However, I felt it wise to bear in mind that my unwelcome guest was a known killer of men and was currently sitting alongside me holding a sharp dagger. ‘My name is Owen Odell.’ I don’t care about that, bard. But how do you know of me?’ The officer of the Watch told me your name – soon after you rescued me. ’Ah! Then you accept my point? As the rescuer, the gold is mine.’ It was given to me,’ I pointed out. His expression hardened and he lifted the dagger, tapping my naked arm with the tip.
‘Let us not quibble, master Odell. I do not wish to kill you, but it would not worry me overmuch. I have killed men for less than two gold coins.’ You couldn’t possibly kill me,’ I said.
‘Really?’ he answered, the dagger point rising to rest on my neck. Tray explain?’ You saved my life.’ What has that got to do with it?’There are many religions which point out that a rescued man is the responsibility of the rescuer. Our lives are now linked.’ I am not a religious man – nor especially patient. And if you do not surrender the gold to me at once I shall sever whatever links there are with this dagger.’ The words were spoken with great sincerity. I glanced around the room. My clothes had been thrown from the chair, and the drawers of the small dresser lay open. My boots had been pulled from beneath the bed and were lying by the fire. ‘You have searched the room, and you can see that I am naked. There is no money here; I spent it.’ You lie! He gave you two gold coins.’ Indeed he did.’ It is not possible for you to have spent such an amount in such a time.’ I paid for this room for a month.’ The lie came easily to me, yet I felt no guilt – for this, I understood, was a kind of game, a battle of wits. I was sure that in such a contest I could outwit the fellow.
‘Right- you die,’ he said, rising. Before I could speak he pushed me to my back, his dagger pressing against the base of my throat. ‘Last chance,’ he told me cheerfully.
‘It’s in my boot,’ I said.
‘I am losing patience. I’ve already looked in your boots.’ The dagger point nicked the skin and I felt the blood flow.
‘There is a special pocket,’ I told him.
He moved away from me and knelt by the boots, examining them. ‘Clever,’ he muttered, finding the pocket and tipping out the contents.
‘The silver is mine!’ I said, rolling from the bed.
‘Wrong. You tried to cheat me. You deserve to lose it all.”That is hardly fair!’ I argued.
‘It is not my business to be fair. I am a thief.’ There was a certain logic to the argument which was hard to dispute, but my temper was rising. As I said I am not by nature heroic, but neither am I cursed with cowardice. The gold I would not fight for, but the silver was mine and well-earned. I saw his eyes narrow, and I knew he had read my intentions. I would not say he was alarmed, but I am not a small man and in those days, filled with the strength of youth, I would have been no easy victim.
‘Do not be foolish now,’ he warned me. ‘You could die here!’ I was about to leap upon him when I heard the sounds of footsteps upon the stairs. Then soft tapping came at the door. ‘Are you awake?’ called Petra.
‘Yes,’ I answered. I heard Jarek curse softly, and watched with relief as he slipped the dagger back into its sheath.
The door opened and she stepped inside. Her blonde hair was brushed back now and braided, and she wore a flared skirt and a pretty blouse of blue wool and linen. ‘Oh!’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t realize you had some. . .’ Then she recognized him. ‘It is you! Oh, Jarek!’ she cried, running forward to embrace him.
‘That’s the kind of welcome I like,’ he said, mystified.