It was Biorn who wasted no more time, for he saw that here was deeper
trouble than a common riot. He lifted his axe.
"Come nearer at your peril," he said.
Then the black-bearded man sprang at him, and axe met sword for a parry
or two, flashing white in the moonlight. Then one weapon flashed red
suddenly, and it was Biorn's, and back into the tower he sprang as his
foe fell, and Havelok flung the door to, and I barred it.
"Up," said Biorn; and in the dark we stumbled from stair to stair, while
the crowd howled and beat on the door below us. It was good to get out
into the moonlight on the roof, where we could rest. I was glad that the
tower was there instead of Thor, and also that it was strong. It was no
great height, but wide, and the men below looked comfortably far off at
all events.
"Here is a fine affair," quoth Biorn, sitting himself down with his back
against the high stone wall round the tower top. "It will take me all my
time to set this right."
"You have stood by us well, friend," Havelok said, "and it is a pity
that you have had to share our trouble so far as this. Who was the man
who fell on you?"
"That is the trouble," answered Biorn, "for there will be more noise
over him than all the rest. He was Hodulf's steward, the man who gathers
the scatt, and therefore is not liked.
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