"No filth on the floor. I've spent a few days tied to poles, and you don't wait to shit if you have to."
Ulfrik examined the man, who returned the same scrutiny. Though thin and old, his skin was not rough. His unshod feet were scabbed from going barefoot. Ulfrik grabbed the man's face, who did not resist, and squeezed open his mouth to reveal it still held most of the man's teeth. He let go, and the prisoner pulled away with a hint of disgust that drew a smirk to Ulfrik's face. His gaze dropped to the slave collar chaffing the old man's neck, and he noted despite the rust of the collar, bright metal showed where it had been clamped shut over his throat.
Ulfrik stepped away, slipping on a deep red cloak lying on the floor. He kicked it aside, watching the man's eyes follow it. He emanated defiance and confidence; he reminded him of his wife, Runa, when he had first met her as a slave. The collar may have marked her as such, but her spirit suffered no enslavement.
"So they had a slave, and a new one at that. He's not yet ready to accept Fate's judgment. Just look at those eyes." Ulfrik playfully slapped the slave's face. "You might be the best part of the treasure we take today."
Toki entered along with a few other interested men. The slave's eyes darted between the new arrivals. "Why didn't he call for help?" Toki asked as he came in. "We might've left him here."
"Exactly," Ulfrik said, pulling on the bindings. "Better off chancing the ropes to break than giving himself over to us. Isn't that right?"
Ulfrik drew a knife and began cutting away the ropes. The slave had nowhere to escape, whether he knew it or not. The slave's hands came free, and he immediately began massaging them. Ulfrik chuckled.
"Don't get too used to freedom. I don't normally take slaves but we didn't get much for our efforts." Ulfrik grabbed his arm and started to guide him to the door when he started speaking. The words sounded familiar, as if he should understand them. He noticed Toki's surprised expression, then realized the slave was speaking heavily accented Norse.
"You can understand me, slave?"
"Yeah, understanding. Humbert is still slave, no? Humbert freedom wants."
Ulfrik laughed, both from the accent and the request. "But the gods do not want freedom for you. So when they give it, I will be first among men to congratulate you. Now come with me, and be good. I won't be hard on you."
The men in the byre doorway chuckled, though Toki remained impassive. "You know Runa will not approve of taking a slave."
"He is already a slave," Ulfrik said. "Besides, he's a priest or a noble of some sort. Just look at him. We can ransom him to someone. He will be free and we will get a little richer."
"Or we'll be stuck with another mouth to feed."
"Then he'll go to the slave block," Ulfrik snapped. "What do you want me to do? He's a slave and we are free. When the gods wanted us free, they made us so. Same for this one. Runa will have to accept it, just stop worrying about it."
He pulled the slave, who called himself Humbert, which sounded Frankish to Ulfrik's ears. But Humbert pulled back, pointing at the ground. Ulfrik, his patience worn out, hissed and yanked Humbert forward. He yelped, and renewed his tug of war while still pointing at the floor.
"Please, master!" Humbert said. "On the ground, my cloak. Please!"
Ulfrik rolled his eyes and hauled Humbert out of the byre, flinging him through the door. He toppled like a child's doll, crashing into Einar who refused to step aside. The crew's laughter drowned out Humbert's pleas. He knelt in the grass, pointing at the byre with tears streaming down his face.
"Please, my father's cloak. Dear father. My father's cloak is all Humbert has. Please, just a small rag for Humbert. Please, master!"
Ulfrik's anger increased at the needless humiliation he had inflicted on the slave. He hated his sympathy for Humbert, but could not escape that weakness. He had suffered the disgrace of slavery and knew the pain this man felt. Some day slavery would bring him worse suffering, but at least Ulfrik would not be the originator of it. He felt his face growing hot as the others mocked Humbert's weeping.
"If you don't stop crying, I'll ram the fucking cloak down your throat!" Not the soothing words of a kind man, he knew. "Toki, fetch it for him. The rest of you, leave the poor bastard alone and let him have his cloak."
Toki handed Ulfrik the cloak, and he flung it on the tearful Humbert, who snatched it and rubbed his smiling face over it like a lost lover.
"I don't think he's going to be much use to us," Toki said as he watched Humbert weep with joy. "Why did you let him have the cloak?"
"I don't know. Before I met you, a hirdman of mine had lost his whole family to my brother, and after that wherever he went he carried a bearskin blanket that belonged to them. This reminds me of it. Anyway, if it shuts him up then let him keep it. We've a long journey home."
CHAPTER TWO
The blue strip of the southern island of the Faereyar grew on the horizon as Ulfrik stood in the prow of Raven's Talon. Gone for nearly two weeks, he anticipated reunion with his family. Sea spray wet his face and beard and the bracing air filled his lungs. Dolphins leapt through the waters as if in greeting. He stepped down from the prow, the sail full and cracking above his head. He smiled at Toki, who piloted the ship. It has been his since Ulfrik first met him, and no one else ever laid a hand on the tiller if he was aboard. He seemed equally eager to return home.
Towing the raiders' captured ship slowed the return journey to Nye Grenner. Ulfrik had taken great pains to hide along the coastal islands, realizing a towed ship was a beacon to other pirates seeking two fat prizes for one attack. Fortunately, numerous islands sprayed the northern coast of Norway with ample concealment. Once he hit the open sea, lookouts kept watch for following sails that never appeared.
Within the hour, the rolling slopes of Nye Grenner appeared. Despite strong winds, columns of white hearth smoke lifted over the green turf roofs of the village. His home and hall stood at the highest point of a slope that swept up from the beach, built on a strategic location that limited attackers' approach to the hall. The placement had saved it more than once, and Ulfrik believed it still discouraged enemies from trying its famous killing fields.
He waved from the prow along with others of his crew not busy with rigging or the sails. Everyone lined the shore in greeting. His heart beat faster, both from the excitement of returning and the anxiety of disappointing treasure. Runa's chiding words still echoed in his head. You can't run after every promise of gold with no better proof than a stranger's say-so. While others would see a captured ship and be mollified for a time, Ulfrik knew Runa would cut through his bluster with the keenness of a new blade.
He hated admitting she had been right. She almost always was right, and it drove him mad even if she was careful not to dwell on it. In fact, he wished she would so he could latch onto an excuse to become angry with her.
Raven's Talon glided into dock to the applause and cheers of the assembled families. He spied Runa observing from higher up the slope, his second son Hakon sleeping on her shoulder while Gunnar stood close to her side. Groups of wives, siblings, and mothers shouted the names of their men. Ulfrik appreciated their worries, since many who go a-viking never return. The crew threw ropes to the boys on the dock and they lashed these around poles. The towed ship, a small vessel, bumped against Raven's Talon and jostled everyone aboard. One man fell off the rails into the shallows to the shouts and laughter of those watching.