Again Jarl's sword licked in like a striking serpent. Blade took a minor scratch on the forearm. The circle of raiders set up a gleeful howl. 'Jarl— Jarl— Jarl!'
Jarl's smile was merry, though with a hint of melancholy. 'If I roust kill a brave man,' he muttered softly, 'I would know his name. How are you called?'
'I am Blade,' panted Blade. 'Prince Blade of London!' The lie came smoothly out of nowhere, with no effort on his part He leaped at Jarl, summoning a final surge of strength, and drove the man backward. The bronze axe grew increasingly heavier and sweat dewed on Blade's face and ran stinging into his eyes, while his lungs labored painfully.
When the voice came it was like a brazen trumpet filling the courtyard. It clangored and hung long in the sudden silence.
'Hold!' It was Redbeard, shouting from the ramparts. Jarl dropped his point immediately and stepped back. A murmur of disappointment came from the watching sea robbers.
Redbeard, hands cupped to his mouth, shouted again. 'I say hold! You, Jarl, offer the man his life and honor. That of his companions also. Such a warrior must not be slain meanly. But he owes me for the death of three of mine and I will have him pay in kind. See to it, Jarl. You speak in my name.'
Blade stared up at the rampart. Redbeard, hands on hips now, stared back at him. The distance was great, yet Blade felt the impact of those feral eyes over the flaming beard.
'You, stranger, listen to Jarl. His word is mine.' Redbeard turned away to attend another officer, and his last words were flung over his shoulder.
'Take my offer or refuse it, stranger. The choice is yours. I will not make it again.'
Redbeard disappeared into the tower. Jarl half raised his sword and looked at Blade. 'So, Blade? What is it to be?'
There was loud grumbling from the onlookers. One man called out, 'Kill him, Jarl. We will all lie and say he refused mercy!'
Another man pointed to the bodies of the three Blade had slain. 'Who pays for those?'
Jarl gave them a contemptuous glance. 'Quiet, you dogs. You all heard Redbeard. The next man to speak so loses his booty.'
The threat had great effect, much more than any to life or limb. They grew silent.
Jarl looked again at Blade. 'You will yield?'
From the alcove Sylvo said: 'Yield, master. The bargain is a good one. We still have our heads— which is more than I expected. And the Drus have a saying— while a man breathes he has hope.'
Blade glanced at Taleen. 'And you, princess?'
There was adoration in the glance she gave him. 'As you say, Prince Blade. I will live with you, or die with you. It is your choice.'
Blade turned back to Jarl. Their eyes met and held steady for a moment. Then Blade flung the great bronze axe at the other man's feet. 'I yield,' said Blade, 'and hold you to the terms your Redbeard spoke.'
Jarl picked up the axe and handed it back to Blade, but not before he had hefted it and swung it a few times. 'A marvelously fine weapon,' he said as he gave it to Blade. And added, 'A pity in a way, Blade. Now we will never know who is master between us two.'
Blade received Aesculp back with a curt nod. Utter weariness was closing on him and he struggled to keep it secret.
'And yet,' Jarl said, 'who can know? Perhaps another time, Blade? But Thunor will decide that, not us.'
Blade managed a smile. 'I would have quarters for myself and my companions, Jarl,. Food and drink and fresh clothing. Water for bathing, for we are all filthy. Tell your Redbeard that I will attend him whenever he is ready.'
Again Jarl's smile was enigmatic. 'That will not be until dark, I think. Our chief has duties to attend to— a division of booty, and the raping and punishment of the whore queen. But tonight at the great victory feast you will meet Redbeard, never doubt it. Now come with me.' Jarl bowed slightly, standing aside, as Blade, Taleen and Sylvo filed through the hostile and hard-eyed ranks of the sea raiders.
Chapter Eleven
The first half of Blade's strategy having come to fruition, he began that very night to complete the second half. Yet he made haste slowly, cannily, feeling his way. He walked the thin edge of disaster— one slip and there would be no second chance.
He was given a fine chamber overlooking a sea still hidden in mist. The fogs were prevalent this time of year, Jarl explained, and so Redbeard had only feinted at Penvey, to the south, to draw Lycanto and his Albians to the attack. Spies had been circulated about Alb to spread the rumor that Penvey was to be attacked. But Alb was a poor kingdom, hardly worth looting, and as soon as Lycanto was committed, and on the march, Redbeard's sleek long ships of war had prowled north and west, like ghosts in the gray fog, and achieved complete surprise at Craghead.
'Few sentries had been posted,' Jarl said, 'and those we throttled silently at their posts. They were too busy watching you fight bears, Blade. I could have taken Craghead with a dozen men.'
Blade slept the afternoon away, with Sylvo snoring on a pile of skins in a corner. When the man awoke Blade night had come. The skies were clearing and there was a faint promise of a moon. The same wind that was blowing the mists away fluttered the snake standard of Getorix from Craghead's highest pinnacle. Sounds of drunken revelry were coming from Queen Beata's great dining hall.
A scalding hot bath was prepared and Blade lolled in it until Sylvo's frets drove him out. The man dried him on a fine linen towel and combed his hair and beard, chattering all the while. Blade, while enduring the ministrations, eyed Sylvo with speculation. He had never seen the man so on edge.
