Wulfa, darting cold blue hate at Blade, feinted again and thrust the spiked buckler at Blade's naked chest. Blade, making sure the axe swing was a feint, chopped viciously with Aesculp and hewed the buckler from the man's forearm and hand. Two of his fingers went with it. Blade leaped back in defensive posture.
Wulfa cast a glance at his two fingers lying in the mud, then spat in disgust and leaped in to attack again, no feinting this time. The man reversed the axe haft in his hand and swung the pointed edge at Blade's skull. Blade countered with Aesculp and a fierce clanging filled the courtyard as the axes met again and again. Sparks glittered in the murky air as axe slammed on axe and the din and clamor grew.
Wulfa sought to draw Blade out, away from the alcove, but Blade would have none of it. With a snarl of baffled rage the raider leaped in again, swinging mightily. He slipped in the mud underfoot. Blade, instead of fending off the blow, let it pass over his head, then countered with a smashing backhand blow with the bronze axe. It bit into the man's neck at the base, just at the collar bone, and so great was the force that the axe cleft nearly down to the navel. Wulfa screamed and fell away as Blade pulled out the axe.
Two men ran forward to seize the dying Wulfa by the heels and drag him away. Blade leaned on Aesculp and smiled at them.
'Who comes next?'
There was no shouting now. They eyed Blade warily and whispered among themselves. Some glanced nervously to where Redbeard still watched by the tower.
Blade mocked them through the gore that covered him, Wulfa's blood having been added to that of the bears.
'I was right, then? You have no stomach for a man? But I give you this— you are great rapers of women and children.'
The second opponent was as large as Blade, dark bearded and bareheaded, fighting with a sword and dirk. Blade, tiring now and not daring to show it, began a slow silent count to ten. At nine he struck and the man's head flew off and rolled into a puddle, the eyes still staring in amazement at his fellow raiders.
Blade was arm weary, yet he swung Aesculp like a stick of pinewood. 'The next? Do not hang back, warriors. There is no fame in living— so come and die.'
He gambled with the third man and killed him at the second pass. The bronze axe tore out the man's throat and his head fell back on a slender skein of flesh to lie grotesquely between his shoulders.
Blade, though hard put to breathe, brandished the axe at them. 'Aesculp is thirsty today. Who will offer his blood next?'
The muttering was sullen now. For a moment none stepped forward. The rain had increased and was washing some of the blood from Blade's face and body. Behind him Taleen and Sylvo crouched in silence, as he had bid them, and for this much he was grateful. He could not fight forever; if he was to win his gamble it must be soon.
The raiders sent up a new shout.
'Jarl— Jarl— Jarl— Jarl!'
The man who stepped out to face Blade was of only medium height but his arms were as solid and packed with muscle as Blade's own. His hairy legs were thick and very badly bowed. He wore a purple cloak and a helmet with a silver spike, and Blade had seen him before. He was one of the two officers who had been talking to Redbeard.
The man called Jarl faced Blade with an enigmatic smile. He was smooth shaven— a rare thing among the sea robbers— with wide-set gray eyes that sparkled with intelligence. Beneath the purple cloak he wore a corselet of leather and bronze, and over this a shirt of light mail. Instead of the ubiquitous breeches this man wore a kilt of heavy plaid cloth that came high on his sturdy legs.
He saluted Blade with a broadsword very like the one Blade had used to kill Horsa, and though his tone was sombre enough there was a strain of merriment just beneath. The voice was a light tenor and, in his former life, Blade would have marked it as that of an educated man.
'It appears,' said the man called Jarl, 'that these dogs of mine have had a belly full of you, sire. I cannot say that I blame them, for you fight like a fiend. Perhaps you are a fiend, but that is no matter to me. You must die all the same. This I truly regret, sire, for I admire the way you handle that axe.'
Blade scowled at him, knowing this to be the real test. This man had mettle that Blade had not faced before.
'Come and meet Aesculp,' Blade taunted. 'I doubt you will admire her so much then.'
Jarl stroked his smooth chin. 'You could yield, man. I like not to kill you and that is whole truth. Yield in honor and take your chances.'
Blade scowled again. 'I might yield, but not to promises. I am a prince in my own land and I will be treated as such. I also demand safety for my servant and the maid.'
Jarl's gray eyes narrowd. 'You demand?' It was spoken very softly.
'I demand!' And Blade swung the bronze axe again.
He thought Jarl's regret to be genuine. The man raised the great sword and advanced on Blade. 'I am sorry for that,' he said. 'I have not the authority to grant demands to any unwise enough to make them. Only Getorix can do that, he who is called Redbeard, and the only answer he makes to demands is death! I wish you were wiser, man. I would have you fight with us and not against us. Warriors like you are not easily come by.'
'Then summon Redbeard,' said Blade boldly. 'Such a bargain is possible, for I would as lief have my life as any man, and I know I cannot kill you all. But if only Redbeard commands— only Redbeard can bargain! I will not treat with underlings.'
'We shall see,' said Jarl softly, 'who is underling. Defend yourself, man.'
Jarl went immediately to the point, wasting no time on clumsy broad strokes, and Blade barely parried the first thrust. Nausea rose in his throat and his heart was leaden. He was bone weary and this man was a swordsman. For a moment a mindless cold fear clutched at him, then be shook it off. A man had to die sometime.
