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violent oath from his
opponent, who suddenly rushed at him, moving amazingly swift for one so large.
Halfdan wielded his heavy, long-handled broadaxe with both hands. Possessing no
defensive shield, Rurik barely had time to raise his sword before Halfdan's
flaring blade, a full twelve inches across, came crashing down toward his
chest.
    Steel sang out against steel, Rurik's sword deflecting
the death blow as he dodged to the left and whirled, aiming a low, swinging
stroke at the Varangian's legs in hopes of severing a limb. But Halfdan must
have anticipated the tactic for he leapt aside, the tapered end of Rurik's
blade barely scraping his knee.
    As they circled each other, the clamoring crowd began
to press closer, sputtering torches held high to illuminate the deadly contest.
Fearing that the woman might be trampled, Rurik shot a glance in her direction
to see that the merchant and his stocky companion were dragging her from harm's
way. Halfdan must have noticed, too, for he shouted, "You cannot hide her
from me, you stinking Slav! The moment I find her will bring your death!"
    Rurik took advantage of the Varangian trader's fleeting
inattention. With a bloodcurdling cry, he grasped his sword with both hands and
swung the gleaming blade in a heavy blow across his opponent's stomach. To his
surprise, a loud thwack met his assault and not the sensation of polished steel
slicing into flesh. Cursing, Rurik leapt backward just in time to elude a
retaliatory strike, now aware that the Norseman wore a padded jerkin beneath
his fur clothing.
    "Reindeer hide and bone plaques," Halfdan
rasped through clenched teeth, the ferocity of Rurik's blow nevertheless having
doubled him over. "As good as any rich man's mail-coat." Glaring at
Rurik, he drew himself to his full height. "It appears you and I are well
matched, stranger. I would swear a hardened warrior hides beneath that merchant's
garb. Pity you are soon to be a corpse."
    The Varangian had hit perilously close to the mark, but
Rurik had no time for concern over possible spies in the crowd. Halfdan charged
at him, roaring in rage and swinging his broadaxe.
    Ducking a blow aimed at his head that could have split
his skull like an eggshell, Rurik twisted to get clear, but the Varangian's
raised knee caught him under the chin. Smashed backward, his sword knocked from
his hand, Rurik sprawled in the dirt, stunned. In the next instant Halfdan
landed on top of him and pinned him, his broadaxe hovering directly over Rurik's
heart.
    "Pray to Christ or Odin, stranger, but pray
quickly for now you die—"
    The Varangian's words were cut off by the zinging flash
of a sword, his blond head severed from his body and sent flying into the
crowd. As warm blood rained down upon Rurik, the broadaxe falling harmlessly
from a lifeless hand to the ground, Halfdan's twitching body was kicked
unceremoniously to one side and Rurik hauled to his feet. Still slightly dazed,
he stared into Arne Flat-Nose's grinning face. Rurik was never more glad in his
life to see the grizzled bear of a warrior.
    "Must I forever rescue you from scraps, my lord?
It's a good thing your father granted me the right to disobey your orders if
necessary, and aye, this occasion was surely one of them."
    " Forever rescuing me?" Rurik wiped the blood and sweat from his face with his
sleeve. "A fine exaggeration. In all the years I've known you, Arne, I
could count on two fingers—"
    "Three now, my lord, and well timed, wouldn't you
say?"
    At the glint of seriousness in Arne's eyes, Rurik could
only nod, all semblance of joking put aside.
    "You have my thanks, friend."
    "That is all well and good" —Arne glanced
pointedly at the curious onlookers and lowered his voice— "but the best
thanks would be to walk with me to our boat and forsake any idea of rescuing
some slave wench in distress. I'd say we've drawn more than ample attention to
ourselves for one day. It's time we sailed."
    "Not yet." Rurik's senses were now back in
sharp