One King’s Way. Chapter 18, 19, 20
Chapter Eighteen
A man stood at the perimeter of the camp, fully armed, a short staff in his hand: a marshal, come to call them to the dueling ground. Shef rose to mask Cuthred from him, jerked a head to Brand to do the talking.
“Are you ready?” called the marshal.
“Ready. Let us repeat the terms of the duel.”
As the others listened, Brand and the marshal went over the terms of the agreement: only hewing weapons, champion against champion, free passage staked against return of all those alleged to be thralls, at the disposal of the winner. As they heard that condition laid down, Shef felt the tension rising among the English, men and women.
“Win or lose, we aren’t having none of that,” Osmod muttered. “All of you, keep your bows and bills right handy. You women, hold all the horses’ bridles. If our man goes down—which he won’t, of course,” Osmod added, glancing hastily at Cuthred, “we’re going to try to bust our way out.”
Shef saw Brand’s shoulders tense with disapproval as he heard Osmod’s unsporting orders, but he continued talking. The marshal, unable to speak any English, paid no attention. Cuthred grinned even more widely than before. He was behaving with a strange restraint for the moment, back on his stool, making no effort to show himself. Either the familiar ritual of a duel-morning had gripped him, or else he was relishing the surprise they had planned for Vigdjarf.
The marshal turned away and Brand walked back to the group, already prepared to move, horses loaded, packs strapped. At the last moment Cuthred’s eye fell on the small hatchet they used for firewood. He twitched it from its strapping, passed it to Udd. “Put an edge on that with your file,” he ordered.
The party led on through the short village street, already deserted. In the small square outside the temple clustered not only the entire population of the little town, but also scores more, men, women and children from the length of the dales, eager to see the clash of champions. They had left the one street clear for Brand’s party to enter by, but as they passed through men with spears and shields moved to block further exit from it. Osmod looked round with calculating eye, trying to spot the weakest place in the circle surrounding them. Saw none.
Immediately facing them, outside the temple door itself, scarlet cloaks marked Vigdjarf and his two seconds. Brand looked round, eyed Cuthred carefully, nodded to Osmod and Cwicca either side of him. “Wait,” he said, holding up a finger. “Wait for the call.”
Cuthred took no notice. He had taken the sharpened hatchet and was holding it in his left hand, along with the shield-strap. With his other hand he had begun to flip Shef’s cutlass into the air, letting it turn over and over in its unbalanced way, seizing it by its guardless hilt every time it came down. Murmurs were beginning to run round the crowd as some of them recognized him, realized it was the mill-thrall, speculated what it might mean.
With Shef at his side, Brand began to walk out to meet the others. “Should we have tried to get some armor on him,” muttered Shef. “Your mail? A helmet? A leather jacket, even? Vigdjarf has everything.”
“No point with a berserk,” said Brand briefly. “You’ll see.”
He halted seven paces from the others, raised his voice for the watching crowd as well as the challengers.
“Ready to try your luck, Vigdjarf? You could have tried me years ago, you know. But you didn’t feel like it then.”
“And you don’t feel like it now,” replied Vigdjarf, grinning. “Have you decided who’s going to try me? You? Or your one-eyed friend bare-handed here?”
Brand jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We thought we’d try the one in the green tunic behind us there. He’s very keen to fight you. He really feels like it.”
Vigdjarf’s grin faded as he peered across the square to where Cuthred stood, now clear of the others, standing out in plain sight, still tossing the sword up and down. He had started now to throw the hatchet from hand to hand as well, tossing it left to right and back again while the sword was still in the air.