"It's not a bad thing," Thrand answered in a lowered voice.
They had progressed deep enough into the gray and brown murk of the woods to lose sight of the army by the Seine, though the riot of noise echoed through the trees. Thrand drew a deep breath, his nose full of wet, earthy scents. Halting, he glimpsed a shape sweep across the side of his vision. Kolbyr stopped with him. They waited, and now a clear figure in a green cloak moved, head down and hands clasped behind.
"Remember the plan," he whispered to Kolbyr. Glancing at him, he discovered beads of sweat on Kolbyr's forehead and his eyes had grown round. "Are you still with me?"
Kolbyr swallowed, then nodded and licked his lips.
Thrand called Ulfrik's name, and the figure stopped, faced them. "Lord Ulfrik, we've been searching for you."
"You've found me. What's the matter?"
Trading looks with Kolbyr, they began to pick a path to Ulfrik. Thrand's pulse quickened and his neck tightened. Kolbyr's breathing became ragged and loud enough for Thrand to notice.
Trees crowded them and restricted fighting space. He watched Ulfrik study their approach, and a frown began to draw down his face.
"Well, what is the matter?"
Thrand's nervousness blanked his mind, and the demand stopped him as good as being bashed with a shield. Kolbyr continued, looping out to the left.
Suddenly Ulfrik stood straighter. Kolbyr began moving faster.
This is out of control. Kolbyr! Slow down!
Kolbyr burst into a sprint. Not only did he strike too early, but the rough ground impeded running. As he drew his sword, stiff-armed and artless, he stumbled.
No one made such a mistake with Ulfrik and lived to regret it. Thrand changed his plans.
"Look out, Lord Ulfrik!" Drawing his own blade, he plunged after Kolbyr.
Ulfrik had no shield, but all his weapons. Thrand dashed, catching his foot on a root and tumbling ahead. Kolbyr's blade caught an errant shaft of light.
With no effort, Ulfrik had unclasped his cloak and flung it at Kolbyr. In the next instant, he had ripped his sax from the sheath at his waist.
The cloak entangled Kolbyr's sword, but Thrand was already at his back. He rammed the blade into Kolbyr's kidney, piercing the mail links and driving deep into the flesh. Blood poured and Kolbyr screamed. It was cut short as Ulfrik's sword plunged into his belly with a metallic crunch.
Kolbyr danced as both men yanked out their swords, and gouts of blood pattered to the ground. His wide eyes held Thrand's as he toppled into the leaves and mud. Blood flew from his mouth as he landed and he seemed to about to raise his hand.
Thrand gave him no time. He saw the accusation in Kolbyr's eyes. It was going to come to this at some point, he thought, then he thrust his sword into Kolbyr's throat with a hollow crack and a gurgle of blood.
Next he was looking up through the branches at the gray sky. Pain bloomed at the back of his head where he had struck a rock. His sword arm felt heavy, and then realization came. In one deft motion, Ulfrik had toppled him and now pinned his sword arm by stamping on it. His sax drizzled Kolbyr's blood onto his neck as its tip hovered a hair's width away.
"Explain yourself," he snarled. "Or die."
"Lord, we were sent to fetch you back. The attack is coming soon, and Hrolf wants you ready."
"Hrolf sent you to find me?"
"Yes, lord." The words made his stomach burn. He lied, and Ulfrik would know it soon enough. He only had to live through to when the attack started, and then escape.
The blade dangled, beyond it Ulfrik's face a ball of furrows and scars that pulled into his beard. Hot blood rolled around Thrand's neck to pool behind his head. His hand still gripped his sword, and he released it, trying to force the blade away from his grip. Ulfrik's eyes searched his, darting up and down the length of his body. "You've served my family admirably, Thrand. I don't want to doubt you."
"Please don't, my lord." His voice trembled with genuine fear. Ulfrik's eyes blazed with killing lust, and once ignited in him never left easily.
"This has happened to me before, almost exactly like this." The blaze dimmed, and Ulfrik seemed to review a scene in his head. Thrand felt the foot lift from his arm, his hand tingling as blood rushed back into it. "I fear it is my fate to never enjoy the solitude of the trees."
The bloody sword lifted from his throat, and Thrand closed his eye in relief with a long slithering breath flowing from his nostrils.
"My eyes tell me you moved like a man on the hunt, but my heart wants to believe otherwise." Opening his eyes, Thrand found Ulfrik still had the short sword pointed at him, and he knew the lightning flash strike could pierce his neck in an instant. "Convince me the hirdman who defended my family with his life is not a traitor."
Moving with deliberate openness, Thrand sat up with his hands raised. Ulfrik's grip tightened on the hilt of his blade and did not waver in his defensive posture. "It is all as you say, lord. I am your man and my oath is true. I saw Kolbyr move to strike, and I defended you."
"Or you changed your mind."
"No! I could scarcely believe it. He followed through on his boasts."
Ulfrik raised his brow at the comment, and the sword blade tipped-barely perceptible but enough to indicate Thrand had found his opening.
"He was jealous of the silver I received from you. Always cursing your name, lord, and calling you a miser. Said you were a terrible jarl and a fake. He wanted to be paid like a hero, but didn't ever do anything for it. I tried to correct him many times."
"All that anger, and yet I never saw it." Ulfrik's voice sounded unconvinced, and the blade remained pointed at him.
"Only when he drank, lord. And then only around me. After yesterday's attack, he blamed you for leading us into death. Swore he'd make you pay for it. That's what he said."
"And he was drunk today?"
"Must be, lord."
"But not you?"
"No more than usual, lord."
Staring past the tip of the blade, Ulfrik's face remained impassive. If he did not convince Ulfrik, he might be forced to fight. He regretted keeping his hands out, since he could not reach his own sax in time to strike.
"Where would he get those thoughts, Thrand? Why would a man who sought to serve me become bitter enough to seek my death? Who taught him to hate me?"
Tears came with sudden and frightening ease. His breath grew hot and the wetness flowed over his cheeks into his beard. Thrand did not understand their origin, maybe for his brother, his failure, the fear of death, or even Kolbyr's murder. However they came, they were a blessing. He flung himself to the ground, balling up as if in pain and wailing and intent on riding the sorrow until Ulfrik was convinced of his sincerity.
"It was me, lord. Forgive me, but it was me!" He spasmed with sobs, and he found he could not stop. Something dammed up had broken free and he shuddered with cries like a little girl. His words were barely coherent. "W-when I am drunk … I … my words are evil. My mind burns with anger. I miss my brother, my only family. I blamed you, lord. It was wrong! My drunk raving, it poisoned him against you. Forgive me!"
Waves of sorrow crashed through him, and he sprawled out in his pitiful state for longer than he knew. Soon, he marshaled himself and he felt Ulfrik's boot prodding him.
"Get up and stop weeping."
Having never experienced such a powerful emotion, he lay drained, stirring only when Ulfrik's foot kicked him more forcefully. He sat up again, his face wet with tears, snot, and mud. Dead leaves clung to his hair and beard, and he batted them out with a trembling hand.
"Help me get him out of his mail." Ulfrik had already flipped Kolbyr and was hoisting the mail hauberk over the corpse's head. The scene sobered him. He had wiped the bloodied sax on Kolbyr's cloak and sheathed it.