The pain vanished, and Grim felt anger rise in its place. He was still treated as a child, even now that his father was dead and he was the new jarl of Grenner. Why does everyone consider me so incapable? Why must every ally become a thorn underfoot?
But Vandrad had duly impressed his logic, and Grim had to surrender to it-for now.
“I will address my men at sunrise,” Grim said, lying down again so Aud could resume fussing with his bandages. “I’m going to sound like a drunk with this poultice of shit in my mouth, but I will get them to march.”
Yet Grim doubted he could motivate Orm’s men. He had changed their world in the space of days. He gave them gold from his father’s hoard in return for their oaths, gold that he wanted for himself. Then the bungled assassination of his brother ushered in contention. Some of the men were grumbling; he could hear as much through the walls.
“Your King commands the attack,” Vandrad explained with a smile. “And he will reward it. You’ve already tasted the wealth and power of his court. Your lands will double in size when Auden is crushed. King Harald has provided the men you will need to hold the land. But what is your plan for your father’s hirdmen? They must have kinsmen there?”‘
“They don’t know the plan and will stay behind. They think we go to reinforce Auden,” Grim explained. “A few have kin there, I suppose. If I suspect anyone, they will die.”
“Very well, but they will have to know the truth sooner or later.” Vandrad walked out of Grim’s line of vision. “Anyway, without a successful attack, you will not have the worry of an expanded domain. Provided Ulfrik has not reached Auden, we should strike with total surprise by nightfall.”
Aud completed her re-bandaging with a nod, and Grim brushed her aside as he sat up. She looked at him with disdain as she snatched up the rust-colored bandages and waddled from the room. Remembering the hag’s command of poisons, Grim reminded himself not to mistreat her. “Ulfrik has not reached Auden,” he spat, his brother’s name tasting more bitter than any poison. “He and that swill-bellied traitor are hiding in the woods. Snorri is leading the search.”
Vandrad did not face Grim, but stood inspecting a mounted bear head set upon the wall. “When did Snorri report last? Has he not told you that one of your sentries disappeared and stole his companion’s gear?”
Grim sat motionless for several seconds. Then, ignoring the pain in his face, he shot to his feet and charged into the hall screaming, “Someone fetch that bitch-born dwarf!”
Grim paced the hall as he waited. It felt like an age. His mind was a jumbled mess, bristling with thoughts of tearing Ulfrik to bits. Snorri entered, along with another man Grim did not recognize. Pink light from the rising sun streamed in behind them. Grim’s yelling had reopened his wound, and he tasted coppery blood on the bandage that wrapped his mouth and part of his head, concealing his right eye. Snorri and the other man looked at his mouth, and not at his eyes. Grim felt his head tighten in anger.
His punch landed square on Snorri’s jaw, throwing him backward. Even wounded, Grim maintained his strength. “I had to find out from another that Ulfrik has turned two of my men, and that I was robbed! Why did you not report to me?”
The men in the hall stood, reaching for their spears to defend their lord. Grim felt immense satisfaction at that, which dulled the edge of his anger.
Snorri recovered, holding his jaw and righting himself. “Aud sent me away. She said that your wounds were too serious for you to be disturbed, Lord Grim.” Snorri spoke carefully.
“I don’t need men who take orders from old hags,” Grim bellowed. “I need men who take orders from me! Who was the traitor? Why is his family not begging for mercy at my feet? Don’t stand there with your mouth open. Answer!”
“His name is Magnus,” Snorri said in a near whisper. He looked past Grim, at a point behind him.
“Magnus means nothing to me!” Grim pointed to the man beside Snorri. “What’s your name?”
“Konrad, Lord Grim,” he said with a slight bow. Grim liked the man’s gesture of deference.
“Konrad, you lead the search now. You bring me Ulfrik and his traitor friends and I will put a gold band on your arm.” Grim turned back to Snorri, who continued to stare past him. Snorri had always been a favorite of his father’s; Grim should have known gold would not buy him. “Snorri, you listen to Konrad. I bet he won’t be put off by an old hag. Redeem yourself and find me Magnus.”
When Snorri did not reply, Grim found himself smiling. This was the way to lead. Konrad smiled faintly as well. Grim knew this was right, was what men respected. The situation improved his mood, so much that he wanted an extra show of lordliness, just to stick it in Snorri’s face. “Konrad, to show you the kind of lord I am, I will present you with something. Wait a moment.”
Grim strode to the far end of the hall, dripping blood as he walked. His wound bloomed red across the bandages; he could feel hot wetness there. The pain was not as troublesome as the poultice, which had mostly fallen out anyway. When he came to the space where his brother had slept, he snatched up Ulfrik’s beloved sword from where it rested against the wall and marched back to Konrad.
“This is Ulfrik’s sword,” he said cheerfully, extending it. “Keep it. Use it to take Ulfrik alive. He loved this weapon. Just seeing you with it will probably drive him mad and make it easier for you to capture him. Anyway, I think it looks better on you.”
Konrad knelt and accepted the sword. Snorri did not even turn to face them. At the end of the hall, Vandrad stood, arms folded, his face wooden. Grim dismissed the men to their duties.
“You are a strong leader,” Vandrad said, a flat look still upon his face. “Snorri will undoubtedly work twice as hard for you now.”
Grim smiled through the pain of his wound, ready to congratulate himself. Then he realized the compliment was backhanded. “My brother, and anyone aiding him, intentionally or otherwise, will find no mercy in me.”
“If you had dealt with him as I originally advised, you would not be dripping blood down your shirt this morning.” Vandrad finally pushed himself off the doorjamb and stepped back into the hall. “Get your face bandaged again, Lord Grim. Then get your men assembled and be ready for a hard march north. If you can manage to keep on plan, we will burn Auden in his hall tonight. The surrounding lands will fall or surrender. All you have to do is point your men’s feet north.”
“Hell take you!” Grim cursed. “I will lead my men and do my part. And when our deal is done, you will get out of my sight.”
Vandrad did not look back as he strode through the hall to the main door, two of his hirdmen falling in behind. Grim had not even noticed their presence.
Over his shoulder, Vandrad said, “Remember your oath, Lord Grim. You came seeking our aid. Now you have it, and all that comes with it.”
A rectangle of light winked as Vandrad pulled the door shut behind him. Grim stood at the far end of the hall, atop the platform at the high table. He grabbed a chair, his knuckles whitening. The men in the hall stared at him, but when his eyes met theirs they snapped them away, suddenly busy with work. Only Aud sat looking at him, like an ancient toad upon its log. Grim feared that her witch’s magic could see the weakness in his heart. With a mumbled curse, he retreated to his room.
Vandrad had been right, and that rankled worse than any ax cut. He should have poisoned Ulfrik, as he had his father. But he had feared the men would suspect him and rebel. To use poison was to surrender your honor and manliness, or so the men would think. Besides, his father had been popular, else he couldn’t be their leader. Ulfrik is popular too, Grim thought, scowling. But Grenner is mine, not his.
He sat on his bed, mustering the courage to call Aud, knowing he relied on the witch too much. He would have to find a way to dispose of her, especially since she knew his secret. Vandrad was the only other person to know, and he was above attack. But Aud had no honor to lose; she could control him too easily with what she knew. Grim cursed himself for rushing into this den of wolves. He now had the land, the gold, the men, and a sled of worries to accompany them.