Whirling to face his second attacker, he discovered the man crashing to the grass with a sword blade in his neck. Thorstein, one of Ulfrik's crew, had dispatched his foes and now assisted him. With all the attackers slain on his side, Ulfrik looped around the back of the hall to ensure no others had carved an exit. None had. Then he rejoined his men on their side, finding an easy victory for his crew.
The raid was over. Bodies heaped on the ground, some still half trapped in the breached walls. Blood puddled and arms twitched in the final moments of life. Over twenty raiders lay dead in a ring about their smoldering hall. The thatch fire pitifully burned out, and a section of roof collapsed as if to announce the end of hostilities.
Ulfrik surveyed the carnage with a smile. His men all stood, though some clutched wounds, and he had taken no losses in the gambit. Now he had to only count the spoils.
He called Einar out of his guarding position, and in moments all of his men had gathered around the hall. Many were already hunched over the dead and stripping away valuables.
"Not much of a fire," Toki said as he came to Ulfrik's side.
"But better off without it, honestly. No waiting for ashes to cool. Now we can be off at first light and head home." Ulfrik rubbed his hands, anticipating the treasures stacked inside the hall. The traders had described enough wealth to see his crews through winter. It only needed to be pulled from the wreckage of the raiders' hall.
"Call Snorri around with the ship. We'll have theirs to tow, and I want to get this treasure on our ships tonight. This is a glorious moment." Toki laughed as he departed to execute Ulfrik's command. Ulfrik wiped the blood from his sword and smiled.
At first Ulfrik blamed the moonlight. Later, he convinced himself the treasure lay buried under the hall. Finally, he told himself the wealth they had collected was acceptable for the effort expended. Squatting in a ring of men under the pink and yellow streaks of dawn, Ulfrik lifted a plain silver armband from the small pile of treasure before him. He rotated it through his hands, feeling the cold metal warm in his grip. Tossing it back onto the pile, the band gave a bright clink. Sea birds screeched in the distance.
"Once we hack down the rings and a few of those plates, everyone should take away a fair portion of silver." Snorri's old voice sounded like thunder in the silent cluster of disappointed men. "I don't get a share, since I didn't do any of the fighting."
"You guarded our ship, and rowed like the rest of us," Ulfrik said as rose to his feet. He grimaced as pain shot through his leg, a gift from his old enemy Hardar. "We agreed beforehand, and you'll get your due."
"Then I'll forfeit my share to you. I'm an old man, and I can't eat silver anyway."
"You can't even eat soup," Einar, his stepson, quipped. "Not with three teeth." Laughter rippled through the group, Ulfrik sensing the heaviness concealed behind it. He laughed as well, and rubbed his leg while smiling at Snorri. Age had seized him in these few years, rendering his face sunken and leathery and his motions labored and stiff. Heavy black rings circled eyes peering from behind grayish locks of hair. At least he had not gone bald, and retained an uncommon amount of hair for the old age of forty-five. Ulfrik still remembered him as a man half that age, standing with him in his father's shield wall.
Everyone gazed down to the miserable treasure gathered in the field beside the hall. Dead bodies had already attracted gulls to peck and tear at the open wounds. Ulfrik experienced a wave of pity for the dead, having spent their lives for a paltry sum. Though deserving of death, as Ulfrik's informers had so vociferously proclaimed, he did not enjoy trapping and killing them inside their hall. Maybe because his Uncle Auden had burned alive in his hall and his father Orm had been poisoned, Ulfrik detested such tactics. However, he could not doubt their efficacy in battle.
"Well, I can't eat silver either, but I'm taking it." Thrand pushed his way to the front, then scooped up a ring from the grass. He thrust it at Ulfrik, blue sky reflecting in its curve. "This is what we sailed all the way to Norway to get. This fucking pile of silver that won't pay for the repairs to our ship and weapons. Great job, Lord Ulfrik."
Yanking Thrand's arm down, Ulfrik's free hand dropped to his sword hilt. "You weren't forced to join. You're drunk again, Thrand, but I won't indulge your disrespect. Do you understand?"
Ulfrik locked his gaze with Thrand, whose face had grown puffy and red with drink. He had become unpredictable since his brother Njal died three years ago. He blamed Ulfrik and Toki for it. Having learned firsthand how evil words could undermine a leader, Ulfrik brooked none of that attitude from him or any other. He would rather fight now than find a knife at his throat later.
Thrand backed down, as he always did, and twisted his arm from Ulfrik's grip. He flung the ring at the grass before Ulfrik's feet, then pushed away to be alone in his humiliation. Men parted for him, everyone familiar with his moody outbursts. Many heads shook as he stalked off, and Ulfrik let his hand fall from his sword.
"He's a drunk and a poor speaker," Ulfrik said to the others. "But he voices what all of us think. I share your disappointment. We expected much more, and bet on easy riches we did not find. I should've suspected the traders used us for revenge rather than passing on good information. No king's fortune in the hands of this crew."
"We still haven't made a proper search of the land and these other buildings," Toki said. "Maybe there's a chance they buried it nearby."
Ulfrik sighed. "True, it should be fresh enough to find if it is. This is not their home, though, but an abandoned village. If anything, they were resting here to waylay the walrus ivory trade from the north. We might consider the same idea, actually."
Walrus ivory traders made fat targets, but also employed escort ships that Ulfrik's small crew could not overtake. For that matter, neither could the raiders he had just defeated. He gave up trying to make sense of this, and accepted the traders had played him to eliminate a problem. Ulfrik never harassed traders, since his island home depended on them for survival. But the Norwegians were a different lot, and many pirates prowled the trade lanes out of Norway.
"All right, let's check the houses and search for any hint of a fresh dig. Maybe they've got buried dead that'll give up some gold. Get looking."
The men spread out under the brightening skies. Ulfrik drew in the sea air, glancing at the dark line of spruce trees and the violet and black mountain ridges pushing up behind them. He missed trees and forests. His home on the Faereyar Islands had no welcoming forests, no deer or elk to hunt nor any wolves to avoid. Many feared forests for elves and spirits dwelling within, but the trees had ever been a place of solace for him.
A voice broke his reverie. The shout came from a small byre standing near the mead hall. The door hung open and Thorstein stood framed against it. "There's a prisoner in here."
Ulfrik jogged over, his man standing beside the door and pointing inside. Ulfrik ducked within, and the sunlight filtering through cracks and holes provided a dim light his eyes momentarily fought. Tied by his wrists to a pole stood a man even older than Snorri. He wore a gray shirt of rough wool and his brown pants were cinched at his bony waist by a cord. His right pant leg had torn to the knee, revealing a thin leg covered in gray hair and bruises. The man's eyes were dark enough to be black, and were set into a regal head that titled back defiantly. Ulfrik would have laughed had the gesture not seemed so natural to the man.
"They must have recently put him here," Ulfrik said as he moved closer to inspect the man.
"How do you know?" Thorstein remained at the door, waving others over.