A growl rose from the audience as they heard him—a growl with a note of amusement in it. The Army liked a drama, Shef knew. They might bend the rules if there was something to bet on. They would support a man who was in the wrong, if he showed enough daring.

“We cannot accept this proposal,” said Halvdan to the other two judges. “What do you say?”

A disturbance behind, someone forcing his way through the ring, stepping forward to join Shef as he stood before his judges. Another large and powerful figure, laden with silver. The Hebrideans stood frowning a little way apart. Shef saw with shock that it was his father Sigvarth. Sigvarth looked across at his son, then turned to the judges. He spread his burly arms with a cunning air of conciliation.

“I wish to act as this man’s shield-bearer.”

“Has he asked you to?”

“No.”

“Then what standing do you have in this affair?”

“I am his father.”

Another growl from the audience, with a rising note of excitement. Life in a winter camp was cold and boring. This was easily the best entertainment anyone had had since the failed assault. Like children, the warriors of the Army were anxious not to see the show end too early. They pressed closer, straining to hear and to pass on the news to those further back. Their presence affected the umpires: They had to judge correctly, but also gauge the mood of the crowd.

As they began to mutter quietly among themselves, Sigvarth turned quickly toward Shef. He stepped close, bent the inch or two needed to be on a level, and spoke with a note of entreaty.

“Look, boy, you turned me down once before when you were in a fix. That showed guts, I’ve got to say. Look what it cost you. Cost you an eye. Don’t do it again. I’m sorry-what happened to your mother. If I’d known she’d had a son like you I wouldn’t have done it. Many men have told me what you did at the siege, with the ram—the Army’s full of it. I’m proud of you.

“Now, let me carry this shield for you. I’ve done it before. I’m better than Magnus, better than his mate Kolbein. With me as shield-bearer nothing will get through to you. And you—you’ve knocked that Hebridean fool as dizzy as a dog once already. Do it again! We’ll finish the pair of them.”