His hand flickered, the war hatchet blurring back and forth. The lion lashing his tail. 'Or I will remove them for you.'
The sheer, sudden violence of the young knight's words and actions--all the more violent for that they had not yet erupted in the blood and mayhem they promised--had momentarily paralyzed everyone else in the church. Now, finally, the other knights began to react.
Kat felt the knight holding her flinch, his fingers almost trembling. She understood then that her own impression of the blond Norseman was no figment of her imagination. The knight, too, found him just as frightening. And presumably, in his case, from past experience.
The other knights shifted their feet, their hands fumbling uncertainly at their own weapons. It was clear as day that they had no idea how to handle the situation.
Suddenly, one of the knights who had been standing in the background moved forward. A very large knight, this one, built so squarely he resembled a block of granite on thick legs. Very young, also. Kat thought he was perhaps her own age.
'For God's sake, Erik!' he exclaimed. 'Why are you--?'
The blond knight held out his other hand, staying the youngster with a commanding gesture.
'Be silent, Manfred. Do you think the world is nothing but a toy for your pleasure? You are nothing but an oaf. A spoiled child. Begone! This is a man's business.'
The words caused the young knight's face to flush a sudden bright pink. Then, grow pale with rage. Then--
Grow paler still; and paler still. Shock, now, Kat realized. The young knight's jaw sagged loose. He stared at the one named Erik as if he were seeing him for the first time.
Then, as suddenly as everything else was happening, his face seemed to snap shut. He shouted something Kat did not understand--words in Gaelic, she thought--and strode forward to the knight holding her.
An instant later, Manfred's huge hands closed upon her captor's own shoulders and wrenched him loose as easily as a man wrestles a boy. Suddenly released, Kat staggered on her feet for a moment. By the time she regained her balance, the knight who had seized her was crashing down onto one of the pews, turning the cheaply made wooden bench into so much kindling. She found herself marveling at the strength that could send an armored knight flying through the air like a toy; almost giggling at the sheer absurdity of the sight.
But she had no real difficulty suppressing the giggle. The situation was now on the brink of utter carnage, almost a dozen knights ready to hack each other into pieces--with herself right in the middle of them.
The young knight named Manfred whipped out his own great sword and brandished it. 'Dia a coir!' he shouted. Then, took two steps toward the abbot and commanded him: 'Unhand the child, Sachs!'
The abbot, through all this, had been paralyzed. Kat realized, now, that he was a man whose authority had always come from his position--not respect gained from his subordinates in action. It was obvious that Sachs had absolutely no idea what to do, now that he was faced with open rebellion.
Neither did any of the other knights, for that matter. But it was also obvious, even to Kat, that they were about to react the way fighting men will when faced with such a naked challenge. These men were cut from the same cloth as the bravos of any great house of Venice--but were far better trained, and more deadly. In open combat, at least, if not in the subtler skill of the assassin.
The hands on swords were clenched now, not loose. And two or three of those swords were beginning to come out of their scabbards. Frightened they might be, at Erik's savagery and Manfred's incredible strength--but they were not going to crumple under it. Not men like these.
Suddenly, one of the other knights thrust out his hands, his arms spread wide in a gesture commanding peace. A somewhat older knight, this one. Most of them were men in their early twenties. His face, though not creased with middle age, was that of a man in his thirties. A man accustomed to command.
'Enough!' he shouted. 'Enough! No weapons!'
His voice seemed to calm the situation instantly. Kat thought he must be the knight in command of the party. The hands on sword hilts loosened; some were removed entirely. Even Erik and Manfred seemed to settle back a little.
'Erik is right,' the older knight said forcefully. 'Quite right! And every true Knight here knows it!'
He turned to Sachs and glared at him. 'You have completely exceeded your authority here, Abbot. Abused it grossly, in fact.'
The abbot gaped at him. 'But--Von Gherens . . .'
