muffled even his enormous body, and on his head was a simple crown of gold with the serpents entwining roundabout. His beard was plaited as before and gay with ribbons from chin to waist. Now and again he would pick up one of the plaits, or both, and swing it idly or adjust a ribbon.
It was, thought Blade, as good a time as any to begin his campaign. So he began with Jarl, who was not the real target. He noted that Jarl had already emptied a large flagon of wine and was on his second, and judged that he had found a weakness in this man who, by his manner and speech, was so different from the other sea robbers.
Feigning sulkiness, Blade said: 'I had not thought to sit alone. And you? Are we outcasts, then, not good enough to sup and drink with the great man who puts ribbons in his beard like any maid?' He made sure that Jarl did not miss the sneer in his voice.
Jarl, if he was in truth a drunkard, had not yet had enough wine to cushion the shock of what he heard. He stared at Blade, his mouth open, and put down his tankard with a thump that spilled wine.
'What ails you, Blade? Keep your voice down, in Thunor's name! Else you ruin yourself and those with you. Patience, man! There is more here than you understand.'
Blade raised his voice. 'That is true. I thought I had won a warrior's status. Why am I not treated so?'
Jarl, disdaining his cup, gulped wine from the flagon and looked uneasily at Blade. Neither Redbeard nor his officers seemed aware of the dissension.
'Patience,' enjoined Jarl. 'You do not understand our customs, Blade. You have been honored— I, Jarl, have been appointed to keep you close company, to be brother in arms and companion to you, and to teach you our ways until your period of trial is over. In Thunor's name, Blade, forbear these manners or we will be enemies again. I would not have it so, because I have come to like you, man.'
And now Blade, liking Jarl and desperately needing a friend, forced himself to be perverse. He was being ignored, and had to prick a quarrel with Jarl that he might force one on Redbeard.
He scowled at Jarl. 'I am not sure I want the liking of a man who wears skirts.' He glanced down at his own kilt. 'And sends them to his friends.'
Jarl's hand trembled as he picked up his wine cup. 'You are ignorant, man, and I will overlook that. Where I come from the kilt is honorable dress.'
'That may be,' Blade conceded with ill grace. 'Though I have only your word for it.'
Jarl leaned over the table, his face gone livid. 'By the beard of Thunor, Blade, do not push too far! I am appointed friend to you, but I will not suffer— '
Blade, watching Redbeard from the corner of his eye, saw the huge man looking at them now. There was a hush about the throne as the officers followed their leader's glance and fell silent.
Blade raised his voice. 'That is another thing,' he sneered. 'I do not understand your easy use of Thunor. Have you no gods of your own, that you must borrow from the Albs?'
Jarl smiled and for a moment the tension eased. 'Gods are all one to us,' said Jarl. 'We borrow freely, I admit, and when we conquer a people we also conquer their gods.' He leaned close to Blade again. 'I, personally, have no gods. Gods are for simple people, who need them. I do not.' He smiled and touched Blade's hand. 'Come, drink! We will forget all that has been said. And tread you carefully— later you will understand why I say this.'
Blade felt a pang. Jarl was trying so hard to stay his friend! Yet Blade had to push on, using Jarl as a fulcrum to move the quarrel to Redbeard. It must be done now, tonight, in full view of this cut-throat assemblage. The gauntlet must be hurled at Redbeard in such a manner that he could not ignore it, nor settle the matter quietly with a furtive knife in Blade's ribs. His only chance hinged on open defiance that involved Redbeard's honor and courage.
So he pondered Jarl now with a skeptic's smile. 'I have wondered about you, Jarl, and why you are so determined to be a friend to me. What will you gain from it? I note that you are much above this rabble'— Blade waved a hand toward the crowded tables— 'and I think you are something of a philosopher. I'll wager that you can read and rune, as they certainly cannot, and if my thinking is right you are also treasurer and scribe to this oaf named Redbeard. And you are married to his sister? Is that how you cull favor?'
The last words, loudly spoken, carried easily to the throne and the group around it. Redbeard stood up, towering like a colossus. He glared at Blade and Jarl and gestured.
'Bring the man called Blade to me.'
Jarl gulped wine and would not meet Blade's eye. He was in the first stage of drunkenness now, still his words were concise and a clue to his keen brain.
'I have done!' Jarl said. 'You have your wish, man. I never thought your quarrel was with me— now you have it with Redbeard and I wish you well of it. Thunor protect you now. Aye, you will need him— and as many other gods as you can summon.'
Another of Redbeard's captains, splendid in purple cloak and silver spiked helmet, tapped Blade's arm. 'You heard our chief. Obey, man!'
Blade went toward the throne, walking easily and with a hint of swagger that belied the queasiness in his belly. So far, so good. He had pushed it to the breaking point, had maneuvered Getorix, and himself, into a position from which there was no retreat.
But this, Blade thought as he strode to the throne, was extrapolation in his own mind. It was not yet so— though he meant to clinch and confirm it with the words he held in store. He could still, by guile and grace of tongue, eschew the quarrel. Back out.
Redbeard, all seven feet of him, grew like a mountain in stature as Blade drew near. Blade, as human as any, felt a roil of fear in his guts. Had he pressed too far? Could he bring it off? For one breath only he faltered, then filled his lungs and shook off the cold manacle of doubt. He had come so far— he could not settle for less than his heart's desire.
The sea raiders, taking their cue from the throne, had left off eating and drinking and roistering. A hush fell over the vast hall, broken only by a muted squeal as some war maiden was pinched. All eyes followed Blade as he reached the throne and stopped, confronting Redbeard.
