The great tent had fallen into total silence as everyone stopped to look at Priscilla, and even under the weight of all those judging and surprised stares she did not falter.

"For my life, and the life of my companion," Priscilla called out, refusing to stand down even with her hands shackled before her. "For my legion, and for the right to rule this entire fucking army of savage dogs, I challenge Erik to a duel to the death." Looking about the tent, her gaze rested on Gunnar, chest heaving with each deep breath, but she then turned and looked up towards the Golden Jarl himself, a small grin tugging at one corner of her lips. "Honor demands that you heed my challenge, if you are any kind of man. If you are any kind of true Viking."

Erik looked back at her with wide, furious eyes. The clenching of his jaw could be seen even underneath his full blonde beard, and his fingers clutched so tightly together into fists that his knuckles had gone white. When he spoke, his words were like the weight of Thor's hammer splitting lightning bolts into the sky. "What is there to say then? I accept."

"No!" growled Gunnar, shoving at Herleif again with all of his strength to get free. Herleif was so stunned by this sudden turn that he let Gunnar go without a fight, pushed over onto his side as his brother shot up to his feet. "What are you doing? This wasn't the plan!"

"You damn fool," Judith whispered, staring at Priscilla while frozen in shock.

"Forgive me," Priscilla said without taking her eyes away from Erik. "I cannot allow you to face judgment for me. Not when I can face it myself."

"My sword!" Erik called out, snapping his fingers as he got up from his throne. A servant came running with both his sword and golden plated shield in hand, handing them both over to Erik with a respectful bow.

"My Jarl, I would be honored to deal with this wee Ashfeld shite meself if you would allow," Old Wolf said, glaring over at Priscilla. "No need to trouble yourself with spilling unworthy blood."

Erik hefted the weight of his shield in his left hand and shook his head. "Clear a space!" he commanded, stepping down from where his seat was perched as his warriors all clamored to move the heavy tables as quickly as possible, spilling food and drink all about in the process. "If it is judgment the bitch seeks then who better than I to give it? No other word matters in this camp, and my word is golden."

"Free me then," Priscilla demanded, lifting up her shackled wrists, "and give me a weapon. Any knife will do, though I see no point in gold weaponry. Just steel or iron, if you would be so kind."

Erik let out a bark of laughter as he gave a practice swing of his sword, slashing two quick lines through the air. "Honor demands that I face you in single combat. As a true Viking, as you put it? Fair enough. I will answer your challenge, but you are no Viking." Pointing with his sword, he gestured at the shackles binding Priscilla's wrists an the chain linking her ankle to Coals. "You can remain chained like the bitch you are, and he can be your weapon. Or perhaps you might try to use him as a shield before I cut your head clean from your body."

Priscilla's face fell, whatever plan she had to fight for her freedom seemingly cut short, just as her life might soon be. For his part, Coal moved in closer by her side, rolling his neck and bringing up his fists bound as they were. "I always thought I might go out like this," he grumbled beneath his helmet. "Just, you know, in prison."

"Fucking coward," Priscilla hissed, face tight as she frowned at Erik, but her eyes were already glancing about for anything nearby that she might be able to use as a weapon.

"Honor, cowardice, power," Erik smirked, hunkering down behind his shimmering shield and raising his sword. "These things matter very little once you have wealth enough to truly rule."

"Damn you!" Gunnar shouted just before he charged headlong at Erik. Herleif was still too stunned to stop him, but he did not make it far. Magnus dashed into his path, axes at the ready as he put himself between Gunnar and Erik. The Jarl's son slashed quickly with his weapons, forcing Gunnar back just as fast or else be sliced apart by those gleaming blades. Gunnar snarled, stepping one way and then another to get past, but Magnus stayed on him, snapping his teeth like a dog protecting it's master.

Gunnar dodged again, but feinted as he tried to step around Magnus and shove him aside, but was stopped short by heavy boot kicking into his side that sent him sprawling into one of the tables. "Stay down laddie!" Old Wolf called out, holding his claymore at the ready to cleave into Gunnar at any moment. A dozen hands reached out to grab Gunnar as he ignored the Highlander's command and tried to rise, pulling him back down to be beaten and pummeled into submission. Still Gunnar raged on, refusing to give up and let Priscilla and Coal stand alone even as both Magnus and Old Wolf joined the fray.

Pushing himself up onto his feet, Herleif looked about at all the disarray. Erik's guards were pouring into the tent now, and before he could even let out a word of protest he was surrounded, metal spear tips pointed towards his neck. "No..." he whispered with wide, frightful eyes. He looked to Gunnar at the table, his helmet having been pulled from his head and his nose bloodied with one eye swollen and already purpling around the socket. He looked over to Priscilla, who was clearly lost between her need to stand and fight Erik and the sight of Gunnar being beaten for his want to save her. All the while Erik began to cross the tent towards her and Coal, sword and shield at the ready to cut them down as they stood helpless before his final judgment.

"Know that I take no pleasure in this," Erik said with a vindictive smile as he stepped faster towards Priscilla and Coal, raising up his shield as if to strike her in the face, "A Peacekeeper would have made for a good pet, but one can never be too careful when trying to tame rabid beasts!" Priscilla ducked low, prepared to dodge the first attack as it came at her, but bound as she was to Coal and trapped in a tent full of hostile Vikings her chances were grim at best. Judith tried to step in front of them again, but Coal only shoved her out of harm's way as Erik came at them.

His golden shield swiped through the air, aiming to render Priscilla senseless if she had not dodged clear at the last moment. She ducked low, side stepping the sword that slashed after her, hearing how it cut through the air with such ferocity from Erik's swing. She tried to put more space between them, but it only took two steps back before the chain around her ankle snapped taut. Erik pressed his advantage, striking out at her with his sword, but Coal crashed into him before the stab could land.

They tumbled to the floor together, wrestling for control of the sword, but there was little Coal could do with his wrists bound together. Erik snarled and shoved his shoulder into Coal's chest, throwing him off and quickly rising to his feet. He looked about for Priscilla, finding her trying to back away as far as the chain would allow. It was enough though, and as Erik came at her again she doubled back, ducking under another swing of his sword to stand next to Coal once again. As one they picked up the chain between them, spreading apart and holding it like a line to catch Erik as they rushed him. With no weapons of their own the chain was all they could use, but Erik hunkered down behind his gleaming shield and let the metal links scrape across its surface, stopping the attack short. Priscilla and Coal both pitched forward through the air as their feet were pulled out from under them, and Erik gave a triumphant laugh as he stomped one boot onto Coal's back.

"An amusing game," he called out, lifting up his sword to run Coal through, "but hardly worth the insult."

Priscilla got up to her knees and rolled, not towards Erik but away from him. She snatched up the chain and pulled it tight, gritting her teeth as she yanked it towards the Golden Jarl's legs. With his back turned to her she hoped to catch him by surprise, but in an act of impressive reflex, Erik stepped over it. He rounded on Priscilla with a snarl, but she was already gone. With the chain clear of Erik's legs, she continued to pull hard, tugging Coal along just enough to reach the end of one of the large tables, and snatch the knife that Ivar had stuck into the wooden surface. Ivar gave a mighty laugh at the sight, slapping a hand down on the table in amusement.

It was little more than a small blade fit for nothing but cutting food, but it would cut. She crouched low, then sprang at Erik with knife in hand, striking for his legs but hitting only his shield. He blocked each stab or cut, stepping back as she came at him but laughing as they went.

Herleif could only watch, forced to bear witness to everything he had tried to avoid. A mockery of what they had all come here to do, fighting each other over petty insults and bruised honor. Erik would certainly not let this rest with Priscilla and the other Knights. There was no doubt in his mind that by the time all was said and done, this would fall back on him and his family as well.

Was this truly to be their fate? Cut down like bound animals while he was helpless to watch? His only goal had been to see that Gunnar was free from punishment at the hands of a man who cared nothing for friend or foe, but now he saw that there was no escape for his brother so long as Priscilla was given over to die.

To save one he would have to save both, and now he would have to forsake his own honor in Priscilla's place to do it. Somehow though that did not seem so great a sacrifice to make, not for his brother.

Coal jumped up and managed to get his shackled wrists over Erik's head, tugging at his helmet and gripping at his face while Erik howled in anger. Priscilla moved in, grabbing hold of Erik's sword arm to keep control of his weapon while she went for his throat. Erik gave another mighty yell, and slammed the rim of his shield to shove her away, followed by quick dip of his shoulder to send Coal hurling head over heels onto the ground.

Priscilla's breath shuddered from the hit to her ribs as she barely held onto Erik's arm, but with Coal down she was left open and vulnerable. Perhaps it was simply an act of desperation, but she gripped the small knife in her hand and stabbed it as hard as she could up into Erik's armpit. He let out a gasp of pain, eyes going wide, then flung her away to land next to Coal.

"You... fucking bitch!" he snarled, holding his arm high to yank the knife free. For a moment he scowled down at the blood covered blade, wincing from disbelief rather than from the pain. He flung the knife away, gritting his teeth and giving a swing of his sword. "Just a little sting. A pathetic display, like a bee trying to take down a bull!"

"Priscilla! Run!" Gunnar called out from the table, his voice a strained gasp as Old Wolf, Magnus and the other warriors held him down.

Priscilla and Coal tried to scramble away, to put some distance between them and Erik, but he quickly stepped down on the chain linked between them. "Enough!" he roared, smacking his shield down in Coal's face as he tried to rise, then lifting his sword to strike down Priscilla before she could even try to attempt the same. "This ends now!"

"I did it!" Herleif shouted louder than he had ever though possible. "I killed Chaldeon! I killed the bastard myself! It was me!"

For the second time in so few moments, the tent fell quiet once again. Erik seethed at Herleif from where he stood, ornate sword shaking in anger as he still held it aloft rather than cleaving Priscilla's head in two. "What did you say?" he hissed through clenched teeth, staring with blue fire in his wide eyes.

Priscilla craned her neck up at him from where she lay on the floor, her own eyes wide and angry as she hissed through clenched teeth. "What are you doing?"

Herleif did not second guess himself, not now. He glared back at Erik like he was staring at him across a battlefield, knowing full well that only one of them may in fact walk away from this alive. "I said, I killed Chaldeon. I was the one who fought him at the Great Forge, and when he proved to capable a fighter to take him alive I put an end to his miserable life once and for all."

"And then what?" Erik shouted, stepping over the Knights as he spit into the air with words as sharp as steel. "Then you decided to lay the blame on these Ashfeld fucks to save yourself from embarrassment? Wasted my time all to save your honor? Would you have gladly seen these two killed just to cover up your own failure?" He strode across the tent, pushing his guards out of the way to stand against Herleif face to face before uttering, "I think not. What game are you playing at? What strange seiðr has this hooded woman put you and your brother under?" His eyes shifted towards Gunnar for a moment, who lay stretched out on the table still held down as he stared up at them in awe, then gestured back at Priscilla, Coal with the point of his sword. "They are as good as thralls! What do their lives matter to us? If they are the cause for such madness then let us just kill them and be done with it!"

"You have no cause," Herleif said, willing himself to keep his voice calm and level even as his hands shook at his sides. "I killed him. It is my fault you have been robbed of your prize. Call me a liar and I will fight you for the insult. On my honor, I will not let this matter rest until our swords are drawn."

"Whatever sort of honor you claim to posses is clearly beneath me," Erik spat, and Herleif knew in that moment that if given the chance he would gladly kill this man in a duel. They glared at each other in an icy stillness for a moment after, but then Erik surprised him as his body relaxed and he hung his head. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh through his nose, shifting his sword and shield to hold in one hand while he ran a hand over his blonde brow. "Forgive me Herleif, that was rude of me to say. Clearly things have gotten quite out of hand here."

All around the tent Erik's men began to back away. The spears around Herleif's neck lowered, and swords and knives were sheathed into scabbards as everyone seemed to follow the Golden Jarl in taking a breath. Old Wolf wore a deeply lined frown on his face as he released his hold on Gunnar, but he had to give Magnus a hard shove away before Gunnar could at last stand up on his own two shaky legs.

Erik sighed again and gave a disappointed shake of his head. "It has been a long campaign already, and much has been done to see us this far. It was wrong of me to question your honor after all you and your warriors have proven yourselves again and again. I am sure that you are just tired, that is all. Tired of the weight of responsibility I have laid upon your shoulders. That was my mistake."

Herleif felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened, and somehow he knew that this shift in demeanor was not made out of kindness or respect. "What responsibility that rests upon my shoulders is to my warriors and my hold. We fight together for the same cause Erik, but I am not some minor warchief sworn to carry out your bidding."

Erik cocked his head and gave a small nod of agreement. "True, very true. And yet..." His hand came up to grasp Herleif's shoulder, giving it a shake as if his next words were to be taken as an encouragement or a gift. "...I think it would be best if you and your warriors remained here at camp while Ivar and I assault the wall. You have helped us get this far, and for that you have my eternal gratitude my friend, but I think we can handle a few Knights penned in like pigs for the slaughter. Right Ivar?"

"Finally, someone speaks fucking sense," Ivar said softly, the barest hint of a smile sitting beneath his dark beard. "Best not push him to far. He looks quite worked up over where his brother decides to stick his little prick as it is."

"Well, I would not go that far," Erik said with an almost apologetic smile. "But he is right, you do look worn out, Herleif." He gave Herleif one last high brow stare, then looked over at Gunnar all bloodied and beaten before turning away. "The both of you do." He gave a dismissive wave for Priscilla and Coal to get out of his way, no longer deeming them worthy of his attention as he stepped up to his throne.

"You cannot do this," Herleif said after him. It was futile to protest he knew, but for the look he imagined on his warriors faces when he told them of this news he pressed on. He had not sailed and marched them across half the world to simply sit and watch this grand battle go on without them from afar. "You have no right to command me in such a way."

"Do I not!?" Erik shouted, his anger returning quick as a flash of dancing flame as he rounded back again. "And yet you will obey! It is no secret to me why you have joined in on this raid, seeking to placate your disgruntled warriors while you see to it that your small hold remains small. Try to hide it if you wish, but we both know it to be true. My strength and my power has been what has brought us to the greatest treasure this world has ever known! Not the meager contributions of fearful Herleif Bjornson and his clan of tundra hogs. You will serve as I deem you to serve, and when the Walled City lays open to us and the glory reaped by the blood on our swords, you will be thankful for what scraps I choose to feed you from my great table. You are to be commanded as I see fit, just like them!" Again he pointed at the three Knights with his sword, his mad gaze snapping over to fix on them with utter loathing and contempt.

"Of course you know I will have to kill them now," he said, "I cannot simply forget what has been said here, challenge or no challenge. I opened my heart and my home to these miserable vagrants, these misfits without allegiance. When anyone else would have seen them for the traitors they are, I welcomed them in and offered a chance for redemption. And how do they repay me for my benevolence? How do they choose to go about showing their gratitude?" He marched down from his throne once again, making straight for Judith with the point of his sword raised towards her throat. "I believe my son said it best, dogs that bite need to be put down!"

"Erik!" Gunnar exclaimed, taking a step forward and instantly putting everyone on edge. Swords were already sliding free again, and the whole fiasco seemed about to spark off again to even greater calamity.

"I will obey!" Herleif cut in as quickly as he could, determined to see to it that he and his brother walked out of this tent alive, honor be damned. Erik snapped around to look at him, sword still held at Judith's throat as he waited for more, and Herleif held nothing back. "I will do as you say and hold my warriors back. I will follow your command if that is what you wish, but give the Lion Flame to me. If they are a problem not worth keeping then I will see to it that they are kept well out of sight."

Erik narrowed his cold eyes, working his jaw and grinding his teeth as he thought over this proposal. "You would swear your fealty to me for this lot?" he asked, suspicion hanging heavy on each word. "They are nothing but dogs, Herleif. Even with all the holds and warchiefs under my power, this seems like a fool's bargain."

"Call it a gift then," Herleif said quickly. There was an aching in his chest as he spoke, and though he felt all the eyes of those in the tent bearing down on him like the heat of the sun he would not look away from Erik. He had chosen this path to save his brother, and indeed perhaps these Knights who were not the enemies he once thought of them as. Whether he was a fool or a coward for not choosing the path of violence and steel, it was too late to wonder now. He dropped to his knees for all to see, holding out his open hands to either sign in an act of open submission. "A gift from a King to his chief."

Gunnar quickly moved from where he had been standing frozen among the Sea Eagle warriors, stepping to Herleif an grabbing him firmly by his cuirass and pauldrons to haul him to his feet. "Get up," he snapped gruffly, pulling desperately on Herleif's armor. "Don't do this Herleif. Don't swear to the likes of him, he isn't worth it! Now get up!"

Herleif did indeed rise to his feet, but only to grab his brother by the shoulder and shove him away, stepping in front of him instead and keeping his attention locked on Erik. "What is your answer, Erik? My loyalty for their lives. When has a cheaper bargain ever been offered?"

Erik stared at him for a moment longer, a stillness falling over the tent as he weighed the outcome in his mind. Judith flinched with the point of his sword held to her neck, while Priscilla and Coal still looked ready to fight at a moments notice. Then Erik finally let his sword fall, letting out a laugh that did nothing to ease the heavy silence in the air. "Ha! He speaks of gifts and loyalty. Well, we shall see if the once great clan of Tundra Tusk is worthy of either." Giving Judith one last sideways glance, Erik turned and stepped up to his golden throne, throwing his golden shield down beside it and draping his sword across his lap as he sat himself lazily on the cushioned seat.

"I admit, this is not how I imagined this moment happening between us," he said with a small teasing smile. "I had thought much more blood would have to be spilled before we came to this little... understanding. Who would have thought all it would take to claim your precious hold was to gift you a few worthless Knights to see you on your knees." A bout of laughter rang up from all those watching, and Erik smiled even wider as he regarded them all. "Oh to have a brother who so loved me that he would sell his entire hold just to see that I had a thrall to sit on my cock! If that is not true loyalty, then perhaps I do not know the meaning of the word after all!" More laughter rang out around them, louder this time as the watching warriors reveled in their Jarl's triumph.

Herleif weathered it all with a stone faced scowl, wishing with all his heart that he had never left his hold or his family, ignoring Erik's offer and preparing for that war he had now given up without a fight. Whatever chance he'd had to fight and die with honor and glory had slipped through his fingers like dirt in a barren field, and all that was left was the sinking feeling of defeat from a battle he had never fought. "Are we agreed then?" he asked, feeling his face burn with the humiliation of being toyed with for this man's amusement. "Tell me plainly, or let there be blood between us as you once wished!"

Erik kept his pompous smile, but looked down at Herleif as if staring at an upset child that simply needed to be reminded of his lack of power and authority before their parent. "Do you swear it?" he asked quietly, holding out a hand for his warriors to cease their boasting and jeers.

"Don't do it," Gunnar said again, grabbing Herleif by the arm. "The gods will not stand for this dishonor!"

Herleif rounded on him with a snarl, shoving his hand away and grabbing him by the leather straps across his chest instead. "The gods have nothing to do with his," he hissed. "There is just us. For once in your damn life stop thinking of Valhalla and look at what is happening right in front of you. Victory in death can do nothing for those we leave behind. That is why we must live! If you care anything for her, if you truly care, then accept the consequences of your stupidity; and learn to keep your fucking mouth shut!"

Gunnar stared back at him in complete shock, his mouth hanging open stupidly with no words as he blinked. Herleif pushed him away in a huff, giving him his back as he stepped up to Erik's throne and bowed down on one knee. "I swear it," he said, speaking with what little pride and courage he could muster as he gave away his whole world. "On pain of death and dishonor before the gods, I swear to serve you Erik Golden-Shield as my Jarl and my ruler. Until the Valkyries claim me or Hel takes my soul."

Erik looked down at him in complete silence, his smile of power and authority his only answer to Herleif's oath. He leaned forward, taking his ornate sword and wielding it like a scepter to proclaim his rule. "Do you swear to me... as your King?"

Herleif swallowed hard as he looked up at him, knowing that there was no other choice but to give in. "I swear this to you, as my King."

"I accept!" Erik called out loudly for all to hear, and the tent erupted into applause and cheers as his warriors quickly picked up discarded cups and horns to raise a toast to their mighty leader. Erik laughed and gave an encouraging wave in appreciation, almost as if he had forgotten about Herleif kneeling at his feet as soon as the deal was struck. He basked in this victorious moment, accepting the praise and adulation of his followers while Herleif remained beneath him, suffering in silence as his legacy and the legacy of his family was sold away. "Take them," Erik said at last, pointing dismissively at the Knights as he glanced down at Herleif with thinly veiled disdain. "They are my gift to you, and I entrust you with their care and discipline. Though, if I am to be completely honest, I could not give a solid gold shit if you took them in as family or throw them off a cliff."

Herleif remained down on one knee for a moment longer, feeling the laughter and cheers like crashing waves all around him. Finally he stood, but could not bring himself to hold his chin high as he spoke again. "I take them with humble gratitude... my King." He felt himself tense at those last words. He glanced up towards the ceiling of the tent, seeing nothing but white canvas above him, but somehow knowing that his father and all the gods were looking down at him from the golden hall with nothing but shame and contempt in their eyes.

"As you should," Erik said, easing himself back into his throne and snapping his fingers at a nearby thrall. A new jeweled goblet of wine was brought for him, and he snatched it from the slave's hands to hold aloft in the air. "I am glad that we could work things out between us, my friend. You know what it is that I wish. You and your warriors will remain here in camp while Ivar and I deal with these piss drinking troll fuckers Osric and Kazamir. When I have need of you, I will call for you. You have what you asked for, so now..." he paused to take a long drink, prolonging Herleif's moment of suffering before he was ready to speak again, "...ah, get the fuck out of my tent."

More laughter, but Herleif simply bowed his head and somehow managed to let out a sigh of relief. It did little to make him feel any better, but at least he and Gunnar would be walking out of here alive. He would deal with whatever came next later, though he knew very well that there was still the chance of blood being shed for this decision. His blood, spilled at the hands of his own warriors. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to feel any of his usual anger at the thought. Turning to leave, he found Gunnar still staring at him, standing rooted to the spot in his way. "Move."

"Herleif..." Gunnar said somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his face broken and lips curled with uncertainty and regret. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I only meant to-"

Herleif shoved him hard, causing Gunnar to stumble backwards with a gasp. "I said move!" Herleif shoved him again, determined to keep his brother moving towards the exit before he could say another word. "Say nothing! I have no wish to hear it! Just move!"

As they went, Magnus and Old Wolf walked by to take their places back at Erik's side, though not without each of them shoving their shoulders into Herleif as they passed. Old Wolf even had the audacity to give him a smug smile, knowing that there was nothing he could do now to claim it as an insult and punish him. Herleif could only seethe in helpless silence, turning to the Knights instead and striking them with a vicious glare and snapping his fingers at them before gesturing after Gunnar. "Out!"

Priscilla's eyes dropped to the ground as she quickly walked past, for once having enough sense of self preservation to keep her mouth shut as Herleif glared down at her. Coal followed after in silence, the chain around their ankles rattling between them, though he did give Herleif a wary glance as he passed. Judith simply stepped up next to him, apparently having lost no sense of her own self importance after nearly having her throat cut open by Erik's sword. "Are we to be your slaves then?" she asked him, gauntleted fists held tight at her side. "Traded from one spiteful master to another, just to suffer in chains for any scrap of kindness mercy?"

Herleif snorted angrily, struggling over whether to strike Judith for her insolence or break down and beg for her support. "If you must know, I wish that you were nothing to me," he growled back in a whisper. "You and your Knights have been nothing but a curse to me, bringing only but trouble and misfortune." He glanced back at Priscilla, watching her warily as she stepped out of the tent after Gunnar. "Some more than others."

"Then what happens now?" Judith said next, refusing to let this go. "What happens to my legion?"

This was not something Herleif wanted to think about now. He had greater troubles than the fate of a few Knights lost in a war. His family legacy was gone, and soon with it whatever sense of honor or reputation he had once held among his warriors. He looked back to Erik, wondering if there was still a chance that he might challenge him after all, to stand against this would be king and take back what he had just given up. But Erik was already lost in conversation with Old Wolf, whispering something as the Highlander bent low to listen. Magnus sat at his feet, sharpening one axe with a whetstone, and his many warriors had already forgotten about the Jarl who had sold his hold and power for an enemy that was already enslaved. He was nothing to them. A token that had already lost any sense of worth and interest for the promise of greater treasure.

Here in this tent of opulence and wealth, standing among mighty rulers and heroes, he no longer had a place.

A sense of hopeless desperation sank into him as he continued to look about, seeking anyone who might gaze upon him with some shred of sympathy or regret, there was only one person who would meet his eye. Ivar sat staring back at him from his table, wearing his own smug grin of satisfaction within his dark beard. There was nothing sympathetic or regretful in the look he gave, merely half hearted amusement and a deep sense of sardonic pity. He lifted the knife he held and touched it to his brow, giving a small salute in parting before he too turned away and thought no more of the man sworn to be his brother.

Herleif's heart broke, and with it any sense of fight or anger poured out of him like water from a spilled bucket. "What can any of us do when we have lost all we have," he said softly, not even caring what Judith might think of him as his face and shoulders fell. "We survive."

Hanging his head, he turned his back on all those he had once thought to stand with as equals in life and glory, and walked out of the tent.