In moments they were running with others who flocked toward the gate. Once there, Einar stood with his torch held overhead, a brilliant ball of yellow light illuminating the scene. His face was grim.
"The gate was unbarred."
"Atli is dead." Ulfrik's words drew a rush of gasps from the gathered men. "Hakon is in danger. I fear we all are."
Chapter 17
Ulfrik led his men in combing the surrounding lands for any sign of Hakon, but had found nothing. The longest day in recent memory had passed followed by a second evening of restless gulps of sleep. Runa had joined the search as well, and suffered the same curse of sleeplessness. In the morning, the two regarded each other as haggard ghosts and wordlessly began their morning rituals.
For Ulfrik, nothing could be worse than having his son snatched from the bosom of his fortress. One of his own men, the fool who Einar had beaten, was missing and likely the culprit. The next time Einar wanted to beat a man to death, he would not deter him. All of the hall was a quiet pantomime of what a normal morning would be. People moved through their chores as if in a dream, each person carrying the fear of having been struck by enemies where they expected safety. They hunched over their bowls, eating and gathering strength for another day of searching. No more sounds were heard than bowls clacking on wood tables or benches dragging on the earthen floor.
Runa did not attend her women as usual, but sat with both Aren and Gunnar. She stared ahead, her hand idly touching the knife she hid beneath her skirt. Toki joined her, and with great relief Halla and her daughters sought their places away from her. However, Halla offered Ulfrik what she considered solace as she passed him. "I will pray to Jesus that your son be returned safely."
He nodded thanks, but something in the glitter of her eyes reminded him of the spiteful flare he remembered of her father. No doubt, she prayed to Jesus for other things that likely had little benefit to him and his family. He left her to clutching the wooden cross she boldly hung from her neck and murmuring her prayers or curses in the corner.
The hall doors burst open, and Einar rushed in with Konal trailing. One of the women screamed from the unexpected shock, but Ulfrik was already on his feet.
"Men who claim to have kidnapped Hakon have proclaimed themselves," Einar shouted as he strode through the hall. "They've come close to the gates, but out of bow range. Konal went to speak with them."
Everyone stood and made way for Konal to deliver his news. He scanned all of them, his scarred face bright with sweat. "There are four men, though one is big enough to be counted twice. Their leader claims to have snatched Hakon from under the eaves of your hall and is keeping him hostage in a safe place. He gave me these as proof of his claim."
Konal's gloved hand extended toward Ulfrik, and everyone at the high table strained to see it. The object was a tarnished silver cloak pin that Ulfrik had bestowed on all his children, and a lock of Hakon's fine yellow hair was wound in it. The tie came apart in Ulfrik's hand and the strands of his son's hair tumbled across his palm. He folded his hand over the pin and closed his eyes.
"What is the name of this fool so desirous of a miserable death?"
"He called himself Throst Gudmundarson."
Ulfrik stood straighter, not recognizing the name until he exchanged glances with Snorri who had also joined to see Konal's proof. In that moment, he recognized regret and resentment in his old friend's eyes, and remembered his advice to kill all of Gudmund's family. The son had returned to take revenge for what he deemed his father's unjust death.
"You know this man?" Konal asked as he stepped back. "He is young still, not more than two seasons older than your first son. He demands you meet him to hear terms for Hakon's release."
"Throst is a boy, the get of a murdering father and shiftless mother. He will not live to manhood, I promise you this." Ulfrik handed the pin to Runa, who took it absently.
"Don't do anything rash," she said. "Hakon is in danger."
"I know what to do," he said, far more calmly than he felt. "I will see to it Hakon is released unharmed."
He scanned the faces of his loved ones: Runa, Gunnar, Aren, Snorri, Toki, and Einar all stared back at him with taut, grim expressions. No one doubted he would save Hakon and send Throst's soul screaming into the frigid mist realms of Nifleheim. He did not doubt it himself. From this moment, his will would be bent to nothing more.
"Take me to him," he said with a curled lip. "I'll have Hakon returned by nightfall."
Chapter 18
Ulfrik closed the distance to where Throst and three men waited for him. They stood at the foot of the hill, ragged figures in ill-maintained mail and tattered hides and furs. Throst stood out, standing at the fore of his henchmen with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His clear face was now smudged and dirty, but his malefic pale eyes remained bright. He stood as if he had overrun a great army and now rested his foot upon its warchief's head. In fact, he had his foot atop the stump of a small tree and his three men seemed incapable of overrunning a mug of mead without difficulty. Only one was of any account, a giant man whose frizzy hair and beard circled his head like an explosion of brown fire.
"Where's my son?" he demanded as he drew within spear's length. He unhitched his sword in its sheath and tugged it loose for a quick draw.
Throst did not move, but his eyes ranged farther up the hill. Ulfrik had taken twenty hirdmen, all archers, and spread them in a semicircle. If Throst made one threatening move, he and his henchmen would be riddled with arrows.
"If I don't return by midday, my men have instructions to hang Hakon until he pisses himself. Control your archers or your boy dies today, Lord Ulfrik." Throst spit the title out of his mouth like gristle.
"You've got men?" Ulfrik snorted and sneered at the three arrayed behind Throst. "Are these dogs examples of your men? You, the giant one, you take orders from this boy? Is it because he sucks your prick?"
The giant man erupted with a stream of curses and drew his sword. Throst's cool demeanor shattered and he scrambled to keep his man from attacking. The other two joined only after he cursed their inaction. The three of them dug their feet into the dirt and slid back against the bluster of the giant man. Ulfrik did not bother to draw his sword, but continued to tease.
"So you have taken the boy for a lover! No wonder you hide in the woods with him. Do you share him with the others?"
The man's unimaginative cursing streamed past Ulfrik. Beyond enjoying a simple teasing, he wanted to understand how much control Throst exerted over his men. Judging from the time it took to calm the giant and the reluctance of the other two to assist, Ulfrik surmised Throst's hold tenuous at best. He kept that thought for possible use against him.
After settling his henchmen, Throst whirled on Ulfrik. "Your wit is a dull as your vigilance. Your son's life is in my hands, or don't you understand?"
Ulfrik stared hard at Throst before answering. "I understand."
"Then listen well and I'll return your son. I'll take sixty pounds of silver in exchange for Hakon's life."
Even Throst's henchmen flinched at the outlandish demand. Ulfrik marshaled his expression but felt the burn of anger from the pit of his gut to the back of his throat.
"You don't even know how much silver that is, do you, boy?" Ulfrik spit on the ground before Throst's feet.
"It's what Odo paid Sigfrid to leave Paris, so it sounds like a good sum to me," Throst said, smiling.
"Odo is king of the Western Franks and has the wealth of Frankia at hand, and he was ransoming his whole city to Sigfrid, not one boy."
"I don't care how much it is, but I've just named the ransom for your son. If you can't pay, I'm certainly not planning to feed your brat all winter." Throst's smile faded and he folded his arms. "So your son's life has a price higher than it's worth to you? I'd not have guessed that from the mighty and just Lord Ulfrik of Ravndal."