He pushed himself up and lunged at me, throwing wide his arms. I jumped lightly back and he hugged the earth. Again the throng laughed, and I realized that they were calling for me to defeat him. I gazed around the ring of faces and saw Gunnar and Tolar standing in the forefront jeering with the rest.
"Gunnar, what shall I do?" I called, barely making myself heard above the crowd.
"Hit him!" Gunnar called back. "Hit him hard!"
With a grunt and a curse, Hrothgar heaved himself onto his feet once more and stumbled forward. The crowd cheered more wildly, shrieking with approval and delight. In the same instant I saw a glinting flash out of the corner of my eye.
I turned just in time to see the knife blade slicing up through the air. I jerked my head away and felt the blade-tip nip my chin. I fell backwards, landing on my rump. Hrothgar, unable to keep his balance, fell forward and landed atop me, trapping my legs beneath his bulk. One swift slash and he would cut my throat, or gut me like a fish.
Desperate to shift him, I kicked and heaved, but could not move my legs. Hrothgar, still gripping the knife, made a clumsy swing. I threw myself back and heard the thin whisper of the blade in the air-and I heard a crack as my head struck something hard: the piece of wood Hrothgar had thrown at me. My hand closed on it at once. If I had any thought at all, it was only to use the wood to fend off the knife.
Hrothgar, laying crossways on my legs, lunged blindly. His arm went wide, and his head flopped down with the effort. The rounded mound that was the back of his head presented itself to me and I struck it. The wood bounced off the barbarian's skull with a hollow sound which so surprised me that I swung again-harder.
Hrothgar gave out a grunt and lay on his face in the dirt.
A moment later, Gunnar and Tolar were rolling the brute aside. Men came forward to slap me on the back, and declare what a quick-witted fighter I was.
"I did not mean to hit him so hard," I said to Gunnar. "Is he injured, do you think?"
"Hrothgar hurt?" Gunnar chuckled, much amused. "Nay, nay. His head will ache as much from the ol as from the puny knock you gave him."
I observed the prostrate body doubtfully. "I fear I have only made matters worse. Hrothgar will be very angry with me now."
Gunnar waved aside my worry. "Nay, by the time he wakes up, he will have forgotten all about it. Still, I think you were lucky," Gunnar observed affably.
Tolar the Taciturn nodded in sage agreement.
"I should teach you to fight. That way you would not be forced to rely on luck-she often proves a flighty bedmate."
"Heya," confirmed Tolar in a tone that conveyed years of bitter experience.
Ragnar Yellow Hair approached boldly, his countenance severe. Scop, his Truth Sayer, fluttered at his side like an overgrown buzzard. Ragnar glanced from Gunnar to me; I expected the worst. He held out a silver coin which Gunnar accepted and tucked into his pouch. With a dark glance at me, he turned and walked away. Scop flapped after him.
There came a sound so strange and loud that it halted any further talk; everywhere men stopped and stared at one another.
"That will be Harald Bull-Roar," Gunnar said, looking away towards the river.
"There!" shouted Bjarni, standing before the tent. "Jarl Harald arrives!"
I looked where the man was pointing and saw, moving among the trees and shrubs along the river, a red-and-white expanse. To a man, the whole camp began walking to the river, where, after a few moments, the huge thundering bellow sounded again and a ship sailed into view.
The vessel was sharp-keeled and long, its prow rising high to end in the fierce, fire-eyed, serpent-toothed head of a dragon; the stern rose likewise to become a forked tail. Both stern and prow had been painted red and yellow; the ship's sides were black, and the sails alternating red-and-white in broad handsome stripes. Fresh-limed shields hung on the rail, and ranks of oars bristled from the sides. Ah, yes, it was a sight to stir the heart and make the blood run swift in the veins.
Those gathered on the banks hailed the fine vessel with lusty shouts; some, overcome with zeal, leaped into the water and swam to the ship to clamber up the sides and join the warriors at the rail. The bellowing sounded again, shaking the very ground beneath our feet, and I saw that this extraordinary noise was produced by two enormous battle horns manned by two barbarians each, who took it in turn to blow into the instruments, lest one of them grow faint.
Ragnar, surrounded by his men, rose to watch the arrival. "A fine-looking ship," he observed. "Had I a longship half so good, it would be Harald paying me tribute, and not the other way."
Lifting a hand to the vessel, which was now coming to rest against the bank, Gunnar said, "Ship? I see no ship, Jarl Ragnar. Nay! It is our silver tribute I see before us-with dragon head and banded sails now, but it is our silver just the same."
