Only our saddles creaked in the night, only the wind stirred. Soon we could smell the sea, a freshness on the wind, a certain lightness in the sky.
Around me the soldiers loosened their swords in their scabbards, and there was a sitting straighter in the saddle, a readiness for combat. The smell of fight was in my nostrils also, for I was young, and youth expects to live forever. Youth has not yet discovered that death recognizes no age limits. Death had brushed my shoulders many times in the past months, but it remained something that happened to others.
“Ride to the shore,” Duban whispered. “Two of my men will remain with the horses. We—”
They came suddenly from the darkness, a rushing wall of mounted men. We had only a flash of warning before they were upon us, the pound of hooves, the sound of tearing earth, a clash of swords.
4
Scarcely had my feet touched ground before they were upon us, knocking me backward into the brush. As I scrambled from the brush, sword in hand, I was attacked by a huge bearded fellow in a coat of mail, who swung a wicked blow at my head. More from the impetus of my rush than skill, I went to one knee and thrust blindly upward, my point taking him in the armpit below his uplifted blade.
He screamed, and his falling ax but narrowly missed my skull. He screamed again and jerked free, reaching for the knife he carried, but my following slash laid open his throat from side to side, and he staggered off, clutching it with both hands.
Someone sprang upon me from behind, and tripping over a body I fell, throwing the man from me. My outstretched hand dropped upon a sack of gold, and with rare presence of mind I grasped it, rolling over into the brush. My attacker’s descending blow with a battle-ax caught in the limbs above me, and my thrust entered his belly.
The unexpected onslaught had found me fighting blindly and without skill, with no thought but to survive. Around me all was a confusion of plunging horses and fighting men, clanging steel and the cries of the wounded.
The sack of gold brought me to my senses, for this was no fight of mine. Swiftly, I searched about for the other sacks and found them. They were of leather, strongly made to carry gold, and I gathered them to me.
The fighting had moved off some thirty or forty yards where Duban and his men had gathered. Of the Finnvedens I saw nothing and cared less.
Grasping around for the last sack of gold, I found it, but along with it were a face and another reaching hand. In the next moment the man was up and striking at me, but I butted him in the face, feeling his nose crunch, and then I struck him with my fist as the old Greeks were wont to do. He fell, and groping for my sword, I recovered it and crawled into the brush, taking the gold with me.
The battle waged furiously for several minutes while I fought to catch my breath, then the fighting broke off, and there was a rattle of retreating hooves.
I remained still. Nearby a man moaned, but I made no move. In this group I was a man without friends. I was alone. Also, I was thinking, unless this gold reached the ship, there would be no freedom for Redwan and Aziza.
My clothing, which I had worn with pride, was smeared with dirt, blood, and leaves, but I seemed unhurt, a fact due more to luck than skill.
An hour passed. Soon it would be growing light. How many others might be lying about waiting for the light, I could not know.
Considering the gold, I thought how easily it might be concealed, and after the confusion when all had left the scene I might find an abandoned horse and ride away with ten thousand dinars. It was a princely sum to one in my condition, but there was a matter of self-respect. And of course, there was Aziza.
Honor can be a troublesome thing, but if one has it one does not lightly yield it. Now, without the aid of Duban, I must negotiate the release of Aziza and Redwan.
One of the sacks had been slashed by a sword, and I bound it together as best I could, and retrieving the few coins from the leaves, I stowed them in my pockets. Then, with utmost care, I eased myself through the brush and down the slope. Several minutes later I found myself at the edge of the sand.
Beyond the sand the sea curled its foaming lips upon the shore. Nearby I heard movement, somebody who stumbled and almost fell. Hastily, I buried the sacks of gold, then I emerged, sword in hand.
The walker was Eric, and with him one of his brothers. His nose was broken and one of his eyes swollen shut. So he must have been the one I had butted in the darkness!
Taking hold of his wounded brother, we three staggered to the beach and hallooed the ship. After some hesitation while the Finnvedens sat upon the sand, a boat shoved off from the ship. Walther was in it. He did not look pleased, just sweating and evil. It was gold he wanted, and not us. “The dinars? Where are they?”
Keeping a sword’s length from him, I made no move to sheathe my weapon. “The girl? Where is she? And Redwan?”
“They are well,” he said impatiently, “but where is the gold? Is that what you bring back to me? Naught but blood and trouble?”
“I have the gold. Bring them to the beach.” He stared at me, his eyes mean with feeling. “Who do you serve? Me or them?”
“I serve myself,” I replied coolly, “but it was the bargain. They must be freed.”
“You speak of gold, but what proof have I?” Reaching into the pocket behind my sash, I showed him several coins. “There is a sample of it, but you must be quick, for soldiers are coming!”
“Bring the gold to the ship, and we will free the prisoners.”
I was very young, but not that young. I smiled mockingly. “When the prisoners are ashore you shall have the gold.”
He did not like my words, and he liked me less. Nor was he pleased by this new independence of mine. He stared a moment, sullen with anger, then he went to the boat, taking the Finnvedens with him. I remained alone upon the shore.
They seemed to take a long time. The sun arose behind somber clouds, and finally the boat came with Redwan and Aziza in it. The giant Cervon was there, as well as a dozen others, armed and ready.
As we moved back from the beach, I explained what had happened. “You are not safe,” I warned Redwan. “When they have the gold they will try to kill you and take back Aziza.”
Cervon was coming toward us, and two others were closing in. It was she they wanted, of course. They would kill Redwan, and me also, and tumble her there upon the beach.
My plan had been to have Duban there with a line of fighting men. Instead, I was alone. Yet I had a memory. A memory of a broken box upon the sand and men scrambling for gold.
“Wait here,” I said to Redwan, “I will get the gold.” They started after me, but they stopped when I began to climb the steep slope. Up there an arrow or a stone from a sling would bring me down, and they were a lazy lot.
“I shall be quick,” I said, “but you must be ready.” I did not look at Redwan, but my speech was for him. “The men who fought last night will return in force.”
Digging out the sacks, I took them to the steep edge, then returned for the rest. I threw two sacks down the hill, but the third I deliberately threw against a sharp rock. The sack split, scattering the bright, bright gold.
Men cried out and rushed forward, scrambling for the gold coins. Redwan caught Aziza by the hand and fled.
Sword in hand, I started down the hill, but suddenly Cervon saw the girl fleeing, and with a shout he started after her, others following.
Walther shouted and followed after them. One man let fly an arrow that struck Redwan’s helmet. He fell.
He staggered up, shouting at Aziza to keep going, but Cervon was rapidly overtaking her until I cut through the trees. He caught at her dress, and the flimsy material tore in his hand.
Catching his arm, I flung it aside. He grabbed at his sword, but I was having none of that and ran him through the body. He fell, the great bloody mass of him, and Aziza paused.