Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 6

  As they approached the end of the fjord, Hamar called out to him in the prow. "It looks like those warships are gaining on us."

  Yngvar squinted and saw the bright, fresh sails full of wind. Oars were in the water, adding to their speed. Now that was strange. There was no enemy in sight or alarm raised.

  "Don't worry for it," Yngvar said. "Just steer out of their way. It's not our concern anymore."

  Yet Yngvar scanned the horizon for a threat that he might not have seen. The horizon was dotted with faint islands of pine-covered rock. Ships could hide behind them, but then the warships would not be able to see them.

  "They're tracking to us," Hamar called back. Now most of the crew had piled into the stern to see the ships. Yngvar joined them. The two ships were full of warriors, and their shields were off the racks.

  "Are they attacking?" Thorfast asked.

  "Of course not," Yngvar said. "We've not attacked them."

  "Their expecting a fight," Bjorn said. "No doubt. If they want one, though, I don't care where I swing my ax."

  "Don't be so bloodthirsty," Yngvar snapped.

  But it was true. The ships closed down on them, and at last Yngvar ordered his ship to slow. No sense in trying to outrun sleek, new longboats. He was still in his Uncle Gunnar's old ship, and while she was a reliable vessel, she was no longer young.

  The ships glided along either side and men with bows strung stood on the rails. Yngvar and his crew hadn't even pulled shields from the rack.

  "There's got to be a misunderstanding," he muttered. He stood on the rail to address the ship on his port side.

  "Is there a threat? Do you need our help?" He could think of no other reason for their hostility.

  "We're coming aboard," said the man. He was half-bald, but what hair remained was still dark and flew about him like a wavering fire. "We're taking you captive for breaking your oath to King Hakon."

  Yngvar blinked. "I think there's been a mistake."

  Yet the boarding hooks flew out from the ship and bit into the rails on both sides. Yngvar and his crew were pressed between twice their number of men readied for war. There was no resisting them.

  The balding man smirked. "No mistakes. Now don't give us any reason to spill your guts, or we might take you up on it faster than you'd like."

  CHAPTER NINE

  The door opened, spilling in bright light that painted the room. Yngvar sat at a bench along one wall with Alasdair at his side and half of his men. Directly across, just out of arm's reach, Thorfast and Bjorn sat with the rest of the crew. Faces glimmered with sweat, for though it was now autumn, their body heat warmed the packed room. Listless, they leaned their heads on the wall and slowly rolled toward the source of light.

  A dark figure filled the brightness. "Yngvar, you come with me. The king will see you now."

  "Tell him I can't stay in such a small room," Bjorn said as Yngvar rose from his bench. "It's driving me mad."

  Thorfast elbowed him to silence. The rest of the men watched Yngvar duck his head through the door. He had not looked at a single person, too humiliated and sorry to abide their stares.

  In the bright midday sun, the small building where they had been imprisoned overnight was cast in harsh shadows. A half-dozen men in chain shirts and armed with swords and shields surrounded him. They said nothing, but kept him in the middle as they marched to King Hakon's hall. Any villagers about their work wisely fled the approach of the group.

  His mind swam with the worries of being taken before the king. Normally he would have drunk in every detail of Hakon's magnificent hall. He had seen it only at a distance and was now finally being led into its spacious interior. Now his vision was filled with scenes of his kneeling in the dust as King Hakon declared him an outlaw for breaking his oath. A man's word was worth more than gold, and if broken, the man himself was worth less than shit. In fact, he would be without a lord and lose all rights. Anyone wanting to kill him would fear no revenge from a duty-bound oathholder. In fact, any man might kill him at King Hakon's feet and take his head back to Erik for a bounty.

  When he felt hands driving him to his knees, he suddenly realized he was inside the king's hall and in fact standing before him.

  "Kneel, you ignorant pup," said one of his guards, his rough hand pressing Yngvar's shoulder.

  He swiftly dropped to his knee and lowered his head. He glimpsed the bright white shirt and shining gold hair of King Hakon just before he collapsed to his knees. All of Yngvar's guards, except one behind him, also knelt and lowered their heads. Yngvar felt as if he knelt for an hour, his legs trembling and his stomach watery with fear. At last a young but full voice spoke. "Stand. I will not talk to the top of your head."

  Yngvar let his guards rise first, then slowly stood. He was aware of great space all around him, as if the king's hall went on forever into darkness. Posts decorated with carvings of coiling serpents were set at regular intervals and rose up into a darkness overhead. At last he swept his eyes up to King Hakon, who sat atop a huge wooden chair set on a low stage.

  Hakon was young, with a clear and strong face that was instantly recognizable as a relative of Erik Blood-Axe. He had a predatory smile, but it somehow managed to seem genuine. It actually touched his clear, blue eyes and imparted a humanity that Erik lacked. His jaw was dark with the start of a young beard. He could not be more than sixteen years old. He wore fine clothes and was swathed in a dark red robe. Gold glinted on his fingers and around his neck. He remained perfectly still on this chair.

  Behind him stood a much older man, both forehead and shoulders were broad and powerful. Dark hair was run-through with gray and his beard was oiled and trimmed into a perfect point. Thick eyebrows sat heavily over dark eyes that glinted as he studied Yngvar. This man wore a heavy fur cloak and rested a wizened hand on the pommel of a sword. He had to be a confidant of Hakon's to be allowed to carry a sword into the hall, much less behind the king himself.

  "All of you, leave us," Hakon said, waving his hand. When not immediately obeyed, he leaned forward on his chair and shooed them. "Yes, I will be fine alone. Now go. Remain close to the door and I will call you when needed."

  Yngvar's guards exchanged glances but said nothing as they left. One gave Yngvar a warning scowl. When the doors clapped shut, sounding impossibly far behind Yngvar, the king relaxed back into his chair.

  "They might be listening at the door," he said to the man behind him. "Would you, please?"

  The king's confidant simply nodded and walked past Yngvar toward the doors. King Hakon now gave Yngvar a warm smile.

  "It's one year of service," King Hakon said. "Not one season."

  "Lord, I swear to you Rognvald told us it was one season." He realized how foolish he must sound making an oath to prove he had not broken one. He wished he had Thorfast with him, who always had the right words for these situations.

  "No doubt all your men would swear the same, and Rognvald and his men will swear otherwise," King Hakon smiled again. "What am I to do?"

  Ice trickled down Yngvar's back. This was a terrifyingly familiar predicament. He could feel Erik Blood-Axe's lash tearing open his skin; he could hear the whip cracking like thunder over his shoulder. Memories of months on his stomach as his back healed returned, and he swallowed hard.

  "I do not know what to say, lord." His voice was timid, and it maddened him to not stand taller before his fear. Hakon was not his brother, Erik. He had a reputation for justice and fairness, when Erik was famous for his brutal rule.

  Hakon's clear eyes sparkled. The old warrior returned to his king's side, his footfalls heavy on the pounded-earth floor. He resumed his stance behind the king's right shoulder and folded both hands atop his sword. His stare challenged Yngvar to hold it, and given his precarious situation, he looked aside. He swallowed again, the bitterness of this humiliation worse than he imagined it could be.

  "My orders were very clear about the length of service. Are you saying that you never learned from anyone else what
the terms were?"

  "Rognvald kept us busy all summer, lord. We rebuilt his hall and dealt only with tradesmen. He sent us away on patrol before you visited." Yngvar straightened up and tilted his chin slightly. "It was as if we served Rognvald and not you. In fact, he held our oaths, lord."

  Hakon's smile flinched and his bodyguard's eyes narrowed. Neither had missed the challenge in his voice. Yngvar lowered his eyes again, not wishing to test how much the gods loved him today. Clearly they had forgotten him after a year of inactivity.

  "You are an interesting man, Yngvar Hakonsson. You escaped my brother, foiled his revenge, and got him angry enough to place a bounty on your head. He's angrier at you than he is at the man who killed his first son."

  Yngvar blinked. He had never heard the story, but now was not the time to have it told. Instead, he inclined his head. "I was sent here to get out of my lord's way. We suffered from bounty hunters seeking my head."

  "No doubt," Hakon said, easing back on his chair. "Let me come to the point. I've known of your deeds and of your crew. I was gladdened to learn Jarl Alrik sent you instead of some bumbling farmer like most other jarls did. I let Rognvald test you. He is a difficult man. Vain, proud, and does not know his place. I wanted to see how you would behave under such a man."

  Yngvar raised his eyes again, hoping for praise from his king now that he understood what a fool Rognvald had been.

  "I'm disappointed." Hakon studied his fingernails, then began to dig at one with his thumb. "You fled him. You never addressed your situation with either him or through my court. There are ways for men to speak their mind in my kingdom. You tried none of them."

  "I ... I did not know what to do." From the bodyguard's smirk, Yngvar realized he must sound like the bumbling farmer King Hakon had just derided. He fell quiet.

  Hakon flicked whatever he had discovered beneath his nail into the air. After studying his nails again, he turned with a smile to Yngvar.

  "But it is all just as well that you did not. Your actions have created an opportunity. You and your men have a chance to serve me, if you wish it."

  "Certainly, lord." Yngvar stepped forward from his excitement, but the bodyguard stepped out with his hand ready to draw his sword.

  "Easy, Fridlief. He is a loyal subject still." Hakon raised a gold-laced hand to forestall the bodyguard, Fridlief, from advancing. The old warrior seemed disappointed to stand down.

  Yngvar ignored the old warrior, instead holding the king's gaze. "I am eager to prove what my crew can do. We are the best warriors you will find. We know only victory."

  Fridlief coughed and stifled his laugh. Hakon, however, did not seem as skeptical. He was even younger and less experienced than Yngvar. The king nodded gravely.

  "I need victorious warriors. I need men who can operate on their own, without a jarl to guide their every step. I have much to do here, but the world does not wait on my convenience. Norway has a great many enemies, both within and without. We have allies as well, but they are busy with their own concerns. So what am I to do? Settling this land under my rule and vision will take all my time. But I must watch my enemies abroad. I suspect they are plotting something. Traders bring ill news full of murky rumors of the Danes and their king, Gorm the Old. He is the father of my dear brother Erik's wife. Did you know that?"

  "I've heard it told, lord." Yngvar felt his face heat at the thought of Gunnhild's naked body beneath his. "I was his prisoner for a summer."

  "Yes, and yet you slipped him and his plot to take your head. I've heard that tale, Yngvar the Clever." King Hakon paused and his eyes widened. "So you've not heard yourself called that name? Well, the stories of your exploits are quite clever. Jealous men also call you Yngvar the Prisoner. I suppose they want to remember your defeats more than your victories. But to have earned a name at such a young age. That is good. Is it not, Fridlief?"

  Fridlief shrugged as if he had heard better. Hakon did not look to his reaction but continued.

  "So I need a clever man and his clever crew to discover what Gorm the Old is about. He contests lands on our coast, claiming them for his own. Can you believe it? So is he raising an army to invade? Is he planning to harass me, or does he plot something worse? He thinks I am young and he is old, and so I will not know how to deal with him. But he is mistaken. I only need to know what he plans, and that is where you and your clever crew serve me."

  Hakon leaned forward, licking his lips. "Go to Denmark. Find a lord to serve, as close to Gorm as you can get. A clever man like you will succeed. Then you watch. You count ships and men. You learn the land and its secrets. You find enemies of Gorm in his own ranks. No more fractured stories from sea-weary traders. I need facts only a reliable spy can provide. You must be like Odin's ravens, Hugen and Mugen. Fly to distant lands and bring your news back to me. For that, when you return, I will raise you and your crew higher than you had been before. You will have gold and my gratitude, which might be worth more than gold to you one day. Will you do this?"

  King Hakon folded his hands over his lap and tilted his head back.

  "Of course, lord. We would do this for you without a moment's hesitation. I do not need to ask my crew."

  "Good," the king said. His young face darkened as he stood. "Then I name you and all your men oath-breakers and outlaws. I cast you out of my lands and my protection."

  CHAPTER TEN

  All the way to the docks, Yngvar kept his head down. His men huddled together around him, but still rotten onions and old cabbages pelted him as he ran the gauntlet from King Hakon's hall. They had been given allowance to sail over the horizon before the king's protection ended. That meant they could not be captured or killed on the way to their ship. It did not mean they would remain unharmed.

  A woman wrapped in tattered gray robes picked up an onion that had missed its mark, then pitched it with surprising force. It struck Yngvar's cheek with a damp smack. Children hurled sticks, and dogs barked at them, barely restrained at the ends of their masters' ropes. The air was full of lusty curses and gleeful cries of "oath-breakers" and "scum." Formerly genial faces were warped into closed ranks of taut masks of hatred. Yngvar and his men shoved through them, enduring the blows and curses and never slowing.

  "It's the longest fucking walk of my life," Bjorn shouted from behind. "I'm going to tear off someone's arm and beat the rest of them to death with it."

  "We're almost to the ship," Yngvar offered. A rock thumped off his shoulder and the pain stung. Many of his men bled from cuts from the angry crowd. But through this mayhem, the docks showed. The mast of his uncle's old ship poked above the crowd.

  "Clear the way," Thorfast shouted. "Or we'll throw you down."

  They bounded up the gangplank and were again on the deck of their ship. Every person in the village and surrounding areas turned out to watch King Hakon pronounce his judgment, and Yngvar looked out over them. He could not count high enough, but he tried.

  "There must be a thousand of them," Alasdair said, standing at Yngvar's side. He carried a sea chest, as did all the others, only this was Yngvar's. "How quickly men turn against one another."

  "Don't forget it," Yngvar said. "I learned it as a jarl's son. Everyone will love you while you hold power, but they love it more when you lose it. People enjoy raising a man high only to shove him to the ground."

  The gray mob faded like a twisting bug into the distance. The dim gleam from the mail of King Hakon's armored warriors dotted the outskirts of the crowd. They provided order and the ostensible protection Yngvar had enjoyed. His shoulder still throbbed from being struck with a rock.

  The crew wasted no time in casting off. It was high tide and the winds were fair. The square sail unfurled and filled. Men loaded their shields onto the racks and placed their chests. Oars remained on the rack until needed. Yngvar did not want to tire his crew with rowing. They had endured enough.

  They navigated out of the knife-shaped fjord, and once they reached the point where they had been apprehended previous
ly, Yngvar decided they had cleared the danger. He called his crew together around the tiller, so that everyone including Hamar could hear him.

  "That was hard to endure," Yngvar said, meeting each man's eyes. "But we know we are men of honor and that when we return, we will not be called names and pelted with rotten onions."

  The shadow of steep cliffs engulfed them as they drifted toward the open sea. Yngvar's skin chilled as sea spray floated over the rails to coat his face. The sun was low in the sky, leaving them little of the day for sailing.

  "King Hakon had to do this. No one must suspect our connection to him. We have been disgraced by Hakon, who we disliked anyway, and so we came to serve a better king in Denmark. It is a thin lie, but not an uncommon one. A spy should be one man, not thirty. No one will suspect us for being more than what we claim. Remember this story, for it might save your life. I don't know what danger lies ahead, but I am glad to have you with me for it."

  The crew cheered. Yngvar patted a few of them on their shoulders and thanked all for their trust in him. Being named outlaws, even if only for show, had been bitter. Yet the rewards would erase the temporary sting of humiliation. They broke up back to their duties. Yngvar planned an overnight camp on an empty island and then a full run directly toward Denmark. From there, he would have to bump along the coast looking for a jarl who would take his oath.

  "A sail," Hamar shouted after they had reached the open sea.

  Yngvar again ran to the stern, but saw nothing. Hamar shook his head and pointed ahead with his chin, as both hands worked the tiller.

  In the prow, Thorfast stood. Alasdair stood on his toes as well, looking over the beast head. A sail had detached from the dark mass of rock directly head. Yngvar had planned to investigate those islands for a campsite, but another was already there and waiting.

  "Rognvald," Yngvar muttered as he joined the others in the prow. Most of the crew were gathered on the rails, shielding their eyes against the sun.