The gathered men nodded, though Thrand, sitting at the furthest end and still drunk from the prior night, spoke first.
"What counsel can we give you? I don't want to be named an outlaw. So we go to Frankia, and maybe find treasure worth the risk to our lives."
Others grumbled in agreement, and Ulfrik inclined his head to concede the point. "True words, but is everyone willing to risk being gone for all of winter? What if word of our absence travels north? Could you live with yourself if your families were butchered because we were not here to defend them?"
"It's the risk they take for a better life," answered a square-faced hirdman, Gran Redbeard. "No great deed is without danger."
"I agree," Ulfrik said. "And my family will share the same danger. But think on this, what awaits us in Paris? A long fight for the glory of a foreign lord, then a small share of the ransom and whatever else we can carry away. Then even that will be divided with Hrolf."
"You heard Gunther, lad," Snorri said, rapping the table with his knuckles. "It's more than money, but glory and land. He's letting you in on something grand. Don't piss your pants wondering about your sheep and hall. More is at stake."
"You know me too well to think I worry for sheep over my wife and son. Make your words useful."
"Take family with us," Snorri countered, unperturbed at Ulfrik's irritation. "Abandon this place and start anew."
The suggestion caused Ulfrik to sit straighter. "After all the men who bled for this land, I won't abandon it for a vague promise. Our flocks would die in winter, and we'd have nowhere to return if Hrolf's adventure failed."
"Then make sure he doesn't fail. It's why Gunther wants you there, said so himself."
The men chuckled and a few slapped the table. Ulfrik glared at Snorri, but his old friend's stern face melted to a smile and he began to laugh as well. Finally, Ulfrik waved his hand in defeat.
"Your confidence honors me, but I remain firm on that point. Our families hold the flocks together while we are gone. I will follow the will of my oath-lord. Does anyone object?"
Each man drew still and solemn. Toki put his hand on Ulfrik's shoulder. "None would hinder you, and the honor of all our people are at stake if you refuse. Know I would serve you and share your dangers equally."
"I'm commanded to fill my ships, but any man who wishes to remain behind may do so without shame." He searched the hard faces, finding only grim resolve. Thrand shifted on his bench, and scratched his head.
"The rewards better be as good as One-Eye promised."
"Shut up, you drunk," Snorri said. "We follow to honor our oaths to a fair lord, and rewards are a secondary concern."
Thrand opened his mouth to protest, but Ulfrik intervened.
"There is one more matter to discuss, and I must swear all of you to secrecy." He waited for their attention to return, and leaned forward to speak in a near-whisper. "Humbert's treasure is now a possibility."
"By the gods!" Thrand exclaimed, falling back from the table as if he had been struck. "You don't believe that lice-ridden liar, do you? He just wants to slip his bonds."
"The drunk is right," Snorri added. "I don't trust Christians or their dead god, liars all."
Expecting the criticism, Ulfrik smiled patiently. "But think on this. At last the gods have given us a sign of favor. They sent us Humbert, then Gunther with orders for us to attend Hrolf in Frankia. Paris, no less! It's the gods' work."
"It's a coincidence." Snorri turned on his bench and met Ulfrik's eyes. "Think no more on it."
"Fate rules us all. What is coincidence? That's when you need a comb and find it by your hand. But this is destiny." Ulfrik stood, excitement animating his face. He leaned on the table with both hands, meeting each man's gaze. "A treasure of gold lies hidden in Paris, and the man who has suffered for that secret is in our possession. Do you think Humbert lies? Maybe so, but without Gunther's arrival how could he have benefited from it?"
"By staying alive while you wondered if his tale might be true," Snorri answered the question, frustration coloring his voice. A few men nodded in agreement, but Ulfrik did not care.
"A good point. But I believe him. I did not at first, but now I've seen the work of Fate here. If any of you are undecided, then let us consult the futhark. I am confident we will have our answer."
Heads turned to a pinch-faced man with a dark red beard and ruddy cheeks. He wore a headband to contain his bushy hair. The mention of his rune sticks, the futhark, seemed to alarm him. Though long in Ulfrik's service, he only recently discovered Ander read futhark. Ulfrik extended his hand to him.
"Ander, you have your rune sticks? Cast them now and tell us if we should believe the priest."
"The futhark is my power, lord. I bear them always." He stood, feeling for a pouch strapped to his belt. Ulfrik pulled the table away from the north wall, where Ander would cast his sticks. Snorri helped, and murmured to him.
"The futhark, lad? Do you think Ander has the guts to tell you anything more than what you desire?"
"I cannot read them," he said, then added in a louder voice, "but if the futhark say I should ignore the priest, then I will heed that wisdom. Ander, are you ready?"
Ander nodded, facing north toward the seat of the gods' power. He held his sack of sticks in both hands and closed his eyes. Men gathered close, always eager to see the working of magic. Ulfrik smiled, confident that he understood the gods' message. He had no need to influence Ander, and so he remained behind the gathering.
After long moments of silence, Ander flung the sticks from his bag onto the dirt of the floor. Clattering over each other, he knelt to read the runes, seeking those that had landed faceup. Mumbling as he pointed to each rune, he also traced the crisscrossed patterns with his finger. At last he stood, a smile on his face.
"Lord Ulfrik, the priest is true. The gods show he possesses great treasure. I cannot be clearer, lord."
"So now we know the truth," Ulfrik said, taking his seat at the table while Ander and several men admired his rune casting.
"What an amazing surprise," Snorri grumbled, sitting next to Ulfrik and rolling his eyes.
"The futhark do not lie, lord." Ander glared at Snorri as he returned to his seat. "And I would not dare mislead you."
Ulfrik waved Ander to his seat, then squinted at Snorri. "Humbert told the truth, and now we have a means to act on that knowledge. Before we could not hope for access to Paris, and now we are called to join an army that will sack it. Humbert must be protected, and kept safe at least long enough to show us his hidden ways into the city and the location of the gold. He asks for vengeance in trade, and so would I were the situation reversed. We will provide it for him. I've no trouble killing his traitorous bishop if it means we claim his gold."
He paused, finding more appreciative faces. Only Snorri frowned, and Ulfrik lightly punched his shoulder. "Combined with our shares of the plunder, you will all be wealthy men. But here is where I need your solemn oath, from each of you. You'll swear it before the gods. No one beyond our circle may know of this plan, especially Gunther One-Eye and Hrolf the Strider. Were either to know, they would claim the gold for themselves, leaving only a share for us. So everything will require secrecy. I don't like deceit, especially to a worthy lord like Hrolf, but the gods have sent Humbert to us for a purpose. I don't believe the purpose was to put more gold into Hrolf's hands. Do you all agree?"