Shield of Lies Read online

  Even Gunnar, still sullen from his rebuke, began to smile as the heavy bars lifted and hirdmen dragged open the gates. His other sons stood beside him, but were far more skeptical of the commotion. Half of Ravndal had gathered behind Ulfrik's group.

  "His timing's not bad," Snorri said, standing behind Ulfrik. "But how many more visitors are we taking in?"

  "This is family," Ulfrik corrected, his own smile broadening.

  Wood stuttered along the pounded earth as the gates swung wide. Framed in the rectangle view of the fields and forests beyond Ravndal stood an orderly column of warriors, spears and shields held at ease. At their fore was a strong man in freshly scoured mail that flashed white in contrast to the dark, curly hair that flowed from beneath his helmet. Once the gates had widened enough, he stepped inside.

  Ulfrik strode forward, his arms outstretched. "Toki, you miserable bastard! Welcome!"

  They clasped arms then embraced as brothers long-parted. His oldest and dearest friend had been gone six years, sent to rule Nye Grenner in Ulfrik's stead when they had still been struggling to breach Paris. Now the two examined each other as warriors did, looking for new scars or missing parts. Toki appeared as he always had, but for missing a few teeth and a spray of gray in the roots of his black beard. Toki gently slapped Ulfrik's cheek.

  "You've had a few near misses, I see, but you've kept both eyes. You look well and strong." Toki pulled back and scanned Ravndal. "And you're as powerful as rumor claims."

  "But it is good to see you, brother." Ulfrik hooked his arm around Toki's shoulder and turned him to face the others waiting for him. "And I'm not the only one glad to have you here."

  Toki's astonished face took in all the changes time had wrought in his absence. Gunnar struggled to maintain a dignified stance as he clearly wanted to leap into his uncle's arms like he had done as a child. Hakon was only in swaddling when they had last met, and Aren was not known to him.

  "Is that over-muscled boy Einar and the snow-haired man leaning on him Snorri? That proud young warrior can't be Gunnar, can it?"

  All pretense of dignity fled and suddenly Toki was swamped with his old friends clamoring to greet him. Ulfrik stood in the middle, experiencing a lighthearted happiness he had long forgotten. No matter Toki had brought thirty people with him that would be challenging to feed in winter, for now he let himself go with the joy of the reunion.

  "Where is my sister?" Toki asked, his face suddenly grave.

  "Runa went to fetch wool or some such chore," Ulfrik explained. "We will certainly find her back at the hall. Be warned; sitting in the hall all day has made her as feisty as a mother hen."

  Toki instructed the rest of his column to enter and all shifted aside to allow the group to assemble. Soon the gates closed and the bars dropped back in place. Ulfrik examined the crowd and took heart that most were warriors. A group of women sheltered Halla, Toki's wife, in the center, but she had only come forward to offer an insincere greeting that bordered on insult. Despite being engrossed in talk with Snorri and the others, he caught his wife's shameful display with a sharp bark. Ulfrik played it down, knowing the real conflicts would begin once Runa and Halla met again. Many good reasons kept Ulfrik away from Nye Grenner, but the bad blood between Toki's wife and his own had been chief among them.

  They took a leisurely walk to the hall, where Ulfrik gave a history of all that had happened, starting with the recent battle with Clovis and working backward to when Toki had departed. By the time they arrived inside the hall, Toki had a general sketch of events from the last six years.

  Runa met them at the door, and Ulfrik feared her reaction upon meeting Halla, who now walked with slaves and servants and two young girls who Ulfrik knew were her daughters from the platinum white hair they shared with her. However, Runa only had eyes for her brother, and the two embraced as if reunited for the first time. She was courteous to Halla, which gave Ulfrik a breath of relief. Inside the women had set aside their baskets of wool and moved their looms to the wall and were flitting about the hearth to prepare a welcome meal.

  They passed the afternoon swapping news and stories, and of all the happy voices in the hall none was louder than Ulfrik's. For a moment he forgot the troubles of rulership, the pressures of holding and expanding territory, the thanklessness of enforcing law, and the duties of being a gold-giver to hundreds of men. With Toki at his table again, he returned to a simpler time where wind flowed through his hair and sea spray misted his face as they sought fortune together. Only by evening, when the second meal of the day had been completed and the autumn sun fell behind the horizon, did Ulfrik finally ask the question no one had dared yet to ask.

  "Why have you come?" Ulfrik's question drew sharp looks from everyone at the high table. Only Hakon's squabble with his younger brother distracted attention, and Runa hushed the boys as she added her own question.

  "And why have you come with so many men?"

  "Men are needed for rowing and for security. It's not a light undertaking," Toki answered. Halla, who sat at his left, turned from her children and peered at him with as much interest as the others. "I came because I've heard so much of the prosperity and peace here. I wanted my daughters to know their family."

  Ulfrik studied Halla's face reddening as she stared at Toki, and immediately recognized she had been told something else to convince her to make the journey. She made a better showing of her temper than Ulfrik had expected, sitting back on the bench and returning to her plate without a comment. Still, Toki had more to share and he would not do it before everyone.

  "Never a better reason," Ulfrik said, extending his hand to the girls. "Two beautiful maidens to brighten my hall, what more could I ask?"

  The oldest girl flashed a smile, and he saw the familiar twist in it that had passed from Toki and Runa to her. The younger girl melted behind her sister and blushed. Their reactions drew laughter all around, successfully diffusing the tension. Ulfrik nudged Runa, and she responded with a nod.

  "I must check on the servants, but please sit and enjoy the evening." She stood and dragged Hakon away as he whined in protest, whereas Aren followed without interest in anything beyond his mother. In the same moment, Gunnar approached the table. Ulfrik smiled at him, but Gunnar ignored it. Instead he asked to sit with Toki.

  "Actually, Toki and I have much to discuss and were going to step outside. Is that your girl trying to hide in the crowd? Have her join you at the high table. She'd like that, I'd bet. Introduce her to Halla. She can be her guide while she settles into Ravndal."

  The recognition he offered to Gunnar's girlfriend brightened his son's face. "I'm sure she would like that."

  "Excellent idea," Toki said to Halla, who shrugged and stumbled with a weak smile. "Get to know the girl while I speak with Ulfrik. We won't be long."

  Once outside,they walked down the black boards of the main road and past the last of the townsfolk settling into their homes where lamplight glowed orange around the door frames. Soon, those lights would extinguish as the fortress settled into slumber. They strolled a short distance before Ulfrik renewed their talk.

  "You have spoken much today, and you've spoken nothing at all. I have not summoned you, and you and your crew do not seem in distress. So answer me truthfully. Why are you here?"

  Toki rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. They both stopped walking. Having removed his mail surcoat, he now wore only plain clothes and a gray wool cloak and seemed far less grand than he had in the morning. Somehow he seemed smaller and less sturdy without leathers and mail padding him.

  "It's as I said. My daughters do not know their family and it is time they met you."

  "I'll let you consider that answer again," Ulfrik said, a wry smile on his face. "I will not judge you, old friend."

  "But you should judge me," Toki said and met Ulfrik's eyes. "I have defied your orders to remain in Nye Grenner until your return."

  "You think overmuch. Fate's hand is at work, and it is time for our threads to intertwine
again." Ulfrik clapped Toki's shoulder and he chuckled. "Do you remember our first meeting?"

  "When you broke my nose with your shield? Not something to forget, is it?"

  They laughed together and Toki's posture relaxed. "Well, that day I knew Fate drew us together and I was not wrong. Today you arrive at the moment when I've lost a fair portion of men in battle with Clovis. Is that not Fate's design made clear? You were meant to come and that is all. But I want to know what the gods planted in your heart to get you to return to me."

  "The song of battle," Toki said without hesitation. "Each night when I close my eyes I hear the clash of shields, the clang of weapons, the battle cries and the screams of the dying. All my life I have lived in the heart of the fight, shield and sword against my enemies and only blood and pain to give or receive. But I haven't feared for my life in six years. Nye Grenner and the islands are at peace with all the ambitious men gone to Valhalla. I've become a farmer, and I can't stand it. I cannot risk dying in my bed. My fate is to stand at your side, with my brothers, and destroy our foes and claim glory that I can carry with me to the feasting hall when I am finally slain."

  Ulfrik smiled approvingly, feeling the strength of Toki's words and drawing satisfaction from them. "Noble reasons, every one. You will find no end of enemy here. I've been seven years in this land and the Franks are the most stubborn people I've met, as unbending as their blades. But they are weak and divided. You'll remember Odo from Paris? Now he is their king, but only to the peoples of the west. The Eastern Franks have a different king. If we keep hammering, soon they will have a third in Hrolf. The gods want us to take this land, and by the right of our strength we should possess it. The Franks are not wise enough to recognize this. So, my friend, you will battle droves of foemen and your sword will grow dull in hacking them back from our borders. Welcome to Frankia, and welcome back to my side."

  They clasped arms and Ulfrik laughed in delight. "You bring me thirty warriors in my time of need. Fate is kind to me for a change."

  "My thirty men are not battle tested," Toki said, lowering his voice. "They've tired of life in Nye Grenner and followed me here, but I would not trust them to hold against hardened warriors."

  "Practice will come soon enough," Ulfrik said, then guided Toki by the arm to start back toward the hall before the way grew too dark. "Now I have better news. I have a share of treasure I've held aside for you. There is much I owe you for your service, but I could never send it north nor leave my duties here."

  He stopped short of explaining it was the share of the treasure they had sought together in Paris. With Konal's return, secrecy had to be preserved.

  "That is well," Toki said with unexpected indifference. "It would have only served to trouble me in Nye Grenner, but now I am glad for it."

  "Who did you leave in charge of Nye Grenner? I am not eager to abandon those lands, not after so much blood has soaked that grass to keep it mine."

  "Gunnbjorn Red-Hand. He is Frida Styrdottir's son and her family is well respected. He has sworn a public oath to me, and I believe he will serve the people well. He is one of them, unlike me."

  "I remember them both. Gunnbjorn will be a fine leader," Ulfrik said. The two walked a short distance before he summoned the courage to ask his next question. "Halla is not pleased to be here. What have you promised to gain her agreement?"

  "She is a changed woman," Toki said, choosing to examine the stars above. "There is nothing left in Nye Grenner with her family all dead. I promised there would be many Christians here for her to deepen her understanding of her god."

  Ulfrik snorted. "She still clings to her faith in the dead god? She wastes her life on a weak god. The dead god's priests are worse than snakes and we kill them by the score without any notice from him. But when we call out to Thor or Odin, they answer in thunder and war. The new god is failing his people in Frankia; anyone with eyes will see as much."

  "Let Halla discover this on her own, and don't share your thoughts." Both men laughed as they closed the final distance to the hall. Ulfrik stopped them on the track.

  "Look, Runa has not mentioned your wife in six years. I am hopeful she has left her anger behind, but I cannot be sure. I will find you and your family a place in my fortress, but it might be best to keep you separated for a while. Has Halla put aside her differences?"

  Toki remained silently searching the night sky, as if his answer were hidden there. Ulfrik could not help but follow his gaze to the brilliant eyes of the night sparkling overhead. In time, Toki spoke his answer softly.

  "My sister, your wife, cut out Halla's mother's tongue. The wound never healed and she suffered two winters before she died in agony. I say keeping Runa and Halla separate is a good idea. For all that Halla speaks of her god's love of forgiveness, she has little place in her heart for it."

  Chapter 15

  Throst clung to the shadows of Ravndal's stockade walls awaiting his prey. His heart raced, not from fear but from anticipation. The sun was diving toward the western tree line, and already the cold air of nightfall chased people back to their hearths. Crows lifted from rooftops, protesting the end of day as they winged toward their woodland nests. His hands trembled with excitement and he wrapped his right hand tighter into the sack of rocks that he had cushioned with old rags. He weighed it in his other hand as he pressed against the cold, rough logs of the wall.

  Regaining access to Ravndal had been simple. Ulfrik had taken pains to keep an army from sneaking upon his fortress: clearing trees and other hiding places, digging ditches and lining them with wood spikes, not to mention setting his fortress atop the highest hill in the valley. A single man would still find challenge in threading this gauntlet to reach the gates, but not if that man still had friends inside.

  Killing his father and tossing Throst and his family across the border let Ulfrik believe he had finished them. Yet, he had not paused to consider friendships and other relatives. He had even appeared bored at the execution of Throst's father, as if impatient to dispense his duties. Throst's father still swung from the hanging tree, and he planned to ensure Ulfrik would regret that day. Whatever people had thought of his father, Throst had friends left behind and some who had owed him life debts. One such man watched the western gate, and had abused his position to extract bribes from the vulnerable. Contacting him had been too simple, and after Einar had beaten him nearly to death, he was all too eager to help.

  Tonight he found the gate ajar and no one watching the approaches for a lone traveler. One man can often go where many cannot. His father had told him so, though it was his excuse for sneaking about and robbing others. Throst had grander designs.

  He roused from his thoughts as the two boys came into view. Murky light rendered them indistinct, though the fine clothing of one of them was more than enough to confirm for Throst that his young accomplice had succeeded.

  "It's just this way," said the accomplice, a brown-haired, lanky boy of seven or eight years. "Hurry up before it gets dark."

  The other boy, Throst's prey, hesitated. Throst felt his heart flop at the pause, but the accomplice was talented. "I know it's scary, but you said you weren't afraid of dead things. This body has been dead forever, just bones. Come on and see it."

  "I should tell my father first." Hakon's voice was thin and frightened, but at the same time Throst could see him looking into the shadows to see what waited.

  "Our parents would only ruin this. Hurry up. Just behind this building. I'll go first." Throst watched the boy skip around the corner, and call back to Hakon. "See, it's safe. You're not afraid, are you?"

  "No," Hakon replied in a small voice. He crept forward and the accomplice led him back step by step.

  "See, nothing happened."

  "But where's the skeleton?"

  Throst leapt from the shadow and slammed the bag of rocks over Hakon's head. He crumbled like a brittle twig and gave no sound other than a moan once he hit the ground. Throst bashed him again, not certain how hard he needed to h
it a small boy until knocked out. Blood flowed from Hakon's nose, so Throst stopped and crouched to find Hakon's pulse. He pressed the soft neck until he felt a throb beneath his finger.

  "That was good work," he told his accomplice. "Help me get him in the sack."

  Throst unrolled a large, heavy linen sack and laid out a length of rope. Both he and the boy glanced around as they gagged Hakon and then folded him into the bag.

  "You've got my reward?" the accomplice asked. He was a half-Frank named Atli whose father had died and left him with only a dumb sister. Throst had used his contact to arrange for the boy's complicity.

  "Yes, here it is," Throst said as he reached into the folds of his robe. Atli extended his hand. Throst seized it and yanked the boy to him. In one deft motion, he snapped Atli's neck, the crack no louder than stepping on a branch in the forest. He followed Atli to the ground as he died, and laid him against the back of the building where shadow now engulfed them. "You'll keep my secret better if you're dead."

  With his grizzly work complete, he hefted Hakon over his shoulder and accompanied the shadows of the walls back to the gate. Night had fallen and the risk of tripping and revealing himself demanded he tread carefully. Once a guard in heavy leather armor and a shield glided by with a guttering torch, but he held his breath until the guard rounded a building. At last Throst arrived at the gate and his contact awaited him.

  "Olaf," he whispered, "is it safe?"

  The man named Olaf leapt at the voice from the shadow, and Throst shook his head in disgust. Such jitters were not only unseemly but would draw attention. His contact nodded, his shape a black mass rimmed only by a faint glow of torches on the walls. His bulky form was filled out with a sword and shield as well as a large sack tossed over his shoulder. He stepped closer, and his face was revealed in the light. Throst had not seen him up close since his beating, but now the swelling and bruises were accented in the shadows. He looked like a walrus without tusks.