The ground shook and the air vibrated with the curses and war cries flowing from the Danes. They drew themselves into a circle, lacing together round shields to offer no gap to the surrounding Franks. Spears lowered over the front ranks and men dared the enemy to charge.
The Franks hesitated, and Ulfrik saw enemy heads turning in confusion as they remained immobile.
Fed up with waiting, Ulfrik stepped out of the shield wall and threw his arms wide. "Fight us or go back to your mothers! Come, fight me! Anyone!"
Whether they understood his words, a gap in the Frankish lines opened. Horses cantered forward, bearing mailed riders with leaf-bladed spears aimed at the Danish lines.
Chastened, Ulfrik jumped back into the shield wall beside Hrolf. The Franks lined up their horses shoulder to shoulder.
Then a horn sounded.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
The mounted Franks lined up, their horses side-stepping and heads tossing, eyes white with fear. Ulfrik's shield dipped as he watched the warriors dismount and guide their horses away from the center. The huge shape of Charles's white horse emerged, men in yellow and blue surcoats surrounding him as his horse trotted forward.
The emperor drew in his mount, sitting back and staring at the line of Danes from the shadowed depths of his crowned helmet. Taking it as a challenge, Ulfrik pointed his sword at Charles and cursed him. "You come to fight, you fat bastard, then let me be the one to stick you!"
A rush of competing oaths and challenges followed Ulfrik's, and he shared a wry smile with Hrolf. He cared not whether Charles lived or died, but knew challenging the king would inspire the men around him. Outnumbered and surrounded, boldness made the best armor.
A man threw himself on all fours beneath Charles, and the emperor placed his ponderous weight on the man's back as he used him for a stepping stool to dismount. Two other servants assisted him to the ground, where he adjusted his helmet and checked his sword.
"What an oaf," Mord muttered. "Don't ride a horse to battle if you can't get off the damn beast without help."
"No one should ride a horse into battle. Can't be trusted." Ulfrik barely heard his own idle commentary, so focused was he on the unfolding events. Expecting a command for a charge, instead Charles gathered ten spearmen to him and strode out in front of his lines.
"He wants to tell us how he's going to kill us," Hrolf said, a grim smile on his face. "I've no ears for that shit. Let him stand out there like a fool."
The Danes in the front erupted in laughter. It infected the whole troop, who laughed and taunted to mask their fear. Ulfrik joined them. The king gave confused looks to the men beside him, enduring the mockery until he dispatched a single runner toward the Danish line.
"Let him come," Hrolf ordered, stopping several men who had raised throwing spears.
The man was not yet grown into a full beard, thin and pale, to Ulfrik's eyes little more than a boy in poorly fitted mail. Terror showed in his wide eyes and trembling lips as he scanned the shield wall facing him. He did not know where to look, and addressed the crowd in perfect Danish.
"My lord and emperor wishes to speak with the leader of this army. Meet him in the field, but bring no more than ten men."
His message delivered, he wavered as if not knowing what to do next. Hrolf stepped forward, glaring down at the messenger. "A fellow Dane on the losing side once more. Do yourself some good and join us before we hack you to scraps."
More laughter followed Hrolf's taunt, and the messenger stepped back. "Are you the leader? What is your name?"
"I am Hrolf the Strider and I am one of the leaders. Every man here is his own leader. Go ask your lord which one he wants to speak with."
"He wants to speak to the leader in charge of this army." He took three hesitant steps backward then turned to jog back to his lines. Ulfrik and all the Danes in the front ranks hurled insults after him.
"Ulfrik, Gunther, you each take four men and join me. Let's tell the king we are proud to die as warriors and our only sorrow is that it will take all day for his boy soldiers to kill us, and only then if they don't run off first."
Tapping Einar and Mord, Ulfrik pulled in two others from the front ranks and fell in behind Hrolf. Gunther One-Eye smirked at him as they strode toward the enemy. "Maybe they plan to talk us to death instead of blooding their swords."
Ulfrik made to reply, but Hrolf held up his hand for silence as they closed the final distance. Now was the time for the war-face, the impassive, unflinching expression of indifference to death. No Frank would know what fears curled in their guts. Without bluster or curses to fill Ulfrik's mouth, his mind filled with images of Runa and his sons. He had only moments to think of them before the killing would start, and then under the weight of the Frankish numbers he would die with their memories in his heart.
The two lines regarded each other. Up close, Charles was a soft and fair-skinned man, thin-bearded and beady-eyed. Ulfrik counted the shrewd, calculating mind showing in his dark eyes as he swept his gaze across the men, settling on Hrolf. He let the two leaders stand off, and turned his attention to the opposing Franks. They were more encouraging. Their mail was in good repair, but dented and mended from long use. Their faces were flinty and deep-lined, scarred and creased from battles won and lost. They wore the war-face, too, and Ulfrik had to suppress a smile. At least he had worthy opponents to fight and would not cough out his life at the end of some half-man's spear.
"You are the one called Hrolf the Strider?" Charles's voice was rough and shrill, but Ulfrik heard the tiredness in it. Even as the Danish interpreter spoke his words, the emperor covered his yawn with a jewel-covered hand. Several of his guards flicked their eyes at him, though dared not face him.
"Without a doubt, you are Charles the Fat. I am glad you have spared your horse the agony of carrying your worthless body any farther. The beast will be glad to die today, I am sure."
The interpreter froze at Hrolf's insult, his pause drawing an impatient glance from his emperor. He fumbled with his words, and Hrolf snarled at him. "Gods, boy, tell him exactly what I said. Hurry up and get this done so you can go back to sucking your mother's tit."
Ulfrik turned his laugh aside, but Gunther and the others exploded in laughter. Hrolf barked a command for silence.
Finding his voice, the interpreter streamed the bubbling words of the Frankish language to his king, whose face grew darker. His jaw ground, jowls shaking beneath it.
"You are not afraid to die?" The king raised his brow, then wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
"I am more afraid of my mother than I am of you and all these prick-sucking men pretending to be warriors. Death in battle is glory. Glory is everything. We never lose a battle. When we fall, the Valkyries carry us to Valhalla and we fight on in glory until the end of days. Why fear that? We seek it, crave it."
The interpreter streamed Hrolf's words to Charles. When finished, the emperor folded his arms and furrowed his brow. His eyes grew distant and he seemed to not be present with them. The silence grew uncomfortable, and Hrolf's irritation flared.
"Tell your lord to wake up. Tell him we are going to hack his balls off and make him eat them. Then we're going to cut the guts out of every last one of these bastards surrounding us and march off to rape their wives and daughters until their crotches split. Tell them we are his death and the death of his world. Tell him now!"
Hrolf's shouting drew ire from Charles's guards, white-knuckled grips on their trembling spears. Ulfrik admired their discipline, seeing the hate emanating from their faces. Yet Charles had barely stirred. The interpreter said something to him, far too short to be faithful to Hrolf's threats. Then the king held up his hand, a green jeweled ring catching a blaze of light. The interpreter fell silent as Charles spoke. His bodyguards suddenly snapped to him, faces contorted with repugnance and confusion. Several appeared to protest, but the emperor shouted.