Ulfrik exchanged amazed smiles with Gunther, who elbowed him and chuckled. "If he's not worried then I'm not worried. And we've still got three left, plus the siege tower."
However, the tower now leaned at a steep angle and progress had halted. Men surrounded it, milling and crawling over each other to get the tower into motion. Ulfrik watched in silence, his brows tight and his temples throbbing. Nothing budged the tower, its wheels fallen into a steep ditch. His eyes flicked from the tower to the desperate men on the walls whose ladders held in places and fell away in others. Men tumbled from the heights, the dark shapes of their flailing bodies clear against gray stone background. He could not watch them hit the ground, but his mind echoed with the sickening sounds of bodies rupturing like broken barrels. Rubbing his face, he doubted he could witness that terror again.
"We're going in." Hrolf announced the decision, not turning from the disaster unfolding before him. "They'll never clear the siege tower in time to be useful. Knut's men will lead a battering ram. Let's help him try the tower gates."
Returning to his own crew, they looked expectantly at him. When he explained their orders, some faces showed relief and some fear. Ulfrik bridled his own terror, forcing himself to stand straighter and appear firmer than he felt. A veteran of scores of battles, he had never experienced such a horrific chance of an ignominious death. As he led his square of men to join Hrolf's right wing, he thought of Runa and Gunnar. If they had ever angered him, ever showed him a displeased face, he could not remember it now. He only saw them in happiness and safety. He would carry them in his heart to the tower, and resolve to survive for them. Gold and glory would be meaningless as a lump of broken flesh beneath a Frankish tower. He would live, and return to them with all he promised and more.
Closing in on the tower, the shrill sounds and putrid smells of death drew over Ulfrik. Overall the Danes attacked like voracious wolves, but groups of men fled white-eyed and screaming. Hrolf cursed them as they shoved past, and other men tripped or hindered them. Ulfrik ignored them, trying to deny he would soon be following their path.
The battering ram was nothing more than a huge log chained inside a housing of wood that was topped with a slanted roof. Water-soaked hides lined the sides and protected the men carrying the housing on their shoulders. At least twenty men manned each side and Ulfrik envied the protection they received. His job was to wait for a breach and exploit it, which meant standing beneath falling rocks and arrows while waiting for his chance.
Hrolf halted his line and raised shields. Ulfrik, bearing a new and wider shield, ordered his men lock shields. Snorri leaned down next to him.
"We're going to stand here and be shot? This is madness!"
Ulfrik's answer disappeared beneath a booming thud. The battering ram crew shouted in unison, swinging the enormous timber a second time. His shield shuddered as arrows rained down, but wide and thick wood held better than his normal shield. Huddling beneath it, he shouted comfort to his men.
"Only a few more hits and the gates are coming down. Hold steady."
A grating crash followed the next boom, and a cheer went up at the top of the tower. Daring to peek through a gap in the shield wall, Ulfrik's hands went cold at what he saw.
The Franks had dropped timbers fashioned into a fork shape from the tower. The massive fork pinned the battering ram log to the ground, ripping the housing from the bearers. Death followed.
Gray-fletched arrows laced into the men and they crumbled in a screaming, bloody heap. Even more horrible, streaming tongues of fire poured from the top of the tower. The infernal mixture of oil and wax drizzled in burning ribbons onto the men at the base of the tower. In an instant, men danced in fiery pools, spinning and waving their arms as they burned. One man had lost his helmet and fire splashed onto his head, removing his hair and face down to the bone. Engulfed in flames, men threw themselves into the Seine, preferring to drown rather than burn.
"Back!" Hrolf gave the order and Ulfrik repeated it. They backed up behind their shields, arrows pelting them in retreat. They stumbled over bodies or into ruts and ditches, but at a safe distance they turned and ran. Behind him the Franks sang in victory as all but the most tenacious or crazed Danes fled.
Many continued to run in horror. Ulfrik joined with him, allowing his men to melt away in the disordered retreat. Snorri had stayed with him, and his breath was heavy and labored.
"I don't think I can do that again." Sweat poured over his heavy face, and his gray hair was matted to his brow.
"Nor I. This is work for a madman."
"We won't attack the tower again, at least not while they're so fresh." Hrolf rose his full height, a head taller than anyone near him. He squinted at the tower, shadowing his eyes with his hand as men fled around him. "If they want to remain in behind their walls, then so be it. We will surround the city and starve them out. I can be patient, particularly when the vengeance will be sweet."
Ulfrik felt his stomach drop. A siege of such a vast fortress would last much longer than winter. Again he summoned memories of Runa and his boys, and closed his eyes, whispering to himself. "Be safe, my family. I will return to you soon, I swear."
He opened his eyes again, and Paris and its walls spread out before him larger than anything he could have ever imagined.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
The milling confusion covered Thrand's escape. Men worried for their own lives, plodding forward with eyes open but seeing nothing. The flow of people traveled both toward and away from the tower. He allowed his pace to flag until he fell to the back of Ulfrik's line, and then melted into the flow heading toward the camps and ships.
His first difficulty lay in contacting Humbert while the wounded surrounded him in the ships. He planned to cut Humbert free, flee with him, then seek the treasure. Most of the wounded would be in no condition to prevent it.
Behind him sounds of battle shook the earth. Men swarmed at his sides, shoving past him in their panic to escape death. The tide of cowards delivered him to Ulfrik's ships, both decks covered with sail cloth to shelter the wounded. At this distance, the battle faded and terror ebbed away. Wounded men who could stand strained to view the carnage, their faces impassive but their eyes unable to watch for long. All around them broken bits of war gear poked above the grass. Shields bristling with arrows, bent swords, dented helmets, shattered spears. Defeat dragged back by haggard men.
The scene renewed Thrand's desire to escape. This was not his battle, and Paris was not his goal. A fortune in gold waited for him, and now only a few steps separated him from it. A new life awaited, one of wealth and the glory it could buy.
Women flitted about the scene, tending the wounded and receiving fresh casualties from the battle. At Ulfrik's ship, a woman emerged from beneath the sail cover. Her head cover fell as she exited and she scrambled to catch it. Losing her balance, she plunged into the water.
Thrand leapt to her as she thrashed in the shallow water. Hoisting her up, the woman sputtered and flapped her arms.
"Are you hurt, girl?" Thrand helped her from the shallows, and the girl nodded as she gasped.
"I can't swim." She looked at him and smiled. "I don't know what I would've done."
"The water is not deep; just stand up."
Her face reddened and she squeezed the water out of her skirt. Thrand noted the whiteness of her leg, and nearly forgot his true purpose. "Do you know the men on this ship?"
She blushed deeper, and Thrand realized he had stumbled upon Toki's secret lover. A smile creased his face. "Is Toki aboard, or anyone else? I am one of Ulfrik's crew and I have an urgent message for him."