled the small tracks wending through forests or along streams. The sun hid itself behind clouds and the wind refused to blow. The gods themselves seemed to hold their breaths as Ulfrik led his marauders to his old lands.

He now stopped the march, his scouts gone with Finn to lead them in assaying the resistance Mord had prepared. When Ulfrik built this hall he had not prepared defenses against the Franks and had not looked south for danger. Oskar and all the other petty jarls never united for anything, and even now they bickered about the right approach. However, experience had taught him caution.

"What are we waiting for?" asked one of the jarls, named Thorstein. He was a burly man with cheeks so red he looked like he had been slapped. His complexion matched his temperament, though men called him Apple Cheeks behind his back. Ulfrik had become so accustomed to that name he had to bite it back when he answered.

"We must be certain of our attack," Ulfrik said. "We do not charge the hall only discover Mord is gone or has dug a ditch or worse. We scout first, then attack."

"There are five of us for every one of their warriors," Thorstein said. "If he dug a ditch, we'll walk over the backs of the fallen and get him. Let's move now."

"Don't be hasty, Ap--Jarl Thorstein. You have trusted me thus far. Trust me a while longer."

Apple Cheeks stared at him before stomping off, waving his hand over his head and protesting to the air. Gunnar and Hakon both laughed after he was gone.

"These men are all about running in and dying," Hakon said. "But he does have a point. We should outnumber Mord, even if he has raised more men since we left. He can't have summoned all his bondi, and the hirdmen will be at their barracks or elsewhere. This should be an easy victory."

"Has it been easy so far?" Gunnar asked, and Ulfrik slapped his son's shoulder in agreement.

"Exactly, this is too easy. We're a quick march from the old hall. We will have to cross the fields I cleared, but then we will be upon the hall and presenting Mord's head to his wife."

"What are we going to do to his wife?" Hakon asked. "Should we kill her too?"

"Why not? It would be fitting," Gunnar said. "We should take turns with her and have Mord watch."

"None of that," Ulfrik said. "We will ransom her back to her family. I know what Mord did to your mother, and she would be the first one to cut off Mord's balls and feed them to him. But she'd not forgive the rape and murder of his wife."

"That's not what I remember about Mother," Gunnar said, sniffing.

"Runa the Bloody, I know the name. And I know she regretted it in her later years. I will respect her memory."

The silence grew between them and Gunnar drifted to find his own crew. Each jarl had taken fifty men, leaving only a token force at home. That made the bulk of Ulfrik's troops independent of his command, though the jarls had thus far been compliant with his battle plans. Though the men were hardened and experienced, they were better suited to raiding than military action. Ulfrik winced at the noise they made, drinking and boasting to prepare themselves for battle when they should have been silently awaiting the scouts' reports. Ulfrik smelled the faint notes of sweet hearth smoke in the air. Revenge was but a short run's distance, but he had to be certain.

Finn returned, appearing out of the woods into the flat light of the clearing where Ulfrik and his army idled. Behind him other scouts returned and headed for their own leaders. Ulfrik waved Finn closer. His freckle-faced companion still had the hood of his green cloak pulled overhead.

"They are alert and prepared for us," Finn said before he had finished crossing to Ulfrik. "The surrounding farms are cleared and both hirdmen and his levies have formed up behind the hall. They know the direction of our approach, since they are screening themselves from our view."

"How did he know?" Hakon asked.

"I couldn't get close enough to the hall to ask him," Finn said, finally pulling back his hood. "But he's known long enough to summon his levies."

Ulfrik brooded, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered how to divide his forces for the attack. "We still have more men than he does, unless he has sent to Hrolf for aid. I could send a flanking force to meet with the main body when we attack. It was always my concern with fighting in that field. The northeastern woods were thick and I did not see the need to clear it, even though it gave good cover to an enemy. That should be our approach."

"Father," Hakon said, grabbing Ulfrik's shoulder. "You had better share your plans now."

Half of all the assembled troops were running through the trees and heading north for the hall. Ulfrik sprang to his feet and began shouting at them. "Apple Cheeks, you stupid whoreson! Get your men back into line."

Yet not only did Apple Cheeks ignore him, but scores of other men drowned him out as they began screaming their battle cries. Ulfrik stood dumbfounded, with only his own men and those of Jarl Oskar awaiting his orders.

"All right," he said, then turned to his warriors. "Mord is ready for us. These fools will charge him head-on, but we will swing around the northeast and hit them in the flank. We take no prisoners and have no mercy on these dogs. Now follow me!"

Hakon and Gunnar passed the command onto their men and Finn joined Ulfrik at his side, now carrying his standard of black elk antlers on a green field. "We have to act fast or our numbers advantage will mean nothing. Mord will take us apart one half at a time."

"I understand that," Ulfrik said. He began jogging toward the trees and his men followed. "I cannot get us as wide as I had planned. I wanted to coordinate the charges, but now we make do with this."

They crashed through the woods, no care to mask their approach. Birds rushed into the air as they passed, and branches snapped as they charged toward their positions. The scream and clash of battle already washed over the woods. Ulfrik doubled his pace until they exited on the eastern flank of the battle behind his own men.

He did not see any standard flying nor any sign of Mord's command. Only a long strip of warriors clashed in the field outside the hall, two lines of mostly unarmored men shoving at each other with shields and spears. A dozen problems revealed themselves to Ulfrik's expert eye. The worst issue being these lightly armored men were not the anvil to his hammer. They were not large enough nor strong enough for Ulfrik's heavy troops to drive the enemy against. They would simply break apart into an open melee, and that would be the end of the battle.

"We have to charge from here," Ulfrik said flatly. "I don't see Mord's standard anywhere. He's not even here."

"Or doesn't want you to find him in battle," Finn said.

Ulfrik grabbed his horn and sounded the charge. His men knew enough to form ranks behind him as Ulfrik charged toward the clashing warriors. As he pounded across the hard ground, grass whipping his feet, he scanned for signs of reinforcements. Nothing before them indicated Mord had prepared more than this token force. He did not expect great battle tactics from Mord, but this was a poor strategy even for him. Ulfrik's legs continued to pump as he crossed the cleared fields, each footfall sending shockwaves through his knees. His face grew hot and his shield arm tingled in anticipation of the clash.

Then the sound of thunder.

He looked over his right shoulder, across the front of his line, as from behind the woods warriors on horseback charged. Their mail and conical helmets gleamed in the flat light. They wore surcoats covered in squares of blue and white or yellow. Hungry spears lowered as the horses pounded out from hiding.

"Cavalry!" he shouted. Franks on horseback were a mighty force when used correctly. In Ulfrik's long experience, the Franks misused their mounted troops in most fights. But today their timing was perfect.