Gunnar stared at his captor, Theodoric, and scowled. He turned to Toki, who waited for the translation. "He says he's going to defeat us."
"The Franks love to boast, and to hear themselves talk. Is that all he said?"
"He really dislikes our people." Toki snorted in laughter, and Gunnar joined him. The desperation of this situation, the complete hopelessness of it, left him no choices other than laughter or total collapse. He would not dishonor himself before going to Valhalla.
"Ah, bravado if the face of danger," Theodoric said. Clovis began to huff as if about to explode, but Theodoric commanded silence with a raised hand and thoughtful smile of his own. "Such is the way of your people. Believe me, I understand you pagan barbarians better than you think. Behind that brave face, you are as frightened as the child you are."
Theodoric's men had kept their spears leveled, and he had stood between them. Now, he stepped forward to Gunnar and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know what you are worth to your father. Clovis has explained it to me. Your friend? What is he to you? A kinsman?"
Suddenly Gunnar no longer felt bold, and his stomach tightened with dread. He blinked at Theodoric, whose smile contorted his face so that his high nose further resembled a bird of prey.
"The two of you look so similar, and so unlike others of your kind. Of course you are kinsmen." Theodoric patted Gunnar's shoulder. "Your expression tells me all I need. Now, I will send messengers to your father. Wouldn't he be more inclined to reason if he understood that not only his son but another of his kin were held here? His name?"
Gunnar swallowed, glanced at Toki who stared back without expression. The spear points hovered before them and Clovis seemed to lose patience with every heartbeat, wringing his hands and grinding his teeth. "His name is Toki, my uncle."
"Of course," Theodoric stepped back and clasped his hands behind himself. "I love neither death nor ruin, and wish it upon no man. The horrors I have foretold are avoidable. All your father need do is cede his lands to me. He can keep his gold, his men, his pride."
"An outrage," Clovis exclaimed, exploding forward. He grabbed at Theodoric's shoulder, but stopped short. Theodoric held still, flicking his eyes toward Clovis as if nothing more than a shadow had disturbed him. The tense moment passed, as Clovis stood down, snarling at Gunnar as he faded toward the door. Theodoric continued.
"Help me convince your father. Spare your people the shame of defeat and death."
"Shame and defeat are all you offer. Death in battle is glory." Gunnar turned up his chin, and repeated the words in Norse, so his uncle would understand. Theodoric smiled thoughtfully.
"Just like all of your ilk. If you will not leave, I will dig you all out by the roots. I wonder how glorious your women and children will feel when my horsemen catch them in flight?" He smiled at Gunnar before he turned for the door. "Your help was not expected, and I was a fool to try. But God has seen my attempt to do right, and that is all I required."
Theodoric exited before his two men followed. Clovis lingered and glared at both Gunnar and Toki, then he seized Gunnar's right arm. "As brash as your father, and just as stupid. I have a son, you know. He's without a hand thanks to your father. I'll see he's repaid in kind before you leave this place. Depend upon it."
He thrust Gunnar's hand away and stormed from the room. The bolts dropped back into place and both he and Toki stared after the door for long moments in silence. At last Toki settled to the floor and spoke. "Your father will pay whatever is demanded. Don't worry."
Gunnar nodded, but turned to face the wall, placing one hand on the damp cold rock. He wondered if his father really would, or if he even could, surrender everything for two lives. The doubt clawed at his heart, and he closed his eyes and touched his head to the wall.
Chapter 41
Ulfrik's weary procession across the cleared fields to the weather-blackened gates of Ravndal seemed to last all day. To the north, the hanging tree clawed the morning sky and the shadow of a corpse dangled from a muscular bough. He scowled at the corpse, cursing the fool who had sparked this strange fire that consumed his life. Gudmund, Throst's father, must be laughing even as he wanders lost in the icy fog of Nifleheim. It made Ulfrik wish he could hang the bastard a second time, for all the suffering his drunken rage had caused him.
The gates opened after Ulfrik answered the challenges. Both he and Einar were pleased at the vigilance of the men left behind, recalling a time when careless watchmen would allow any snake to pass for the right coin. Had it only been a few weeks, a month ago? Ulfrik shook his head as he led his troops in somber quiet through the gates. Time had become something longer and more painful than anything before Hakon had been kidnapped. Time had become an elusive enemy, always retreating out of reach yet never losing the battlefield. How much time did he have now that Gunnar was in Clovis's grip?
The flat and cold day fit the hunched and defeated gait of the men. No battles had been fought, but brothers had been buried. No defeat but no victory, and no glory nor any shame had been earned. They shambled home like men dazzled by lightning that had struck too close. They assembled in the main square, and Ulfrik released them with his thanks. Within moments of return, groups of his warriors formed and floated away to their barracks or families. He would gather them again in the coming days, but not before he saw Hakon.
"Where is everyone?" Einar asked as he waited with Ulfrik for the last of the men to disperse. "Our women are too busy for us?"
"Konal should have returned with Hakon, probably last night. They must all be in the hall, recovering from the celebration." Ulfrik smiled thinly as he imagined his family worn out from a tearful reunion.
"Then let's not waste any time," Einar said, then paused as he realized their arrival brought ill news.
Ulfrik faced the main hall and sighed. "This is one of the hardest moments of my life. All of this is my fault, and I deserve their scorn."
Einar cocked his head and his eyes flashed with warning. "No more of that, Lord Ulfrik. You are the jarl and no one should hear you speak of defeat."
Ulfrik laughed despite the fear welling inside him. Not long ago, Einar was a boy looking to him for direction but now he stood a head taller and admonished him on points of leadership. Even short-lived laughter gave him fortitude to deliver his news, and the two went directly to the hall. No one stood guard outside, and Einar shook his head as he opened the door. "Must have been quite a celebration."
Inside the hall, Ulfrik found nothing resembling celebration.
The hearth had collapsed to glowing embers throwing a feeble heat. Windows remained shuttered and the smoke hole cover had not be properly drawn, throwing the hall into a gauzy haze. Darkness pressed on the outlines of people hunched at tables or curled up on the floor. At first he thought they had all been killed, so lifeless were their postures, but a figure stirred from the high table.