They both traveled with nothing more ostentatious than silver cloak pins, and hid signs of status and wealth. Hrolf's escorts only returned them halfway, and even a short distance traveling in a small group left them vulnerable. The land knew no shortage of vagrants and outlaws, which further irked Ulfrik as no one had hailed them even as they closed to bow range. At last someone appeared on the wall, a head of hair flying in the wind that gazed down at them.
"Are you going to challenge us?" Ulfrik called up to the man, straining to identify him against the glare of the sky.
"You speak Norse, so be welcomed," the man said. "Still state your names for me all the same."
Einar inhaled to shout, but Ulfrik grabbed his shoulder as he drew behind him. He shared a sly smile then squinted up at the walls. Another shadow of a man joined the other, though both merely leaned on the walls.
"I am Thor Thorkelson and this is Steinn the Slow," Ulfrik said, drawing the names from imagination. Einar glared as he heard his pseudonym. "Anyway, rain's coming and we'd like to get into a warm hall where we can eat and maybe grab hold of one of your serving girls. You have good serving girls here?"
The heads conferred with each other and the first man answered. "Welcome to Ravndal. The gate is open, but there's a gate tax."
"It's open but there's a gate tax," Ulfrik growled under his breath to Einar. "These fools really didn't expect us today, eh?"
Einar did not reply, his face already red and eyes bulging. Ulfrik feared he would have to save the two men from death at Einar's hands. They dismounted and Einar pushed the gate open. Both stepped through and awaited the guards descending the wall to collect their fee. As they did, Ulfrik and Einar pulled back their cowls.
Both were surprisingly seasoned men, one whom Ulfrik recognized from the siege of Paris six years ago. That man's face had gone white and taut with fear, though the other man ambled toward them with a vague smile. Einar slammed his heavy fist into the man's face, crumpling him to the ground in one blow. The other fell to his knees and bowed his head, realizing his failure.
"You'd let anyone walk in through an open gate?" Einar roared at the man on the ground. "Do you know Thor Thorkelson and Steinn the Slow? You ignorant whoreson! Maybe the Franks will march an army under your nose."
Einar punctuated his words with bone-jarring kicks. Einar was a good man, loyal and fastidious in every duty given him. However, he expected the same from others and his patience was thinner than a decade-old sailcloth. The transgression he and Ulfrik had experienced would likely tear at his mind until he satisfied the doubt that all was perfect again. For his part, Ulfrik could not brook the dangerous laxity of these men, but he understood warriors hated few things more than gate duty.
"Don't kill him," Ulfrik said.
"And why not? He was prepared to let Thor and Steinn enter our town and kill someone else for whatever bribe he planned to ask."
"Fair point." Ulfrik folded his arms and addressed the man kneeling. "You, Hildr Ragnarson, I know you. Explain yourself before Einar decides to kick your teeth through your tongue."
"There's no excuse, Lord Ulfrik." He bowed lower. "No Frank has ever passed this way, and there were only two of you. I was prepared to sound the alarm, Lord."
"And prepared to take a bribe to allow us to pass. We are at war with Clovis, or have you forgotten?"
"Einar, stop kicking that man. He can't make amends if he is dead."
Hildr peeked to the side and snapped away. His companion lay in the dirt groaning and bleeding, Einar hovering over him with eyes still bulging and face flushed. He finally backed down, grabbing his horse and leading him away. Ulfrik finished with his guards.
"Bar this gate," he said to Hildr. "Let no man pass. I will summon you to face justice, Hildr. I'll consider your long service to me, but if you flee then it will go badly for you. Your companion has already received his punishment."
He left them both kneeling beside the gate. Several other guards watched impassively, a few chuckling. Townsfolk routinely made a spectacle out of such events, but this had been so swift no crowd had gathered. Ulfrik did not look back, but guided his horse toward the stables and anticipated seeing his hearth and his family.
Chapter 5
Runa sat with her three sons gathered to her side at the high table overlooking the spacious hall. Women pumped bellows at the hearth, wiping their brows as the fire snapped higher with each pump. Light from the open smoke hole painted the room with silver daylight of the diffuse sky above, shining on cleared tables and benches where moments before men sat in idle conversation. These same men now lined the walls behind the tables and stood straight and still.
"Father beat a guard to death for sleeping at his post," Hakon whispered to his brothers.
"It was Einar, you fool," Gunnar corrected. Hakon jabbed his older brother's ribs in answer.
"Hush, the two of you," Runa said. "Neither of them would have done such a thing. Now sit up straight for when your father enters the hall."
Gunnar ignored Hakon, who insisted on one more jab before settling beneath Runa's glare. Aren remained still under her right arm and took no interest in his brothers' bickering. Despite being only six years old, he bore himself with the weight and seriousness of a grown man. It frightened most people, Ulfrik included, but Runa never saw anything more than a child needing attention that his older brothers so often stole from him.
Snorri stood, rubbing his thigh where a Frankish spear had ended his days as a warrior. Runa loved the old man like a father, as did Ulfrik, and welcomed the time he spent in the hall with her boys. He now vacated the high seat where he had ruled for Ulfrik in his absence. Despite the infirmity his wound conferred, Runa knew he could still crack heads into obedience if needed and as such held the men's respect as well as Ulfrik's.
The moment before Ulfrik's entrance the room grew quiet. The servants and slaves scurried away to dark corners to hide until summoned again. A smile trembled on Runa's lips, anticipating his return. No matter how many years had passed, or how many younger men her wealth and status attracted, Ulfrik brought her joy no one else could ever match. He was the hero of the saga they created together. If the intensity of their love had vanished along with their youth, the solid core of their bond had only grown stronger.
The doors opened and white light spilled over the forms of two men, one a head taller than the other. Ulfrik and Einar swept into the hall, and Runa rose with her children. Gunnar puffed out his chest, resting a hand upon the hilt of the sword he alone wore in the hall as the jarl's eldest son. Runa grinned as Hakon imitated his brother, though his hand found only a leather belt for a hitch. Aren clung tighter to her skirt as if to disappear.
"A week gone, but how these boys have grown!" Ulfrik strode the length of the hall, weaving through columns and around benches, skirting the blazing hearth. He nodded to his men as he passed, each standing straighter as he acknowledged them. "Snorri, how have you made them taller?"
"Soaked them in water and hung them by their toes all night." Snorri ruffled Hakon's hair as he answered, drawing a stifled giggle from him.
Ulfrik had not lost his youthful stride, even as gray crept into his temples and at the root of his beard. Only a slight softening of his face betrayed his age, along with scars old and new earned from his numerous battles. His smile widened as he seized her forward into his arms. "It is good to be home. All has been well?"