"Your insults and disregard for my family have no place in my hall or my service. Take yourself from my lands and never show yourself again. You and your men, be gone!"
Konal stared hard at him, and seemed to sober. He nodded and turned his head aside to address his men being restrained behind Einar. "Hear that? We are no longer welcomed here, and for what? Speaking the truth is all I've done. I will have my kin at my side, Ulfrik. I've no need of you or this foul place. I curse you and your family for fools."
Another gasp rushed from the crowd and Ulfrik waved him away. Einar snapped Konal around and shouted for hirdmen to lead Konal's other men out. Runa watched Konal go, not resisting and head bowed. As he and his men were dragged into the press of onlookers, Gunnar appeared before him with fresh tears on his cheeks. She feared her son would shame himself with pleading and begging, but instead his quivering mouth bent into a frown and he backhanded Konal across his face with a meaty slap.
Aren broke free and called out for Konal, who did not look back as Einar and the other hirdmen shoved him and his men out of the hall. The remaining hirdmen kept an embarrassed silence, their eyes averted to their feet. Ulfrik stood amid the ruined table, scanning his men and the horrified faces of the young girls who had sat at the high table. Runa avoided Halla, but saw Toki staring at her husband. He seemed caught between wanting to act and fearing to move. Finally, Ulfrik stirred.
"You and the boy, get to our room," he ordered. "I will see to it Konal is ejected this very night."
Runa no longer resisted the idea, but instead welcomed the chance to flee the heavy shame Konal had inflicted upon her and her family.
Chapter 27
Throst's heart soared with joy. The woods around him may have been sinking into the decay of winter with bare branches waving above cold and muddy earth, but he moved through them with a light step. The morning was bitter cold and his nose and cheeks were raw and red, but his heart was warm with promise. Dan strode alongside him, matching Throst's amiable pace, and the two led five others of his band. They bundled in mud-spattered, gray cloaks of wool and beneath fur-lined hats, and did not match the positive gait of their leader.
At the edge of the clearing, not more than a few hours walking from their base, Throst came to what he had sought. He paused, stopping Dan with an outstretched hand. The others drew in closer, rubbing hands together against the cold. "Are we really going to take on more men to feed? My stomach is hurting enough already," one of the men grumbled.
"Then learn to be a better hunter," Throst quipped without looking back to see who had complained. Dan would undoubtedly silence any more dissent with a withering glare. "These men are sent from the gods, right in time for our need of them."
Throst heard more back talk but paid it no mind. He hid behind a tree and watched the encampment for signs of movement. Four tents of dirty yellow cloth billowed in a clearing. The campfire smoldered, and no one tended it. He could not keep the smile from his face, for inside those tents were eight men fresh from Ulfrik's hall who would share his grudge against that arrogant jarl and double the size of his force. He had lurked at the edge of their encampment and heard their complaints and knew their hearts. They were not bright men, setting a campfire for all to see, but they were well armed and armored. He only needed their fighting strength.
His band did not possess the same fieldcraft skills as he did, and Throst cringed at their undisciplined noises as they stumbled in the woods. He could not trust them to scout, which is why he did it himself. For now, he needed a show of force in case Ulfrik's former men had other ideas. As Throst watched from the edge of the woods, men emerged from their tents. Some wore mail, all had sturdy shields and fine swords. In fact, they appeared wealthy, and Throst suddenly felt poor.
"They look powerful," Dan said, his voice small.
"Don't mind that," Throst said. "They share a common enemy with us, and you know what they say about that."
"What is said about that?"
Throst disregarded Dan's slow wits, and addressed all of his men. "Follow my lead and let me do the talking. You're here to demonstrate our strength and nothing more. These men will join us before we are done, mark my words."
Drawing a deep breath, he straightened himself and stepped from his hiding place. After a few paces, his men fell in behind him. He approached the camp, his arms relaxed at his side and a smile on his face. No one appeared to notice him, and he hailed the group with a wave of his hand.
"Good morning to you, wanderers. May we join your fire on this cold morning?"
The men spun to face him, and swords were freed of their scabbards within moments. The air filled with the song of iron blades that gleamed in the diffuse sunlight, each newly honed tip pointed at him. One man caught him short, their leader who Throst had heard protesting his fate in the darkness. His face had been badly burned and the red and white flesh appeared loose and melting on a once handsome head.
Throst stopped and raised his hands, and his men did the same. "Peace, we did not mean to startle you."
The leader scowled at him and his blade did not lower. Other men spilled out of the tents, creating a semicircle of stern faces and bright blades. "Yet you did, and you would do well to stand still."
"If we intended an ambush, you would have all been stuck with arrows by now. Please, lower your weapons. You see we have not drawn ours. I want only to share your fire and conversation."
The scar-faced man smiled without humor. "Such fine manners for so ragged a bandit. You bring many men to your conversation, and I can't help but wonder why."
"Look to yourself, then," Throst said. "I see eight blades pointed at my heart. But let's not dwell on what sets us apart. Allow me to approach and my men will stay behind."
The scar-faced leader lowered his blade and the rest followed, though all remained alert for trouble. Throst respected their wariness and reminded himself to refrain from provoking them. When the leader stood to the side to allow him to join his group, Throst moved with exaggerated care. He nodded Dan and the others to step back, which they did all too easily. The cowardice made him wince, and reminded him again why adding these new men to his force was so vital. These were hard-bitten warriors and not homeless criminals.
"Do you have a name?" asked the leader as Throst came to the dying embers of the campfire. A low warmth pulsed around this feet and legs as he stood by it.
"I am called Throst the Shield-Biter, and not long ago I assume you were hunting these woods for me."
He spoke casually and seated himself on a dry log that his hosts had dragged to the fireside when they had established their camp. Carelessly flipping his cloak aside as he sat, he did not look at the others, as if his name meant nothing. Despite his show of indifference, his hands went cold and his heart raced. These men might consider capturing him to earn Ulfrik's forgiveness, but he had heard enough the prior night to believe they would not. Once he settled upon the log, he glanced up at the leader with a bright smile.
All the men had drawn closer, their lips pressed tight and swords tipped up. The leader was a standing stone, a breeze tousling his hair across the good side of his face and leaving only his ravaged side exposed. The two stared at each other, but the leader finally relented with a snort.
"Would that we had this meeting a week ago, maybe my fate would have been much different. So you are Throst? You are smaller than I imagined. From the way Ulfrik cursed your name, I expected a giant." He returned his sword to its sheath then laid it on another log as he sat. The other men relaxed and Throst released breath he had not realized he had held.