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show any recognition, yet he had served his father once in arranging for Ulfrik's demise. Without having to say more, Magnus simply nodded in acknowledgment of the mission. "I'll be glad to watch for his return. I'll have my bow ready."
    "I'm sure a retreat can be very confusing. Be careful to shoot the right men," Mord said.
    His hands were cold and his heart racing. Throughout the siege he had few opportunities to remove Ulfrik from the board, as his father liked to describe it. Now it seemed his chance was at hand. With Ulfrik off the board, Mord's competition for Hrolf's favor would be gone and Ulfrik's lands would be in question, particularly if his sons had also died in the battles. He had been waiting patiently for that land, for it was the southern gateway into Hrolf's territory and to defend it was the highest honor. That it held a large concentration of farms was also attractive. They had expected Ulfrik to die as he threw himself into battle after battle in an effort to rebuild his wealth and reputation. No one survived such constant warfare, yet at the end of every summer Ulfrik had a new victory and more glory. Hrolf awarded him with more lands, and when he reached the limit, he awarded Ulfrik with gold and status. Now his own father, Hrolf's most trusted man, took a seat on the rowing bench while Ulfrik replaced him at the steering board. His father had saved Ulfrik from nothing, promoted him, and that was his thanks. It sickened him to think on it.
    Years ago his father had recognized the threat Ulfrik posed to their future, and he had worked through others to arrange for his death. It had failed when that young fool, Throst Shield-Biter, had chosen drama over practicality in Ulfrik's murder, and the lucky bastard survived. During the years Ulfrik was away, Gunther had positioned Mord as Hrolf's closest man, and was grooming the young Vilhjalmer to fall under Mord's sway. However, the brat did not get along with Mord, and the disaster that followed was something he did not want to remember.
    Gunther insisted that this adventure would be the right moment to have Ulfrik meet his end once more, and this time no fancy traps but a tried-and-true stab through the heart. Mord feared he would have to return to his father with yet another defeat, but this retreat had worked out in his favor. Both Ulfrik and Hakon might either be dead already or, more likely, lagging behind them. Magnus was efficient and unswerving in his purpose, and two arrows would find their marks before anyone understood what was happening.
    "It would be good to leave me some help," Magnus said. "Just in case things become difficult."
    "Of course, a good idea. Just watch for Ulfrik and report back to me immediately."
    Mord left Magnus to attend the details. His hands actually trembled with excitement that this gambit might succeed. If Ulfrik was not dead already, he would be if he showed up here, and Mord would be free of his biggest obstacle to standing at Hrolf's side where he rightfully belonged.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    Ulfrik flew at his pursuers, five in all, led by a potbellied man with a fringe of frizzy beard and hair surrounding his red face. He screamed for their deaths, sword held recklessly overhead as if he planned to split a tree. In his time, Ulfrik had learned that men who feared death often found it, and those who did not concern themselves with it lived. Besides, no man died before the Fates had chosen his time. Today was not his time. He knew it.
    All five enemies skidded to a halt and scrambled to line up. Ulfrik laughed at their reaction, so typical of drilled men who had not learned real combat. He was already cleaving through the links of their potbellied leader's mail as they formed up. The blade cut deep into his neck and the man bellowed as he crumpled to his knees with blood flowing down his chest. Ulfrik slashed right, clipping a shield, punched left and cut his knuckles on