‘Nice night for a walk, hey?’ His hand was on the haft of the seax at his back. The assassin’s head snapped up, her eyes burning bright under her cowl. She said nothing.

‘Now why do I have the feeling that you’re up to no good?’ he said, slowly drawing the blade from its sheath.

‘Come another step closer and you die, whoever you are.’

‘A friend of mine tells me you’re a naughty girl.’

‘I mean it. This is no business of yours. I don’t want to kill you.’

Einar reckoned she must have a knife in her hand though he couldn’t see it. He presented a bulky target, certainly, but many before her had underestimated how light he was on his feet. He moved towards her. Her hand whipped back, there was a flash of steel, Einar pushed hard with his right foot and pivoted on the ball of his left. Nicely done, he congratulated himself, as the blade lanced past, nicking his ear. Half an eye-blink later and he would have had four inches of steel through his eyeball.

Until then he hadn’t wanted to hurt this nimble little imp, but he took that knife badly. He ran at her and as he did she drew something far more deadly. It was a short, curved blade, longer than his seax, and doubtless sharp as Freyja’s tongue. He was almost close enough to grab her throat when she brought it down like a strike of lightning. With no shield and his side exposed, all he could do was step in and bash the blade aside, hoping brute force would prevail. Lucky for him, he rarely took off the leather grieves on his forearms, not even for drinking. His raised arm altered the angle and the edge scraped down the leather and skinned the rest of his forearm, scalding it with heat like a smith’s brand. Einar wasn’t in the habit of roughing up small women when he was half-drunk, but before he knew it her foot was planted deep in his guts. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and doubled over, fearing the next thing he’d feel would be the point of that evil blade through his neck. She must have had the same idea – but he lashed out with his left fist, connecting by pure luck with her hilt.

It took her by surprise, smashing the blade from her grip and sending it skittering over the edge. There was a shout from below. Erlan was there under the wall.

About bloody time, too.

Einar seized her by the throat and squeezed. ‘Are we done yet?’ he growled. She was a delicate creature for all her cunning. ‘Damn it, woman, quit struggling! I don’t want to hurt you though gods know you deserve it.’