In the melee, no one noticed Waldemar Selig’s arrival.
He sat atop his tall horse staring down at the struggle with supreme annoyance, drawing breath to order an end to it. What he would have said, I don’t know, for Joscelin was behind him amid the White Brethren, and he was off his horse before Selig could voice a command, shouting my name like a battle-paean.
It was his sword he drew.
Two Gambrivü died, I think, before anyone knew what had happened. The one who held me dropped my arms with a curse, drawing his sword and running forward. Red blood stained the snow. What had been a brawl turned abruptly into a deadly battle, with Joscelin at its center, a moving dervish of grey and steel, sparks striking from his sword and vambraces. Another man went down before Waldemar Selig dismounted and drew his sword, wading shouting into the violence. I watched with my hands over my mouth.
I had not seen, before then, why the Skaldi revered him. I saw it now. He didn’t have a Cassiline’s skill and grace. He didn’t need it. Waldemar Selig wielded a sword as simply and naturally as he breathed. The Gambrivü thanes fell back before him, while continuing to engage Joscelin.
"D’Angeline, I order you to stop!" Selig shouted fiercely, his face pale with rage. A Gambrivü spear darted at Joscelin, who dodged, striking back at the thane with a well-aimed blow.
It never landed. Waldemar Selig shoved the Gambrivü out of the way with one powerful shoulder, bringing his own blade up for a parry that sent Joscelin’s wide, then stepped inside the Cassiline’s guard and struck him on the temple with the pommel of his sword.
Joscelin went to his knees as if poleaxed, nerveless fingers releasing his hilt. He knelt there, swaying, amid fallen Skaldi bodies bleeding silently onto the white snow. Some distance away, Knud groaned and climbed dizzily to his feet. No one spoke. Waldemar Selig gazed at Joscelin and shook his head in disgust.
"Kill him," he said to the White Brethren.
"No!" It was my voice. I knew from the sound of it. I flung myself between them, kneeling before Selig, pleading with clasped hands. "My lord, please, let him live! He was only honoring his vow to protect me, I swear it. I will do anything, anything you wish, in exchange for his life!"
"You will do it anyway," Selig said impassively.
I did not say the words: Not if you kill him. I thought it, though, and he saw it in my face. Kushiel’s Dart or no, I could have and would have, I believe. We are mostly human, Elua’s children. Like Joscelin, who had drawn his sword, I had been pushed to the limits of my nature.
It didn’t come to it. Knud, blessed Knud, limped over, rubbing a lump on the side of his head. With one toe, he nudged the body of a fallen Gambrivü, whose blackened teeth were bared in a grimace. His breeches were undone, his phallus lying pale and shrunken on his thigh, a sorry sight. "Found him like this trying to get atop the lass, Lord Selig," Knud said bluntly. "It’s true, the boy’s sworn to protect her. It’s his vow. Gunter used 'em that way, one to tame t’other."
Waldemar Selig considered us as we knelt, Joscelin nigh insensible, I frozen in plea. "Who spoke against this?" he asked then of the gathered Gambrivü. The leader of the steading had stepped forward, and stood trembling. "No one? Would you urge a man to steal my horse? My sword? No? This woman is as much my property, and more." He reached down and gathered a handful of my hair, shaking my head. Behind me, Joscelin made an inarticulate sound of protest, then slumped sideways. Selig released me. "For your plea of clemency and the injury you have suffered," he said formally, "I will see the boy spared, and merely struck in chains. Vigfus." His gaze flicked to the Gambrivü chieftain. "I will pay were-gild for the death of your thanes. Are you satisfied?"
"Yes, my lord." The Gambrivü chieftain’s teeth chattered; no doubt he feared Selig would call him out for it. "It is just."
"Good." Selig glanced around. "Go about your business," he said calmly, and the Skaldi hastened to obey. He reached down then, and drew me to my feet. My teeth were chattering too, between the cold and the dawning shock. "Where were you bound?" he asked, plainly annoyed. "What in Odhinn’s name were you doing amid the camps?"
"My lord." I hugged myself, shivering, near tears at the stupid, simple truth of it. "I went to bid farewell to the folk of Gunter’s steading. They were kind to me, there, some of them."
"You should have told me. I would have given you an escort." He beckoned to one of the White Brethren. "Take her to Gunter’s camp."
"I’ll do it, Lord Selig," Knud called out gruffly. Selig arched a brow at him, and he shrugged. "I’m fond of the lass. There’ll be no more trouble once this word spreads."
It was, by now, the last thing I wanted to do; all of my concern was for Joscelin, now unconscious and breathing shallowly in the snow. But I had won his life, if he could hold onto it, and I feared to push Selig further.
"Fine." Waldemar Selig was done with the matter, and impatient to move on. "Bring her back within the hour." He nodded to two of the White Brethren. "Take him to the smithy, and have him shackled. That should keep him out of trouble." His cool green gaze rested on me a moment. "And you too, I trust."
I knelt, kissing his hand. He shook me off and strode to his horse, leaving with his remaining thanes. Knud helped me up gently, leading me away. I turned back, watching over my shoulder as the White Brethren hauled Joscelin to his feet. He doubled over, vomiting, then straightened and staggered away with them, toward the edge of the lake where the forges blazed. One of the Brethren picked up his sword, sticking it in his belt as if it were fair-won spoil.
"You’ve done all you could for him, lass," Knud said kindly. "He’ll live, if he doesn’t force Selig’s hand. He’s a fair sight tougher than he looks, that lad. No one else I know has survived Gunter’s kennels. 'Course, no one else I know has had the pleasure." He chuckled at that, as if it were a great witticism. Perhaps it was, for Knud; all I know is that I burst into tears. With awkward tenderness, he held me and patted my back, glowering over my head at the stares of the watching Skaldi.
When I had somewhat regained my composure, he led me on, to bid farewell to the last folk who bore me any trace of goodwill in this enemy land.
Chapter Forty-Nine
It was an awkward moment, saying good-bye to the Skaldi of Gunter’s steading; not merely for what had immediately preceded it, but for the fact that they had just, unanimously, declared war on my people. Since there was nothing else for it, I put a good face on it. Harald the Beardless-whose beard was beginning to come in and would soon need a new cognomen-would be staying as Gunter’s best rider and of a surety it wouldn’t hurt to have one voice that spoke well of me.
So it was that we had hugs and tears all around, and my emotions were in such a jumble that I needn’t feign sorrow at their leaving; I had sorrow to spare.
"If Gunter asks you a fourth time," I whispered to Hedwig, "tell him yes. He’s tender feelings for you, for all his bluster, and the two of you are too well matched to settle for less. And if he’s learned a trick or two of pleasing women, light a candle to Freja in my name." I had learned some little of the Skaldic pantheon, and reckoned this goddess the closest in nature to Naamah. Hedwig nodded and sniffled, turning away.
And then Knud gave me safe-conduct back to Selig’s great hall, limping gamely from the beating he’d taken on my behalf, and bid me farewell, kissing my hand when none of Selig’s thanes were watching. Less cautious, I took his head in both hands and kissed him upon his brow, offering a silent prayer to Elua that he would emerge unharmed from the coming battles. Blessed Elua would understand. Love as thou wilt, I thought, watching Knud hobble hurriedly back to camp, a glowing smile on his unlovely features. Yeshua ben Yosef of whose blood Elua was born bid his followers to love even their enemies; I understood then, a little, what he meant.