Odds laugh wouldnt stop now, not even when the big one swung the axe at his head. He was still laughing when he sidestepped, still laughing when he kicked the thug in the knee, sending him sprawling. He didnt draw his sword yet, but took it from his back, sheath and all, using it like a club to smash the long knife from the other ones hands. Odd spun and kicked him square in the stomach, sending him to the ground alongside his friend.

Idly, Odd noticed that his mule was at the side of the path, chewing grass as if nothing were happening. The madness in him found that as funny as all the rest of it, so that he laughed even while he drew his sword.

There was no blood on it yet, but his minds eye supplied all the ways that blood could run through the etchings on the steel, all the ways that redness could fill in the dips and furrows of it, picking out the knots and the whorls on the surface. He stood there, holding back the urge to kill only with difficulty, smiling at the two would-be robbers like the demented thing he was.

Best run, boys, he said. Im a little out of practice, but two on one is hardly even worth the effort.

What about eight? another voice said behind him.

Half a dozen other men stepped from the trees, and a part of Odd cursed himself for not seeing that coming. They were dressed in similar ways to the others, in scraps of leathers, mostly armed with hatchets or knives. They had obviously hung back just in case Odd had friends hidden out of sight, in case this was a trap laid to catch those who might rob travelers.

Odd smiled at them. I take it that you still want my money pouch?

And your sword, and your mule, the large one said.

Ah now, Odd replied. I have become quite attached to that mule. Besides, I need it to head south.

Youll give us all of it, or well gut you, the short one with the knife said.

Of course, the sensible, even sane thing to do would be to give them all that they wanted. It was what the abbot would have done, no doubt. Even most warriors had the sense to know when they were outnumbered too badly. To charge in would be madness.

But then, Odd said aloud, ignoring the mens looks of confusion, I am, famously, mad.

What are you the one with the beard began, but by that point, Odd was already charging, sword held high.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN