"That's right, it won't be a secret if Dan comes with us."
The other farmhouse sheltered Hakon with his sister and mother, and the entrance was fortuitously out of sight around the corner. Hakon remained tethered to the columns inside, like the puppy he was. He had not been mistreated, except by Throst's mother who exorcised frustrations on him. In fact, over the weeks, Hakon and his sister were developing a friendship that only children seemed able to make.
Despite knowing Konal could whirl on him in an instant, Throst had no fear. His pulse had quickened, but that was all. He did not question the confidence, but welcomed it. This was going to work. Konal was going to strike the moment they rounded the corner. At the same time, his men would hack the others to ribbons. After all, Throst had neatly arranged them in the yard and then distracted them with travel preparations. Hakon would be awaiting freedom and only mousy Olaf stood in the way, a trifle to Konal. Throst had all but extended his head to be hacked off.
Neither spoke about the plan Throst had offered, and that should have been warning enough to Konal.
"I think you'll find my plan a bit confusing at first," Throst said as they approached the corner.
Then he swept his foot before Konal and shoved him over it. He tripped forward and, fast as a cat, Throst was on his back. He slapped his cloak over Konal's head like a bag and yanked it down. He had only just begun to struggle as Throst wound it tighter. Konal's free hand sought his short sword, the sax, used for close fighting. But Throst's left hand was as nimble as his right, and in one deft motion he snatched the blade out of the sheath.
"The rest of the plan should make sense to you now."
Throst rammed the blade into Konal's side and his scream was muffled by the heavy wool cloak. He drew the blade back for a second thrust, but Olaf stumbled out of the house dragging a kicking Hakon with him. Screams from behind told Throst that the slaughter had begun. Dan came running like a frightened moose.
Olaf stared wide eyed at him. "What do we do now? Your mother …"
"They've gone to hiding," Throst stood up from Konal, who rolled over and moaned into a widening pool of blood. He had no time to finish the deed nor did he care for Konal's fate. "We're getting out of here now. Give me the boy."
One heavy slam with the pommel of Throst's sword and Hakon went limp. He shoved Hakon at Olaf, who slung the boy across his shoulder. They sprinted into the nearby woods to lose pursuers in the ever-shifting landscape of fallen leaves and woodland streams. Throst was laughing.
Chapter 38
Astra ambled along the track leading to the northern gates of Ravndal. The sun was setting and the cold of nightfall matched the chill in her heart. Keeping to the cover of darkness no longer mattered and crossing the expanse of cleared fields demanded nothing of her in the light. Once on the track worn through the widest spaces between stumps, she only had to drag her feet with enough speed to reach the gates before nightfall.
Black forms of men patrolled the ramparts and she imagined their surprise at finding her outside their carefully guarded walls. The fools had let her come and go so often. Walls were only suited to halting stupid men blustering with their swords and spears. The small and unimportant burrowed under them, sneering at their bravado and mocking their vigilance. Knocking on their front gates would be worthy of laughter, if she could remember how laughter felt.
The shapes on the walls melded together, no doubt conferring on what threat lay before them. Finally the smile emerged on Astra's lips. They would never guess her threat, never consider she carried a blade taken from Throst. She would be mocked, ridiculed, cursed, and in the end she would be free.
Would she kill the boy? Could she? The sheathed knife at her hip clapped against her skin as she walked. She had the tool for murder. Did she have the heart? Even owning success, she left herself no means of escape. She had no intention of escape.
Throst had been her whole world, everything that furnished her life with meaning. Her father had been a tender man, but he spent his life fighting the Franks for Ulfrik. Her mother's people. Though her mother had gladly accepted her father's blood price from Ulfrik and remained to serve him, from that day she hated Ravndal and all Northmen. She loved her own daughter less for being half Norse. Even so her mother's death had plunged her into a drowning loneliness from which Throst had rescued her. For one year, he delighted her and loved her. He had dallied with other girls, but always returned to her. They would be married one day. Throst always dreamed of greatness and she believed in their future together.
Then Ulfrik ripped him away, just as he had discarded her father's life. She swore to follow Throst into the uncertain future, but he had asked her to remain behind to take his vengeance. Even in the chaos of his banishment, he had the wits to plan for the future. She admired that brilliance, was enthralled and mystified by it. Their parting kiss had afforded an expectation of joy, even when the future appeared so bleak. She had done all he had asked of her and more, all for the promise of living within Throst's dreams.
Ravndal drew closer now and the shapes on the wall resolved into men who watched her with arrows set to their bows. If they fired upon her, she did not care. What did it matter? Throst had commanded her to die, after all.
By the time she realized she could flee, she had already come within sight of Ravndal's walls. She had stumbled back in a daze, too stunned from his ultimatum to even consider what to do. Kidnap or kill Aren on her own, with no one left to help her.
And not return to Throst unless one or the other had been accomplished.
Death was what he had sent her to find.
Men hailed her at the gates, calling down from the wall in rough voices. Warning arrows were fired, thudding into the ground around her as she approached the gates. She did not flinch, but drifted forward to bang on the rough-hewn logs of the doors.
There was no place left for her in the world. If she did not belong to Throst, to whom did she belong? Ravndal was the home of the enemy, and she had never formed any connections to its people. The Franks would call her a traitor and sell her to slavery. Only Fate knew through what twisting path her future lay. She had merely to move forward and discover its end.
Protesting with loud curses, the gatekeepers lugged back the bars and opened the doors to allow her inside. Spears leveled at her body, so close that if she tripped she would be impaled three different ways.
"What are you doing beyond the gates?" one of the guards asked. "No one is to be outside."
"Take me to the hall," she said, her voice tired and flat. "I have news that cannot wait."
One of the guards seized her by the arm, his rough grip crushing her. He yanked her inside while the others swung the gates closed.
They marched her into Ravndal with spears at her back, and still her knife slapped her hip beneath her skirt.
Could she kill Aren? Did she have any choice before her own life ended?
Chapter 39
"She came to the front gate and demanded to be let inside?" Runa lowered into her chair in the hall, eyes fixed on Snorri who stood beneath her.
"A bold girl, that one," he said. "She was spotted far before she arrived, no more sneaking for her. Claimed she had news that couldn't wait, but I had her locked up first. Just so you'd have time to decide what to do."
Runa collapsed in her chair, eyes fixed on nothing as she went through all the reasons Astra would return. She realized somehow Konal had either been overcome or not yet acted. Though she had always assumed Astra would return, Snorri had convinced Runa that she had no reason to show herself in Ravndal again. Now that Runa had been proved right, a tight fear gripped her.