But she squelched her sorrow, burying it beneath cold focus. Drawing upon the years of training with Dag in the sacred grove, the relentless drills with Njörd, Elfi channeled her prowess as a shieldmaiden warrior and watched in wait at the antechamber door.
The count’s gloved hand gripped the dark oak. With a soft creak, it swung inward, shielding her from his view as he stepped into the room.
Blade raised, he moved cautiously, stalking her in silence.
In a flash,Elfi surged forward, flinging the door open wide.
As the count spun in stunned disbelief, she swirled in a blinding arc of rage.
Shadowbanesang through moonlight.
And when the headless count fell lifeless before her bare feet, Elfi’s shieldmaiden spirit soared.
For she had kept her solemn vow to avenge Dag’s death.
By killing the Count of Soissons.
Pulse pounding, Elfi dashed from the antechamber, through her room, and out into the dim corridor, fearing the worst for Bjarke and Varg.
At the sight of her beloved friendsalive and well, swords bathed in enemy blood,she fell to her knees as profound relief washed her in waves of gratitude. “Odin be praised,” she sobbed into her hands as Oda comforted her in a loving embrace. “I feared you were dead.”
Bjarke and Varg helped her stand, enveloping her with brawny, mail-clad arms.
Úlf’s deep voice boomed from the foyer below the stairwell. “The castle is clear, Lord Thorfinn and Jarl Rikard. TheÚlfhéðnar—and Lugh’sLjósálfarenchantments around the forest—turned three dozenDökkálfarto stone in the sacred grove.” His blond bearded face broke into a beastly grin. “The wolves fromla Forêt du Loupanswered Elfi’s call as well—and tore through the Frankish warriors waiting at the gate for the Count of Soissons to let them in.”
At Thorfinn’s bewildered glance, Elfi found her faltering voice. “I blew theúlftiri,The whistle crafted from the bones of Njörd’s sacred white wolf—the one whose cloak he proudly wears. It once belonged to his father Brökk’shamr—the spirit wolf he sent to guard Njörd as a boy.” She paused, calming her ragged breath as she smiled at her befuddledfaðir. “Lugh crafted two wolf bone weapons for me to defend against darkness. TheÚlfbladdagger with which I slew the troll in Ísland. And theúlftiri—made to summon wolves. Both lupine… and human.”
She spoke quietly to Jarl Rikard. “Please wait here, my jarl. I have a gift to offer.”
Elfi slipped back into her chamber, wiped Soisson’s vile blood fromShadowbane, and sheathed her victorious sword. Laying the leather scabbard with honor upon her bed, she returned to the corridor moments later, bearing a bundle wrapped in a white wolfskin pelt reminiscent of Njörd’s sacred cloak. The thick fur gleamed silver in the flickering torchlight.
Head high, shoulders back, she strode to the center of the corridor, where Jarl Rikard stood, flanked by Thorfinn, Oda, and the warriors who had defended the castle.
Her voice rang out, clear as a clarion bell.
“Jarl Rikard,” Elfi said with solemn pride, “I have fulfilled my sacred vow to avenge mybroðir’sdeath. And I offer this gift asShieldmaiden ofChâteau Blancto the Viking Duke of Normandy.”
She knelt and lifted the bundle high. “Like Dag—who died defending this castle and now feasts with theeinherjarin Valhalla—I have defendedle Château Blanc.”
When Rikard accepted her gift and unfolded the wolfskin, silence swept the hushed hall. Within the blood-soaked fur was the severed head of the Count of Soissons, his ignoble face frozen in ignominious defeat.
Jarl Rikard beheld her with astonishment and awe. “You have done more than fulfill your vow, Elfi. You have not only defendedle Château Blanc, you have saved thePays de Caux.”
Thorfinn helped Elfi to her feet, paternal pride ablaze in his shining eyes.
She smoothed the linen gown over her swollen belly, her shieldmaiden spirit soaring on swan wings like Freyja’s Valkyries.
Jarl Rikard addressed Thorfinn, theÚlfhéðnar,Ljósálfar.,and warriors who defended the castle.“I will bring this to Hugh Capet in Paris. It is undeniable proof of Frankish treachery — and damning evidence that King Lothaire has onceagain violated the Treaty ofSaint-Clair-sur-Epte.”
His tone darkened, cold with conviction. “A king who breaks his oath does not deserve his crown. The council shall be urged to dethrone Lothaire and install a new sovereign.”
Jarl Rikard spoke to Halvar, his highest-ranking warrior from Fécamp who now stood at his side. “Wrap it securely, store it in a wooden box with ice, straw, and salt, and load it onRán’s Ram. Stock supplies onRiverwolfas well, for an urgent voyage to Paris. We’ll take the two ships and depart on the evening tide, after the victory feast.”
Silver beard shining in the torchlight, he grinned at Elfi. “To honor theShieldmaiden ofChâteau Blanc.”
Chapter 31
La Louve Blanche
