And as for Rek . . . He knew what Rek’s expression would be as he saw them arrive.
Terror! Mind-numbing, bowel-loosening terror!
But he was wrong.
*
Rek had stalked from the hut, furious and trembling. The scorn on Virae’s face was hard to bear. Only anger could blank it out. And even then, barely. He couldn’t help what he was, could he? Some men are born to be heroes. Others to be cowards. What right had she to judge him?
‘Regnak, my dear! Is it true you have a woman inside?’
Rek’s eyes scanned the group. More than twenty men stood in a half-circle behind the tall, broad-shouldered outlaw leader. Beside him stood Grussin the Axeman, huge and powerful, his double-headed axe in his hand.
‘Morning, Rein,’ said Rek. ‘What brings you here?’
‘I heard you had a warm bedmate and I thought, “Good old Rek, he won’t mind sharing”. And I’d like to invite you to my camp. Where is she?’
‘She’s not for you, Rein. But I’ll make a trade. There’s a caravan headed . . .’
‘Never mind the caravan!’ shouted Reinard. ‘Just bring out the woman.’
‘Spices, jewels, furs. It’s a big one,’ said Rek.
‘You can tell us about it as we march. Now I’m losing patience. Bring her out!’
Rek’s anger blazed and his sword snaked from its scabbard.
‘Come and get her then, you bastards!’
Virae stepped from the doorway to stand beside him, blade in hand, as the outlaws drew their weapons and advanced.
‘Wait!’ ordered Reinard, lifting his hand. He stepped forward, forcing a smile. ‘Now listen to me, Rek. This is senseless. We’ve nothing against you. You’ve been a friend. Now, what’s this- woman to you? She killed my brother, so you see it’s a matter of personal honour. Put up your sword and you can ride away. But I want her alive.’ And you too, he thought.
‘You want her – you take her!’ said Rek. ‘And me, too. Come on, Rein. You still remember what a sword’s for, don’t you? Or will you do what you normally do and scuttle back into the trees while other men do your dying for you? Run, you dung-worm!’ Rek leapt forward and Reinard backed away at speed and stumbled into Grussin.
‘Kill him – but not the woman,’ he said. ‘I want that woman.’
Grussin walked forward, his axe swinging at his side. Virae advanced to stand beside Rek. The axeman stopped ten paces short of the pair and his eyes met Rek’s: there was no give there. He turned his gaze to the woman. Young, spirited – not beautiful – but a handsome lass.
‘What are you waiting for, you ox!’ screamed Reinard. Take her!’
Grussin turned and walked back to the group. A sense of unreality gripped him. He saw himself again as a young man, saving for his first holding; he had a plough which was his father’s and the neighbours were ready to help him build his home near the elm grove. What had he done with the years?
‘You traitor!’ shouted Reinard, dragging his sword into the air.
Grussin parried the blow with ease. ‘Forget it, Rein. Let’s go home.’
‘Kill him!’ Reinard ordered. The men looked at one another, some starting forward while others hesitated. ‘You bastard! You treacherous filth!’ Reinard screamed, raising his sword once more. Grussin took a deep breath, gripped his axe in both hands and smashed the sword into shards, the axe blade glancing from the shattered hilt and hammering into the outlaw leader’s side. He fell to his knees, doubled over. Then Grussin stepped forward; the axe raised and chopped and Reinard’s head rolled to the snow. Grussin let the weapon fall, then walked back to Rek.
‘He wasn’t always as you knew him,’ he said.
‘Why?’ asked Rek, lowering his blade. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘Who knows? It wasn’t just for you – or her. Maybe something inside me had just had enough. Where was this caravan?’
‘I was lying,’ lied Rek.
‘Good. We will not meet again. I’m leaving Graven. Is she your woman?’
‘No.’
‘You could do worse.’
‘Yes.’
Grussin turned and walked to the body, retrieving his axe. ‘We were friends for a long time,’ he said. Too long.’