obviously determined to make a fool of this man.
Rathe took his time about returning with his father’s huge sword. The sword was almost five feet long, five inches wide, and two inches thick in the middle, with extremely sharp edges. It took a man of Brewster’s size and strength to wield such a sword. In fact, his sword smith had custom-made this sword for him years ago.
Grabbing the heavy sword from Rathe, Brewster swung it lightly into the air and asked Björn, “Now, do we fight to prove you are a warrior? I guess it will not cost me anything if I kill you here and now!”
The familiar cynical smile barely creased Björn’s lips as he turned from the king and walked slowly to his horse. Sliding a long, thin sword from its sheath, he returned with the sword in one hand and a black cloth in the other.
The king laughed. “A shrimp of a warrior comes with a shrimp of a sword! And to think I waited a month for you!”
Björn stepped up to Rathe and handed him the cloth. “Blindfold me,” he said.
Rathe did as instructed and tied the cloth tightly over the stranger’s eyes.
“Not over my ears. I must be able to hear,” said Björn, adjusting the blindfold away from his ears, “Are you satisfied that I cannot see?”
“Is this some kind of foolish trick?” the king roared.
Interjecting, Rathe said to his father, “I do not think it is a trick. I am satisfied that he cannot see.”
Taking several steps toward Brewster, Björn stopped directly in front of him. “Now, try to touch me with your sword.”
The king seemed reluctant to play such a game, but then he extended his sword quickly in an attempt to touch the stranger on the ankle. Before the sword touched his ankle, Björn casually brushed it away with his own sword.
“Surely that was not your best thrust?” mocked Björn.
Even though Brewster was angry, it wasn’t his nature to hurt another person without reason. He slowly and gently raised his sword, extending it to attempt to touch Björn’s shoulder. Again, with no apparent effort, Björn flicked the sword away at the last moment. He teased again, “How can I show you what a real warrior can do if you paw at me like a baby?”
Sputtering, Brewster fought harder, getting the same result. He began to put serious energy into his attempts.
Björn continued to knock his sword away. The king began to rain blows on his opponent and each time, Björn flicked his sword away at the last moment. Brewster finally grabbed his sword with both hands and began to swing in arcs parallel to the ground. Björn swept them harmlessly away.
Brewster’s breath came faster until he was furiously panting. He hurled himself forward and attacked with all his strength, swinging blows from every direction, aiming at any and every part of Björn’s body. Try as he might, he could not touch him with his sword. Finally, he stopped, sword upraised.
Björn took the initiative in the uneven duel. Faster than an eye could follow, his sword struck the king’s sword slightly above the hilt. Björn’s thin sword cut cleanly through Brewster’s heavy weapon, and the blade fell to the ground with a clatter.
Björn removed the blindfold.
Between gasping breaths, the king demanded, “How did you do that?” Then with more sincerity, “No matter. You have proved your point. You have proven you are the man I sent for.” Crestfallen, he muttered, “Why did you have to ruin my favorite sword?”
Björn wasn’t finished. “If you do not mind, I would like to show you one more trick.” Pointing into the courtyard, he asked, “Of the three bowmen standing guard across the way, which is your best bowman?”
“Strom, the one in the middle,” muttered the king.
“Strom!” shouted Björn, “do you think you could hit me with an arrow from that distance? You may move closer if you must.”
“I can hit you in the gizzard from here if that is what you want,” responded the bowman.
Björn turned directly toward the bowman, touching his chest near his heart. “Try to hit me here if you can.”
Strom turned his open hands to the king and silently expressed his refusal.
“Do it!” commanded Björn. “I promise you will have no better luck than did the king with his sword.”
“Do it!” shouted Brewster.
Strom drew his bow and notched an arrow.
“Wait a moment,” said Björn, holding up his hand. He asked Rathe to bring over the blindfold. “You know what to do.”
Again Rathe placed the blindfold over his eyes. Björn stepped away from everyone, faced the bowman and shouted, “Now, Strom, do your very best!”
Strom bent the bow, aimed and released the arrow in one expert motion. The arrow flew true, directly at Björn’s heart. Björn caught the arrow in flight just before it reached him. He removed the blindfold and handed the arrow to Brewster.
With no emotion showing on his face, Björn said slowly, “Now, Sir Brewster, King of Kallthom, am I fit to do your job?”
The king nodded with a loud guffaw and wrapped his long arm around Björn’s shoulder. “You will do, I suppose,” he said.
At his father’s direction, Rathe gave Björn a tour of the castle. The Northlander noted that it was old but well maintained. Its dual purpose was to provide living quarters for the royal family and their court, and to defend them while they were in residence.
The castle sat in the middle of a village. It was square and surrounded by a towering rock wall as tall as six men. The wall was about one-half as wide at the base as it was tall. At the top was a walkway wide enough for four men to walk abreast. The walkway had a wall on the outside slightly taller than a man and about the width of two men. Along the wall were broken intervals, or ports, for guards to observe anyone approaching. Two towers with open windows rose from the corners and in the center of each side. Sloping staircases of stone, wide enough for at least twenty soldiers marching abreast, reached from the courtyard to the center of the adjacent wall. Björn found it quite impressive.
Later, they ate in a small intimate dining room. Björn was pleased that Brewster saw no need to impress him by dining in one of the great halls he had seen earlier. He thought it showed the down-to-earth attitude of the man.
Dinner was very informal. Brewster sat at the head of the elegant table in a high-backed chair that would have dwarfed an ordinary man. As their guest, Björn sat at the opposite end of the table in a chair of equal magnitude. Prince Rathe, Princess Aleanna and three of the king’s advisors were at the table.
Princess Aleanna had been briefly introduced to Björn prior to dinner. Björn thought her to be very mature for her age. Having no previous experience with royalty, he had expected a spoiled and pampered child. What he met was a tall, slender, attractive self-confident young woman. His original feelings were that she might be too much of a handicap on the trip and had that been the case, he would have rejected the job. He idly wondered what Brewster’s reaction would have been if he had.
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