Erik Golden-Shield stood there in the middle of the small courtyard, magnificent shield and winged crown glinting brightly under the sun. His blonde beard was split with a pleased grin, and he gestured at Priscilla with his ornate sword as she stepped out to face him. "Ah, I knew you were a woman of reason. Leave it to a Peacekeeper to look at a situation with cold logic, and you will always get logical results in the end," he chuckled. "Now if only everyone could be as sensible as you are..."
He slowly looked to his right, and Priscilla followed his gaze and looked upon the rest of her legion, cursing under her breath. The small courtyard was filled with Erik's personal housecarls, and they kept the Lion Flame Knights sequestered pigs in a pen, spear tips pointed at their throats while the Knight's weapons lay harmlessly at their feet. Only two had been separated from the rest. Judith, who stood begrudgingly at Erik's side, shoulder's hunched and fists clenched as she clutched her sword; and Godfridus, who looked to be fairing far worse then the Warden commander.
The Gladiator was down on his knees, propped up by two Sea Eagle Raiders who held him up under his arms. The mighty Highlander Old Wolf stood before him, punching his meaty fists into Godfridus' bare stomach again and again with powerful blows, as if trying to tenderize a slab of meat before throwing it on the fire. Godfridus grunted and wheezed each time a fist slammed into his gut, his helmeted head lolling on his shoulders from the force of each impact, muscular stomach bright red from the punishment it had already received. Old Wolf looked neither pleased or upset by what he was doing, simply going about yet another task given to him by his master, and seeing the job done with brutal efficiency.
Magnus stood not far behind his father, back turned to the Gladiator he had fought against and fairly lost to by all accounts. His eyes were downcast towards the ground, but there was a clear frown visible in his fair beard. He seemed to flinch every time the smack of flesh hitting flesh echoed into the air, and he fidgeted and kicked his feet in the dirt as he struggled to come to terms with his humiliating defeat.
Erik on the other hand seemed completely unbothered by the sound of a man being brutally beaten not five paces away from him. The amused smile never left his face, and he beckoned Priscilla closer with a nod of his head. "Come on then, no need to be so shy. We are all friends here, yes?" he said. Then he turned to one of his nearby warriors and handed over his golden shield and sword. The warrior took the weapons carefully, backing away with a reverent bow, and Priscilla could see the splatter of crimson blood on the Jarl's blade. It seemed that at least this time he had fought to claim his treasure, and giving him another look over it was clear that he was already adorned with a few golden rings and bracelets that hadn't been present when they had left the river fort.
He looked back to her now, waving with his hand. "Come, come. No need to skulk in the shadows. All of you. There is no need to be afraid," he urged, looking past Priscilla and back towards the church.
Glancing over her shoulder she saw Marcelo, Coal and the Lawbringer all stepping out after her. They moved together in a close formation, weapons raised and prepared to go on the defensive if any northmen came at them. Erik simply chuckled, holding out his empty hands for them to see. "No weapons, if you please. I simply wish to talk is all." He held his bright smile, the sound of Godfridus grunting in pain as the Highlander assaulted him carrying on through the air.
Priscilla slowly brought her hands out to her side, fingers spread out wide while her sword and dagger remained safely sheathed at her hips. With any luck her comrades would do nothing foolish behind her back while she had her little chat with the Golden Jarl. Just as slowly she began to approach, stepping closer to Erik and Judith as the silent horde watched on. To either side of the barbaric crowd she spotted newcomers pushing their way to the front to watch things unfold over the iron wrought fence. To her left, Ivar and his red thugs, the black bearded savage crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her through narrowed suspicious eyes.
On the right stepped out Jarl Herleif and his brother Gunnar. She could see the golden diadem of the tall Valkyrie behind them, while the twin Berserkers and Shaman stalked like hungry wolves along the length of the fence. For a moment her gaze met with Gunnar's. His face was a picture of surprise and confusion, and if she dared to hope perhaps a bit of guilt too. If she and the rest of the Knights were to die here today, then perhaps at least one of these heathens would feel something other then joy at their slaughter. Though she had to admit it was a bit surprising to that it might be this cocky Raider in particular.
"Now, lets get to the bottom of this, shall we?" Erik said, stealing back her attention as sure as he had stolen the golden chain that now adorned his neck. He looked between her and Judith, though the Warden refused to meet his eye. "I understand that you have taken issue with my men laying claim to this place of worship. You seem to think that they only seek to do more harm here. Well, perhaps they only wished to try their tongues at saying prayers to this mighty one God of yours? Stranger things have happened in these uncertain days."
Judith remained silent. Again there was only the sound of Godfridus enduring his abuse, the Highlander's fists thumping into him without end. Erik gave a long sigh through his nose, lips pressed tight before turning and raising a hand to his bodyguard. "Take a rest, Old Wolf. I think you have done enough to salvage my son's honor for him," he said, letting his hard eyes linger on Magnus for a moment, the young Berserker shrinking beneath his father's glare.
Old Wolf gave a grunt, shaking his hands out as he backed away. Godfridus hacked and sputtered in his helmet as he hung limp between the Raiders who kept him up, sticky red froth dripping from within the rim of his helmet down his neck. The Highlander walked over to his claymore, which he had speared into the ground and leaned against it without a care, spitting onto the ground as he relaxed.
"I have no delusion over what your warriors seek here, Erik," Judith spoke up in a stony voice. "I swear to you, I care not for the treasure inside, even if it is of holy purpose. I only wish to see that the citizens of this city are kept safe and out of harms way."
"Ah yes, the poor people. We must think of the people," Erik agreed, giving a sympathetic nod of his head. The glare of the sun flashed off of his polished golden ornament and right into Priscilla's face, making her have to squint and turn her head away. Erik seemed to have noticed this and rounded on her next. "I take it they're all still safely inside?"
Priscilla nodded, her hands still outstretched a bit away from the weapons on her belt. "Yes, my Lord. They have come here only to seek refuge from the fighting, and years of bloody raids have left them fearful of your warriors. They are... reluctant to come out."
Erik narrowed his eyes, then glanced passed her to the building beyond. "A pity. Allow me to show them that they truly have nothing to fear from their northern saviors," he said, stepping between the two women and heading for the church. He stepped right up to the three Knights guarding the door, Coal, Marcelo and the Lawbringer all still holding their weapons defensively as Erik approached. The Jarl acted as if they weren't even there, stopping just before them with his hands at his hips as he looked in through the open doors. "Good citizen's of Eitrivatnen!" he called out in that booming voice, the confidence and bravado coming off of him like waves. "I am Jarl Erik Golden-Shield, leader of this grand army that has liberated you from the hands of tyrants and thieves. Your city is saved, the strength of their forces crushed by our courage and our steel. I bid you now to come out. Come walk again through the streets of your city without fear and feel the sun on your face again!"
Priscilla couldn't believe what she was hearing. This alliance of theirs was still a foreign notion, and in all of her years fighting Vikings and plotting against their raids she had never known them to show compassion or mercy. Then again, in those days each engagement was met with a kill or be killed mindset. Now peace was a necessity to fight against an all together more abhorrent foe, but Priscilla's growing suspicion made her realize just how uneasy things with the Vikings still were. Together they had sailed and fought together, even shedding blood guarding each other's backs, but sometimes old wounds went too deep to ever really forget.
"Come out! Step into the light and be free!" Erik called again, beckoning the people forth with a wave of his hand.
Slowly, a lone figure crossed over the threshold of the church, shielding their eyes from the sun above. It was the priest, looking paler then ever as he stepped out from the shadow of the chapel tower. Erik gave a small nod of approval, and behind the priest came the rest who had sought shelter in the church. "Let them pass," Erik commanded to the three Knights before him. Coal, Marcelo and the Lawbringer all looked between each other, then reluctantly stepped aside, watching the scared crowd shuffle out of the church one by one.
The priest came forward, glancing frantically between all the Vikings surrounding the church before finally settling on Erik. "What is it you want from us?" he asked, his voice small and weak before the Jarl. "We have no weapons, no reason to fight. Surely these people have suffered enough already?"
Erik gave a genuine and heartfelt smile, lifting a big hand and clapping it on the priest's shoulder, greeting him more like he was fellow warrior rather then a man of the cloth. "Worry not, my good man. You have my word that you have nothing to fear from me, or my men. And that goes for the rest to you as well," he said, raising his voice as he looked around at the haggard faces staring back at him. "I promise that none of my warriors will raise a sword or a hand in harm to any of you! No one shall suffer anymore pain or indignity under the boot heels of violent oppressors and mad tyrants!"
The priest blinked, confusion clear on his pale face. "I...I don't understand."
"It is a trick. They mean to slaughter us like sheep," hissed a woman, and a frantic murmurer went up through the crowd. They fidgeted and squirmed, almost like deer ready to bolt at the smell of a predator on the wind. After so many years of living under the threat of Viking invasion, the fear was too ingrained into their very being to trust the northern savages now, no matter how kindly one of them might smile.
For his part, Erik kept his composure well in the face of their despair. His smile tightened a bit, but he raised his hands into the air and bid them to be calm. "Please, I implore you! It is true, we have come here to plunder riches. Of that accusation I will not protest. But your lives are not what I seek." He turned slightly, gesturing at Judith and Priscilla for all to see. "These good Knights sought aid in the fight against the Divine Pyre, when your very leaders abandoned you all to subjugation and torture. Your lives torn apart, left to ruin, all because the Lord-Warden would not lift a finger to aid those he swore to protect. Now it is us, those who you thought to be your enemy, who have come to deliver your liberation at the cost of our own blood." He stepped back towards the priest, holding the frail man's gaze with his own unflinching stare. "All that I ask is that you give a little in return for this sacrifice that we have made. Stand aside. Go back to your homes in peace, and live well until the wind fills our sails again and we leave this city for good."
With a gesture of his hand, Erik's spear-men that held the Lion Flame Legion captive relinquished their guard. The Knights glanced about, not sure if this turn of events was a miracle or some cruel jest. A few quickly bent down to retrieve their weapons, but the Viking warriors simply regarded them without a care.
"Now is not the time for more steel," Erik observed. "These people are tired, and in dire need of rest. I bid you to escort them to their homes. Watch over them, and see to it that they are kept safe."
None of the Knights moved at first, bewildered and caught off guard by this rather gracious request from a Viking Jarl. One by one their heads all turned towards their commander, and Judith was rather put on the spot as her warriors waited for guidance. This was not lost on Erik, who glanced over with narrowed eyes at the Warden. She stiffened up awkwardly, but she gave a nod of her head compliance with the Golden Jarl's wishes.
The helpless citizens seemed all too happy at the prospect of returning to their homes, and they practically ran into the midst of the Knights for some sense of protection. Priscilla watched as they were all shepherded through the front gate, right under the hungry eyes of a wild Viking horde. The Knights spread out, creating a defensive barrier between the people of Eitrivatnen and the barbarians, and Priscilla found herself holding her breath until they had all slipped out of sight. All except the priest who still remained before the open doors of his beloved church.
For a moment the situation had seemed poised upon the edge of a knife, but of all the possible outcomes for it to end, one without bloodshed was surely the one Priscilla least expected. Well, almost no bloodshed. Godfridus was still coughing up bloody spit inside of his helmet as he sagged between the two Raiders, but at least it seemed that he would live. After a lifetime of conflict with these savages, she would take her little victories where she could.
Judith took a step towards Erik, giving a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure that her Knights had safely led the frightened citizens away. "Erik, I... I had not thought that-"
"Not thought what?" bit the Golden Jarl, cutting Judith off. She flinched back, but the Warlord still came at her, closing the distance between them. "Did you not think it was possible for me to act with a level head? That I could show compassion to the low and downtrodden who can not defend themselves?" He leaned in, sneering at Judith as he spoke. "Or perhaps you think that just because I am Viking, I am incapable of mercy and restraint when dealing with you Ashfeld fucks?"
Priscilla felt her throat tighten as she watched Erik move in on Judith. He was just a bit taller then the Warden commander, but he used it to his full advantage as he loomed up like a hungry bear that had its prey cornered. The look in his eyes had completely changed. It was no longer the calm and sympathetic gaze of a humble man, but the wrathful fury of a vicious leader.
Judith tried to take a step back, but Erik moved right along with her, staying in her face. "Erik, please. What else would you expect me to-"
"Take that damn helmet off when you speak to me," Erik growled, cutting Judith off yet again.
Judith went silent, too stunned to act for a moment, but then slowly lifted a hand and removed her helmet from her head. Loose gray blonde hairs fell around her haggard face, the rest pulled back into a short tight braid behind her head. Her complexion was fair, and she had piercing blue eyes that no doubt burned with cold fire whenever her ire was let loose. Before this powerful Jarl though, all she could do was give an uneasy frown, stretching out an old scar that ran up from chin to cheekbone. "We made a deal, Erik. You take what plunder what you want, and in return we end the Pyre and their cult. Then you leave. That is the deal. You leave, and these people get their lives back. Until then I cannot just stand by while old feuds and violent traditions threaten the lives of the very people we are trying to save."
"Ah, how very noble of you," Erik said in a mocking tone, "but I think that your are forgetting about one very important thing in all of this. You are forgetting about you Judith, you and your small band of renegade Knights." Judith's brows flinched in confusion, but Erik only grinned. "What do you think will happen once we have left these shores and returned to our homeland with the hulls of our ships full of Ashfeld's treasures? Where will you go? Who will you stand with? Do you think the Lord-Warden and the Legions Council will welcome your lot back into their fold with open arms for this invasion you have led into their lands?"
Judith's frown deepened, her face contorting into a scowl at the notion that she should be at all concerned with those who had abandoned them and all of northern Ashfeld to the Pyre's control. It was obvious to Priscilla that Judith's anger towards the Lord-Warden burned as hot as ever, which was precisely why she had given more thought to what might happen when this raid was over while Judith was only concerned with the present Thought of and planned for, so long as she completed her mission and made it through this nightmare alive. Judith on the other hand was guided only by one thing, no matter how much she might try to hide it behind more noble reasons like protecting the citizens of this war scarred land. She wanted Beaufort to hurt for what they had done. She wanted revenge.
"I told you before, Jarl. My Knights and I stand with you," Judith spat, refusing to cower any longer before Erik's hard gaze. "I have already sworn off my allegiance to the Legion Council, and the Lord-Warden. If they would not fight for us in our moment of need then I will not fight for them. I will swear off Ashfeld for good if that is what it takes to convince you. When this fight is over, and these lands are safeguarded once again, I will return with you to Valkenheim. There is nothing left for me here now, and I will seek to live out my days peacefully among your people."
Erik threw his head back and let out a sudden laugh, lifting his hands triumphantly into the air. "Aha! Yes! You almost have it!" Judith backed away in surprise, but Erik wouldn't let her go, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger barely apart as he grinned. "You are this close to understanding. This close, Judith!"
Suddenly he spun around, moving away from the stunned Warden as he addressed his warriors. "Take it! Take it all!" he roared, waving his hands wildly at the open doors of the church. "It is yours! You have fought for it! You have earned it! Take all that it has to offer and leave nothing behind!"
A great cheer rose up from the crowd, and in moments a group of warriors broke off from the rest and rushed in through the iron gate towards the church. They barreled past the priest, who alone tried to stand in their way and keep them from pilfering the holy relics and treasures within.
"Please! Please stop!" He tried to cry, but his weak voice could barely be heard over the heathen's roar. His eyes flicked over to Erik, and perhaps against his better judgment, threw himself at the Golden Jarl and his so called mercy. "Please, you must stop them! This is a house of God! The treasures inside, they belong to the Lord, not to us. You must not do this!"
Erik's mouth was set to a hard line beneath his beard as he clapped a hand down on the priest's shoulder, just as he had done before. "I cannot help but wonder, how a priest of God fared so well under the rule of these cultists. Did you serve these fanatics while they bled this city dry?" he asked the priest with a curious look. "Did you preach their words? Carry their insane tale of holy mountain while forsaking your own faith to save your skin?"
The priest's eyes widened with fear, and he seemed to shrink back even as Erik kept a hold of him. "I... I did what had to be done... t-to protect my flock I-I-I sinned, o-only to hope that I might find forgiveness in the Lord. In... in time..."
"Forgiveness," Erik nodded, seeming to follow along with the priest's pathetic mutterings. "Such merciful forgiveness. That is what your God is best known for, yes?" The priest looked as near to fainting as ever, and there was a clear sheen of sweat upon his pale brow as he gave a very shaky and uncertain nod. Erik gave a small smile in return. "That is why your God is weak," he said simply, then threw back his head and brought his golden helmet crashing into the priest's face. The holy man gave a sharp shriek of pain, then crumpled to the ground with a fluttering of his robes.
"Erik!" Judith yelled. Dropping her helmet to the ground she moved to bring up her sword, but the Jarl was ready for her. With surprising speed he backhanded the Warden across her cheek, making her gasp and reel back as Erik struck again and knocked the longsword from her hand.
Priscilla made a grab for her own weapons, but in an instant she felt the hard edge of steel at her neck. "Ah, ah..." Magnus grunted at her ear, bringing up his other axe now to the back of her shoulder. Things were happening quickly now, with Vikings rushing about with treasure stolen from the church and the spear wielding housecarls rushing forward to keep Coal, Marcelo and the Lawbringer at bay. They were impossibly outnumbered. Even if the rest of their legion was still present, the Viking horde was a giant compared to their small force.
Before Judith could come to her senses again Erik was on her. His hands snapped around her head, jerking her up to look at him, thumbs pressing into her cheeks. "Let me make this painfully clear for you, my friend," he snarled, glaring at Judith from beneath his helmet that dripped red with the priest's fresh blood. "This city belongs to me now. This church belongs to me. These weak, pathetic people belong to me. It all belongs to me!" he brought Judith in close, his gritted teeth bared as he clutched her tight. " You belong to me, Knight. You have nothing, other then what I deem to give you. You have no shelter, other then what I am willing to provide. You are nothing but a cowardly traitor who ran to save her own skin when you should have died fighting like a warrior!"
Judith's eyes were still watering from the hard slap to her face, her pink cheeks squished up and lips stretched awkwardly as Erik squeezed her with his strong hands. "But... the people..." she grunted, gripping onto the Jarl's wrists and trying to pull herself free, "We had a deal..."
Erik's lips curled up into a cruel grin. "Oh, worry not for them. I will not be called a liar, especially not by the likes of you. I am not in the habit of breaking what is mine. Not when I can still find a use for it." Judith stared at him with wide and fearful eyes, but Erik's grin only grew as he continued to gloat. "What do you think should happen if Beaufort decided to creep up behind our backs while we assault the Walled City? If you are so desperate to keep these peasants from harm even while swearing off all loyalty to your nation, what would your leaders do see their lives spared?"
It was a blow more devastating then any strike to the face, and Priscilla could actually see the moment the Judith lost the will. The Warden slumped, almost as if she was purely being held up by Erik now rather then standing with her own strength. Erik sensed this too, lifting his hands and forcing Judith to crane her head up more.
"I think now, Judith, you understand exactly where you and I stand," Erik said. Judith gave a desperate grunt at first, but slowly nodded her head the best she could in the Warlord's grip. "Good girl." He gently patted his hand against Judith's cheek, the woman flinching for a moment before he finally let her go. She stumbled back, taking a few deep, gasping breaths as she tried to steady herself.
The Vikings continued to plunder the church, coming out clutching golden crosses adorned with jewels, and ornate candlesticks in the armful. Erik turned to watch them, giving his back to Judith without a care at all for any act of retribution. "I thought your God was supposed to be a humble being?" he asked them, the anger and viciousness gone from his voice completely. Just like the flipping of a coin he had put away the ruthless Warlord, and presented himself as the benevolent Jarl once again.
When no one answered him he looked back, his eyes settling on Priscilla still clutched beneath the edge of Magnus' axes. Erik frowned, and gave a jerk of his head for her to approach. Magnus dropped his axes and set her free, giving her a quick jab between the shoulder blades to get her moving. Twisting a silver ring off of a finger, Erik held up the small piece of jewelry so that it's polished surface glinted under the sunlight as he offered it to her. "Let it never be said that I do not reward loyalty when it is given."
Priscilla hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about, and for a moment wondered if he was just playing with her, considering that her own plans were meant to undermine him in the end. She glanced over towards Judith as if she would have the answer, but the Warden only stared angrily down at the ground, her fists clenched tight at her sides. Feeling that she had no other option, Priscilla held out her hand and let Erik drop the ring into her open palm.
"For coming when called," he smiled.
"Thank you... my Lord," Priscilla mumbled, closing her fingers around the ring. Feeling Erik's eyes on her made her skin crawl, and she quickly turned and walked back rather then spend another moment under his gaze. She pocketed the ring rather then slipping it on a finger, sharing a quick and wary glance with Judith as she headed for the gate. In that one look she could almost see the rift split between them by the Golden Jarl, this simple act of gift giving a well thought ploy to pull apart their legion from within. Her raised up while Judith was brought low. Luckily only Coal and the others were left to see, but she was more worried about how Judith might feel personally about this affront.
Erik gave a long sigh from his nose, glancing about the small group of sorry-looking Knights around him. "I grow tired of all this sulking. Away with the lot of you! Go find somewhere to lay your dreary heads until I call. This battle is over, but there is still much more work to be done."
Priscilla led the way out of the gate, not daring to look at any of the surrounding Vikings as Coal, Marcelo and the Lawbringer fell in behind her. Judith stooped down to pick up her helmet and dropped sword. She was just about to turn and walk away when she looked over towards the poor Gladiator, nearly left forgotten in the clutches of two Raiders. "Give us Godfridus," she demanded with what force she could muster in her voice, refusing to remain weak and defeated for long, "Release him."
Erik glanced over at the Gladiator and gave a small snort of laughter. He waved his hand and the two Raiders threw Godfridus to the ground, one nudging the sportsman with his foot as he fell limp. Godfridus groaned and hacked out a slew of coughs, his body shaking from the effort. Old Wolf watched with one brow raised, a prideful smirk set upon his lips.
Priscilla stopped just outside of the gate, watching as Godfridus managed to push himself up onto his knees. His red beaten stomach and chest shuddered as he took a deep breath, but as Priscilla listened to him cough and wheeze she realized the the crazy fool was actually beginning to laugh. Whatever was going on inside that jumbled head of his was most likely no good for any of them, but hopefully he had enough sense to keep his mouth shut long enough for them to slip away.
"Aha...ha...you gutless cowards..." No such luck it seemed. "Is that the best...you can do? I suffered w-worse against the abom... abominable Sons of Abaddon, who I killed with all ten of my fingers smashed to a pulp!" He paused, taking a hard swallow, "F-fight me, you shit-licking swine... and I'll throw you into the dirt where you belong..."
Erik scowled at the beaten warrior, his shoulders stiffening as he crossed his arms across his chest. "Old Wolf," he called out in a voice as hard as stone. "Suddenly I feel that I am all out of forgiveness for today."
Old Wolf gave an indifferent sniff, then stepped up to Godfridus and slapped a great big hand onto the back of the man's neck. "You should'o quit while you were ahead, laddie," he said quietly, and then hurled the Gladiator forward to where his great claymore was stuck into the ground.
Godfridus gave a muffled grunt as he pitched forward onto his face, only for the sharp blade of the great sword to catch him right between his shoulder and neck, slicing into him. There was sudden splash of blood across the dirt, and Godfridus was left stuck and gasping for air as he tried to pry himself free of the blade. Before he could even move an inch, Old Wolf jumped at him and slammed a big booted foot at the Gladiator's head. Godfridus gave a lurch forward, the cutting edge biting deeper and deeper into him as he was kicked onto the sword. Again the Highlander slammed his foot down upon the man, this time burying the great sword half way through the Gladiator's bloody neck. Godfridus made hardly a sound as he was cut open, and with one last powerful kick, his helmeted head was cut roughly from his shoulders to roll across the ground.
Old Wolf made a sound of disgust, grabbing the grip of his claymore and pulling it free of the dirt. With blood still dripping from the sharp metal edge, he balanced the weapon against one shoulder and stalked forward towards Judith as if to dare her to raise her voice against what he had done. The Warden just stared at him, wide eyed and pale faced, her lips barely parted to show her gritted teeth beneath. The fury and hurt was clear in her burning eyes, but she remained frozen in place as the Highlander just grinned.
Erik shook his head as he chuckled. "Worthless fool. Someone should have told him that such an ego would get him killed someday," he said, sneering as he glittered with gold and silver beneath the sun.
Priscilla watched Godfridus' head give a slow spin until it finally went still at the edge of the small courtyard. Around her the Viking horde all laughed and jeered at the fallen Gladiator, some calling out to lay claim to his weapons and armor. The skull face of the spiked helmet stared back at her from where it lay, that toothy grin fixed permanently into the bronze. It was a horrible way to go, beaten and down on your knees, but somehow she wondered if Godfridus preferred it in a way. At least he had gone out to the roar of a crowd.