Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Hidden Wealth
He gestured toward the piles of treasure. "And there's plenty here for me to take."
"So you plan to loot the dead king's home?" Yngvar said, shaking his head. "That will only bring trouble."
Hakon sighed. "Well, we cannot stay here forever. But neither can we risk being caught looting a Norseman's house. We'll just need to keep our eyes peeled until we find somewhere better suited to hide."
"Do you know anyone else nearby?" Yngvar asked.
"I do not. There must be something worth taking elsewhere though. For every person in these lands, there could be five hiding in the woods. Someone would surely have seen enough to make off with such riches."
"Perhaps," Yngvar agreed. "Let's gather whatever food remains first. At least we won't starve tonight."
Hakon nodded and set about gathering bread, cheese, smoked meats, and dried fish. They found several barrels of ale as well, which made them both happy. Once full sacks were gathered, they carried everything back to the hall where they shared the bounty with the old woman. She accepted it without comment, although her mouth turned sour after tasting the salty meat and hard cheese.
They finished before midnight, yet still spent time searching the rooms and corridors for hidden wealth. Alasdair joined in the search, but even he seemed disappointed by its meager contents.
When Hakon finally declared himself satisfied, they returned to their sleeping quarters and prepared themselves for sleep. Each took a chair facing the open doors and stared out into the darkness beyond. Only moonlight lit up the landscape, revealing nothing more than shadows moving along the ground.
As if summoned by some unseen spirit, Brandr appeared from nowhere. His black silhouette flowed through the dark corridor, paused at the threshold, and stepped inside. Yngvar jumped at seeing him, expecting guards to burst upon them any moment. Instead, Brandr sat opposite them and let his legs dangle over the edge of his seat.
He shook his head. "It's madness out there. You should all go tomorrow morning while the coast is clear."
"Are you leaving already?" Yngvar asked.
Brandr shrugged. "There's little left for me here. Besides, what am I waiting for? My father died years ago, my mother passed long since. Even Erik Blood-Axe isn't going to bother hunting me down. So why linger? Let someone else deal with the mess that's coming. Better I'm gone when things get ugly."
"You speak like an exile," Yngvar said. "Yet you've always lived among men. Why flee now?"
"Because I hate living under the thumb of others," Brandr snapped. "If Erik gets wind of me, he'll send assassins after me. If King Harald wants vengeance against Erik, he's welcome to come and collect. Either way, I'd rather fight one enemy directly than many enemies indirectly."
"Then you're a coward," Yngvar said.
His cousin laughed bitterly. "Cowardice means doing nothing to protect yourself. And right now, who protects myself best by staying far away?"
"But we might die here!"
"We may die everywhere. What does it matter?"
"At least we have friends," Yngvar said. He glanced at Hakon, whose face remained impassive. "Even if none remain alive, we have each other."
"True words," Brandr conceded. "Now shut up. It's late."
Yngvar did not argue further. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and watched the night pass. A thin fog began to blanket the land. Soon birds called in the distance and the forest rustled around them. The warm fire crackling beside him felt good, despite the chill of approaching dawn. Yet soon enough, sleep claimed him.
The next day they explored the ruins again. The bodies had been removed, but much evidence remained: blood stains covered the floor and walls. Broken weapons lay strewn across the room. Shattered pottery littered the corners. Despite the destruction, no gold or silver remained anywhere. Yngvar wondered how many people had searched this place. Perhaps King Hrolf thought it safer to destroy anything useful to avoid thieves finding it later. Or perhaps he wanted to prevent anyone else learning what treasures once filled these halls. Whatever the reason, the result was disappointing.
Afterward, they followed the road east and saw few signs of life. Birds flitted overhead, and squirrels scurried beneath trees. Otherwise, only silence greeted them. No smoke rose from distant hearths nor children played outside homes. The absence of human presence weighed heavily on Yngvar. When the sun stood high in the sky, he decided to return to Jarl Vilhjalmer's hall. They needed supplies, and most importantly, news.
They reached the gates just as the sun touched the horizon behind them. As expected, guards barred their entrance. These were different warriors from those who had escorted them from Gorm's fortress. Their faces bore the scars of battle, though whether earned in war or in duels between jarls was unclear. One wore a golden chain shirt decorated with the heads of wolves encircling his neck. Another held aloft a great spear taller than Thorfast. Both were big men, nearly twice the size of Yngvar.
These two flanked a young man wearing the same wolf pelt armor as the first guard. This one had the girth to match the rest. His blond hair hung loose about his shoulders and his beard curled into twin points. His eyes flashed blue and his nose flared wide. In contrast to the hulking guards, he looked weak and timid.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "And where do you intend to take us?"
Thorfast cleared his throat. "I am Thorfast the Silent, son of Uddolf the White. We seek audience with your lord, Jarl Vilhjalmer."
"Jarl Vilhjalmer has died," the giant replied. "So the prince must be here instead."
"Prince Haakon is still alive," Bjorn shouted. All three drew swords.
Beside him, Alasdair lifted his staff. Yngvar pulled back his sword arm, ready to strike. But the threat seemed more show than real. The giants shifted uncomfortably before turning aside.
"Take us inside then," Thorfast said. "Or kill us all."
The giant blinked, but then nodded. "Very well. You will follow me."
He led them through the gatehouse and past several buildings that lined either side of the main street leading toward the center of town. Here, the houses grew smaller and closer together until they ended abruptly at another wall surrounding a grassy field. Beyond this open space sat a large wooden structure built atop four square columns. Smoke billowed out of its chimney, which thrust above the roof line. Its doors opened onto a long porch facing the fields beyond. Guardsmen gathered there, and a single banner flew over the building. At last, Yngvar recognized this place for what it was.
It was the church.
***
A dozen guards blocked the path to the front door. Most carried spears or axes, while others wielded round shields and short stabbing blades. Two also held bows. Yngvar noted the arrows nocked against strings and imagined an attack. Yet neither guard stepped forward. Instead, they stared at Thorfast and his companions expectantly.
"What is going on?" Thorfast asked. He waved his hand at the guards. "Why don't you let us enter?
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