someone run for the druid!’ he added, as the whimpering reached his ears once more. It turned out that was enough to dampen the warriors’ enthusiasm somewhat. Horik shouted to someone, and two warriors turned on their heels and ran towards the settlement, whilst the remaining three began preparing to pull the lad out of the water.
‘And there goes the peace and quiet,’ muttered Einar, hoping only the beastman could hear him. ‘Tahon, what now?’
‘Trouble,’ whispered Ceet. However, he seemed to be watching the young lad being fished out of the harbour with greater concern than he was paying to the grumbling soldier.
‘Flawius!’ The second of the legionaries who had been present at the jarl’s feast appeared on the gangway. The man stared at the soldier squealing on the quay. After a moment, he rushed furiously down the gangway.
‘Stop!’. This time, Tahon was the first to react, and his growl restored a measure of order. Silence fell upon the deck, and the only person who did not react to the ominous tone was the man running down the gangway. ‘I said stop!’ The beastman stepped between Einar and the legionnaire and glared at the latter.
‘Out of the way!’ shouted the legionnaire, reaching for his sword at his belt at the same time. Ceet snorted in anger and reached for his own weapon. However, before he could draw it, Einar, who had stepped up beside him, grabbed him by the wrist.
‘I'll beat him to a pulp!’ The man seemed oblivious to everything around him. His gaze was fixed on Einar.
‘If you wish to issue a challenge, you should do so in accordance with tradition.’ Einar spoke loudly enough to be heard by both the soldiers on deck and the Ytrens, who were rushing towards the imperial vessel in preparation for battle.
‘I spit on your filthy tradition!’ The legionnaire seemed to be letting his emotions get the better of him. ‘How dare that mongrel lay a hand on a nobleman! I’ll beat him to a pulp!’
Einar was struggling to hold the beastman’s arm
