Sword Brothers by Jerry Autieri

Ulfrik away by the arm.
    "Father, you've spent too many days talking to warriors and have forgotten how to speak to your wife."
    "Well, wasn't she Runa the Bloody once? You know what your mother's history--"
    "You're missing the point, Father. Hakon is her little boy. Come with me. You've got grandchildren waiting for you."
    They pushed through the clumps of people embracing in welcome. Some were families reunited, others were younger boys crowding their older peers, others were just tradesmen come to enjoy the happiness of returning warriors. All around them was jovial chatter and laughter, Ulfrik's favorite part of returning from a long raid. His hall dominated a wide swath of crucial farmland and river trade along the Seine. Everyone here had a stake in his successfully demonstrating strength.
    Gunnar's wife was a woman he had captured in England during his dark years as a raider. A full-bodied woman who stood no taller than Gunnar's chest, she went by the name of Morgan. She had learned to love Gunnar and gave him many children, though most had not lived. Not until Gunnar settled his own lands next to Ulfrik's did his family begin to prosper and his children survive. He had two girls and a son, and all three were a delight to Ulfrik. The boy was only two years old, but looked like him with bright blue eyes and golden hair that had Gunnar's strong curls.
    Standing with his grandchildren was Aren, or Broken-Tooth as others had come to call him. It was a cruel name, for his true father had smashed his front teeth in a fit of rage. Yet he did not disagree with it, and made up bold lies of how he had come by the disfigurement. His wide, inscrutable face regarded Ulfrik with an outward coolness that Ulfrik knew masked a fierce love. Though not his son by blood, Aren was his wife's son, carrying both her passions and her loyalty. To that he bought his own keen intelligence that made him a master of both men and strategy. At twenty-one years of age, Aren had not filled out and remained far less imposing than his half-brothers, nor did he possess Finn's wiry strength.
    He stood with arms locked behind his back as Ulfrik approached. Aren's eyes swept Ulfrik's body head to toe, examining all the cuts and scars he had earned on this campaign. Most did not show on the outside, but Aren was adept enough that he would eventually see those internal wounds as well. "Welcome home, Father. You look well."
    "That I am," he said, then gave Aren a bear hug that he returned with a weak pat. "No worries while I was gone?"
    "I saw to everything as you would," Aren said. Ulfrik had left him in charge, for, though lacking physical strength, his sharp mind and insight into the hearts of men made him a formidable leader. He would anticipate trouble long before even the troublemakers themselves considered it, then stamp it dead at the root.
    "I have news," Ulfrik said. "I want your opinions on the matter when we have time to talk alone."
    Aren's eyes flicked over Ulfrik's shoulder, and he turned to see Runa fussing over Hakon's injury. "I watched you trying to explain Hakon's wound to Mother. You seemed ill at-ease. Would that be part of our discussion?"
    Ulfrik nodded and Aren flashed a small smile. "As perceptive as ever. Tell me, did Vilhjalmer bring you a woman while I was gone? Hrolf seemed to think the two of you would be up to mischief."
    Now Aren's face flushed bright red. Despite his ability to read a person, he had little skill with women. He had told Ulfrik it was because he saw through all the women who wanted him for his riches and status. Ulfrik saw no problem with those intentions, but it bothered his son.
    "Vilhjalmer is not allowed to do anything without a dozen guards. You know that, Father."
    "The lad is fifteen now, that's a man in anyone's eyes. He's become your best friend, and I'm sure he can do as he pleases."
    "Your grandchildren," Aren said with a raised brow. "They're patiently waiting."
    "Of course!" He turned to Morgan, who