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The crowd began to fray at the edges, strings of folk stretching back toward the rest of camp. Brómber pulled away with them, leaving the wooden swords lying on the ground. The faces were all strange now and without names for him to speak. A man slapped him on the back and laughed. Another insisted that he would have challenged Brómber were it not for a bad knee. A third, a woman, asked something about his name. He did his best not to listen to any of them, turning his focus to finding Ulf as he curved around the outside of the hall.

Finally the man came into view. A broad chest hidden by hair that matched the color of his beard shook as he shouted, "Back to the square! We are not done here!" He wore a belt and carried another; a blade hung from each.

The crowd's voices retreated into tangled excitement. Brómber stayed put. Eighty eyes followed Ulf and two watched Brómber, squinting over flat lips as the man tossed the belt in his hand down to Brómber's feet.

"Put it on," Ulf barked, "and take off that shirt; I do not want to see it in shreds."

Shoulder hit shoulder as Ulf passed by Brómber and back to the pegs. Brómber crouched and picked up the belt from the earth. The leather was soft. It had been oiled. His seax was as hard as ever. Nothing else hung from it; all had been taken by the river or his hosts. He pulled off the linen shirt and fastened the belt around his waist. The woman who had asked him about his name caught his shirt as he threw it into the crowd, and he took his place in the corner.

He looked at his opponent. There was no smile to show the man's teeth nor soften his eyes. His left arm ended early in a chunk of round wood and his right extended down toward the earth, tan skin becoming silver in the last third. It was a sword, sharp on both sides and pointed at the end. Brómber steadied his breath and waited for the count. Ulf raised his steel limb and pointed at Brómber, cutting through the light breeze that came from behind his opponent and taking the scraps in through a crack in his lips that for a moment grew at the sides before returning to its place.

Ulf launched forward from his right foot then pushed again from his second and screamed, raising his arm and snapping it down onto his guest. Brómber's shoulder tugged back and his left side pulled up, turning him out of the path of the blade. His right hand drew his seax as he tumbled into the cold air and sweat, striking the air then Ulf's shield. It snagged in the oak, the two departing only when their masters' arms tore them from each other.

The sound of a seax shrieking sang to the crowd as the sword dove from the side, striking the flat edge of the knife then sliding down. The noise burnt coolly at the back of his ears, the feeling skipping across his body and into the tips of his toes and fingers. Brómber forced his wrist to lock and twisted his arm to stay the approaching blade. He swung his left hand up to support the right pulling down on the top of the knife and throwing the tip of the sword toward the ground. Ulf matched him, swinging his shield into Brómber's shoulder and forcing him back. Brómber caught the shout with tight teeth before it left him, shooting his seax at Ulf with a snort. Ulf brought his arm up in an arc, guiding the seax to his left and stepping back to catch his breath. It rebounded as soon as it was deflected, crashing into his sword without catching then striking again. Each blow forced a step; each step twisted to the right to keep his back away from the bounds of the pitch, kicking a discarded rod of wood toward the edge as he went.

The wind licked at his back, whining as it went. He struck again. Ulf's shield caught the bite and his sword returned it, smacking into Brómber's ankle. He felt the impact but kept the pain for later, flitting his eyes down just long enough to see it had not cut through the leather. It was a glance too long; Ulf's shield thrust out, pushing his seax arm back into his shoulder and forcing out a cry. Ulf kicked at his foot, left meeting right, making the pain in his heels ring out of him like a struck bell. He stumbled back, seeing a thrust from Ulf's right side just in time to deflect it.

"Ulf!" he screamed, another strike forcing him onto his left knee. He was naked by the fire, the crack of Ulf's hand still burning his cheek. His thoughts thawed as he pushed himself up. "I!" he cried as he drove his shoulder into his opponent's chest. "am!" he grunted as he slid his hips and legs past the man, bringing his right arm up to strike, then falling past. "not!" he growled as he shuffled back, hunching over to grab the wooden sword from the ground with his spare hand. "your!" he barked as he held the blades in front of his body.

"Boy!" Ulf barked back. "What are you going to do with that?" The grin slipped through the mask.

Brómber took a breath and then answered. He swung his left arm out to the side then in, wood meeting wood as Ulf pivoted to block it. His seax followed, cutting into the shield and pushing Ulf back again. Ulf slid his left foot between Brómber's and hooked it out, pulling him closer. His sword cut into Brómber's and bent his wrist back. Brómber dug his feet into the earth and forced his back to twist against them, heaving Ulf back into the ring. Ulf slid then straightened, striking with his sword but finding it guided to the left of its target. He brought his shield up without needing to look. A crack deflected off it. Wood hit wood. Another strike. Then another. A clang as iron hit iron. A stumble and a thud as leather hit the earth. Jeers and a step. Another crack, shield into sword. A pant as fatigue hit Brómber's back. A clang again, then a thud. A crack and a pant. Clang then a thud then crack then a pant. A clang, a thud, a crack, a pant. Clang, thud, crack, pant. A clang that clings like cloth against the skin. A thud that thunders thick through earth. A crack that crows and crawls along the air. A pant that paints the pallid man with spit. A sword swung against a wooden sword and in the grain was caught. Its twin twisted twice and tore it from its master's hand, followed by a shield shoved down and kicked away by Brómber's boot. He brought the sharp side of the seax to Ulf's neck as the man fought to keep one knee off the earth.

"Yield." A cheer came from the crowd.

Ulf looked up, baring his teeth and breathing heavily.

"Yield." More cheers.

Ulf shook his head and panted. His right hand searched behind him for something to strike at Brómber.

The seax flashed down from Ulf's neck and to Brómber's right, cutting Ulf's calf above the boot. He screamed and jumped back onto his feet, the smile turning into a snarl as he grabbed his sword from the ground. Blood dripped down Ulf's leg and onto the black earth.

"You lost." Brómber drew a line in the air from Ulf's leg to the pool of blood on the ground. "Stop fighting."

Ulf forced a laugh through his teeth. "Yet I did not yield." He shook his head as he spoke.

"Drop your weapon."

Ulf looked up at him but did not move. A woman's voice sang out from the crowd, angry and controlled. The sword hit the earth first, and then the seax.

"Christ!" Halla yelled. "What is the matter with you?" She pushed her way into the ring and continued without an answer. "Did he attack you?" She looked at Ulf, then turned her head to Brómber and repeated the question. "Or did he attack you?"

The men looked at each other and began to speak, laughing as they interrupted each other.

"I see, then," Halla cooed. "You both are at fault. You are a guest in this house," she said, pointing at Brómber. "And you are a fucking fool!" she screamed at Ulf. "A wooden blade is one thing, but steel is another."

"Halla..." He pulled her name out from between heavy breaths. "I was only..."

"I know what you were after, Ulf. I can see it on the ground. How could you do this to the boy? He could hardly say no."

She spun back to Brómber. "And who thought it wise to give you back your sword?"

"It is a seax," he replied.

"And you are a child, but I call you a man," Halla responded. "That is not what I care about here! Ambatt!" she cried again. "Take this one inside and tend to him." She pointed at Brómber. Thora appeared holding the shirt and tunic that he had discarded. Brómber leaned down for his seax only to be beaten by Halla's foot.

"No. Not now. Thora, take the sword, that seax, and bring it inside. Do not let him have it; I want to speak to him first." Thora crouched down and Halla turned back to Ulf.

"Where is Wynny?" she asked Ulf. "I am not one to tend to your wound."

"She is by our hearth." Ulf winced as he spoke. "She wanted not to watch."

"She knew? I must speak with her as well, then."

Thora led Brómber back into the longhouse, looking back with a furrowed brow as they passed through the door.

"I oiled your belt," she said. "Now where is mine?"

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