Several men chorused approval. But the number of men who remained silent and studying their feet outnumbered them. The few supporting shouts faltered as no one added their voices. Ulfrik's head grew heavy and his breath shortened, knowing he did not have his men's hearts.
"I think sending for allies is a good idea," Snorri said brightly. "We have to fight defensively and resist Kort the Gray."
"It's a pointless move now. It's too late." Thorvald stepped out of the back and walked to join those beneath the high table. Ulfrik's eyes followed him as he approached, though otherwise he kept his face closed. He knew Thorvald's mind, and knew what to expect. He was not disappointed when Thorvald faced him.
"We needed allies long ago. But you failed in securing them. This last festival was a nice start, but too late. Hardar has still managed to make us look like outsiders, and law-breakers on top of that."
Ulfrik put up his hand to stop him. "The past is meaningless here. We need to focus on a plan."
"The past is everything!" Thorvald's rage pealed over Ulfrik. His face flashed red and his nostrils flared. "You've focused exclusively on building up Nye Grenner to surpass Hardar. You've been competing with him since the day you set up camp here. All you've wanted is to build a stronger army, better weapons, better homes, better ships. Everything better! But you neglected to make us one with the original settlers. Besides Ragnvald, who will come to our aid? No one!"
Ulfrik stood to the challenge. But several men shouted in Thorvald's defense. "Let him speak! A man has a right to speak his mind."
Ulfrik realized he had no other choice, and Thorvald did have his right to speak. He sunk back to his bench as Thorvald continued, his anger cooled from the break in his shouting.
"Now that those men you prided yourself upon are dead, and the fine ships are burned, what are we left with? I can craft swords and armor for you until Ragnarok. But ghosts cannot wield them in battle."
"Are you saying we cannot fight?" Snorri spoke up. "A man will defend his home until the last if he has any spine."
"I agree," Thorvald said, though he turned to face the crowd. "But we do not have to fight. Hardar wants his daughter returned. He wants justice for her kidnapper."
"Careful with your words," Ulfrik snarled. His fist clenched and he leaned forward. But Thorvald continued.
"We do not have to fight. We have to meet the demands of justice. Thirty-four men are buried today because we have not done so."
"I warn you, Thorvald"
"Toki broke his oath to the gods. Ulfrik has supported him in it."
"Silence, Thorvald!"
"We shed our blood and risk our families for men who cannot honor their sacred oaths!"
"You treasonous whoreson!"
"Surrender, Ulfrik. Take Toki with you. The gods demand it. We follow the will of the gods!"
Ulfrik leapt from the table and grabbed for Thorvald. His mind hummed with anger. But hands grabbed him from behind, while other men seized Thorvald and covered him. Ulfrik lashed out halfheartedly. Snorri banged the table calling for order. Shouting and punches flew. Men divided against each other, and Ulfrik's rage turned inward. He had only made things worse.
Ulfrik tore free from the hands gripping him. He jumped up to the table and joined Snorri in demanding an end to the argument. The more cool-headed men broke up the few scuffles and order slowly returned. Ulfrik stood before the table, breathing heavily. Men glared at each other, at Ulfrik across the hall, at Thorvald amid his supporters. No one spoke and no one appeared ready to utter the first words. Ulfrik broke the impasse.
"As ill-put and misleading as Thorvald made his argument, I cannot refute the basics. It does not change that we can still fight. But I have asked that of you twice already. I think now we must vote to fight or surrender. I can't have men in the shield wall who will run or not answer the battle call. If you are not prepared to defend your homes, then let's find out now."
He studied the assembly. His heart throbbed as desperately as if he were in battle. In fact, he was in a battle for his life. Surrender to Hardar would likely end in his own death. "All who are willing to fight, no matter the odds, show your hands."
All the men at the high table raised theirs immediately. Slowly others floated to the top of the crowd. But by a quick count Ulfrik saw he barely had a full crew for one ship. A burning ember fell into his belly.
"Is there anyone who has not decided? Show your hands." His voice was weak, defeated. No one raised their hands to his question.
Not enough men were willing to fight at his side. He could not prevail even with allies. To resist would be folly, costing more lives with a small chance for victory. Now his last duty to his people was to negotiate fair terms for surrender to Hardar.
The hall was deaf silent. Ulfrik nodded and turned back to his bench. His people had just killed him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"You can flee with us. Please, Ulfrik!" Runa was on her knees on the hard dirt floor, clutching the hem of Ulfrik's shirt. Her head flopped forward as she sobbed. Ulfrik stood like a man of stone. Tears streaked his cheeks, but he said nothing more. He searched around his room, eyes settling on his bed piled with furs. He hoped one day he would return to lie in it with his wife and his son and dream. But that required a mercy from the gods they were not likely to give.
"Fleeing will only bring Hardar and his mercenaries to the chase. And he might turn his wrath upon the innocent people left behind." Runa violently shook her head, but Ulfrik pressed his point. "His mercenaries own big ocean-going ships. We'd be caught, and once that happened, we'd all be killed."
"Then we would die together!" She looked up, her eyes red and face contorted with anguish.
"I can't abide that, Runa. I want you to take Gunnar to a safe place. Life is driven by Fate's plan, and this is what Fate has woven for me. Yet one more black strand. But not the last strand of my life."
Runa stood, her expression darkening and her voice dropping. "Do not speak to me like I'm a fool. Hardar wants you dead and you will deliver yourself to him."
"No." Ulfrik grabbed Runa's shoulders and she turned away. He guided her chin up to look at him. "My father or brother would have killed a defeated enemy. But Hardar is vain. Death is too easy for me. He wants to see me punished, degraded, vilified. Chopping my head off and hanging it on a pole is not imaginative enough for him."
"Are you comforting me? This sounds horrible."
"I have a plan. I will use his vanity against him."
Runa's eyes widened and the tight lines of worry eased on her face. "It's a daring plan, then?"
"The most daring plan I've ever made."
"The gods love a daring plan. It's what you've always said."
"Because I know it is true."
Runa's eyes searched his. A tear dangled from her chin, then splashed onto his arm. "You cannot die, Ulfrik Ormsson. And you cannot leave me. Ever."
"After this, I never will. But for a time we must be parted."
Her face contorted and tears flowed again.
Ulfrik drew her to his chest as she wept, stroking her ample hair. He inhaled the sweet smell of her, tried to impress the soft warmth of her body into his memory. Such memories would help him remain alive over the coming weeks. She quivered in his embrace and he pressed her harder into his arms, wishing he could squeeze the fear from her. His plans were daring, desperate, uncertain, but he could not let her fear failure.
"Please, escape with us to a new land," Runa said, sniffling. "We can start anew. I don't care as long as we are together."
"The gods would not love that. No, Hardar has won. For now."
Ulfrik sat at his high table for the last time, aware even if his plan executed perfectly, life would forever change. The brief summer of the gods, the five years of prosperity he had grown heady over, now turned to winter. He journeyed into uncertainty, and his life was entirely entrusted to Fate.