CHAPTER THIRTY
June 5, 886 CE
Thrand crept through the underbrush, hugging the ground and watching the five men seated around the remains of their campfire. Leaves crowned his tangled hair and mud streaked his face. Fate had been kind in leaving him with a green shirt and brown pants, the clothes he had worn the night of his capture. He felt confident no one had spotted him through his camouflage. Mossy, earthy scents clogged his nose as he watched four of the men rise from their log seats and stretch. Only an old man remained, his hair still full and bound with a leather headband. His eyes were closed in blindness as he smiled and spoke with the others who gathered their bows and slung quivers of arrows across their backs.
The men scanned the area, one speaking to the blind man and receiving a dismissive snort in reply. At last, the four men strode into the forest. Thrand's stomach rumbled and though the campers had not prepared anything, he still imagined he could smell the cooking rabbit. Three were strung from a branch in a leather sack, the hunters' catches of the prior day. Thrand waited a while longer before stirring to run for the rabbits. He could seize the sack and flee before the blind man could react.
"You in the bushes, come out. I've sent my sons away so I can learn what you want. The rabbits are what you're after, I guess from listening to your stomach growl." The blind man smiled, his teeth black and crooked. Though his eyes were closed, he faced Thrand directly. "Come on, I know you are there. Let's not pretend any longer."
Rising up, brushing twigs and underbrush from his shirt, he faced the blind man. "What magic allows you to see me?"
"Not magic, but sound and smell. You make more noise than a speared boar and you stink like a seal carcass rotting on the beach. You spent all night circling our camp, trying to find an open approach to the rabbits." The man gestured to the log one of his so-called sons had occupied. "Sit and talk while my sons scout for game. We've got to catch more to feed all of our crews, and with you bumbling around the forest we'll never catch anything. So we decided to find out more about you."
"How long have you known I've been here?" Thrand touched the base of his neck, feeling for the Thor's amulet he had long ago lost. His skin tingled knowing he had not been half as clever as the thought, and closer to becoming prey than he knew.
"A few days ago when you stumbled into our hunting grounds. You leave tracks, clear even to a blind man." The old man laughed again, pointed once more at the log. Thrand finally took the offered seat. "You've got the right ideas, but you'll not sneak up on hunters and scouts like us."
Thrand now surveyed the forest, finding nothing but green and gray half-light between hoary trees and hearing nothing but his own thundering heart. He looked down at his hands, twisted and bony, the hands of a creature he hardly knew. The old man observed him, turned his head to both sides like a raven watching from a high branch. A strange thought chilled Thrand, and he wondered if this man was more than human. He was deep in the forests surrounding the Seine, and he may have found elves or something worse.
"You talk to yourself in the night," the man said. "Nonsense mostly, but at least we knew you were one of us and not a Frank. So if you are a Dane, alone and trying to steal our game, then you must be an outlaw. Am I right? Tell me the truth; give me a good story. If you do, and I like you, you may take a rabbit and leave our hunting grounds."
"What if I take the sack now and flee?" Thrand forced himself to sound commanding, but his voiced was weak and failing.
The blind man rocked in laughter, clapping his hands. When recovered, he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his deerskin shirt. "Well, why not try and find out?"
He shivered again at the man's threat, and the center of his back pricked as if he could feel an arrow point on it already. Slumping forward he put his face in his hands, and trembled. "You want to know my story? I dare not tell it to anyone, much less a stranger I chanced upon in the forest."
"I disagree, the chance meeting with a stranger may be just what you need. I already know you are an outlaw, and you entered our hunting grounds from the wrong side of the battle. So you've been to the Franks, am I right? You are a traitor. We've all guessed this from your first night here. So don't fret, for it we wanted your bounty you'd be strung up beside the rabbits. Give me a good story, and I'll keep my word."
The sack of rabbits swayed from its branch, as if agreeing with the blind man. Thrand sighed. "It is a long tale, and a shameful one. You may yet string me up."
"I wonder if I will. Go on, let these old ears hear your deeds. Leave nothing out."
Thrand omitted nothing, beginning the sordid tale from the death of his brother until Anscharic freed him to help the Franks slip through Danish lines. All the years of his life laid out in simple sentences, naked and unadorned, left Thrand feeling empty. He had wasted his life, fulfilling no purpose other than to drain the generosity of others and drink it away in mead and ale. "All my time in Anscharic's dark pit, and many nights in this forest, spirits have visited me. They have rebuked me for squandering my life. I became a slave to drink and it clouded my mind with foul thoughts. Then Kolbyr put evil into my mind, and I devoured it like a hungry dog. Now I am broken and lost, with no one to take me in."
The blind man bowed his head, listening to each word as if savoring the notes of a song. Once Thrand had spent himself on his confession, the blind man rose his head to face Thrand. "A tale of dishonor and waste. A life of glory turned to ignominy. Now you crawl on your belly like a worm, slithering in the dirt of the forest floor. Valhalla is closed to you and the heroes of that golden hall will never know your name. You are lost not only in body, but in spirit. Where will you wander now?"
"I don't know," Thrand dropped his face into his hands and hot tears began to leak into his palms. "Anscharic promised he would take me into his service were I to retrieve his cloak."
The blind man hissed like a snake, his lips drawn in a snarl. "More treachery, by you and against you. Do not trust the Franks to welcome you, not after your brothers have raped their lands and trapped them behind their walls."
"But Ulfrik would hang me for a traitor." Thrand leaned forward on his log seat, tears mingling with the mud on his face. "My own people despise me, and the Franks won't have me. I tried to find a home among them, but they all fear me. I cannot care for myself, and so I wanted to steal your rabbits. I am worthless and my life is ruined. I am well and truly lost."
The words echoed through the trees, and the blind man sat with his head resting on his fist while he cocked his head back and forth. Again the old man summoned the image of a raven, and Thrand searched the forest for the others. Nothing but woodland stillness greeted him. The blind man at last leaned back, placing his hands on his knees. "You are not lost. You know what must be done, but fear the deed. You fear for your life when your life is not worth having."
The words struck Thrand like a club across his back. He straightened on his seat, again reflexively grasping for the amulet that no longer hung on his neck. "I must redeem myself. I must answer for what I have done and for the oaths I have broken."
The man nodded, certain and confident. "Better to go to death with your debts paid than to die with them pressing on your heart."
Again Thrand found tears in abundance. Starting first as stifled sobs, his sorrow overflowed into uncontrolled spasms. Unlike times past, now he understood the source of his pain. The blind man waited with fatherly patience, until Thrand finally choked out his first words. "I am afraid of death. I am shamed."
"Death is for all mortal men. Do not fear it, for it will find you in the end. Fear only that you cannot embrace it when it arrives. The Fates have not yet tied off the threads of your life. Go find your jarl, listen to his judgment, and live with honor the days remaining to you."