Runa glanced at Ulfrik, and her eyes were bright with ferocity. That brief look informed him she had decided upon something and would not be swayed, so he folded his arms and listened.
"It is true we could do as you fear," she continued. "More, we cannot convince you of our sincerity in the time we have today."
"A point I earnestly agree upon," Clovis said.
"Then here is my answer to your doubts. Release my sons and the others as agreed. We will turn over Ravndal to you. But as a measure of our good faith, you will take me as a hostage in their place. If my husband moves against you, then I'll offer you my throat without hesitation."
Ulfrik leapt to her side, grabbed her back by the shoulder. "Are you mad? He will keep you long after we are gone. You've nothing but his worthless promise to ensure you are released."
"That is an acceptable arrangement," Clovis said, addressing Runa now as if she owned the decision. "I give you my word, no woman would come to harm under my care. I am not a beast like your kind."
"My wife will not be your possession," Ulfrik shouted.
Runa took his hand into her own, pressed it to her lips, then guided it down to her side. She stepped in to whisper gently, "I am a woman, and pose no threat to him. Let him learn otherwise."
She pushed his hand against her skirt, pressing the back of it into the hard sheath of the long knife strapped to her leg. His eyes widened with realization, and she looked into them with solemn resolve. She planned to use Clovis's expectations against him. Women did not fight, did not hide weapons in their skirts, and could never best a man in arms. Yet she had not earned the title of the Bloody by weaving at her loom all day.
"This is a dangerous game, wife."
"No more than the games you have played. Besides, I've a thirst for this fool's blood."
Ulfrik fought back a smile, and frowned instead. He let Runa go as if abandoning her forever. "Only for my sons. Send them forward and you take my wife. Release her to me after my people are gone from your sight."
"A fair agreement," Clovis said, hands on his hips. He waved at his men and ordered the hostages freed. "Your wife will be under my personal protection. You have my word she will be at my side at all times."
Runa gave Ulfrik a knowing glance. He looked past her to Clovis. "Ensure that she is."
Chapter 54
Runa had dwelt so long in a twilight of despair that she had numbed to the listlessness shrouding her. Now as Clovis gently guided her by the arm to his side, tender as a lover, her heart beat with purpose and drive. Death and vengeance rode on her shoulders, twin demons that lifted away her despair and filled her with strength. Her palm itched to grasp the long knife at her hip. Drawing it would bring release like nothing else.
Death to her enemies. Freedom for herself. Vengeance for Gunnar.
"A strange thing to be returning home while all your people leave," Clovis mused in his fractured Norse, scanning the slow column trundling downslope and around the wall. Runa watched as they departed, faces turning back hopefully to the walls. She feared their expectant looks would give away the ruse. Of course, what seemed plain to her did not raise any concern among the Franks. They had broken their formations, dismounted their horses, and clapped each other on their backs in congratulations. All appeared relieved to not have drawn their weapons.
Runa did not answer Clovis's inane observation. Up close he seemed far less grand than he had in her imagination. For all the fierce battles, the streams of dead and wounded made by his hand, he was not much to behold. He was soft, smelled foul, and smiled more than a leader should. Maybe he was proud of his victory, but to Runa's mind he acted a fool. How had such a man defied her husband for so long?
Her palm continued to itch. He would not defy her.
Two young men trotted up to Clovis, spoke in bubbling, scrambled Frankish she only half understood. Clovis nodded and dismissed them, both snatching a glance at Runa before skittering away. The whole army acted like boys, with their effusive laughter and silly fascination with her. Dozens had come to gawk at the prized wife of their enemy. She even caught Clovis stealing a peek at her, and had she not expected to kill him shortly she would have worried for his intentions.
"My men say Ravndal is truly empty." Clovis's eyebrow cocked as he spoke.
"You needed men to tell you that? The homeless departing before your eyes are not proof enough?"
His laugh was fake, the kind made to please a child who had spoken a simple riddle. "We are still at war, my lady. Better to be certain no surprises lay ahead."
Runa swallowed. By all the gods, how had the Franks failed to uncover Gunther's army? She searched for the two lads who had given him the report, found them leaning into a group of other young men. They were all laughter and boasts, standing tall among their peers while the others pandered to their vanity. None of them wore beards and their jawlines were soft. Her pulse settled, realizing Clovis had sent children to do men's work.
He plucked at her shoulder, indicating she should follow. The two guards assigned to her allowed her to pass before them, one hatchet-faced man stealing a lustful glance at her chest as she did. He crowded her, forcing Runa to keep pace with Clovis or otherwise bump into him. She would stick him right after dealing with Clovis.
Ravndal's gates hung open and groups of men flanked the doors to await Clovis's entrance. He joined with his son, placing his arm around him as the two walked to the gates. He blathered in Frankish, but Runa guessed from the sweeping gestures he was promising Ravndal to his boy. That soggy, defeated child would never make a leader even with both hands.
Glancing a final time at her back, she saw Ulfrik and her sons watching from a distance. She had been allowed no time to greet her children. While her heart broke at the sight of Gunnar, he at least seemed only partly aware of the world around him. Hakon had hurt more, being led off before he could reach her. She had heard him wailing when the guards took her, and she could not bear to look back. She consoled herself knowing soon they would be rejoined.
"Do the honor of escorting me into Ravndal," Clovis said, stepping forward with arm held out.
She stared at it, thought of slicing his arm into a match for his son's, but chose to have a grip on his sword arm once the trap was sprung. She inclined her head, and laced her arm into his.
Her mouth became tacky and her neck pulsed. They passed beneath the gate, and she scanned the black boards of the tracks leading into the town. No one leaned on fences, no chickens wandered in the roads, no hearth smoke curled above thatched roofs. The silence was perfect, yet an army was packed into the buildings. Ulfrik had warned her they were along the walls and in the main hall. They would recapture the gates and split the Franks for an easy fight. "Get away and hide," Ulfrik had warned her. "Don't try to carry the battle. And leave a piece of Clovis for me."
The Franks were strolling inside, and Runa wondered how much longer before Gunther emerged. Clovis prattled in his hideous language, laughing and pointing as if weather-worn buildings in need of new thatch were a vision rarely beheld. She rested her right hand across her lap, slipping into the folds of her skirt. Grasping the long knife would be awkward, but she was poised for a lightning draw.
"Take me to the hall," Clovis said. "Your people make such a fuss of them, and I've never been inside one before."
Runa smiled. "You can see it from here."
"Not quite as big as I expected."
Horns blared and mad howls burst from all around. The Franks halted like frightened cats, backs arched and eyes wide. Northmen appeared from the periphery, spilling out of buildings, crashing through fences, and busting open gates. Men tumbled out of hay stacks piled on abandoned carts, no doubt left behind for this purpose. She even spotted a short man fumbling out of a barrel. Everywhere a roar went up, and the Franks were leaden in shock.