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Frey-wand deep inside you, you'll wake soon
enough and cry out for more."
    "By Thor's hammer, enough! What kind of dog are
you to rut on the ground with a woman who lies as if dead?"
    All eyes turned to Rurik in astonishment. A charged
hush filled the air. The Varangian trader did not rise, but his grin tightened
perceptibly as he appraised Rurik.
    "You addressed me, stranger?"
    Rurik nodded, his hand moving to the bright silver hilt
of his sword. Although acting upon impulse was foreign to him, he felt
strangely glad.
    "Get up. You heard the wench before you struck her
down. She doesn't want your attentions."
    "This slave's wishes are none of my concern, nor
are they yours, if you value your neck—"
    "But they are mine!" A well-dressed Slav
merchant pushed his way to the front of the silent onlookers, though he and the
stout fellow who stood at his elbow remained a good distance from the kneeling
Varangian. "That woman belongs to me and she is not for sale until we
reach the markets of Constantinople." He eyed Rurik shrewdly, then his
gaze shifted back to Halfdan. "I offer ten gold grivna . . . no, twenty,
to any man who will wrest her from this barbarian, Halfdan Snakeeye. He refuses
to release her to me of his free will."
    As the Varangian trader cursed and rose to his feet,
speculative conversation surged among the crowd but no other man stepped
forward. Surprised that a merchant would pay gold for a slave's behalf, even
one as fine as this lithe, tawny-haired beauty, Rurik's curiosity flared
hotter. The man would hardly recoup such a sum once they reached Byzantium's
capital; the most sought-after slaves sold for much less, and usually in
silver. This one woman was obviously valuable to him. Strange.
    "My lord Rurik, surely you do not plan to fight
this trader!" whispered the urgent voice of one of his men.
    Leif Einarson's ruddy face was flushed an even brighter
shade of red, his light blue eyes wary. "The woman is beautiful but just
look at her captor, my lord! Almost a head taller even than you and as big as
an ox, no doubt with the strength to match."
    "The wits of an ox as well, Leif. The man is ruled
by lust instead of brains."
    "True, but big, dumb, and well armed could prove a
dangerous combination, and we have much at stake—"
    "Is it two of you who conspire against me now?"
Halfdan blustered. He swung his broadaxe menacingly in front of him. "Come
on, you dung-sniffers, and let's have done with it. When I've cut out your
beating hearts" —he glanced fiercely at Gleb— "next there'll be a
merchant's blood staining my blade."
    "Go back to the ship, Leif." Rurik's voice
was grim as he kept his gaze trained on the Varangian. "If I don't return
shortly, you, Arne, and Kjell sail without me."
    No protest came. Rurik hadn't expected one, for as
their sworn lord, the right of command belonged to him. Yet he could sense that
the seasoned warrior wished to remain by his side, ready to fight to the death
for him if necessary.
    "As you say, my lord." Scowling at the huge
trader, Leif stalked away.
    "I accept your offer of twenty grivna," Rurik
announced, noticing the merchant's look of relief. His instincts told him that
the man had something more important at stake than simply regaining possession
of a female slave, and he intended to find out what it was, if Odin the
all-powerful deemed him the victor. Let the wily slaver think Rurik was
fighting for gold. In truth, he wanted to know more about the woman, yet that
was impossible until this belligerent Varangian was brought down.
    "So your copper-haired friend is afraid to fight
Halfdan," the Norseman jeered, his extreme height enabling him to see
above the crowd. "Look how he hastens toward the river with his tail
dragging between his legs."
    "Hardly afraid." Rurik stepped forward as he
pulled his sword from the leather scabbard hanging from his belt. His lips
curved into a taunting smile. "Why use two men where only one is required?"
    His insult was met with a