“They don’t seem to be selected for their intelligence,” Roper observed to Gray.
“Quite the contrary, lord,” Gray agreed.
Beside Roper, Keturah seemed to be regretting breaking the tension between Uvoren and her cousin and had started harrying the captain. She needled him over his age, over Pryce’s third Prize of Valour, over having been so content to wait in the fortress while other men did the fighting, over his use of a war hammer which she declared “clumsy.”
“And what would a woman know of this matter?” growled Uvoren.
“Oh I’m sorry, Captain, have I upset you? I do apologise, but there’s really no need to take it so seriously. I am, as you say, a woman. All I know is what other warriors have told me. Admittedly, there is something close to a consensus that your use of Marrow-Hunter is impractical and nothing more than a move to enhance your own prestige, but I’m sure you have your own reasons.”
Uvoren was looking more and more displeased, but even he would not retaliate physically. He tried to fire some shots back at her, but they fell well wide of the mark and were merely greeted by her delighted laugh.
Uvoren stood abruptly and raised his horn. “Warriors!” he called. “Warriors!” The men were too drunk for silence to fall swiftly and, even once most of the noise had died away, there was still the loud squabbling of several berserkers. They were hushed impatiently by those around them. They resisted until Roper thumped a fist on the High Table, when at last they fell still.
Uvoren inclined his head in Roper’s direction by way of thanks. “I thank my Lord Roper for a magnificent feast!” There was a roar directed at the Black Lord who acknowledged it with a graceful nod before training his attention back to Uvoren, keen to hear what he was to say. “Truly, it is a worthy celebration of a campaign which we may proudly add to our noble history. To have dug such a hole,” more good-natured laughter, “and extracted himself quite so masterfully is testament to this young lord. He has spirit.” And Uvoren raised his horn to Roper, taking a drink. There was something in that last sentence that made Roper think they were the first words that Uvoren had truly meant. It was a salute to a worthy adversary. “But as he has already said, this campaign was three battles and not two. On our first, we did retreat from the battlefield for the first time in centuries. Our full strength was not enough to defeat the Sutherners and we left many, many brave legionaries in those flood waters. For the first time, the Sutherners tasted blood. They sensed our weakness and it emboldened them.
“My warriors, I don’t know about you, but that fills me with rage. How dare those low creatures presume they could defeat the Black Legions! Don’t they know who they’re dealing with?” There was a cheer and shouts of anger from those who had lost friends. Roper had started frowning. “Warriors, we must exact revenge! We must make it clear once and for all who the dominant force in Albion is. Why, we have not raided beyond our borders since the days of Rokkvi! The Sutherner grows bold and we cower in the north!”
Uvoren was forced to wait while the fervent noise subsided.
“You all know me. You know what I and my war hammer have done. By my hand, King Offa lies in his long grave!” He held up his left arm and indicated the silver ring that gleamed there, his Prize of Valour. He indicated his right. “I took Lundenceaster!”
By this time the men were baying. Roper glanced at Gray and saw for the first time base contempt in the guardsman’s face as he watched Uvoren speak. “You do hate him,” prodded Roper with a reproachful smile. Gray glanced at Roper and composed his face.
Uvoren was still speaking: “I would do anything for this country. And if it needed it of me, I would remain in the Hindrunn and guard it through Catastrophe itself. Even whilst heroes like Pryce and Leon win prizes in glorious open combat, I am content so long as I serve my country. But I still thirst for Suthern blood. Marrow-Hunter is restless and I would do anything for my chance against our enemy. You know me, and I am not done yet. I implore you all, may I have the honour to lead you against the Sutherners?”
“Yes!” roared the hall.
“Will you come south with me and do as honour demands?”
“Yes!”
“Remember this moment! If you ever need a warrior to take you south and to war; remember that Uvoren Ymerson still lives. Remember that Marrow-Hunter always thirsts for Suthern blood! And if my Lord Roper forgets, remind him!” He grinned and winked at the crowd who burst into applause. Someone started thumping a table and the rest of the hall took it up, chanting “U-vor-en! U-vor-en!”
Now Roper stood and Gray, Pryce and Tekoa began to bay for silence, which came after a time. “How fortunate we are to live in an age of such warriors,” said Roper, more
