fighting, even some killed. Time to move on, I say."
Slipping out of the throng, Ulfrik greeted the cool air with an exaggerated sigh that drew a knowing chuckle from Gunther. They had arrived at a wide clearing populated by numerous tents, two of which stood higher and wider than the others. A bonfire blazed at the center and clusters of spearmen idled around it. Banners flipped around poles at the entrances to the tents, but did not fly true enough to see the markings.
"Hrolf dwells in that tent." Gunther pointed to the leftmost tent, brown with dirt from long years of use. It was not as large as the center tent, nor as bright.
"And Sigfrid is at the center," Ulfrik finished for him.
Two men guarded the worn tent, but Gunther ignored them and stood outside the flap, addressing Hrolf. "Lord, more warriors join your band. Ulfrik Ormsson has arrived with hirdmen, and they will present themselves."
A response came that Ulfrik could not hear, but One-Eye backed away. In the next moment, the flap opened and Jarl Hrolf the Strider ducked out of the tent. Three years had passed, but Ulfrik could hardly forget the tallest man he had ever met. Clad in shining mail and a heavy cape rimmed with fox fur, he appeared ready to leap into battle. Gold rings caught points of bonfire and gold and silver armbands sparkled with the dancing flames. Thor's hammer hung across his chest, the polished silver reflecting so powerfully the talisman seemed on fire.
He threw his arms wide; clear, fierce eyes set in a regal face meeting Ulfrik's. His presence had not diminished over the years, and the gray forming at his temples and in his pointed beard contributed to his kingly appearance. "One-Eye said you would come. Be welcomed!"
Ulfrik inclined his head. "My lord, I would not miss the opportunity to join you in such a great undertaking. I bring three ships and eighty men to the glory of your banner."
Snorri grunted beside him, and Ulfrik smiled. Flattery was not his strongest talent, but he understood its value to men like Hrolf. The grunt was Snorri's critique of his awkward delivery, but Hrolf appeared unconcerned as he surveyed the men arrayed behind Ulfrik with an appreciative nod.
"Eighty men! One-Eye, how many warriors under my banner now?"
"I can't count that high, lord."
"Find someone who can, then tell me I have more than Sigfrid."
Both men laughed, but Ulfrik noted the rivalry with a sly smile to Snorri. Hrolf put his hands on his hips, scanning the crew, then stopped and pointed at Humbert. "You took no women with you but brought an old man? I thought I knew you better, Ulfrik."
Humbert crumbled back like he had been struck with an arrow, casting his gaze to the ground. Thrand grabbed his shoulders and shoved him to his knees before Hrolf. Ulfrik laughed at Hrolf's jest. "He is a slave and a captive, a priest from Frankia I hope to ransom. He speaks our language, too, and so might be of use."
Hanging forward enough to nearly prostrate himself, he croaked his greeting, "Lord Hrolf."
"Did he just die?" Gunther joked, then slapped his leg as he cackled. Humbert was immediately forgotten when a horn began to blast.
"Sigfrid is ready to address the men," Hrolf said, pointing to the center tent. "I will join him. You are all lucky to be in the front, where you can be seen with the great jarls."
Hrolf left with his bodyguards, and Gunther went to summon his crew. Ulfrik gathered his men close, keeping Snorri and Toki to either side. Overturned carts made for a makeshift stage. The crowds of warriors gathered around the bonfire to hear their lord's address. Many drunken calls filled the night as the crowd formed.
Emerging from his tent, Sigfrid greeted his allies with nods curt enough to be insults. His pale eyes glittered in the firelight and his wide face was written with lust for attention. Leaping onto the wagon with a single jump, he landed easily and drew approving shouts for his agility.
"Bastard practiced that for weeks,"
Slipping out of the throng, Ulfrik greeted the cool air with an exaggerated sigh that drew a knowing chuckle from Gunther. They had arrived at a wide clearing populated by numerous tents, two of which stood higher and wider than the others. A bonfire blazed at the center and clusters of spearmen idled around it. Banners flipped around poles at the entrances to the tents, but did not fly true enough to see the markings.
"Hrolf dwells in that tent." Gunther pointed to the leftmost tent, brown with dirt from long years of use. It was not as large as the center tent, nor as bright.
"And Sigfrid is at the center," Ulfrik finished for him.
Two men guarded the worn tent, but Gunther ignored them and stood outside the flap, addressing Hrolf. "Lord, more warriors join your band. Ulfrik Ormsson has arrived with hirdmen, and they will present themselves."
A response came that Ulfrik could not hear, but One-Eye backed away. In the next moment, the flap opened and Jarl Hrolf the Strider ducked out of the tent. Three years had passed, but Ulfrik could hardly forget the tallest man he had ever met. Clad in shining mail and a heavy cape rimmed with fox fur, he appeared ready to leap into battle. Gold rings caught points of bonfire and gold and silver armbands sparkled with the dancing flames. Thor's hammer hung across his chest, the polished silver reflecting so powerfully the talisman seemed on fire.
He threw his arms wide; clear, fierce eyes set in a regal face meeting Ulfrik's. His presence had not diminished over the years, and the gray forming at his temples and in his pointed beard contributed to his kingly appearance. "One-Eye said you would come. Be welcomed!"
Ulfrik inclined his head. "My lord, I would not miss the opportunity to join you in such a great undertaking. I bring three ships and eighty men to the glory of your banner."
Snorri grunted beside him, and Ulfrik smiled. Flattery was not his strongest talent, but he understood its value to men like Hrolf. The grunt was Snorri's critique of his awkward delivery, but Hrolf appeared unconcerned as he surveyed the men arrayed behind Ulfrik with an appreciative nod.
"Eighty men! One-Eye, how many warriors under my banner now?"
"I can't count that high, lord."
"Find someone who can, then tell me I have more than Sigfrid."
Both men laughed, but Ulfrik noted the rivalry with a sly smile to Snorri. Hrolf put his hands on his hips, scanning the crew, then stopped and pointed at Humbert. "You took no women with you but brought an old man? I thought I knew you better, Ulfrik."
Humbert crumbled back like he had been struck with an arrow, casting his gaze to the ground. Thrand grabbed his shoulders and shoved him to his knees before Hrolf. Ulfrik laughed at Hrolf's jest. "He is a slave and a captive, a priest from Frankia I hope to ransom. He speaks our language, too, and so might be of use."
Hanging forward enough to nearly prostrate himself, he croaked his greeting, "Lord Hrolf."
"Did he just die?" Gunther joked, then slapped his leg as he cackled. Humbert was immediately forgotten when a horn began to blast.
"Sigfrid is ready to address the men," Hrolf said, pointing to the center tent. "I will join him. You are all lucky to be in the front, where you can be seen with the great jarls."
Hrolf left with his bodyguards, and Gunther went to summon his crew. Ulfrik gathered his men close, keeping Snorri and Toki to either side. Overturned carts made for a makeshift stage. The crowds of warriors gathered around the bonfire to hear their lord's address. Many drunken calls filled the night as the crowd formed.
Emerging from his tent, Sigfrid greeted his allies with nods curt enough to be insults. His pale eyes glittered in the firelight and his wide face was written with lust for attention. Leaping onto the wagon with a single jump, he landed easily and drew approving shouts for his agility.
"Bastard practiced that for weeks,"
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