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grinning. They were used to defiance, and used to

defeating it, and they enjoyed watching Sven fleece travellers. Sven poured himself more

ale. 'You have some fine arm rings, leper,' he said, 'and I suspect that helmet won't be much

use to you once you're dead, so in exchange for your woman I'll take your rings and your

helmet and then you can go on your way.'
    I did not move, did not speak, but I gently pressed my legs against Witnere's flanks and I

felt the big horse tremble. He was a fighting beast and he wanted me to release him, and

perhaps it was Witnere's tension that Sven sensed. All he could see was my baleful helmet

with its dark eye holes and its wolf's crest and he was becoming worried. He had flippantly

raised the wager, but he could not back down if he wanted to keep his dignity. He had to play

to win now. 'Lost your tongue suddenly?' he sneered at me, then gestured at the two men who

had fetched the women. 'Egil! Atsur! Take the leper's helmet!'
    Sven must have reckoned he was safe. He had at least a ship's crew of men in the village and

I was by myself, and that convinced him that I was defeated even before his two men

approached me. One had a spear, the other was drawing his sword, but the sword was not even

halfway out of the scabbard before I had Serpent-Breath in my hand and Witnere moving. He

had been desperate to attack, and he leaped with the speed of eight-legged Sleipnir, Odin's

famed horse. I took the man on the right first, the man who was still drawing his sword, and

Serpent-Breath came from the sky like a bolt of Thor's lightning and her edge went through his

helmet as if it were made of parchment and Witnere, obedient to the pressure of my knee was

already turning towards Sven as the spearman came for me. He should have thrust his blade

into Witnere's chest or neck, but instead he tried to ram the spear up at my ribs and Witnere

twisted to his right and snapped at the man's face with his big teeth and the man stumbled

backwards, just avoiding the bite, and he lost his footing to sprawl on the grass and I kept

Witnere turning left. My right foot was already free of the stirrup and then I threw myself

out of the saddle and dropped hard onto Sven. He was half tangled by the bench as he tried to

stand, and I drove him down, thumping the wind from his belly, and then I found my feet, stood,

and Serpent-Breath was at Sven's throat. 'Egil!' Sven called to the spearman who had been

driven back by Witnere, but Egil dared not attack me while my sword was at his master's

gullet.
    Bolti was whimpering. He had pissed himself. I could smell it and hear it dripping.

Gelgill was standing very still, watching me, his narrow face expressionless. Hild was

smiling. A half-dozen of Sven's other men were facing me, but none dared move because the

tip of Serpent-Breath, her blade smeared with blood, was at Sven's throat. Witnere was beside

me, teeth bared, one front hoof pawing at the ground and thumping very close to Sven's head.

Sven was gazing up at me with his one eye that was filled with hate and fear, and I suddenly

stepped away from him. 'On your knees,' I told him.
    'Egil!' Sven pleaded again.
    Egil, black-bearded and with gaping nostrils where the front of his nose had been chopped

off in some fight, levelled his spear.
    'He dies if you attack,' I said to Egil, touching Sven with Serpent-Breath's tip. Egil,

sensibly stepped backwards, and I flicked Serpent-Breath across Sven's face, drawing blood.

'On your knees.' I said again, and when he was kneeling I leaned down and took his two swords

from their scabbards and lay them beside my father's helmet on the table.
    'You want to kill the slaver?' I called back to Hild, gesturing at the swords.
    'No,' she said.
    'Iseult would have killed him,' I said. Iseult had been my lover and Hild's friend.
    'Thou shalt not kill.' Hild said. It was a Christian commandment and about as futile, I

thought,