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Had it been his own failing as a leader? Had it been the mutiny? Was it because Valdemar gambled one too many times? There was no use in asking questions about whose fault it was. It was everyone's fault, and it was no one's.
The injured ones especially wouldn't be able to move. Not right away, and they certainly wouldn't be able to take a fighting retreat for miles. They needed time. A scant few days to recover their strength. Then they would be able to move, and he knew the right thing to do was head straight back home.
Exhausted mentally and physically, it would take a miracle to do any more raiding without the men being hurt or killed. Perhaps if they ran into a town where the men-folk had gone off to join this ambush party, but how would they know unless they risked it first?
Magnus stood over him, he saw now. Waiting, not speaking, for Gunnar to address him. Gunnar let out a grunt to indicate that he knew the boy was there.
"Valdemar says we need to speak about what comes next."
Gunnar pulled himself upright, groaning at the tightness in his entire body. How had he let this happen to him? He was becoming old before his very eyes. It hadn't been so long ago that he never hurt after a fight. A disgrace indeed. He pushed the thought away. After what they'd been through, a little soreness was allowed.
They picked their way through the camp, each man having set out a little space for himself in the open ground. They couldn't risk a fire, so in the failing light it was hard to be certain at more than a few paces that you might not be stepping into a place where there wouldn't be any convenient way through, but between the two of them, Gunnar and Magnus picked their way through.
Leif, Ulf, and Eirik were already seated in a rough semi-circle, with Arne and Valdemar across from them. Magnus took a seat on Valdemar's other side, leaving a space for Gunnar to sit.
"We need to talk, Gunnar." He hadn't had time to slip down to a seated position before Valdemar spoke.
"Do we, now?" Amusement colored his voice. They had a great deal to talk about it, and the time was passed for the majority of it. Did they need to talk when he'd been injured and Valdemar decided to take his raiding party from him? Did they need to talk when Valdemar had decided to ram headlong into an ambush, knowing full well what he was getting himself into?
He knew the answer. They certainly did have to talk, but they hadn't. It was what had gotten them into this entire mess. But it didn't help the sting to go away. Valdemar, for his part, ignored the jab.
"We need to talk about what we're going to do next. All of us."
"Why only the seven of us? Why not any of the others?"
"Look at them, Gunnar." He gestured with his eyes at the bodies spread around the grass, most of them already asleep, except for the injured, who writhed in pain. "They weren't recruited for their leadership abilities, were they? And now they're exhausted, and even their usefulness in a fight is… questionable."
"So you think we should leave them behind?"
"I never said that."
Leif spoke next. "The Gods aren't happy with our progress."
"Nor am I," Valdemar countered. "But there are other considerations. We can't ignore the toll that these two weeks have taken on them. That rescue of yours—I thank you for it, but it was dangerous. A big risk."
"It's am
using to hear you talking about risks that are too great, Valdemar."
The tension was thickening. Gunnar decided to step in. "We need to go home. The men are tired and if we stay any longer than we must, then there will only be more deaths."
"My thoughts exactly," Valdemar said. "We make our way to the coast. It should be that way."
He pointed in a direction that seemed right to Gunnar. "We can't go before the injured have time to recover a bit, though."
Valdemar shook his head. "Would you have us wait forever? Perhaps we could just walk back to the city tomorrow, and tell them we need a few weeks' rest?"
"I'm not asking for weeks. Two days. Give them two days. In that time, if there are any who can't walk themselves, we can find a way to carry them."
Valdemar looked at him hard, but nodded all the same. "Two days it is. Anyone disagree?"
No one spoke. "Then I think we're all in agreement here," he said. "You can all go to sleep. Everyone's had a long day, and we'll need it come morning, and definitely in two days' time."
Gunnar rose along with the rest of them, turned before anyone could say anything, and stalked back to the little claim he'd laid on the ground, and laid himself out.
Deirdre had been there. She'd been involved somehow. But if she had been brought there by the others, with Leif and Eirik, then they would have said something. They would have told him where she was, at least. The fact that nobody had mentioned her suggested that there was something else at work here.
He didn't know what it was, but he knew that he didn't like being unsure. If she was still alive, she might be looking for him. He had denied himself the opportunity to be with her once. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.
