As they did, Runa and Gunnar were revealed behind them.
He began to run before he realized it. Gunnar saw him first, hesitated as if he could not believe his eyes, then charged from his mother's side. Ulfrik stopped and threw his arms wide, and Gunnar jumped into his embrace. He lifted his son as easily as if he were still a babe, spinning him around and laughing.
"All along the river people said the Frankish king had killed you and everyone." Gunnar's words were muffled as he buried his face in Ulfrik's shoulder. "But I didn't believe it. No one believed it."
He set Gunnar down, expecting to see tears streaking his smooth skin, yet finding his face dry. His dark eyes shimmered with joy, but Ulfrik saw something different in them. Harder. Stronger. He recognized his son was no more a boy. Doubt crossed Gunnar's face as Ulfrik studied him.
"Bah, the king never drew his sword. He was too afraid of me and ran away. That's the truth of it."
Laughter bubbled up, and Gunnar was a child again. He threw himself back into Ulfrik's arms, but when Ulfrik stood he did not beg to be carried. He took his father's hand and stood at his side.
"Mother has dreamed of you every night. When she sleeps, I hear her speaking to you."
"And I have shared those dreams, this long and lonely year."
Runa approached them, confidently striding across the grass. She no longer wore a skirt, dressing in the deerskin pants of a man. The sax he had given her slapped at her legs, and a sheathed sword bobbed at her hip. Her hair spilled out from the drawn hood of her green wool cloak, and as she closed the distance, she pulled it from her head.
He held his breath. She had changed as well. A streak of gray twined through her curls, rising from her forehead and disappearing into the fullness of hair. Her dark eyes were cooler and her lips thinner. Her beauty had grown fierce, almost cruel. Without pause, she strode directly to him, seized his jaw in a powerful grip and pulled him down to her lips.
They melted together. If the world existed any longer, Ulfrik did not care. For all the hard edges Runa had acquired, her scent was sweeter than he remembered and all the warm softness of a woman remained. They parted enough to speak, Runa's hot breath bathing his face.
"I have dreamed of this moment every night for a year. I imagined all the ways I would hit you, curse you, bite you. Sometimes I thought of killing you for everything you put me through. Now I've failed in all of my plans. I hate you for making me weak."
"We can try the biting later tonight." Runa's eyes met his, and for a moment he feared his awkward humor had gone astray. Then a smile bloomed and Runa began to laugh, tears pooling in her eyes. They fell together again, and Ulfrik remained silent, savoring the moment.
"Lord Ulfrik Ormsson," called a gruff voice. "How did you manage to keep yourself out of trouble without me around, lad?"
Ulfrik greeted Snorri with a rough embrace and a pat on the back. "There must be a good story to tell," Ulfrik said, regarding his old friend. "You look like you swam here from Nye Grenner."
"There are too many stories to tell, but before that you should meet my new master." Snorri turned and beckoned a young woman to approach. Ulfrik recognized her as Thora in the same instant that Hakon appeared from behind her skirts. "Young Hakon has grown since you last saw him, and I admit he has won my loyalty during this long journey."
His son now stood straight and strong, though his face was still round with baby fat his eyes were filled with a soulful wisdom that startled Ulfrik. He clung to his maid's skirts, but as Snorri outstretched his hand, he toddled forward to take it. Snorri chuckled with a grandfatherly pride and guided him forward. "Do you remember your father?"
Hakon shook his head, his yellow hair falling across his face.
Ulfrik swallowed the lump in his throat, and knelt to greet his son. Hakon stepped back, but Ulfrik only smiled. He feared to speak, for his voice might crumble with emotion. Seeing his infant son standing and walking reminded Ulfrik how long he had been absent. As the two got the measure of each other, Ulfrik finally stood. "You are a handsome boy, Hakon. I will have a gift made for you, would you like that?"
His son nodded and Snorri ruffled his hair. Then he spoke more gravely to Ulfrik. "There is one story you will want to hear today." Snorri pointed at the two men he had been addressing earlier. "The two twins, Konal and Kell, have news for you."
"Mother saved Konal's life, and he saved mine," Gunnar added brightly, but Runa shushed him.
"Many stories to tell," Ulfrik said to Runa, his smile growing at the blush forming on Runa's tear-wet cheeks.
The twins joined them, both young and strong, nearly identical to each other in every detail. Ulfrik had never seen twins before, but had heard amazing stories of their powers. Both of them had the weathered skin of long days at sea, though one appeared softer than the other. Their clear eyes struck Ulfrik as shrewdly intelligent. They swept him in simultaneous glances from head to foot, leaving him feeling as if he had been appraised like a gem stone. The one with the softer features focused on Runa, and his gaze lingered enough for Ulfrik to wonder if his look held more meaning than he understood.
"I am Kell Ketilsson," said the harder looking of the twins. "It is a great honor to meet you at last, Lord Ulfrik."
"And I am Konal Ketilsson. I am in your debt, as you will no doubt soon learn." He bowed slightly, his eyes never leaving Ulfrik's.
"These are your ships?" Ulfrik asked, and the twins nodded. "Then your debts will be repaid for delivering my family to me. Though I must ask what has happened to the rest of my men and people?"
"There are many stories to tell, lad. Your people are safe, enemies defeated, and Toki rules the land in your name. Don't worry yourself. Runa wanted to join you, as did I. But the twins have urgent news for you."
Ulfrik looked at Kell and Konal, whose expressions grew grave. Kell folded his arms and explained.
"We are here for the one you've called Humbert. His true name is Anscharic, and he has stolen something of tremendous value from us. We plan to take it back."
"Then you must succeed where Jarl Hrolf and I have failed. He is barricaded inside Paris, and long out of my reach."
Both twins stared impassively past Ulfrik at the walls of Paris. He smirked at the realization blooming on their faces.
"I fear you may have been duped by the same tales of treasure that I believed, fool that I was."
"No." Konal's voice fell like lead into the mud. "I've held it in my hands. It's real."
Ulfrik stiffened, shared a look with Runa who gave no hint of her thoughts. He turned to face Paris again, then recalled Ander and his rune sticks. The gods did not lie, he had claimed.
"Then let us go to my hall, where you may refresh before telling me your tales."
Ulfrik led Konal, Kell, and Snorri from his hall. The sun had trekked across the sky and now glowed red in the west, disappearing behind red- and gold-topped trees. Birds raced back to their nests, zooming through the chill autumn air. He scanned Paris, out of habit rather than need, checking for movement, odd lights, or other signs of trouble. It rested at peace, orange points of torches springing up where light no longer shined.
"All private conversations are best held in an open field," Ulfrik explained to his guests, gesturing them to the cleared fields by the makeshift halls. "Inside, we'd have to contend with too many spies. Mord is a good man, but what is said to him is said to his father and Hrolf as well."
"You tolerate spies well," Konal said as they walked across the well-trodden grass. "My father would've hanged the man no matter how much he liked him."