Lothaire slammed back against his ornate throne and squeezed the tufted arms of his gilded chair as if he were throttling the throats of his enemies. He hissed at Alberic. “You shall amass an army and ready for battle. Hugh Capet and his supporters will convene on the vernal equinox in the Christian church of Noyon. Since they will pass Lâonen routefrom Paris, we will intercept them here, near the castle, arrest them as traitors—and execute them for treason against their king!” He leaned forward, reached for his goblet, and took another bracing gulp of wine. “Go to the Sapphire Chalice Tavern in Dorestad and meet with Zhúlgorr. Have him placeDökkálfarin the woods surrounding the castle just before the vernal equinox. We shall ambush Capet, Richard the Fearless, theWolf of the Nordic Seas, Bluetooth’s bastard theDragon of Denmark, and all of the Vikings who dare defyLothaire le Grand!”
Rising from his regal throne, Lothaire smoothed his majestic cloak and flashed a wicked grin at Alberic. “At long last, I shall dispel the Viking vermin who humiliated my grandfatherCharles le Simple…and reclaim the dukedom of Normandy for the kingdom of West Francia.” He adjusted his golden circlet bearing thefleur-de-lysemblem of Frankish kings. “I shall crown my son Louis the Fifth. And by eliminating Hugh Capet—and all the Frankish and Norman nobles, including the damned Duke of Normandy who dare support him and defy me—I shall ensure my son’s ascent to the West Frankish throne.”
Lothaire motioned to Ragno. “Escort them in.”
While Alberic grappled with the frustration of being ordered to abandon his quest forChâteau Blancand the overwhelming task of amassingan army for yet another battle, Lothaire resumed his royal seat, and Ragno escorted two elegantly clad Frankish nobles into the throne room.
As Alberic arose and inclined his head respectfully to the high-ranking lords, Ragno brought two additional velvet tufted chairs to the table. The king made brief but formal introductions.
“Alberic of Soissons, surely you remember Lord Gauzlin, Count of Reims, and Lord Audric, Count of Amiens.” He swept a bejeweled hand, inviting the three counts to be seated as Ragno served goblets of wine to the newcomers and refilled the silver chalices of Alberic and King Lothaire.
“Alberic, you will ride with Gauzlin and Audric under my banner. The three of you will lead the Frankish forces to intercept the members of the treasonous council when they attempt to convene in Noyon on the vernal equinox.” Lothaire fixed his piercing gaze on the Count of Reims. “The Archbishop Adalbero from your city is a staunch supporter of Hugh Capet.”
The king sipped his rich red wine and eyed the discomfited count. “But you, Gauzlin, will prove your loyalty to the Carolingian crown by ensuring that my son Louis inherits the West Frankish throne.”
Lothaire pensively sipped from his silver chalice. “I cannot simply execute an archbishop or members of the Christian clergy.” His command to Gauzlin cut like Frankish steel. “Intercept Adalbero and his fellow prelates as they ride to the church in Noyon. Bring them in chains to Lâon and hold them as traitors to the crown.” A garish grin split his cold, calculating face. “With the aid of my cousin Otto the Red, the Holy Roman Emperor favored by the pope himself, I shall compel Rome’s censure. Once excommunicated, Adalbero and his traitorous clergy will be executed for treason against their king.”
As he turned to address the Count of Amiens, Lothaire’s regal gaze gleamed with promise. “Audric, once we have executed the traitors and reclaimedl’ Île de la Cité, I shall erase every trace of Hugh Capet. And appointyouas the new Count of Paris.”
Lothaire graced the three Frankish counts with a cold, calculating smile and gestured for liveried guards to escort them from the castle. “Amass your armies. Assemble theDökkálfar.We strike on the vernal equinox.”
In the courtyard outside the castle, Alberic, Gauzlin, and Audric mounted their horses and prepared to depart. “I’ll bring two hundred men, including fifty knights,” Audric said as he swung into the saddle. “Three days’ march southeast from Amiens along the Somme. We’ll lurk in the eastern woods and strike from there.”
Gauzlin nodded. “Once we imprison Adalbero and the clergy, my men and I will take the west.” He pointed to the thick forest which cloaked the castle’s flank. “Archers along the ridge.Dökkálfarin the woods.”
“I’ll hold the south,” Alberic announced, tightening his gauntlet. “Three hundred men to defend the front gate.” He shrugged his mantle over one shoulder and settled his heels in the stirrups. “We wait for Lothaire’s horn. On that blast, we strike.” He glanced between the two battle-seasoned Frankish counts. “Lothaire’s royal army will descend from the north. The enemy will be surrounded. There will be no escape.” Alberic flashed a conspiratorial grin. “We ambush, execute the traitors, and ensure that Louis the Fifth wears his father’s crown.” He tapped the pommel of his saddle and gripped the reins. “Until the equinox — when we end the Capetian threat to Lothaire’s crown once and for all.”
“Godspeed,” Gauzlin ducked his clean-shaven chin and headed southeast, home to Reims.
“Farewell,” Audric shouted as he spurred his mount northwest to Amiens.
Instead of returning to his fortress in Soissons, Alberic and his armored guards rode south through the thick forest of Lâon.
To meet theDökkálfarDark Lord Zhúlgorr.
* * * *
The Black Boar Alehouse stood along the forested road southeast oflaMontagne Couronnée, its weathered timber walls darkened by smoke and age. A faded carving of a fierce black boar adorned the sign above the heavy oak entrance door, swaying in the crisp autumn breeze. Alberic and his men dismounted, tossing the reins to waiting stable boys who would feed, water, and ready the horses for the return ride to his fortress in Soissons. Hungry, haggard, and humiliated, Alberic led his tense men into the boisterous inn.
Inside the tavern, smoky air was thick with the scent of roast boar sizzling on a spit, hearty stew simmering in a pot over the hearth, and fresh barley bread just pulled from the coals. Deep voices and raucous laughter mingled with the crackle and hiss of the fire as boar fat dripped into flickering flames. Roughhewn tables bore the scars of countless brawls and whispered deals, making it the perfect place for a clandestine meeting.
Alberic’s wary guards settled at tables and ordered food and ale. Senses sharp, they remained alert, ready to defend their lord should the need arise.
Seated alone in a shadowed corner, Zhúlgorr drank from a battered tankard, while a half dozenDökkálfargnawed on salted boar at nearby tables. Like Alberic, the Dark Lord from Dorestad was exceptionally well defended. He looked up at Alberic’s approach, a snide grin stretching the withered skin of his reptilian face. “Greetings, Alberic of Soissons.” The Dark Elf gestured to the empty chair with a gnarled, scaled hand. “Please, join me.”
Alberic took the proffered seat and accepted a mug of ale. He slaked his thirst, wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, and stated the reason he had summoned Zhúlgorr.
“King Lothaire is furious that we failed in Ísland. Not only is he enraged that Gúldur, Narglok, Myrrkha, and Skugga were all slain in battle, but now Richard the Fearless claims that Lothaire has violated the treaty ofSaint-Clair-sur-Epte—through Frankish attacks against thePays de Cauxand the attempted abduction of Elfi Thorfinsdóttir in Ólafsvik.”
Alberic took a long pull of ale and slammed his mug down on the table. “Hugh Capet, the Count of Paris, has called for a coalition of Norman and Frankish nobles and clergy to convenein the Christian church of Noyon on the vernal equinox. They plan to dethrone Lothaire for breaching the treaty—and elect Capet as the new Frankish king.” He exhaled sharply, forcing the foul breath of failure from his lungs. “Lothaire has ordered me to amass an army, enlistDökkálfarallies, and strike with his royal Frankish forces when that coalition meets. We’ll ambush them from the forest surrounding the castle. Arrest them as traitors. And execute them for treason.” Alberic met Zhúlgorr’s disquieting reptilian stare. “Send five dozenDökkálfarto hide in the forest surroundingla Montagne Couronnéejust before the equinox. They will join my men and attack the traitors with the royal army of King Lothaire.”
The Dark Elf’s raspy voice was a serpentine hiss. “You have my word. Five dozenDökkálfaron the vernal equinox. To hide in the forests surrounding Lothaire’s castle.” Like a python posed to strike, the vertical slits of Zhúlgorr’s golden eyes narrowed with suspicion. “But the vernal equinox falls in four months. Why summon me now?”
Alberic slid a sack of coins onto the table. “Because I have an urgent personal request.”
At the sight of silver, Zhúlgorr flashed a greedy grin, revealing a revolting array of rotting yellow fangs. “How may I serve the Count of Soissons?”
“Do you have access to Skugga’s ships? I need twosnekkja, loaded with three dozen of your bestDökkálfar,to meet me at the seaport of Saint-Valéry-en-Caux in seven days. I will be there with three dozen of my finest Frankish knights. We sail to Étretat—keeping well offshore to avoid detection—and lay siege toChâteau Blancon the night of the howling moon.” Alberic rumbled with repressed laughter. “A perfect night for yourDökkálfarto slaughter theÚlfhéðnarinla Forêt du Loup—the Forest of the Wolf.”
