Flavius rode into the Cimbrian's view. His ravaged face stiffened beneath the plumed helmet. He spoke almost wearily: "I still offer pardon, even liberty and reward, to your companions. It is only you I want, and only because you murdered Hwicca."
"I would most gladly meet you in single combat," said Eodan.
"We have been over this ground before," said Flavius. "Let me ask you instead—do you really wish the Sarmatian and the Greek girl to die on your account? Would it not be most honorable of you to release them from whatever vows they gave you—even command them to depart?"
"He is our king," said Phryne from the darkness. "There are some commands that no king may give."
Flavius sighed. "As you will, then. Decurion, seize them!"
It was a narrow doorway; only one person at a time could go through. The Roman decurion advanced with an infantryman's long shield to guard him. Eodan waited. The decurion charged in, behind him a pikeman. Eodan smote at the first Roman's knees as the pike thrust for his face. Tjorr's hammer struck from the right, knocked the pike aside and snapped its shaft against the doorway. The decurion stopped Eodan's sword-blow, and his own blade darted out. It hit the Persian mail-coat. Eodan chopped at the arm behind it. He lacked room for a real swing, but his edge hit. The decurion went to one knee. Eodan struck at his neck—a hiss and a butcher sound in the air.
Another man followed the decurion, stepped up on the dying officer's back and thrust mightily. Eodan slipped aside. Overbalanced, the Roman stumbled and fell into the hut. Tjorr's hammer crashed on his helmet. One of the Gauls sprang yelling through the undefended entrance. Phryne fired an arrow, and the Gaul staggered; it had caught him in the arm. Eodan attacked him from the side, and the German sword went home in his leg. He fell down, screaming. Tjorr finished him off while Eodan went back to the doorway.
"Nine men left," he panted.
The Romans stood away from him, where he stood dripping Roman blood. No one moved for a while, although Flavius dismounted and paced. The other Gaul came into view. Eodan remembered now that he had heard thumpings overhead. "This roof is made of stones, Master," said the Gaul to Flavius. "We can tear it down, I suppose, but not easily. It would cost us men."
"Likewise to break through the walls," said the Roman. He spoke impersonally, as though this were no more than a school problem. Eodan wondered how much was left the man of joy and hope and even hate; the demons pacing Flavius had bitten him hollow.