Blade felt a pang. Jarl was trying so hard to stay his friend! Yet Blade had to push on, using Jarl as a fulcrum to move the quarrel to Redbeard. It must be done now, tonight, in full view of this cut-throat assemblage. The gauntlet must be hurled at Redbeard in such a manner that he could not ignore it, nor settle the matter quietly with a furtive knife in Blade's ribs. His only chance hinged on open defiance that involved Redbeard's honor and courage.
So he pondered Jarl now with a skeptic's smile. "I have wondered about you, Jarl, and why you are so determined to be a friend to me. What will you gain from it? I note that you are much above this rabble" Blade waved a hand toward the crowded tables "and I think you are something of a philosopher. I'll wager that you can read and rune, as they certainly cannot, and if my thinking is right you are also treasurer and scribe to this oaf named Redbeard. And you are married to his sister? Is that how you cull favor?"
The last words, loudly spoken, carried easily to the throne and the group around it. Redbeard stood up, towering like a colossus. He glared at Blade and Jarl and gestured.
"Bring the man called Blade to me."
Jarl gulped wine and would not meet Blade's eye. He was in the first stage of drunkenness now, still his words were concise and a clue to his keen brain.
"I have done!" Jarl said. "You have your wish, man. I never thought your quarrel was with me now you have it with Redbeard and I wish you well of it. Thunor protect you now. Aye, you will need him and as many other gods as you can summon."
Another of Redbeard's captains, splendid in purple cloak and silver spiked helmet, tapped Blade's arm. "You heard our chief. Obey, man!"
Blade went toward the throne, walking easily and with a hint of swagger that belied the queasiness in his belly. So far, so good. He had pushed it to the breaking point,had maneuvered Getorix, and himself, into a position from which there was no retreat.
But this, Blade thought as he strode to the throne, was extrapolation in his own mind. It was not yet so though he meant to clinch and confirm it with the words he held in store. He could still, by guile and grace of tongue, eschew the quarrel. Back out.
Redbeard, all seven feet of him, grew like a mountain in stature as Blade drew near. Blade, as human as any, felt a roil of fear in his guts. Had he pressed too far? Could he bring it off? For one breath only he faltered, then filled his lungs and shook off the cold manacle of doubt. He had come so far he could not settle for less than his heart's desire.
The sea raiders, taking their cue from the throne, had left off eating and drinking and roistering. A hush fell over the vast hall, broken only by a muted squeal as some war maiden was pinched. All eyes followed Blade as he reached the throne and stopped, confronting Redbeard.
Getorix remained standing. Blade did not bow. Their stares locked and held and in that moment, with no words spoken, each knew the truth of it. Craghead could not harbor them both.
Redbeard's eyes were small and as frosty hard as blue agates. He dawdled with a ribbon as he looked Blade up and down, and when he spoke his voice was harsh, though low in pitch.
"You quarrel with Jarl, stranger?"
Blade, hands on hips and with narrowed eyes, stared back at the huge man. "Not so, Redbeard. My quarrel is with you."
A sound of indrawn breath ran like a wind through the silent hall.
Redbeard nodded and toyed with his plaited beard. "So? And why is this, stranger? I think you have been well enough treated."
Blade, his mind racing, began to worry. Would Redbeard, realizing how he had been manipulated into this confrontation, temporize and somehow wriggle out of a quarrel here and now? And settle matters later, in private, when Blade would not have even the slim chance he had now?
To forestall this Blade crossed his Rubicon a little prematurely. He had intended to build this scene, to lead the man, and himself, into the ultimate confrontation by degrees. This he now discarded.
With no trace of sneer, with only a hint of arrogance that these freebooters would understand, Blade said: "I have been well enough treated. I thank you for that. But it is not enough! I am no underling. I am a prince of London, as I have told you. I am a leader and I must therefore lead."
Blade halted just long enough, then pointed at the throne that had been Beata's. "You sit there now, Redbeard. I would sit there. I do not think it large enough for two."
The small blue eyes blinked at him. The bigger man toyed with the ribbons in his beard. Then he smiled, a cruel smile that disclosed a few blackened teeth.
"You are a warrior, stranger. I have seen that with my own eyes. And for now until your death I will acknowledge you a prince of this London you quote me. Perhaps you are a prince Thunor knows you speak boldly enough to be one. And you come to the point quickly, a thing I like. I am a simple man who cannot even rune. I have Jarl to do that for me, as I also have Jarl to fight for me, and he is a great warrior also. The best and bravest even though his manner be sometimes clerkish."
"I have challenged you," said Blade. "Not Jarl."
Getorix had hands like the paws of the bears Blade had slain. He pawed again at his ribbons. He was stalling now, and enjoying himself, and Blade wondered at it. And felt sudden unease. Jarl had said it there was something here he did not understand.
Redbeard was in no hurry. He gave Blade an icy look. "I have hanged the whore queen in a cage, naked to the weather. She will suffer many days before she dies. How is it that you do not fear the same fate? I am still ruler here."
Blade's reply was loud and clear, ringing like a trumpet call over the fascinated assembly.
"Because if you do that to me, Redbeard, you would not be ruler long. You will proclaim yourself coward and afraid of me. I have challenged you openly and fairly, by virtue of my claim to warrior status. You yourself have given me this. I do not know all your laws, but I will wager the same life I pit against yours that there is a common law saying you must meet any fair challenge to your rule."
There was a stir and a great sighing among the onlookers. Blade knew he had won that point.
Now, adding insult to injury, and with a cunning he had not known he possessed, he produced the single black pearl from his tunic. He held it up between thumb and forefinger for all to see. It was the largest of the pearls, nearly the size of a pigeon's egg, and it glimmered in the smoky light like some demon's tear.
Blade altered his voice so the sneer was unmistakable, keeping his face impassive. "I have heard that you and your people set great store by these trinkets, Redbeard. I have more. If, as I begin to believe, you are afraid to fight me perhaps you will sell me your men and your kingship."
That was too much. A great roar went up from the hall, though Redbeard himself kept silent and watched Blade with malevolent small eyes. And smiled through the fiery beard like a man who knows he cannot lose.
The men were shouting now.
"Kill him, Redbeard!"
"Enough of this show us his heart and liver!"
"He has right to challenge so grant him what he seeks. Death!"
Getorix let them rant for a minute, then held up a hand for silence. When the hall was quiet again he leaned to whisper an order to an aide. The man departed swiftly, sneering at Blade as he passed.
Redbeard pointed a huge finger at Blade. "You have spoken, Prince of London, and I have listened in patience. Now hear me.