"Clovis is coming with all his men," Einar said as he approached Ulfrik. He and the hirdmen waited at the rear of the column, prepared to turn back into the fight when Gunther sprung his trap. "They should be coming into sight soon."
Nodding, he rubbed his face and turned toward the open gates. "Feels wrong to have them open while Clovis approaches, but it's what he expects. Is Gunther prepared?"
"Prepared and frothing mad. The close quarters have not agreed with our mighty guest." Einar smiled, but it faded when Ulfrik did not return it.
"Do you think I offered enough to the gods?" At dawn Ulfrik had killed and burned his best rams and threw a tenth of all his remaining wealth into a local lake as sacrifice for luck in the day's battle. "Will they hear me?"
"I'm taller than you, but not so tall that I can see into Asgard. How can I know what pleases the gods? But you've always said they favor a daring plan, and what could be more daring than this? It's clever work."
"Clever," Ulfrik repeated. Being clever had led him to this disaster. He should have ordered Throst's death and let Clovis suffer through the winter, and his sons would be free and Gunnar's hand still attached to his arm. Clever was no longer a compliment, but a curse.
"Lad, you can't show the men that face or your battle is over before it starts." Snorri hobbled up to him, dressed in mail and carrying a shield.
"You're not fighting today."
"I've obeyed you all my days, but not today. This is a fight for home and honor as well as glory." Snorri glared at Einar. "And I'm not letting my big-headed son steal all of that fun. Besides, I'm not planning to die in my bed."
"You're not fighting today," Ulfrik repeated, and pushed Snorri's shoulder. As expected, he stumbled back and nearly collapsed under his bad leg. "You'll die before you land a blow."
"You're welcome to stop me, but I expect you'll have your hands full when the fighting starts." Snorri regained himself, and attempted to stride away but only succeeded in something short of a drunken stagger. Ulfrik shook his head, knowing he could not deny his old friend a good death.
Einar stared after his father. "He fears the bed more than the blade these days."
"A great warrior should draw his last breath lying atop corpses in a battlefield, not beneath a bedsheet. I just need his guidance a little longer. My sons must still learn the old ways from him."
The mention of his sons drew both to silence, and soon the first appearance of Clovis's outriders captured everyone's attention. Ulfrik joined with Runa, the families of the captured men, and Halla with her children. They studied the approach with silent awe, most of the common people having never witnessed the splendor of a full Frankish army on the march. Ulfrik disdained their love of bright colors and shining mail. All battles ended in bloody mud, with both victor and vanquished leaving their dead for the ravens. The Franks dressed as if attending a festival. Yet their ordered ranks and brilliant colors drew whispered concerns from those who did not understand the vulnerability of the men beneath that armor.
At the side of the column rode Theodoric's cavalry beneath an unfamiliar banner of blue and white. Those were King Odo's colors, but a shape of some beast was outlined over it, too far still for Ulfrik to determine what is represented. No matter. He would see that banner soon enough lying in the dirt, trapped under a dead standard bearer. Not one of those splendid champions would survive the day.
"Clovis has bought us many to kill." Ulfrik spoke loud enough for those nearby to hear, but not so loud as to arouse the notice of the approaching enemy. "Remember the advantage we have at our backs."
A grumble of agreement circulated through the crowd, though mothers and worried fathers gathered their children to the carts as if the sight of the Franks alone was enough to endanger them.
At last, Clovis mounted the steep slopes to where Ulfrik waited. His men formed into tight blocks, and for an instant Ulfrik worried he might lead a charge. Even Runa, standing silently beside him, put her hand to her chest in fear. But the Franks remained steady and did not draw weapons. The horsemen did not dismount, but instead formed two groups on either flank of the main body. Clovis rode at the front, a lone figure on a horse that he doubtlessly acquired at Theodoric's death. He dismounted with careless ease, and gathered his bodyguard before making the final approach uphill.
"Let him come to us," Ulfrik said. Runa touched his shoulder and then pointed.
"There, Gunnar and Hakon."
They followed behind Clovis's guards, with a few spearmen to herd them along. The twelve men remaining from Toki's crew shambled in a ragged, dark clump. Before them, both Hakon and Toki walked hand in hand.
The sight of Gunnar stung. He slung his left arm around Toki's neck for support, and he clutched his butchered right arm into the shadow of his body. He looked just like Clovis's son, limp and defeated.
"I'm going to carve that bastard from crotch to crown," he said under his breath. Runa's hand on his shoulder tightened, the force of it penetrating the mail and leather armor he wore.
"I'll join you in that," she said. "But he is alive. They're both alive."
Clovis mounted the final distance to stand a spear's length from Ulfrik. His smiled like a child given the gift of a toy sword at a Yuletide feast. Barely acknowledging Ulfrik or his assembled men, he swept his eyes lustily across the black palisades of Ravndal and settled on the open gates.
"You weighed the silver and were satisfied?" Ulfrik asked.
"Two pounds short, but I will not argue. No two scales are ever the same. You've kept your word." Still absorbing the enormity of his achievement, Clovis never met Ulfrik's eye as he surveyed Ravndal. Though Gunther and his men were all concealed within, a niggling fear persisted that Clovis knew it was a trap. Yet his words were breathless and seemingly sincere. "I had expected a fight from you to the last. A bid to wrest your sons away and still keep your land."
"You've got spears at their backs. How stupid must I be to attempt something like that."
At last Clovis's eyes flickered to his. "You've never been smart, just lucky. Even that pig-witted Throst ran you in circles. Anyway, aren't you Northmen all eager to sell your lives for nothing more than a moment of glory? You disappoint me, Ulfrik."
"I did what you asked. If you'd like to be delighted, come closer and I'll ram my sword through your smirking face. I can relieve your disappointment."
"Always bold threats from you. Well, you are finished. I will keep my word. Your sons and your men are all accounted for. Once inside, I will send them out to you."
"You'll not get inside until you release them."
"And I'm certain you'll all stand down and let us pass once your hostages are safe. Do you think I am a fool?"
"I think you're about to be delighted. If you won't release my sons, then I'll have your spearmen filled with arrows and cut your fucking head off your shoulders."
"Your sons will die."
"Your men don't even know which end of the spear does the cutting. I'll take my chances."
"Silence!" Runa shouted, stepping between Ulfrik and Clovis. "We have agreed to surrender Ravndal in exchange for our sons and my brother. There is no Ravndal without their return, yet you will not trust the word of a man who has obeyed your every condition."
Clovis raised a brow at Runa, the intercession of a woman in man's world a foreign idea. Still, he inclined his head, taking a decidedly polite tone with Runa. "I would sooner trust a starving wolf to remain at bay after my campfire died than trust your husband to not turn on me once he had his way."