waning battle before him. On his face he carefully fashioned an expression of boredom and utter scorn, while his eyes missed nothing, no significant detail, of the carnage.
A few of Queen Beata's men still fought on, though most had long since thrown down their arms and cried for quarter. It was rarely given, most of the quitters being butchered on the spot, but Blade did note a few sullen prisoners huddled together under guard. Of the queen there was no sign, and he judged her already taken, or slain, or fleeing by some secret passage. Blade had no care for that.
The courtyard, keep, ramparts and the stairs were thick with corpses. Some still moved and twitched, and were being dispatched as quickly as the raiders could get to it. The victors appeared more concerned, at the moment, with rape and drinking than in following up victory. Not twenty feet from Blade a buxom young woman lay naked and silent, a sword at her throat, while man after man dropped his loot, raped her, picked up his loot and staggered away to be replaced by the next. Not far from the young woman a boy was being sexually attacked by a huge warrior who, laughing uproariously at the youth's screams and struggles, kept cuffing him into position again.
A great deal of the wine and beer swept from the tables had been in corked jugs and bottles of fired clay and had not been spilt. It was now being guzzled as fast as possible. Blade glanced up at the tower and saw Redbeard conversing with two men, both of whom wore purple cloaks also, and had helmet spikes of silver instead of gold. They were big men— and as dwarfs beside Redbeard.
Redbeard gave an order and one of the men, with an odd, open-handed salute, turned and stalked away. There was no sign of the slim, silver haired Dru— if indeed she had ever been there. Blade at the moment was not so sure. Battle, and blood, did eerie things to a man's senses.
At last he was noticed, just as he was about to call out to seek attention. The alcove he guarded was small, the day dreary and dark— the mist even now changing to rain— and it was not so strange that the three had escaped notice until now. But now, as Blade stepped forward one pace and whirled the axe over his head, now the reckoning was due.
First notice came from the group around the naked woman nearby. They had given up raping her, so she must be dead, and now some ten of them came at Blade in a casual fashion that was nonetheless businesslike. One of them, a short burly man, noticed Blade's warlike demeanor, his villainous aspect, and stopped short. With an open mouth he stared at Blade. The others clotted behind him.
Blade, hideous with the gouted bear blood, spun Aesculp in a glittering circle and gibed at them.
'You hesitate, men of Redbeard? Why is this— I am but one man! Do you have second thoughts, then?' Blade grinned malevolently through his mask of blood and pointed with his axe to the naked dead woman.
'I promise I will not die as easily as that one. You will find the raping of me harder! But I can see you prefer women and children to fighting men, and are a coward's spawn. Go, then, and find a man to do your work— if there is a man among you!'
A great shout of rage went up from the raiders, so fierce that it attracted the attention of Redbeard. From a corner of his eye Blade saw the huge chieftain turn and stare down into the courtyard. This had been Blade's aim and he was pleased. Near silence fell on the courtyard now, a relative hush as the other sea robbers left off looting and raping and gravitated to the group facing Blade.
Blade did not waste the opportunity. His voice rang loud and clear over the voices, the shuffle of many feet and clangor of armed and mailed men.
'I know you worship courage, men of Redbeard. To die in battle is a great and good thing to you. So I give you opportunity. Who will come and die first? Who will make a legend today? Whose name will be sung by the skalds for years to come?'
The bronze axe sang as he whirled it over his head. 'Come forward and die a hero's death. Aesculp is impatient.'
Behind him he heard Sylvo mutter: 'Thunor's balls! He has gone mad. They will flay us and have our livers for dinner!'
One of the raiders fitted an arrow to his bowstring and raised the weapon. Another man struck it down. 'Fool! Kill him so and we are all marked coward as he proclaims. Why spoil a good fight? Rejoice that at least one of the whore queen's men is a warrior. It has been a poor battle until now, and this our chance to better it. Who goes first?'
A great clamor went up as a dozen of them vied for first chance at Blade. When the choice was made after bitter argument and a hush fell again, Blade spoke. Redbeard, his arms crossed and a tolerant smile on his face, was watching from the tower.
'I am no whelp of Beata's,' Blade shouted. 'I am a prince in my own land, and a wizard. Also a great warrior. I came to Craghead to fight for the lives of this maid, and for my servant, they who stand behind me. I had won, and we would be gone now but for your coming. So I must fight again! That this will be a pleasure I will not deny, for I ever enjoy killing scum, but I will have it understood that I was no man of Queen Beata's. But enough of talk— who dies first?'
The man chosen stepped forward. He was a swarthy fellow, short in the legs but with massive chest and shoulders. He wore untanned boots, ragged breeches with cross-gaitering, and a wolf skin did service as a tunic. His hair was straw colored, his eyes a cold blue beneath a helmet that bore the insignia of two serpents entwined on the haft of an axe.
The raiders fell back to form a semi-circle about the alcove. They raised a great outcry as their man approached Blade cautiously.
'Wulfa! Wulfa!'
'Let him hear your axe sing, Wulfa. I wager he will not like the tune.'
The man carried a small leather and wood buckler, bossed with an iron spike. His axe was shorter in haft than Aesculp, with a single biting edge of iron, the second edge having been ground down to a long sharp spike that still bore traces of the blood of a recent victim.
The man sprang at Blade and feinted a blow with his axe. Blade, not fooled, shifted position slightly and laughed. 'You hesitate, Wulfa? What does that name mean in your language— coward?'
The raiders snarled as one man and the semi-circle closed in a step or two. 'Have done with him, Wulfa! Cut out his lying tongue.'
