Reiner contemplated the gauntlet with a knot in his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was fight Erich. Reiner had always been a mediocre swordsman, as his strengths in the military arts lay in riding and shooting. He knew Erich was better, for the difference between a Knight and a Gunslinger was considerable, and yet he had to fight him.
Although the temptation to kill the knight when his back was turned was almost overwhelming, he would have been a fool to do so. In the first place, he needed Erich's sword for the perilous journey ahead of them. Secondly, despite everything he had said regarding not wanting to be the boss, Reiner felt he had the coolest and clearest head in the group and wanted the others to listen to him and do what he suggested. While perhaps some would have applauded him at first for shooting Erich in the back, he knew that the more they thought about it the less they would trust him and the more they would worry about being next.
No, if he wanted to get home in one piece he needed every man there, and if he wanted them to have his back he needed to have their full trust. He would have to fight Erich and, unfortunately, fight a fair fight. He was sure that the traditions of honor were so deeply ingrained in Erich that, if Reiner won the duel honestly, Erich would reluctantly obey his suggestions and allow himself to be commanded by him. But if Reiner cheated, Erich would not let himself be compromised by the outcome. The only difficulty lay in the fact that Reiner's chances of winning the fight without cheating ranged from very slim to none.
If Reiner lost and Erich ordered them to return to Ulburt, of course something else could be done, but he would worry about that if it came to that.
He looked up at Erich.
"First blood?"
Erich smirked.
"If that's all you're willing to risk..."
"I'll need your sword when I win. If you have any sense, you'll realize you'll need mine should you become chief."
Erich blushed, embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it on his own.
"If I win, will you submit to my command?"
Reiner nodded his head.
"I will. As you will if I win, won't you?"
Erich hesitated with an unhappy air, then nodded.
"I give you my word."
"Very well." Reiner removed his cavalry saber and scabbard from his belt. "I'm afraid I can't match the length of your sword, so you'll have to match the length of mine. Do you want to choose the terrain?"
"All right."
After a hurried colloquy, they determined that Oskar's sword was equal in length to Reiner's, and Erich took a few practice thrusts to get used to the weapon. The knight thought it would be improper to settle a matter of honor inside a convent, so they drew the arena just outside the convent gates. There they also laid Barrister's body to rest, for it did not seem right to leave him unburied among the horrors and desecrations of the convent garden. The ground was rocky and they had nothing to dig with, so they covered him with loose rocks, though not before Reiner had emptied his pockets of every useful object: gold crowns, a whetstone, a compass, amulets and fetishes intended to ward off evil and attract luck. Finally, much to Pavel's disappointment, Reiner posted him as a sentry and told him not to take his eyes off the paths leading to the convent.
At last, they were ready. Reiner swallowed to contain his nausea when the smell of blood from the mangled horses inside the hidden ravine reached him. It was too much like that of a slaughterhouse to give him peace of mind at that precise moment. He flexed his shoulders and described circles with his arms to warm himself up, while he watched Erich doing the same on the other side of the ground. Gustaf waited to one side with his instruments at the ready, and Giano, whose people were renowned for having made the practice of dueling the ceremony it had become, stood in the center to officiate as ringmaster. The rest of the men, Hals, Oskar, Ulf and Franz remained standing outside the liza, with an expression in which anxiety and longing mingled.
"Gentlemen, please come to the center." Giano invited them.
Erich advanced confidently, sword in hand and bare torso in spite of the icy wind. Glancing at the blond gentleman's broad chest and well-shaped belly, Reiner was glad he had kept his shirt on. The comparison between the two would have done nothing to boost his morale. He advanced toward Giano with a tremor in his knees that he hoped no one else could detect.
Giano gave a formal bow to both men.
"Are the weapons and terrain to the liking of both gentlemen? If that is the case. Then we begin. At first blood, right? If a knight cannot continue, the combat is won by whoever remains standing. If no one can see who makes first blood, they fight one more."
"Agreed." Erich replied as he directed a mocking smile of superiority at Reiner.
"Yeah." Nodded Reiner, looking down at his boots.
"Excellent. Gentlemen, please stand at sword distance."
Reiner and Erich stepped back and extended their arms and swords. Giano held them until the tips of the swords touched.
"Gentlemen are you ready?"
Erich and Reiner nodded their heads.
"Very well." Giano released the tips of the swords and jumped back. "Begin!"
Reiner and Erich adopted the en garde stance and began to describe circles, watching each other intently. Reiner was desperately trying to remember all the lessons he had ignored in those endless afternoons spent with his father's fencing master, when he would have preferred to be in the stables learning another kind of rapier technique with his second cousin.
Was he to look Erich in the eye to know what he would try next, or was he better off concentrating on his chest? She couldn't remember. She lacked a lot of practice. All his life he had managed to avoid fights by talking, and when that failed, when some angry yokel had caught him with loaded dice or an extra ace in his hand, he had played dirty by throwing furniture, beer, sand, anything he had handy, or if on his belt, a shot to the chest with his pistol would settle any argument. He had no experience fighting by a set of rules."
Erich lunged forward and executed a lightning-fast thrust. Reiner parried it, but with too broad a gesture. The blade of Erich's weapon passed easily beneath his own and slid straight toward his heart. Only an undignified leap backward prevented him from slicing Reiner open to the bone.
"Easy, sir," gasped Reiner. "Do you want to brand me or kill me?"
"I apologize." Said Erich, who didn't seem to apologize at all. "I expected more resistance, or skill."
Reiner stepped back with graceful stride, sweating, as Erich advanced gracefully and took advantage of his lead. Reiner parried and blocked like mad, parrying Erich's weapon just inches from his face and chest again and again. He couldn't even consider regaining his stance because he was too busy defending himself. If he tried to attack, Erich would penetrate his guard and it would be all over. He had no hope that Erich might make a mistake or lose his balance. It didn't seem likely.
As he dodged, shifting from side to side, the faces of the men around them passed like flashes: Hals, leaning on the spear and watching with frowning passion; Ulf, frowning; Giano, eyes glittering; Franz, fingers over his mouth, looked almost more worried than Reiner himself.
Erich threw another slash. Reiner parried it, but the blow was so hard that it threw his own sword against his shoulder. As he jumped back, he touched his arm. There was no blood.
"I've hit you right in the head." Erich said, smiling. "Full on."
"Damn." Reiner thought. The knight was so serene, so sure of himself... He hadn't even broken a sweat yet, while Reiner was sweating so much that the saber fist was slipping in his hand.
Erich charged at him again, throwing blows and thrusts. The sword seemed to be everywhere at once. Reiner saw it as little more than a blur. He recoiled in panic and the heel of his boot stumbled over a protruding rock. He began to fall and reached forward with his sword arm to try to regain his balance.
Even a swordsman far inferior to Erich could have taken advantage of such a breach in the defense. Erich lunged like a cat leaping at prey, sword flying straight at Reiner's chest. There was no way Reiner could raise the weapon in time to stop it.
But then, suddenly, Erich himself stumbled and desperately waved the arm with which he wielded the sword. Reiner watched in amazement as time seemed to slow to a snail's pace, and his sword came up at the precise moment when Erich's arm came down in the path of the blade. It barely touched him. A slight scratch, yet blood gushed out: a line on Erich's arm and a stain on Reiner's sword.
Erich regained his balance and stepped back instantly, but not to resume the attack. He turned to point accusingly at Hals with the tip of his saber.
"You tripped me, you varmint! You have thrust the lance forward to trip me."
"I did not, sir!" said Hals with an expression as innocent as that of a newborn. "You tripped over it, certainly, but I did not move it."
"Ambusher!" Erich turned to Reiner. "This doesn't count. He tripped me. You saw it."
"I'm afraid not." Reiner replied, truthfully. "I was too busy tripping myself."
Erich's eyes narrowed.
"Wait a moment. I see what's going on. You're in cahoots. You knew you couldn't beat me honestly, so you've conspired to cheat."
"Not at all." Reiner replied, "Not me, at least. If Hals tripped you up on purpose, that's something you'll have to work out with him."
"I swear, sir." Hals insisted. "I swear it by the gods. I was leaning on the spear, I didn't move it."
Erich snorted with contempt.
"We'll have to fight again." He gestured sharply in Giano's direction. "You're the referee."
"Sir," Reiner said. "You're bleeding."
"That wasn't fair contact," Erich shooed him. "I've already told you. This man tripped me."
"I have only your word for it."
"Against that of a peasant. I am sure there can be no doubt which word has more value." Erich picked up his shirt and pulled it over his sweating chest.
Reiner turned to look at the others.
"Have any of you seen him, did Hals trip him?"
They all shook their heads.
He turned to look at Giano.
"Referee?"
Giano shrugged.
"I didn't see anything. Mr. Blackbrick wins the fight."
Erich raised his hands to the sky.
"This is absurd, you're all in cahoots! You never intended it to be a fair fight." He turned to look at Reiner. "You are a cheat, sir. The leader of a gang of cheaters."
Reiner clenched his fists, indignant at the affront. For once in his life he was fighting a fight honestly, and he was being accused of cheating. Of course he had little doubt that Hals had tripped Erich up, but for once he had had nothing to do with it. He placed the blame entirely on Erich's shoulders. If the guy hadn't earned the dislike of each and every man, he would have won easily.
"I'm sorry," he said to Erich. "But you consented to stick to the outcome of the fight, and if you didn't trust the referee's impartiality you should have said something before you started."
"This is intolerable!" cried Erich. "I refuse to accept it! We must fight another match! We must..."
"Hey!" came a shout from the other end of the ledge.
They all turned around. Pavel was running toward them waving his arms.
"The barbarians are coming!" he shouted. "A whole damn column!"
Reiner and Erich cursed at the same time and ran with the others to the edge of the cliff, the discussion forgotten for the moment.
Pavel pointed down and to the right.
"There, do you see them?
Reiner squinted to get a better view through the icy mist.
Ascending the broad southern trail, like a giant metallic serpent undulating around the curves of the mountain, marched a long column of Norsemen whose bronze helmets and steel spearheads flashed in the afternoon sun. They were led by a squadron of barbarian horsemen, resplendent in their outlandish armor and huge swords sheathed over their shoulders. Huge mastiffs like those against which Reiner and the others had fought in the thorn forest advanced alongside their mounted masters. There were also shackled slaves dragging their feet under the cracking whips of their overseers. Wagons loaded with the spoils of plunder and provisions closed the column. They had not yet reached the point where the path they were following joined the narrow trail along which Reiner and the others had ascended, but they were close. Too close.
"We won't make it down in time!" declared Hals.
"We'll have to hide somewhere." Erich said.
"Yes, but where?" inquired Reiner. Franz frowned.
"In the convent? In the chapel?"
Reiner shook his head.
"What if they camp there? We'll be trapped."
"The hidden canyon?" suggested Oskar. "Where do we leave the horses?"
"No, boy," said Hals. "With all that fresh meat? The mastiffs will sniff it out in a second."
"If their masters don't do it first." Pavel added with a shudder.
"We'll have to go up," said Reiner. "Go deeper into the mountains."
"Are you crazy?" asked Erich. "Rushing headlong into unknown territory with an enemy behind us?"
"Do you have any suggestions?"
"There would be no need for any suggestions if we had gone after Lady Roselyn an hour ago, as we should have done."
"You have asked not for complaints but for suggestions, gentleman." muttered Hals. Reiner turned away from the ravine and walked toward the enclosed canyon.
"We'd better gather what we can from the saddlebags, but don't load them too heavily. We may have to run."
The others followed.
Erich snorted through his nose in disgust, but also followed.