Karin's reply was short and defensive, as it seemed to me; I did not know what she said. I moved to stand beside Odd, wishing that Gunnar's watching-trial had been this day rather than yesterday. Karin spoke again-a challenge, I thought.

The fair man made his reply, and I heard the words: "King Harald Bull-Roar," and "a message," and "free men of Skania." Thus, it seemed to me communication of some importance, and I rued my scant knowledge of Danespeak, limited as it was to farm chores.

Karin asked them about this message, I think; her tone was sharply suspicious.

The dark stranger replied. "Gunnar's ears…" I heard him say, then: "We will speak to him now."

"We owe fealty to no lord but Ragnar Yellow Hair," Karin told them flatly.

"Ragnar Yellow Hair," sneered the fair barbarian, "owes fealty to Harald Bull-Roar."

"No doubt," continued his dark companion smoothly, "Yellow Hair himself would tell you the same if he were here. Unfortunately…" He spread his empty hand in a gesture of helplessness; I observed, however, that his right hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword.

"If you refuse to-" I did not know the words, "-Gunnar now," said the other, "it will go ill with you."

"My husband is not here now," Karin declared. "Tell me the message, or wait for his return."

The dark man seemed to consider this. His eyes turned once more to Ylva, standing silent beside me. "We will wait," he decided.

Karin nodded curtly, said something about the well and barn, then turned and walked stiff-backed to the house, summoning Ylva to her as she went. The king's men watched her go; though they said nothing, their silence fairly bristled. Nor did I like the way they looked at Ylva, for I saw menace in their long-lingering stares.

Odd and I returned to our chores. The cows were in the meadow and, with Surt's help, I made quick work of herding them to the cattle enclosure. I finished the milking and poured out a drink for the dog, then took the milk to the house.

I was just entering the yard when I heard voices; they seemed to be arguing. Quickening my pace, I rounded the corner of the house to see Ylva standing before the barn between the two barbarians. The fair-haired one had her by the arm, and she was trying to pull away from him, but he gripped her too tightly. The men were talking to each other, and to Ylva, in a joking way, all smiles and coaxing tones. Ylva, however, seemed to be pleading with them-to release her, I think-and her expression was one of fear.

I placed the milk jar by the door and entered the yard. "Ylva," I called, as if I had been looking for her. "Karin is waiting." I said this as I walked to where they stood. "Go to the house."

Ylva turned at her name, and implored me with her eyes. "I must go," she told the men.

"No," said the fair-haired stranger. "Stay and talk with us."

"Twenty silver pieces," said the dark man, ignoring me. "I will give twenty."

"Twenty!" mocked his companion. "That is more than you-"

I could not understand any of what he said next, but his friend replied, "You know nothing, Eanmund." To Ylva he said, "For a good wife, I will give twenty-five silver pieces. Are you a good wife?"

"Please," said Ylva, her voice a small frightened thing, "I must go." She said more, which I took to be pleading for release.

"Heya!" I called, stepping forward with much more boldness than I felt. Pointing at Ylva, I said, "She is wanted in the house."

The fair-haired man released Ylva, and turned on me. Placing both hands flat against my chest, he shoved me backward. "Get away, slave," he shouted.

Ylva, momentarily free, made to dash away. She had taken but three steps, however, when the dark man caught hold of her once more. He pulled her roughly towards the barn, talking to her in a rough manner. I struggled to my feet and was about to run for Karin, when I heard a strange, strangled cry.

I turned to see Odd, holding tight to his hoe, advancing with short, swift steps to where we stood. His face was flushed with rage. "No, Odd!" I shouted at him. "Stay back."

To the barbarians, I said, "Let her go. Please! Odd does not…" my poor language deserted me, "he does not think-" that was not the word I wanted. Understand! "Please, he does not understand."

"Odd!" shouted Ylva. "Stay back." She said more, but to no avail, for he came on, gripping his hoe like a weapon. He made his curious, mewing roar again, and I realized that he was trying to say her name.

Fearing the clash to come, I turned and raced to the house, calling for Karin. Whether she heard my call, or had been roused by the shouts in the yard, Karin appeared in the doorway just as I reached the house. "Hurry!" I said, pointing to the barn where the strangers, still holding tight to Ylva, were confronting Odd.

"Nay! Nay!" she cried, already running for the barn.

A thought sprang into my head: Surt!

I hastened to the cattle enclosure, calling the hound as I ran. Surt heard me and met me on the path. Laying hold to his collar, I said, "Follow, Surt!"

And then it was swiftly back to the yard to find Ylva and Karin shouting at Odd, who appeared to be hugging the fair-haired stranger, while the other king's man hammered on his back with the pommel of his sword. Closer, I saw Odd lift the man off his feet in a crushing embrace.

The fair one's eyes were squeezed shut against the pain as he kicked his legs to free himself. At last, his friend landed a blow at the base of Odd's neck. The big slave gave a grunt and dropped his catch. The fair man fell to the ground where he lay gasping, and Odd staggered backward and went down. The dark man stooped to his friend, and Karin took Ylva by the arm and pulled her away.

Surt, seeing his people mistreated, growled and surged forward. As the fight appeared to be over, I kept a tight grip on his collar; it was all I could do to hold him back. We had almost reached the place where Karin and Ylva were standing, when the fair-haired barbarian struggled to his feet. He stood, clutching his ribs, and cursing. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Then, snatching the sword from his companion's hand, he turned to Odd, who was sitting on the ground, holding his head and moaning. Without so much as a word, the fair man thrust the swordpoint into Odd's chest.

Poor Odd looked up in surprise. His hand grasped the naked swordblade and tried to pull it out. But the fair stranger forced the blade deeper, his face a leer of brutal glee.

Ylva screamed. Karin shouted and thrust the girl behind her.

I saw the wicked blade withdraw, red and streaming, and I saw the barbarian's arm rise to strike again. Odd fell back and tried to squirm away. Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers had loosed their grip on the dog's collar.

"Go, Surt!" I cried.

There came a sound like a rippling whir. The fair-haired man glanced up to see death hurtling towards him in the shape of a black hound. The dark man made a clumsy grab as the blurred shape flew past him.

The king's man turned, sword glinting in his upraised arm.

Surt, fangs bared, was still three paces away when he leapt. The weight of the hound upon his chest threw the stranger to the ground. A truncated scream echoed in the yard as the hound's jaws closed on the man's throat.

The dark man lunged forward, but Surt was already shaking the life from his fair-haired victim. Karin shouted for Surt to stop, but the beast had the taste of blood in his mouth and would not release his kill.

Snatching up the fallen sword, the dark man gave a quick chop at the base of the dog's head. The great hound collapsed and rolled to the side, fangs still sunk in his victim's wound.

The barbarian writhed on the ground, a peculiar gurgling sound coming from his torn throat. All at once, he gave a great spluttering cough, spewing blood in a crimson mist. His limbs snapped rigid. He arched his back off the ground and then subsided with a wheezing sigh as the air rushed from his lungs.