Once he joined the high table, a mug was thrust into his hand by a red-faced drunk who babbled nonsense before collapsing into laughter. Mord shoved him aside to clear a place for both Ulfrik and Einar. "Sit with us, where you belong," he said. "Have you learned anything useful from all the gossip?"
"Only that it is as useless as it ever was. No one is drunk enough to yet speak of things they should not." Mord and Einar threw their heads back in laughter and they settled in for a few moments of conversation before Hrolf stood and raised his arms for silence. He was so tall, he did not need to stand on a bench and his presence so powerful he did not need to shout for silence. In moments he had complete attention. He glanced at Ulfrik, then addressed his people.
"Friends, it is my joy to feast you tonight and to make you drunk on my ale." Roars of approval interrupted him. "But before the night grows too deep and the ale works its magic, I have gathered you all for a purpose which you should know, for I have spoken to you individually over these days."
He scanned the crowd and Ulfrik noted many smiles suddenly dropped or eyes flicked away.
"Whatever fears you have of this famine, know that it has not touched us in the least. By gathering you together, it has been my hope that you have all learned as much from your neighbors. All across my lands, we are well fed. The good people of Rouen are happy and trade with us as avidly as ever. Our winter here will be pleasant and nothing should give you cause for flight. Ah, so some of you now look as if this is the first you've heard of that notion. Know that Hrolf the Strider is famous not only for his long legs, but for his big ears as well." Hrolf pulled both his ears forward to display, drawing laughter from the crowd. "Panic is like fire, and it is best put out before it grows beyond control. One bondsman has fled me already, taking thirty spearmen and their families away to England. For what? A rumor? You will know him by the name of Krakki Small-Eyes, and if he should return, know he is an oath-breaker. Make his death bloody and public and I will reward you for it."
The hall had grown still enough that the wind could be heard blowing across the open doors. Once Hrolf had let it sink in, he continued.
"I don't need to remind you that King Odo and his Franks are only a week's march away from here. If we begin to flee, we will invite pursuit. All of you possess more than you ever did before. I know where you came from, and I know where you will go if you remain with me. Each one of you is a part of a shieldwall against the Franks. If the man at your side falls, one must step into his place or our lands will crumble just as the shieldwall does when men cannot stand in lockstep with his sword brothers. Tonight I want to hear your oaths, that you will do what you have sworn and put aside needless fear. We must hold while our misguided brothers in Brittany or Eastern Frankia turn heel. We will remain to sweep up all of this land."
Heads bobbed in agreement and each man looked to his neighbor for encouragement. Ulfrik admired Hrolf's eloquence and his ease of command, and was something he strove to imitate. Hrolf was true nobility, his father being the Jarl of More and one of the most powerful jarls in Norway. He turned to Ulfrik and gestured for him to stand.
"Here is a man you must all know. He has fought beside me for years, brought me victory, and saved my life no less than twice. Ulfrik Ormsson, Jarl of Ravndal, keeps the Franks from your farms. He watches the borders and fights the Franks for nothing more than my thanks and the promise of a future where today's border becomes tomorrow's inland kingdom. If anyone had cause to leave me now, it would be him. Yet he defends us and risks much because he knows he stands at the front of our shieldwall. Don't let me tell you, though. Hear it from him. Ulfrik, only a month ago you fought a major battle against the Frankish Duke Clovis. Tell us of that battle."
Not expecting to recount his war stories, Ulfrik turned a shocked face to the crowd. Most looked on with eager smiles, ready to hear tales of bravery, while others clearly hid jealously behind thin smirks. They cajoled him, and Einar patted his back with some encouragement. At last, he shook his head and told the tale.
"It was luck that carried the day, and my men were eager for a fight." A few voices called his false modesty, and Ulfrik smiled. "I might have laid a good trap for him, too."
"Now that's what we want to hear about," Hrolf said, slapping the table. "How did you draw him out?"
"Just burned enough of his farms and kept pushing into his territory. I let him think he had cut us off, but I had fresh men in reserve. Truth was we were at the end of our tether and he did have us in a bad place. But we kicked him in the teeth."
His memory drifted back to that desperate moment when it seemed he had overextended his reach and cursed his overzealous attempt to bring a final battle to Clovis. He had been warned against seeking glory at the risk of so many lives, but in the end had hacked off a good bit of fame from the Frankish hide.
"They had cavalry but I promise you that Clovis does not know how to use them. He's always seeking to bring a surprise charge, and that day was no different. The arrow storm drove him back, and we clashed with his warriors so the horses were useless to him. It was a good day for killing."
"But Clovis lived," called a voice from the crowd. Ulfrik nodded.
"He did, but not before I left him something to remember me by. He had taken his eldest son to battle, put him in the front rank by the standard. Wearing those pretty things the Franks like." Laughter followed Ulfrik's jab at the bright-colored surcoats the Franks wore. "I found the lad and beat him to the ground. I'd have had his head, but the fool boy got his arm in the way. He lost his sword hand instead. The Franks broke before I could finish the work, and we had to let them go. We were extended as it was."
A dozen voices asked for more details, and Ulfrik answered at length. He did his best to keep his words modest, but the praise and the excitement of recounting a victory before all the great men of Hrolf's lands defeated him. At the end, he was more than ready to swear his oath before Hrolf. He was ready to swear anything. So when the moment came, and Hrolf guided him out of his moment of glory, Ulfrik boldly went to his knee before Hrolf and nearly shouted his oath.
"I do swear to you and before all these good men that I will defend Ravndal and hold its lands unto my last breath, that I shall bring war to the Franks and not cease until Paris is rubble under my feet."
Hrolf raised him up with a genuine smile, and Ulfrik was heady with pride. He faced the cheering men, many who lined up to be the next to restate oaths before their brothers. Ulfrik had tightened his bond to Hrolf and made the chains that bound him to his small parcel of Frankia all the stronger.
Chapter 4
The wooden stockade walls ringing Ulfrik's fortified town loomed dark and jagged atop its rocky hill. Ulfrik allowed his horse to pick its way through the rocks, goading it on when it balked or hesitated. He had little familiarity with horses since leaving Norway in his youth, and his awkwardness showed in his poor handling. Einar, riding beside him, went ahead to encourage Ulfrik's horse to follow.
"I can smell good food from here," Einar called back. "How can there be a famine in the land?"
"With your appetite, famine should always be a threat to us," Ulfrik said. Einar leaned back in laughter and they continued up the hill.
Strong winds set their cloaks flying and cold drops of wetness striking Ulfrik's face promised rain. Trees in the valley had dropped most of their leaves, and now the winds stripped the vestiges from the branches. Both he and Einar drew their cowls tighter against the cold. As they approached the top, Ulfrik began to search the gates for a guard and found none. They approached the western gate, which faced the interior of Ulfrik's lands and suffered the least threat from Clovis and other Franks. Still, the lax vigilance set his jaw grinding. Einar also sat straighter atop his horse, seeking someone to challenge them.