I took the recharge magazine off my belt and gave that to Arno too, along with a thirty-second short course in how to use the rifle. If I had to do any shooting here, it would probably be at close range; my pistol and stunner should be plenty.

He walked over to Gunnlag then, and they talked for a minute or two. When they were done, Arno left, walking toward the stable. Gunnlag looked toward me and nodded, then strolled toward a bench beneath a fruit tree of some kind. It occurred to me that he and I had things to talk about too. Because if he and Arno weren't being paranoid-if Gilbert did intend to kill the ten Varangians-then he probably had plans to kill the others too.

I got up to look for Moise. He'd have to interpret for us.

THIRTY

We decided that we shouldn't let ourselves be separated, and that we'd keep our weapons with us at all times. He agreed there might not be any danger, but we'd play it safe. Then he called his men together. He didn't say anything about what we suspected; we didn't want any of them to get agitated and maybe do something foolish. Instead, he told them they'd become careless, reminding them that they were among strangers, and they were to stay together unless ordered otherwise. He also warned them not to get drunk at supper.

All in all it spoiled the afternoon. The servants came out again with dates and fig cakes and sweet drinks, and the weather was beautiful, but I couldn't really relax or take a nap. I felt impatient for something to happen, for Arno to come back and say it had been a false alarm. But it was unreasonable to expect him back before the next day.

Last night's supper had been something hustled together late for unexpected guests. This one was a production. Roland de Falaise, in his timber castle in Normandy, probably hadn't even imagined a meal like the one we sat down to. This time the entire Norman household ate with us. The baron and his wife sat at opposite ends of the short main table, while his knights sat among the Varangians at both main tables. His foot soldiers ate separately at two long tables nearby.

Gunnlag didn't look happy with the way we were seated-the knights and Varangians mixed like that- but he let it pass. All the knights, Gilbert included, wore their hauberks at the table, and so did the foot soldiers. And of course the Varangians did too.

I remembered how, in Normandy, I'd thought that the Normans must be real barbarians to wear hauberks at the table. Now I began to understand why: The danger of treachery and attack were always in the back of their minds.

But actually, everything seemed fine. A guy in what you might call civilian clothes played some kind of stringed instrument and sang for us while we ate. Pages waited on us. There was fowl of some kind, pickled fruits of several kinds, different kinds of meat… And the baron told dirty stories in Greek and Norman.

The only false note was that he never said anything or asked anything about Arno not being there. He had to be wondering about that, unless he'd already taken care of Amo.

That is, it was the only false note until a spiced hot drink was brought out that smelled marvelous. I had an instant suspicion of that drink. And when Gilbert proposed a toast-it was in Greek, but obviously a toast-I took only a tiny sip of it.

Within half a minute, Varangian bodies began to slump. Varangian sank to the table, and Tarel's, and Moise's. But not Gunnlag's; he'd only pretended to drink. His fierce blue eyes burned on Gilbert. The baron and his knights had obviously not drunk either. As for me, it had been a tiny sip too much. I felt a slowness, a creeping, growing numbness.

Gunnlag barked something in Norse, and a few Varangian heads raised weakly. Gilbert smiled and gave an order of his own in Norman French: "Kill only the Varangians!" Immediately, the knights were on their feet, knives in their hands, grabbing handfuls of Varangian hair, pulling heads back, cutting throats. Arterial blood sprayed scarlet. Gunnlag grabbed the knight beside him and they crashed together to the floor as I got slowly up. stunner in my hand.

But standing was too much for me. I began to fold, my knees giving way even as I started to swing the stunner, my finger on the stud. As I fell, I saw knights collapsing, and heard a woman scream-Gilbert's wife, who hadn't even squeaked at all the throat-cutting. Then I hit the stone floor, and that's all I remembered for a while.

THIRTY-ONE

I opened my eyes and tried to sit up. A pain stabbed through my head-from the drug I suppose-so I lay back and settled for raising my head a little. I was back in the bedroom we'd been put in the evening before. The lamp had been left lit, its yellowish flame flickering above the rim of the bowl, making shadows jump on the walls. My hands were shackled together, and someone had been good enough to dump me on one of the mattresses. A sour-looking knight had been left to guard me; his hard eyes had caught my movement, and his jaw was clamped with hostility.

He didn't say anything though, and neither did I then. Instead I lay my aching head back down and tried to put things together for myself. The Varangians who'd been in the hall had to be dead now, except maybe, just possibly, Gunnlag. And it was hard to imagine even him getting out of it alive. Gilbert had said "Kill only the Varangians," nothing about taking their chief alive.

On the other hand, it seemed as if Tarel and Moise might still be alive somewhere. If I was valuable-and I supposed that was the reason for all this-then it seemed as if Gilbert would want them alive too, at least for the time being.

I wondered how many Normans I'd zapped before I'd passed out, and whether any of them were dead.

And Arno? Gilbert hadn't asked about him. Maybe he'd been followed and killed. Or maybe Gilbert had decided that if he had me, he could ignore Arno. Which was probably true. Arno had the rifle, a pistol and stunner, and maybe ten healthy Varangians, if he was lucky. With them he could probably get to Palermo all right. He'd have no reason to try rescuing us here. That would be a lot more dangerous than rescuing the Varangians in the mountains.

In fact, I couldn't see anyone rescuing us. Deneen wouldn't be back for five days or more, and she was alone, with no one to put down. Except Bubba of course. And for all Bubba's talents and brains, this wasn't the sort of situation he could operate in.

It was up to me to get out on my own. My hands explored my belt; it was bare. I didn't have so much as a knife, or a communicator if I had anyone to communicate with.

Just having my hands free would be a big improvement, a start. Carefully I raised my head enough to look at my guard again, and didn't see a sign of any key ring. Only his eyes. I suppose Gilbert had the key to my shackles.

"Where is Gilbert de Auletta?" I asked.

The Norman scowled. "Taking care of other business. He'll get to you soon enough."

That didn't sound very promising. I got the notion of Tarel or Moise being questioned, maybe with the help of things like knives or hot coals. I hoped they'd have the good sense to tell the baron whatever he wanted to know.

"How many men did I kill in the great hall?" I asked.

My guard didn't answer, but if looks could kill, I'd have been dead right then. I was pretty sure I hadn't swept much of the room before I passed out, but I'd had the stunner on medium, and at close range like that, a military model could kill people. Maybe I'd zapped a friend of his.

I wondered if Arno would still be interested in getting the help of the Rebel Javelin, Maybe, when he got to Palermo, he'd talk to Guiscard, and Guiscard would come up here and wipe Gilbert out. That was my best chance, I decided.