Ulfrik stopped walking, his mouth open but no words forming. Hrolf stared at him, appraising him with a shrewd eye.
"You didn't know this already?" Ulfrik shook his head. "Though you only brought one slave with you, who happened to be a noble worth a mighty ransom. Are you certain? Be honest with me."
"Of course I didn't know." Ulfrik blinked several times, his mind grappling with this impossible news. "How can this be true? I found him in Norway, almost at the edge of the world. Why would a Frankish lord be there?"
"Fate," Hrolf snapped, then turned back toward Gunther. "Fate had a plan for him and wove you into it. Anyway, once we crack Paris's walls, realize that you no longer have a claim on him. His ransom will be mine, if anyone sworn to me captures him. I want that to be clear, though I will be generous with you for your part in this."
"I've sworn to kill him."
"That's not a problem. Just kill him after I collect his ransom." Hrolf left Ulfrik standing alone among the bobbing white tents.
Fate had struck him a blow, and he wondered if the Three Norns who wove the destinies of all men were truly done with this thread. He suspected they had only begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
December 21, 885 CE
Runa sprawled out on her back, cold and damp mud seeping through her cloak and clothes. Sweat steamed on her forehead, and she stared vacantly at the star-flecked indigo sky overhead. Her sword and shield remained in her hands, but the grip was weak. She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Get up, Mother!" Gunnar called, while his two friends laughed. "You can still beat him."
"Whatever light touches these islands will soon be gone." Konal's smiling face moved into her view of the sky. "Let's end today's practice. Besides, it's Yuletide."
Thrusting his sword into its sheath, Konal extended his hand to her. He defeated her nine times out of ten, but it never discouraged her. It angered her. Ulfrik had shown her all she needed to know, and she only lacked strength and practice. She accepted Konal's hand, letting her long sword and shield drop away as he hoisted her.
"Thank you," she said with a smile, looking into his eyes. He raised his brow at the sudden closeness and opened his mouth to speak.
Runa stepped on his foot and shoved him back. He tumbled like a falling tree, and Runa pulled her sax from the sheath and touched it to the inside of his thigh. "I never said I yielded."
The three boys observing their practice cheered and clapped. Konal's face reddened, but his frown vanished beneath his own laughter. Then he pulled his leg away from the blade, and swept Runa's feet with his other foot. She again found herself laid out in the grass, the boys' cheering turning to angry shouts.
"I never yielded either," he said, and groaned as he stood.
"You cheated!" Gunnar came to Runa's side, and put his arms around her shoulders. "He's a cheater."
Runa laughed, then sat up. "There is no cheating where there is no rule. Konal's a good fighter, and we are all learning from him."
They collected their weapons and swords, old gear that Ulfrik had not considered useful enough to take. Konal knew how to maintain them, and had restored their edges and worked off the rust. He picked Runa's long sword from the grass and wiped the damp from it with his cloak.
"Your mother would best most men I know," he said as he worked out the last of the dirt from the blade. "They rely on luck and a good war cry to carry them. Only the best train every day like your mother."
"I'm practicing every day, too." Gunnar extended his arm to his two friends. "We all are."
"And getting better with each drill." Konal sheathed the blade and presented both his sword and the other to Runa.
"You may wear yours into the hall, you know. You have earned my trust as well as the others'. We might even feel better if you did."
Konal stepped back, his brows knitting together. "Only the jarl wears weapons in the hall. If your husband returned to find me wearing a sword in his home, what would happen?"
"I would tell him I allowed it."
Leaving him to consider his choices, she gathered Gunnar under her arm and started for the hall. Yellow light leaked from the small windows covered with hides. Wearing pants, carrying shield and sword, she felt uncomfortable facing the rest of the community. People indulged her, a few like Elin even encouraged her, but it went against her upbringing. She knew who gossiped in her absence. Not everyone could accept such actions, even if done for the good of the community.
Heat warmed her face as she entered the hall. Gunnar split from under her arm to greet a group of his friends who had gathered for the Yuletide feast. Elin had organized the entire meal, and now stood by the hearth directing the younger women. She noticed Runa, eyes shooting to the mud stains on her clothes, and gave a disapproving scowl. "You can't wear muddy clothes to Yuletide."
"I am getting better every day," Runa said, passing through the hall for her room. "Don't let Konal know I've gone easy on him. I don't want the poor boy to feel weak."
Elin laughed as Runa left the warm glow of the hearth for the cool darkness of her room. A girl carried a lamp to her, looked at her pants, then left with a giggle. Not much of an example for the girls, she thought, closing the door. Outside, voices of people gathering for the feast grew louder, and she changed out of her soiled clothing. Yuletide had come, and with it a poor feast and a humble celebration. She sat on her bed, and drew her scabbarded sax to her lap. She fingered the hilt, wondering if she should wear it.
No word had come from Ulfrik on the last trading ship to visit them before winter made ocean travel too deadly. She had not expected any, but did get word that Ingrid and Halla who governed the north of the island fared well. No direct news from them was even more disconcerting. Ulfrik would visit them, she thought, and remind them of his rule. It's much easier for a man, especially one with warriors at his back.
She strapped on the sword and rejoined the main hall. Fewer people joined each year, but this Yuletide was nearly all women and children with gray-haired people speckled in between. A Yule log sat along a wall by the high table, decorated with candles. She had paid good silver to the traders so her hall could have a log for the celebration. In days past, she would have scoffed at the cost in such lean times, but Ulfrik would have insisted. He would tell her the people need to celebrate more than ever, and she did not disagree. A figure of the winter ram sat on the stand beside it, cleverly woven from branches and dried grasses.
Thora delivered Hakon to Runa, and she greeted him with kisses on the head and sat him on her lap. Happy voices filled the room with a comfortable, warm buzz. Elin and her girls were ready to serve and so Runa sat at the high table with Gunnar and the families of his friends. Ulfrik's spot on the bench always remained empty. Gunnar pressed to her side, and she patted his head.
Konal stood by the door, chatting with some of the older boys who followed him everywhere. He had become a hero to the boys left behind who longed to join their brothers and fathers in adventure. His stories were exaggerations of the greatest sort, but they eased tensions and so Runa tolerated them. She noticed he wore the sword she had given him, and placed the other beside the door. If it offended anyone, all appeared absorbed in quiet conversation and unconcerned.
Gunnar tugged her sleeve, drawing her out of her thoughts. "Allow Konal to sit with us. I want to hear his story about Old Man Winter again."
The space beside her remained empty, and it felt wrong at Yuletide. Her palm stroked the smooth wood, and she smiled at Gunnar. "Very well."