"It's surety for our captive," Throst explained. "If you seek to grab him, we will make him useless to all."
"No weapons," the Frank said, and Throst doubted he had understood anything he had said.
"You have my word that I will not take the boy without paying a fair price." The tent flap opened and the man beyond could only be Clovis. "Give up your weapons and speak with me, Throst Shield-Biter. We've much to discuss."
"As you say." Throst inclined his head and noted how Clovis's dark eyes narrowed on Hakon as the boy passed beneath him. Inside the tent, Clovis set himself on a stool. He wore no armor, but carried a sword at his side. His clothes were rich and clean, his shirt as white as snow and his pants a vibrant green. His clean-shaved face hinted at a heavy beard where whiskers darkened his firm chin.
"And so this is Ulfrik's boy?" He crossed a leg over his knee and leaned forward. "I won't even ask for proof, since I see that swine in the boy's face."
"My father is not swine!" Hakon's sudden protest drew a delighted laugh from Clovis, but Olaf slapped the back of Hakon's head to silence him.
"He has his father's temper as well," Throst added. "As well as his foolishness."
Clovis's expression darkened and he appeared to drift into memory of something offensive, for his lip curled and his nose wrinkled. "So why do you ransom him to me, rather than Ulfrik? He would pay you far more."
"Then you will be surprised to know the great Lord Ulfrik did not place much value upon his son's life. He refused to pay my demands, and so I have come to you instead."
"This one is not his firstborn," Clovis said, sitting back on his stool. He looked up at Throst, one thin eyebrow cocked. "If Ulfrik finds no value in this one, why would I want him? So let's waste no more time with this child. I merely wanted to see him, to be sure you had truly done all you had claimed. I admire how you've managed to snatch his son from his hall."
"Your admiration flatters me, Lord," Throst said with a broad smile. "And I have hopes that we might work together, to benefit both of us."
"Work together?" Both of Clovis's brows rose. "Work together? You are a Northman, and though I speak your horrid language do not mistake that for love your kind. I just want to be able to understand when you people are begging for your lives under my sword. There will be no working together."
The cold returned to Throst's stomach and he felt Olaf's eyes on him from behind. Clovis wore an expression of singular distaste and physically leaned back as if the thought of cooperation was something that might touch him with filthy hands. Yet Throst did not let the show dissuade him, but pressed his point.
"Then at least we can benefit each other. I can provide the son you really desire, and you would be willing to pay for his capture. Of that I am certain."
"And you are right," Clovis replied, again his eyes narrowing at the thought. "Do you know why? Last summer, Ulfrik maimed my eldest son in battle. He humiliated him, battering him to the ground, and rather than do the honorable thing and kill him, he struck off his sword hand at the wrist. Now my son will never lead men in battle, never be a whole man. It's bad enough Ulfrik and his kind have wrested away lands my family has possessed for generations, now he has to take away the future as well. I will deliver the same to him, and so I have sworn. Once I would've been satisfied to kill him and be done, but now I want to destroy his future first, just as he has for me."
The hateful words filled the tent, and a gust of wind rippled the walls. Outside men murmured and some laughed, contrasting with the rage inside the tent. Clovis's eyes burned with anger, and Throst smiled as if in sympathy, but now he knew Clovis could be controlled. His hatred would rule him and make him pliant. Throst only need to manipulate it to get what he desired.
"A more horrible tale I've never heard," Throst said, glancing at Hakon and Olaf. "But I can aid you in seeing justice done. If the small one here is of no interest, then allow me to deliver his eldest to you."
"How will you get inside? I would pay you to show me the way into his fortress. I can make you a rich man, so long as you are true."
"I will make my target come out, for the way inside is now barred to me, at least for a short while." Clovis's eager expression fell flat, but Throst continued. "But that is not important to securing Gunnar. I will have him in your hands within a few weeks, as long as the price is reasonable."
"What is reasonable to you?"
"Sixty pounds of silver."
"You are mad. Ask again, and know it is your last chance. I'm beginning to feel foolish for coming out here to treat with you."
"Then thirty pounds of silver is half as much, but yet I will still deliver Gunnar in two weeks."
Clovis stared at him, and for a moment it was like looking into the eyes of a wolf that stalked from the forest underbrush. His lip curled again, and his words were low and rough. "Fine. If you truly bring his eldest son, it will be worth it to me. Hang on to this boy, for if you can bring me both then I will have all I need against Ulfrik."
"Why not take him now, Lord?"
"Because I don't want the trouble, especially if you can't deliver the eldest son. You can be worried about feeding this one and keeping him alive."
Throst inclined his head again. "As you say. But there is one thing I will need, and that is something to show my men. They must believe there is gain for them, for this plan is not without danger. A small token is all I ask, and know it will go towards taking your revenge upon your hated foe."
Clovis stood, seemingly on the edge of rage, but then he exhaled a long, defeated breath. He fished out a necklace of silver from which a silver cross dangled. He held it before Throst, who raised cupped hands to receive it. "This is proof enough, and more than you should've taken for doing nothing more than make promises. But if this keeps your men's hearts in the fight, so be it."
Throst clasped his hands around the silver cross still warm from hugging Clovis's chest. "This is generous of you, Lord. You will not regret it."
"You will regret it!" Hakon shouted. "My father will kill both of you. You'll never capture Gunnar!"
Olaf slapped Hakon's head again, and when he began to struggle, Olaf dragged him to the ground and gagged him with a cloth.
"I look forward to what you can do for me," Clovis said after the commotion had ceased. "Ulfrik and his kind need to be humbled."
"I couldn't agree more," Throst said, and smiled at Hakon as he lay flattened and heaving on the ground.
Chapter 25
After a sodden trek home and a bleak walk through Ravndal's mournful roads, Ulfrik clambered into his hall, shoulders slouched, hair matted flat to his forehead, eyes couched in purple-ringed bags, and collapsed into his seat at the far end of the hall. A serving girl delivered a hot draught of apple water sweetened with honey into his waiting hands, and he savored the flavor as well as the steam on his face. Runa and Gunnar returned shortly behind him, with Aren clinging to Runa's skirt, and each took a mug of the hot apple water as they joined Ulfrik at the high table.
"No sign of Throst or Hakon," Runa's question fell as a flat statement of fact as she sat beside him. She had aged a decade in the days since Hakon's kidnapping. She had failed to care for herself, with her hair becoming lank and tangled and her face smudged. She slept in her clothing, giving her the wrinkled appearance of a rag used up and tossed into a corner. Gunnar, pulling a bench for himself, appeared far better than either of them, though he seldom smiled or spoke since the kidnapping. Only Aren remained unchanged, silently observing with his weirdly intelligent eyes. His tiny hands barely fit about his mug as he studied the steam rising from it.