Caurus’s anger subsided a little, and he shifted his heavy frame in the chair. For the first time he looked directly at Gabria and asked, “And what of the sorceress? Is she a part of your important mission?”
Gabria had been quiet during the meal, trying to stay out of the conversation and not exacerbate the raw emotions in the room. At Caurus’s question, she looked up and met his stare with a cool expression of her own. “I am only a part of this troupe, Lord Caurus, and I can promise you that I have controlled my sorcery and kept my vow to the chiefs.”
“Huh!” Gringold said harshly. “What is a vow to a magic-wielder? They twist and turn their promises like nests of snakes until no one knows where the words begin or end. Remember Lord Medb and his silky promises? You are just like him, treacherous and evil.”
“She saved your clan, you miserable slug,” Secen, the Khulinin warrior, snapped.
Gabria, amazed by the warrior’s quick defense, smiled at him with gratitude.
“Since none of you had the guts to fight,” Bregan added.
This time it was Gringold who leaped to his feet. His golden wer-tain’s belt glittered in the firelight as he reached for his eating knife.
“Gringold!” Caurus shouted as the other warriors jumped up. “Sit down.”
The big wer-tain was too angry to obey. He snatched a heavy platter from the table and brought it down hard on Bregan’s head. The older warrior slumped sideways on the table, dazed and bleeding from his reopened head wound. Without a pause, Gringold slashed at Secen with a knife and caught a third Khulinin warrior in the stomach with the platter. Then, before anyone could stop him, he lunged across the table and grabbed Gabria’s wrist. “Viper!” he shouted at her. “You saved nothing but your worthless neck.”
Athlone, at the end of the table, snarled a curse and leaped toward the wer-tain. Before the chief could get there, Sayyed desperately grabbed for Gringold’s knife arm, and Bregan tried to block the wer-tain’s body on the table. To their dismay, Gringold was a powerful fighter. He swept them off and tried to wrench Gabria over the edge of the table.
However, he had forgotten Gabria’s past and her own training as a warrior. Instead of being the screaming, struggling female he had expected, the woman fought back. She snatched a heavy goblet from the table, smashed it into his face, and twisted her wrist out of his grasp.
Swearing, Gringold covered his bleeding nose and looked up to see the sorceress poised in front of him, her dagger drawn and her green eyes blazing. At that moment, Athlone reached him, and a furious blow to the jaw sent the wer-tain reeling. Even that did not stop the man. He staggered upright and went after the chieftain.
Lady Maril abruptly jabbed her husband in the ribs, jolting him out of his shocked inactivity.
“Gringold, that’s enough!” Caurus shouted belatedly. “You men hold him.”
The Reidhar warriors, who had not moved during their wer-tain’s attack, now scrambled after Gringold and pinned his arms to his sides.
“My apologies, Lord Athlone,” Caurus said with some sincerity.
“No!” Gringold yelled. “No apologies. I demand the right to defend my honor by battle.”
“A duel?” Caurus exploded. “Whom would you challenge?”
The wer-tain glanced at Bregan and the other Khulinin warriors, then he shook off his men and pointed at Lord Athlone.
“I challenge you, Chieftain. To the death,”
Caurus looked aghast. “Don’t be a fool, man,” he gasped, rising from his seat.
Gringold disregarded him. “What do you say, Khulinin?”
For a moment, Athlone did not answer. If he accepted and was badly wounded or killed, his loss could jeopardize their mission. On the other hand, if he did not accept, his refusal to duel with a man of lower status would seriously harm his influence in the clans and cloud his own honor. He looked about him—at Bregan leaning against the table while Piers tried to staunch the blood on his forehead; at the other warriors, one nursing a cut on his arm and one bent double over his bruised abdomen. Athlone glanced at Sayyed and Khan’di, and finally he looked at Gabria. The woman had sheathed her dagger and was standing quietly nearby.
The sight of her ignited a powerful mix of feelings within Athlone. He knew he still loved the sorceress in spite of their arguments, and he was furious with Gringold for assaulting her. If that was not enough to fire his temper, his anger, jealousy, and hurt pride from the past days still hammered at his patience and self-control. He felt ready to explode.
Lord Athlone grinned wickedly to himself. He would never admit it aloud, but what he really wanted was someone to vent his rage upon. Gringold had just volunteered. “Your challenge is accepted,” he murmured. “You have been rude and insolent. You have insulted and attacked my men. Worst of all, you assaulted a woman of our clan. For the sake of our honor, I will meet you in the morning. May Surgart bless my sword.” Lord Caurus groaned and sank back in his seat. Without another word, Athlone gathered his people and left the hall.
By dawn the next day, word of the duel had spread through every corner of the treld. Because the sky was clear and the sun shone with the promise of a warm, comfortable day, the clanspeople began to gather early around the chief’s hall. Duels were exciting to watch, but rarely were two such excellent antagonists matched in a battle to the death. Wer-tain Gringold was big, heavily muscled, and well-trained with the short sword, while Lord Athlone, although lighter, was reputed to be the finest swordsman on the plains. The clan could not wait to see the outcome.
While the Reidhar gathered by the hall, Lord Caurus paced in his quarters and cursed the rashness of his wer-tain. Individual dueling was a common clan practice used for settling arguments, ending blood feuds, or claiming weir-geld, and its rules were strict and rigidly adhered to. Combatants were required to fight with only a short sword and without a shield or mail for protection. A man needed every advantage of Strength and ability to survive, so challenges were restricted to the initiated warriors of the werod.
Normally Lord Caurus would not have objected to a duel.
The battles were usually fought until one opponent surrendered, and he would have enjoyed seeing Athlone taken down a notch or two. A battle to the death, however, was an entirely different matter. Athlone’s death could have serious repercussions throughout the clans. The other chiefs would be furious with Caurus and blame him for the killing. The powerful Khulinin would be without a chieftain and they would be enraged. And that sorceress . . . Caurus shuddered to think of the problems she could cause.
As for the other possibility, he would hate to lose his wer-tain. Gringold was a hot-tempered fool at times, but he was an excellent leader to the clan’s warriors. He was Caurus’s cousin, too.
All in all, the outcome of this duel looked grim to Caurus.
Unfortunately, not even a chieftain could call off a challenge if the combatants were determined to fight. Caurus had tried to talk to Gringold that morning to no avail. The wer-tain was adamant; the duel would be fought.
On the other side of the treld, as Caurus paced back and forth in his hall, the travelers joined Athlone in the meager hut to help him prepare.
Gabria watched the men for a short while, then slipped outside. Athlone had all the help he needed, and she wanted to be alone to compose her feelings. She was very worried. Athlone was an experienced, highly trained swordsman who could easily hold his own in duel. But Gringold was a brutal, powerful fighter, and battles between two well-matched antagonists were often unpredictable. Gabria swallowed hard to banish the nervous flutters in her stomach.