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Heat spread through Runa's guts and her breath caught. Konal stared ahead and did not notice her shift in mood. She tried to smooth her voice as she spoke. "And I suppose your treasure was nowhere to be found?" He nodded. "What was the treasure?"

"A slave," Konal said absently. He appeared to grow tired and he shimmied down until he lay flat on the floor. "I am more tired than I thought. You were right; I need more rest."

"Do you think the slave was killed and you did not find him?"

"No, a battle had taken place and footprints were left behind. Some other raiders got to them and sailed off. I doubt we can find the slave again, though my father will want us to continue the search."

"That's much effort for a slave."

Konal grunted and closed his eyes. "My brother is alive. I feel his life as he must feel my own. So he will search for me, and find me. Then the hunt for our treasure will start anew. Forgive me, but recounting all of this has tired me."

"Then rest," she stood, pushing the bench back to the table. "Your brother would be a fool to seek you in winter, not unless Thor loves him above all others. You will be well cared for while you wait for him."

Konal chuckled at the joke. "The gods would not love my brother more than me. Thank you for your kindness. I owe my life to you, and will repay you. For now, I fear I can only be a burden."

Runa left him to his sleep, excusing herself from the hall to see what delayed Gunnar's return. Outside in the cold air of the twilight sky, she thought of Humbert with Ulfrik and a strange sensation of joy and dread overcame her. "Be careful, Husband," she muttered. "The gods are at play with you once more."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

November 27, 885 C.E

Ulfrik had covered the decks of his ships with their sails, forming a makeshift tent. The sun appeared as a bright spot of yellow as it peeked through the clouds. Beneath the sailcloth, the air was rank with blood and sweat. Ulfrik sat on the deck, still in his mail from the day before. A bit of broken arrow shaft remained snared in the sleeve of his mail. Toki stirred beside him, having slept the night unlike Ulfrik. The wounded moaned, and though the sailcloth muted their voices, to Ulfrik each groan was like a shout. He had led these men on a pointless charge with no chance of glory or dignity in death. Instead, they were pounded with stones, pierced with arrows, or shoved off walls.

"Is it morning so soon?" Toki murmured, then yelped at the pain in his leg. "Gods, that's painful."

"I'm not sure it's broken," Ulfrik offered him. "At least it will keep you from scaling that wall again today."

Toki lay quiet, and Ulfrik glanced at him. His gaze was far away, and doubtlessly his mind's eye replayed the horrors of the day before. Ulfrik could not close his own eyes without seeing two men explode like barrels of ale dropped from a wall.

"How many did we lose?" Toki's voice was small, fearful.

"Nearly half."

"Dead?"

"Many dead, others wish they were. There are still men at the foot of the walls." Ulfrik lowered his head and closed his eyes. Screams echoed in his mind, and he saw the ladder falling straight down with his men clinging to it. "As soon as I can, I will lead a group to find our people. They don't deserve to lie alone out there, unremembered."

"Snorri is alive?"

"He carried you away. You don't remember?" Toki shook his head. "It's a blessing you don't remember. Rest a while longer. I've been waiting for you to awaken, to be sure you would. Now I must see Hrolf and learn what happens next."

Ulfrik scrabbled away, but stopped short by the mast where Humbert was bound. Their eyes met, and a smile flickered on Humbert's lips.

"Master now understands, yes? Paris is strong. Release Humbert and let him show the secret way before you are killed. A cross of gold as thick as master's leg is hidden not far."

"Can an army fit through your secret way?" He stared at the slave, and his eyes faltered. Ulfrik snorted at it. "I thought not. I lost half my men yesterday, and I don't know if I have enough left to help you get revenge."

"The bishop is an old man." Humbert strained against his bonds, emphasizing his words. "Master will kill him easily. Only you need to go."

"Joscelin fought beside the men on the wall. He will die there, and not likely from my hand. So instead you will trade your secret gold as the price of your freedom. You tell me where it is, and you will be free after I retrieve it. Until then, I will let you off this mast only to eat and shit, but for nothing else." Ulfrik pushed his face into Humbert's, whose smile had vanished. "You better pray I find your gold as thick as my leg. I led good men to their deaths on your promise of wealth. If it's a lie, you will suffer before I send you to your god."

Without waiting for Humbert's response, he ducked out of the covered ship and into the shallows. The cold water braced him as he sloshed ashore where men were already gathering. The noise of their activity had not ceased all night, and now he saw their handiwork. A giant tower of wood, shielded with leather covers and wooden scaffolding, sat on a base of four wheels next to the catapults. The height was staggering, for it seemed at least as tall as the tower.

Snorri, Einar, Mord, and Gunther were also admiring the colossal construction. A fire began to fill Ulfrik's belly, and a stream of curses flowed out of him. He drew the attention of his friends, and Gunther called out to him.

"That's right! We're going to give it to them now that we've got our tower."

"Now? What about yesterday? We had this fucking beast and didn't use it? Are our lives worth less than a tower of wood?"

"Sigfrid doesn't like to wait." The voice came from behind, and all wheeled to find Hrolf approaching with two bodyguards flanking him. He wore a bent smile and his deep voice rasped with annoyance. "With so many bodies to throw at the Franks, why wait to build a siege tower?"

For a moment Ulfrik was appalled, then realized the irony. "Does Sigfrid know what he's doing? We can't repeat yesterday's failure."

"No, we cannot." Hrolf stopped, nodded to the others, then held open his arms to Ulfrik. "Thanks to you I survived it. Again you have snatched me away from death. My gratitude is endless. Come."

He gestured that Ulfrik should embrace him. A quick look to his friends revealed Gunther studying his feet while Snorri and Einar beamed. Stepping into Hrolf's embrace, the giant jarl crushed him tightly and slapped his back. A faint stench of vomit emanated from his clothing, probably from all the heaving Hrolf must have suffered after being struck on the head. He pulled back, releasing Ulfrik to fresher air.

"I know who you are now."

"Lord?"

"You are the one the gods have sent to protect me. No one has ever done so much to ensure my life, even while other men fled the field." Ulfrik noted a barely perceptible turn of Hrolf's head toward Gunther. From the periphery of his vision, Ulfrik saw him shift in embarrassment. "It is my fate to achieve greatness, so the futhark have shown me. Each time I have thrown those rune sticks it is the same. There is always the sword of the gods crossing me, protecting me from harm. That sword is you."

Ulfrik's mouth hung open, and words collided in his mind. He stammered out a lame protest. "It can hardly be me. I live on an island at the top of the world. I am no one, lord."

"Which further proves to me you are the protecting sword of the gods. My life has been in true peril but a handful of times, yet twice you have been there to save me the final blow. There is no such thing as chance. Fate rules all."

Exasperated, Ulfrik had no words. He searched for support, but only Mord spoke. "You are a great leader, jarl Ulfrik. I am honored to serve you."

"Listen to the boy," Hrolf said with a chuckle. "You are a great leader, and I reward greatness. One is for your bravery in holding out to the last, the other is for saving my life." He reached to his arm, searching beneath the sleeve of his mail, then pulled free two gold armbands. One was a plain band while the other was crafted to resemble a serpent biting its tail. Holding them forward, an errant ray of morning sun blazed off the serpent's head. "You will be rich in my service."