They laughed again, and once beneath the covers of their bed, Ulfrik fell into a sleep as deep as death.
Hardar's hall finally emptied of crying wives and weeping children. Except the moaning of injured hirdmen laid out on the floor, the place was quiet. He slouched on his chair, fire in every joint and pain at every movement. A thick gash flamed on his inner calf where a spear had narrowly missed his thigh. His eyes throbbed and whenever he closed them he saw a bloody slope of crumpled bodies and raining arrows.
He was ruined. His best men spent their lives on a wild gambit that was doomed from the first. Kjotve had counseled against a head-on attack, cursing it as foolish and weak. Hardar slid further down his chair, shaking his head at how he and Vermund had expected numbers to overwhelm Ulfrik. He had never seen so many arrows. If he had not guided his few bows to counter-fire, they would have all died without striking a blow. The thought made him twitch with a chill.
With the bitter business of paying weregild to the families of the dead finished, Kjotve emerged into the low light of the hall. His massive shape lumbered to Hardar in his chair, pausing beside him before pulling up a bench. "It was ill luck, Jarl Hardar. Your men say you didn't offer anything to the gods before setting out. Now that's another misstep, right there."
Hardar's eye twitched, then he exploded from his chair. He rounded on Kjotve, seizing his furs in both hands and hauling him off his seat. "You fucking arrogant turd! You could've turned everything. Ulfrik was on his knees even when we broke. You have a hundred men. A hundred fucking men! And you sailed off! Why?"
He shoved wide-eyed Kjotve back to the bench, bending over him, heaving like he had just lifted an anvil overhead. Kjotve's shock twisted to a wry smile. "Did you see his archers reforming? You were too busy running to notice, eh? I want Ulfrik, but not badly enough to charge into an arrow storm."
"But we had you covered. They chased us to the water and killed us boarding the ships. You were three spear-lengths away; you could've done more than abandon us."
Kjotve rose like a glacier emerging from the frigid sea. He stared down at Hardar, whose anger cooled in the shadow of the great jarl. Kjotve's voice was low but rich with potent ire. "You call me an arrogant turd, when I gave you every warning of your own stupidity. You and that fool Vermund were so full of yourselves, so sure I'd be willing to die for your whore daughter. You wouldn't listen to me. What could a foreigner know that you kings of grass and sheep don't? Well, you sailed past as fucking beacon. Do you remember what I told you?"
Hardar recoiled as Kjotve bore down on him. He nodded, recalling Kjotve's plea to turn around and find a way to strike with surprise.
"Good you recall. Ulfrik had hours to ready himself, and he did. Look what it earned you. I told you I would not charge upslope into waiting spears backed by arrows. That you managed to inflict the damage you did is a gift of the gods. Now you are a broken man. Ulfrik will sail into your fjord, burn your homes, rape your women, plunder your treasures, and put your head on top of a pole. All because you wouldn't listen to me."
Kjotve's words pushed him back into his chair, where he collapsed with his hands covering his face. He dragged them down his cheeks, pulling his bottom eyelids. The cool air touched the exposed eyes and drew water. Everyone left in the hall hung their heads or stared into the dark corners. Hardar sensed the air of desolation gripping the hall, but then inspiration flashed.
"I'm not defeated." Hardar sat up in his chair, looked into Kjotve's shadow-painted face. "Jarl Vermund has fallen, and his body not even recovered. He has family and allies throughout these islands. They will seek revenge for him. I have kin in the north yet to unite with me. But Ulfrik stands alone, and I have struck him a heavy blow."
Kjotve nodded appreciatively. "You better hasten to send word to your allies. It may be as you say, but I wonder if you will be alive to see it. Ulfrik is only hours away while your allies will need days to assemble, if not more."
"Have you no sense?" Hardar hissed under his breath. "These men cannot hear that. They need hope."
"They need a plan," Kjotve said, without adjusting his voice. "Let me deal with Ulfrik the way I suggested. It may be easier for me, now that you've reduced his numbers."
"A nighttime attack," Hardar said flatly. "Haven't you been in these lands long enough to know that even the darkest hour is never truly dark? It's not like your battles in Norway."
"But men sleep here, in whatever passes for night. It is enough. I do not need to strike him dead. I just need to cut off his legs. He will be watching for me, as he surely counted the sails that invaded his lands. But we can move with speed he cannot match. I have done this more times than I can count. I have touchwood to start a flame, something you lack here. Fire will spread, panic will greet it, and my men will do their work and be gone. You will then have the time to assemble your allies and finish matters for yourselves. Your name and glory will be preserved."
Kjotve's smile flashed from the blackness of his face. Hardar caught himself leaning in to hear the plan. Other men had wandered close, while Kjotve's veterans smirked at their leader's words. Suddenly Ingrid broke in from behind.
"But you risk Halla's life with raging fires. Ulfrik might even kill her!" Ingrid's voice rose to a shriek and vibrated with terror. Hardar spun on his chair, his hand itching to belt her, though she was too distant. She huddled at the edge of the hearth light, hands clasped at her chest.
"Lady Ingrid, I will rescue your daughter if I can. I give you my word." Kjotve's face brightened and his voice smoothed. He stepped toward her. "I have a plan for my fires that will bring no risk to Halla. I know Ulfrik won't harm your daughter. He is smart enough to make the threats, but not ruthless enough to carry them out. Trust me."
"Don't worry about what she thinks." Hardar stood up sharply and flipped a lock of hair off of his face. "Yes, try your best with Halla. But tell me more about your plans for Ulfrik."
Hardar touched Kjotve's shoulder and then guided him back to the bench. He glared at Ingrid, who stood with her hands still gripped across her chest. Kjotve winked at her and then smiled down on Hardar. "When I am done, Ulfrik will be ripe to pluck. You may take everything you want of his lands. Just give him over to me. I am anxious to have him in my service again."
Kjotve laughed, a laugh that echoed from the mist-shrouded plains of Nifleheim, where worms gnawed the ignominious dead. Hardar shivered, feeling the chill of that frozen world brush his heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ulfrik sprang to his feet, snatched his sword up from beside the bed, and dashed out of the hall dressed only in a linen shirt and pants. Then he awakened.
The horn blared again. But now Ulfrik heard the shouting and clang of swords.
The air was clammy and the twilight of summer night dyed the world a deep ocean blue. But yellow light stained the sky from where his ships were beached. Ulfrik screamed and dashed for the scene, his naked feet digging into the soft ground.
Men tumbled out of the barracks house, hauling swords, shields, or spears. They scattered without anyone to give direction. Ulfrik turned to them, shouting. "The ships are under attack. Get to the dock!"
His heart thudded as he rounded the barracks, arriving at the top of the slope. He looked across the field.
He felt like he had fallen into the ocean during the heart of winter. Two of his ships were wrapped in flames while the third sprouted ribbons of fast running fire along her rails. Flickering black shapes tangled against the brilliant backdrop. His guards battled the raiders who attacked with both spears and torches. His fourth ship had been dragged far enough away from the others to be out of danger for the moment. However, a few torches spun through the blue night to land near it.