He squeezed her hand. "You are better than I deserve. Thank you for not speaking your mind on that count."
They sat together in silence, ate a meal prepared by Einar's wife and served at twilight. Men came to the hall in thoughtful silence, and Ulfrik recognized they all suspected one another of treachery. It was a horrible evening, though to his surprise Konal attempted to lighten the mood with foolish riddles he barely choked out in his weakened condition. At last, he had strength for no more and the hall again became a sullen gathering of suspicious people.
As the day ended and men returned to their own beds, Ulfrik sat groggy and tired overlooking the smoky gloom. Men presented themselves to him, swore loyalty and promised to uncover the culprit. Ulfrik thanked each man, but knew in the coming days there would be a dozen accusations and a dozen bloody fights over misunderstandings. Inevitably someone would be killed. All the while Ulfrik had to train his mind on the real issue of freeing both his sons and Toki from Clovis and Throst. He rubbed his face and closed his eyes.
"Ulfrik," a thin voice addressed him. He looked up and Halla and her children were before him. Runa had already taken Aren to bed, and Halla must have waited for her opportunity to approach. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I am just frightened for Toki."
He smiled at her and nodded. "No need, we all share your worry. But he is a tough man, and he will hold his own. Do not fear for him. I will not rest until he is free and returned to your hearth. You have my word upon it."
She inclined her head, then gathered her children to her. "I prefer to stay in the bed you provided to Toki and me. It's better, I think. I feel nearer to him that way."
"As you wish. A good night to you, Halla." He winked at her children, who clung to her like frightened rabbits.
Returning his well wishes, she turned to leave.
It was an errant glimpse, a chance sweep of his gaze, but it made his hands chill. The murky light obscured it, maybe he even imagined it. Of course he only imagined it. It could not be what he had assumed it was.
As she had turned, her skirt spun and spread around her legs. The back of her skirt hem was darkened with heavy black stains as if dipped into a thick fluid. Though his eyes had seen blood stain and splatter a thousand times over, he had to have been mistaken. Surely she had dragged her skirt unknowingly through something. Not blood.
She left and he remained sitting straight at the high table. Suddenly he no longer felt groggy, but intensely awake. In the morning, he would have to satisfy himself that it had only been mud on Halla's skirt.
Chapter 43
Throst waited in a crowded stone room that smelled of wood smoke and sweat. Rotten straw scattered on the floorboards added a hint of grass to the odors. The only things smelling worse than the room were Dan, Olaf, and himself. His head itched constantly and he realized he hadn't bathed since Ulfrik ejected him from Ravndal. Crates and barrels, mostly empty, competed for space with the rough table where he and the others sat. A broken pair of tongs were propped against the wooden interior wall, laced with cobwebs. The three men tried to appear relaxed in the square of light cast through a single window, though Throst judged his companions poor actors.
"This is taking too long," Olaf said, rubbing both his shoulders as if cold.
"You have to be somewhere?" Throst asked, and Olaf turned away with a frown.
"You shouldn't have surrendered Hakon without taking our ransom first," Olaf said. "It was a stupid thing to do."
"Weren't stupid," Dan said, his voice deepening with threat. "Do you forget the arrows and spears pointed at us? What was to be done?"
"Not coming here in the first place would've been better." Olaf continued to rub his shoulders and faced the light slanting in from the window. "More likely we'll be dancing from the end of a rope by day's end."
"I'll pull your legs if you promise to shut up now," Throst quipped. "You were not bound to follow me, but here you sit. That promise of silver was too much for you to resist after all. Maybe we're not going to be paid anything, and maybe Clovis will bury us in gold. But we've been too useful just to kill us out of hand. How could we have known he already captured Gunnar? That was a nice piece of luck for him, but made our news worthless. Still, delivering it showed him our value. It was not a poor choice to come."
"That's right. Shut up, Olaf." Dan's pronouncement drew a sneer from Olaf, but Throst chuckled.
Clovis had held them overlong, and had not even offered a drink. They had retained their weapons, and therefore could not be considered prisoners. Still their treatment did not bode well for the future. Throst would not admit the defeat Olaf was always prepared to embrace. Coming to Clovis was indeed a risky proposition, but Throst now lived in a world brimming with ridiculous risks. There was no choice that would not end with a blade through his guts, so he chose this path. At the least, he had the possibility of a reward.
Footfalls and murmured voices at the door preceded its opening. Framed in the entrance was regal Clovis, his clean and bright face full of wicked delight. Throst swallowed hard, but forced a smile.
"Pardon my delay, but your arrival surprised me." Clovis inclined his head slightly. "Hakon is now with his family, and it was actually a touching reunion given their circumstances."
Clovis did not enter the room, and figures backed him up. Throst did not enjoy the sense of entrapment. He stood carefully, wanting to show respect but not willing to be looked down upon.
"It was my pleasure to deliver Hakon to you, as well as news of Gunnar's vulnerability."
"Yes, Gunnar is the prize that makes keeping his runt brother worthwhile. Ulfrik is ruined now, unless I misjudge him."
"He stakes much pride on his sons," Throst said, daring to step closer. Clovis's eyes flickered with anger and his lip curled, so Throst halted. "He will pay whatever you ask of him, I am sure."
The men beyond the door stirred and at last Throst glimpsed a gangly young man hovering behind Clovis. The stump of his right arm was clutched against his belly, identifying him as Clovis's son. He was a sadder, more defeated version of his father, like something left submerged so long that its color had drained away. Clovis caught Throst's glance and he smiled, stepping aside to reveal his son and three more guards as well.
"You see my son's hand, how it has ruined him? Gunnar will return to his father just the same, ransom or no. That is the price for what he did to my family. How can he lead without a sword hand?"
Throst did not follow the logic, but Clovis's son sagged lower each time his father mentioned him. He would pour through the floor in a moment, and Throst pitied him. Yet, Clovis's battles with Ulfrik were no longer his concern. Unless Astra either killed or kidnapped his third son, their battles were done. He merely wanted his reward and a chance to flee with his small band.
"You will have justice for such a pitiless crime," he said, and his words drew frowns like he had fouled the air. Moving past his error, he pressed Clovis. "Now, there is the matter of the ransom price."
Letting the words linger, he watched as Clovis shared glances with his son and men. Then he spread his hands wide. "For such fine service, I grant you the very highest reward I can give. I will spare your miserable life."
"Are you joking with me?" Throst's vision flashed white with anger and he stepped forward into spears that rushed at him. He swatted one aside, though two more stuck into his ribs and halted him. "You promised a fucking reward. Now you throw me out with nothing more than your thanks?"