"Well," broke in Thorwald sharply, "speak your mind and get hence. Your betters have more important affairs than listening to your clamor."
Though the other's eyes burned wolfishly, he made no reply to the insult.
"Go!" he answered, pointing seaward. "Back to Norge (Norway) or Hell or wherever you came from. If you will take your accursed presence hence, you may go in peace. I, Brulla, a chief of Hjaltland (Shetland Islands), have spoken."
Thorwald leaned back and laughed deeply; his comrades echoed his laughter and the smoky rafters shook with roars of jeering mirth.
"Why, you fool," sneered the Norseman, "do you think that Vikings ever let go of what they have taken hold? You Picts were fools enough to let us in-now we are the stronger. We of the North rule! Down on your knees, fool, and thank the fates that we allow you to live and serve us, rather than wiping out your verminous tribe altogether! But henceforth ye shall no longer be known as the Free People of Golara-nay, ye shall wear the silver collar of thralldom and men shall know ye as Thorwald's serfs!"
The Pict's face went livid and his self-control vanished.
"Fool!" he snarled in a voice that rang through the great hall like the grating of swords in battle. "You have sealed your doom! You Norse rule all nations, eh? Well, there be some who die, mayhap, but never serve alien masters! Remember this, you blond swine, when the forest comes to life about your walls and you see your skalli crumble in flames and rivers of blood! We of Golara were kings of the world in the long ago when your ancestors ran with wolves in the Arctic forests, and we do not bow the neck to such as you! The hounds of Doom whine at your gates and you shall die, Thorwald Shield-hewer, and you, Aslaf Jarl's-bane, and you, Grimm Snorri's son, and you Osric, and you, Hakon Skel, and-" the Pict's finger, stabbing at each of the flaxen-haired chiefs in turn, wavered; the man who sat next to Hakon Skel differed strangely from the others. Not that he was a whit less wild and ferocious in his appearance. Indeed, with his dark, scarred features and narrow, cold gray eyes, he appeared more sinister than any of the rest. But he was black-haired and clean-shaven, and his mail was of the chain-mesh type forged by Irish armor-makers instead of the scale-mail of the Norse. His helmet, crested with flowing horse-hair, lay on the bench beside him.
The Pict passed over him and ended with the pronunciation of doom on the man beyond him-"And you, Hordi Raven."
Aslaf Jarl's-bane, a tall, evil-visaged chief, leaped to his feet: "Thor's blood, Thorwald, are we to listen to the insolence of this jackal? I, who have been the death of a jarl in my day-"
Thorwald silenced him with a gesture. The sea-king was a yellow-bearded giant, whose eyes were those of a man used to rule. His every motion and intonation proclaimed the driving power, the ruthless strength of the man.
"You have talked much and loudly, Brulla," he said mildly. "Mayhap you are thirsty."
He extended a brimming drinking horn, and the Pict, thrown off guard by surprise, reached a mechanical hand for it, moving as if against his will. Then with a quick turn of his wrist, Thorwald dashed the contents full in his face. Brulla staggered with a catlike scream of hellish fury, then his sword was out like a flash of summer lightning, and he bounded at his baiter. But his eyes were blinded by the stinging ale and Thorwald's quick-drawn sword parried his blind slashes while the Viking laughed mockingly. Then Aslaf caught up a bench and struck the Pict a terrible blow that stretched him stunned and bleeding at Thorwald's feet. Hakon Skel drew his dagger, but Thorwald halted him.
"I'll have no vermin's blood polluting my skalli floor. Ho, carles, drag this carrion forth."
The men-at-arms sprang forward with brutal eagerness. Brulla, half-senseless and bleeding, was struggling uncertainly to his knees, guided only by the wild beast fighting instinct of his race and his Age. They beat him down with shields, javelin shafts and the flat of axes, showering cruel blows on his defenseless body until he lay still. Then, jeering and jesting, they dragged him through the hall by the heels, arms trailing, and flung him contemptuously from the doorway with a kick and a curse. The Pictish chief lay face down and limply in the reddened dust, blood oozing from his pulped mouth-a symbol of the Viking's ruthless power.
Back at the feasting board, Thorwald drained a jack of foaming ale and laughed.
"I see that we must have a Pict-harrying," quoth he. "We must hunt these vermin out of the wood or they'll be stealing up in the night and loosing their shafts over the stockade."
"It will be a rare hunting!" cried Aslaf with an oath. "We cannot with honor fight such reptiles, but we can hunt them as we hunt wolves-"
"You and your vaporings of honor," sourly growled Grimm Snorri's son. Grimm was old, lean and cautious.
"You speak of honor and vermin," he sneered, "but the stroke of a maddened adder can slay a king. I tell you, Thorwald, you should have used more caution in dealing with these people. They outnumber us ten to one-"
"Naked and cowardly," replied Thorwald carelessly. "One Norseman is worth fifty such. And as for dealing with them, who is it that has been having his carles steal Pictish girls for him? Enough of your maunderings, Grimm. We have other matters to speak of."
Old Grimm muttered in his beard and Thorwald turned to the tall, powerfully-made stranger whose dark, inscrutable face had not altered during all the recent events. Thorwald's eyes narrowed slightly and a gleam came into them such as is seen in the eyes of a cat who plays with a mouse before devouring it.
"Partha Mac Othna," said he, playing with the name, "it is strange that so noted a Reiver as you must be-though sooth to say, I never heard of your name before-comes to a strange steading in a small boat, alone."
"Not so strange as it would have been had I come with a boat-load of my blood-letters," answered the Gael. "Each of them has a half dozen blood feuds with the Norse. Had I brought them ashore, they and your carles would have been at each others' throats spite all you and I could do. But we, though we fight against each other at times, need not be such fools as to forego mutual advantage because of old rivalry."
"True, the Viking folk and the Reivers of Ireland are not friends."
"And so, when my galley passed the lower tip of the island," continued the Gael, "I put out in the small boat, alone, with a flag of peace, and arrived here at sundown as you know. My galley continued to Makki Head, and will pick me up at the same point I left it, at dawn."
"So ho," mused Thorwald, chin on fist, "and that matter of my prisoner-speak more fully, Partha Mac Othna."
It seemed to the Gael that the Viking put undue accent on the name, but he answered: "Easy to say. My cousin Nial is captive among the Danes. My clan cannot pay the ransom they ask. It is no question of niggardliness-we have not the price they ask. But word came to us that in a sea-fight with the Danes off Helgoland you took a chief prisoner. I wish to buy him from you; we can use his captivity to force an exchange of prisoners with his tribe, perhaps."
"The Danes are ever at war with each other, Loki's curse on them. How know you but that my Dane is an enemy to they who hold your cousin?"
"So much the better," grinned the Gael. "A man will pay more to get a foe in his power than he will pay for the safety of a friend."
Thorwald toyed with his drinking horn. "True enough; you Gaels are crafty. What will you pay for this Dane-Hrut, he calls himself."
"Five hundred pieces of silver."
"His people would pay more."
"Possibly. Or perhaps not a piece of copper. It is a chance we are willing to take. Besides, it will mean a long sea voyage and risks taken to communicate with them. You may have the price I offer at dawn-coin you never made more easily. My clan is not rich. The sea-kings of the North and the strong Reivers of Erin have harried we lesser wolves to the edge of the seas. But a Dane we must have, and if you are too exorbitant, why we must sail eastward and take one by force of arms."