Banners of the Northmen by Jerry Autieri

to make the journey. I've already given Gunther my word, and he sails today with our news. We go to Denmark first, to meet the main fleet. We will set out in two weeks."
    She nodded, and more tears pressed from her closed eyes. He rested his chin atop her head, and squeezed tighter. "I have not forgotten the treasure of my family, Wife. I do this for us. I promise to return by summer, and bring two hundred men at my back to finish off those northern turds. Do not fear."
    Runa shivered in the final throes of her sobs. Gunther's men continued to shout and laugh in the distance, and rain began to peck wetness onto her face as a new storm cloud floated overhead. She drew in a deep breath of salt air and the comforting scent of her husband. No matter what he said, she did fear. She feared to the core of her heart.
     
    Gunther's two ships already lurched and rocked on the foamy water of the fjord. Ulfrik faced the huge war leader, hard rocks of the beach poking his feet as if urging him away. Extending an arm to Gunther, the two men clasped arms. A sureness was set in Gunther's good eye, and his rough hand squeezed Ulfrik's forearm.
    "Was good to see you again, Ulfrik. I'll carry word to Hrolf, and he will be pleased that you've answered his call."
    Gulls screeched overhead as waves broke and hissed behind Gunther. Ulfrik smiled and returned the squeeze. The malty taste of ale guzzled in a final round of good-byes only an hour ago still clung to his mouth. Runa had left him more conflicted on his choice, and words fled him at this parting. He could still choose not to go, even after Gunther departed. No one would seek him out again, and his life would forever be tied to these islands.
    Withdrawing his arm, Gunther turned to his men and with a wave of his hand they started boarding his ship. The rest of Ulfrik's hirdmen had escorted their guests to the shore, and now stood in awkward silence behind him. Snorri spoke, filling the unseemly gap.
    "We'll meet you in Denmark, no worries for that. But Frankia better be all you've promised."
    Gunther put a hand over his gut and bent back in laughter. "I love to tell tales, old friend, but I promise you I've not exaggerated the riches. Christians are strong there, and where their priests go so goes the wealth. We'll peel back their city walls like scales off a salmon, and the flesh inside will be just as delicious. Believe me, even with one eye I can see that much!"
    Polite laughter met Gunther's claims, though he doubled over laughing at his own words. The gregariousness of such a fearsome warrior drew a smile to Ulfrik's face, and he shook his head to clear it.
    "Fair winds for you, One-Eye. We will drink together in Frankia, atop a pile of gold."
    "So we will, and that reminds me." He patted around his waist until he plucked a leather pouch from his belt. "I've been a poor guest. I drank your ale and ate your meat, but brought no gift. I am a shameful man, too focused on this adventure to remember my manners. Take this instead."
    He extended the pouch; brown and care-worn, it bulged with sharp points. Ulfrik knew it was packed with hack-silver and probably some gold. Gunther dangled it by its tie.
    "I did no more than the honor due you, One-Eye. Such generosity is unnecessary." He spoke the words but his eyes never left the pouch. He needed silver enough to practically taste its metallic tang. The bag twisted in the cold autumn breeze.
    "A guest must bring his host a gift, especially when he invites a hundred other friends along."
    Jiggling the pouch by the tie, Ulfrik still hesitated. The gift was one more bind to Gunther and Hrolf, one more knot tied in the connection. When he did not grasp it, Gunther seized his limp arm and yanked it out. He crushed the heavy pouch into Ulfrik's palm. Then he folded up Ulfrik's fingers, drawing close enough for his sweaty musk to fill Ulfrik's nose.
    "You hesitate when you should not." Gunther's voice was a low grumble. "This is a gift from me, for