Karin and I ran to where Odd lay; he appeared serene and thoughtful as if contemplating the cloudless sky. But the eyes that gazed up were looking into another realm. Blood no longer flowed from his wounds, and breath no longer stirred his lungs.

Dull silence claimed the yard. My head throbbed with the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears. I turned from the vision of death to see Ylva, hands pressed to her mouth, trembling in every limb, sobbing. My first impulse was to rush to her and offer comfort. But I had no sooner turned and taken a single step towards her, when I was halted by a snarl of rage: "Slave!"

The dark stranger rose from where he knelt beside the body of his friend. Sword in hand, he advanced slowly, spitting words which I could not understand. His meaning was clear enough, however; he meant to kill me. No doubt he would have slain me, too, and as easily as he had killed the hound, if not for Karin's swift intervention.

"Stop!" she shouted, putting out her hand to the stranger. "This is Gunnar Warhammer's land, and you have killed his slave and dog-" she said something else I did not catch, but she pointed to Ylva, and I guessed she meant that the threat to Ylva would be reported, along with the slaying of Odd and Surt.

Foaming with rage, the dark barbarian advanced. The blade in his hand rose to my throat. I saw the hatred in his eyes, but felt strangely calm, as if it all had happened a long time ago and to some other Aidan.

The swordpoint swung nearer.

The blow caught me on the side of the head-not the sword, but the fist gripping the handle. I fell at once, blinded by the pain, and lay waiting for the final stroke that would part soul from body. I was dimly aware of Ylva's wailing; she was shouting and crying for the bloodshed to stop.

I heard Karin shout again, and I looked up to see that she had seized the stranger's sword arm and held him from completing his thrust. "Enough!" she cried. "Would you kill two of Gunnar's slaves?"

The king's man hesitated; the swordpoint wavered as he weighed his choices. Karin, her brow dark and threatening, spoke a warning in a low voice, and the sword arm slowly relaxed. Glowering murderously, the king's man sheathed the blade and, with a dark-muttered oath, turned away. Head throbbing, I climbed to my feet and brushed myself off.

Karin stepped to Ylva and spoke sharply to her. The young woman's wail subsided to a ragged whimper. "Come," said Karin, gathering Ylva under her arm. To the king's man and myself she said, "Bury them."

The two women walked slowly and with great dignity back to the house, leaving me and my enemy to deal with the corpses. Together we dragged the bodies down to the duck pond and, using Gunnar's wooden shovel and part of an iron ploughshare, dug two graves in the soft earth of the bank. As it happened, I did all the digging, for as soon as we reached the pond, the king's man sat down and would do no more, so I performed the task alone.

When I finished, the stranger stripped his friend's body of all valuables-including swordbelt, boots and jerkin. He then sat down again and watched as I rolled them into the graves. The dark man gave me to know in muttered threats and gestures that if he had his way, I would soon be joining them there.

I did not like to see Odd go to his rest without the least regard paid to his passing. True, he was no Christian man, but it seemed to me that he was still a child of the Eternal Father, and deserved to be treated as such. Indeed, if I had been a better monk, I might have told him about the Everliving Son, and he might have believed. So, I made a prayer for him. As I pushed the dirt over his body, I said these words:

"Great of Heaven, you pour your gifts upon all who walk your world below, pagan and Christian souls alike. Odd, here, was a slave, and worked hard for his master. He loved Ylva, I think, and died trying to protect her. Jesu said that there is no greater love than that shown by a man who lays down his life for a friend. Sure, I know Christians who would not do as much. Therefore, account this to Odd's credit, Lord. And if there is any room in your banquet hall for a man whose life was lived by such light as he had, then please let Odd join the heavenly feast-not for his sake, mind, but for the sake of your own dear Son. Amen, so be it."

The king's man glared at me as I prayed, and when I finished, he seized me by my slave collar and spat in my face, and then spat into the grave. Jerking hard on the collar then, he forced my to my knees, whereupon he kicked me in the stomach, once, and then again-releasing his hold on my collar with the second kick, so that I fell backwards into the grave and landed on top of poor Odd's corpse. The king's man then began throwing dirt over me, as if he would bury me alive.

In a little while he tired, however, and sat down again. I climbed warily from the grave, and continued with the burials, pausing to make a prayer for the stranger, too. "Lord God," I said, "I give you a man who lived by the sword. His deeds you know; his soul stands before you now. In judgement, Lord, remember mercy. Amen."

The dark man stared at me as if in amazement. I do not know what he found to astonish him so, but he did not spit at me this time. I finished pushing the dirt over the bodies and pressed the earth down, marking the graves with a round stone fetched from the pond. I also buried the dog in a shallow grave beside the two men, but said no prayer for the beast. When I finished, I looked around, but the king's man was gone. Nor did I see him when I went back to the house.

That night, I lay for a long time unable to sleep, a curious, unsettling feeling fluttering in my breast. It was not fear of the king's man, or worry that he would try to harm us in our sleep, no. It was the thought that I had caused the death of a fellow human being-pagan barbarian though he was. One moment he existed and now he did not, and I had brought this about.

Even so, I held no remorse for the deed. What I had done, I did to save Odd. Shameful to say, my only regret was that I had stayed my hand. My heart and mind, my whole being was consumed with the certainty that had I loosed Surt sooner, Odd would still be alive.

Sure, I knew I should feel deep grief and guilt for a sin of such iniquitous magnitude. Christ save me, I could not find it in me to repent. Thus, I lay on my bed of straw, trying to work up a sincere feeling of remorse for the hateful act. Oh, but defiance had me in its wicked grip; I knew beyond all doubt that had I to do it again, I would not hesitate. At last, abandoning sleep altogether, I made my way down to the fishpond where I stripped and stood to my waist in the water reciting the Psalms-the chastisement I had previously favoured.

Alas, the water was not cold enough to produce true penance. Rather, I found the cool, still water refreshing on my skin, and the deep stillness of the night a balm to my soul. In the end, I could but admit defeat; I hauled myself from the water and fell asleep on the bank as the pale slivered moon set in the trees.