“They have slain the jarl’s guests.”
And then came forward a big black-bearded man whom I had seen in the crowd already, and he squared up to Biorn.
“Lies are no good, master sheriff, for we know that the outlanders who spoke the strange tongue must be the guests who came.”
“I am no liar,” answered Biorn. “Is there not one man here who saw the ship and her folk this afternoon?”
Now this man seemed not to want that question answered, for he shouted to the crowd not to waste time in wrangling, but to have out the murderers; and he took a step towards Biorn, bidding him side no more with the men, but let the folk deal with them.
“You overdo your business as sheriff!” he said.
It was Biorn who wasted no more time, for he saw that here was deeper trouble than a common riot. He lifted his axe.
“Come nearer at your peril,” he said.
Then the black-bearded man sprang at him, and axe met sword for a parry or two, flashing white in the moonlight. Then one weapon flashed red suddenly, and it was Biorn’s, and back into the tower he sprang as his foe fell, and Havelok flung the door to, and I barred it.
“Up,” said Biorn; and in the dark we stumbled from stair to stair, while the crowd howled and beat on the door below us. It was good to get out into the moonlight on the roof, where we could rest. I was glad that the tower was there instead of Thor, and also that it was strong. It was no great height, but wide, and the men below looked comfortably far off at all events.