“Has it been tested?” asked Samos.

“On the body of Sullius Maximus,” said Sarus. “On the tenth day, on his arms and legs, and twice, transversely, across his right cheekbone, that his face be scarred and his shame known, I drew the poisoned blade, drawing blood with each stroke.”

I smiled. Sullius Maximus was a handsome man, extremely vain, even foppish. He would not appreciate the alteration of his physiognomy, wrought by the blade of Sarus.

“Within seconds,” said Sarus, “the spiteful fluid took its effect. The eyes of Sullius were wild with fear. ‘The antidote! The antidote!’ he begged. We sat him in a curule chair, vested as a Ubar, and left him. We wished the poison to work, to be truly fixed within his system. The next day, when the bar of noon was struck on the wharves, we administered to him the antidote. It was effective. He is now again in the court of Chenbar, much chastened, but serving again as laureate and advisor. He is not much pleased, incidentally, with the scarring of his countenance. Much amusement on account of it is taken at his expense by his fellows of the court. He holds little affection for you, or for me, Bosk of Port Kar.”

“He called you ‘Bosk of Port Kar, “ said Ivar Forkbeard, standing near me.

I smiled. “It is a name I am sometimes known by,” I said.

Sarus proffered to me the vial.

I took it. “There is, I discover, attendant upon its assimilation,” said Sarus of Tyros, “delirium and fever, but, in the end, the body finds itself freed of both poison and antidote. I give it to you, Bosk of Port Kar, and with it the apologies of my Ubar, Chenbar, and those of myself, a seaman in his service.”

“I am surprised,” I said, “that Chenbar, the Sea Sleen, is so solicitous of my welfare.”

Sarus laughed. “He is not solicitous of your welfare, Warrior. He is solicitous, rather, of the honor of Tyros. Little would please Chenbar more than to meet you with daggers on the fighting circle of Tyros. He owes you much, a defeat, and chains and a dungeon, and he has a long memory, my Ubar. No, he is not solicitous of your welfare. If anything, he wants you well and strong, that he may meet you, evenly, with cold steel.”

“And you, Sarus?” I inquired.

“I,” said Sarus, simply, “am solicitous of your welfare, Bosk of Port Kar. You gave, on the coast of Thassa, freedom, and life, to me and my men. I shall not, ever, forget this.”

“You were a good leader,” I said, “to bring your men, some wounded, from high on Thassa’s coast to Tyros.”

Sarus looked down.

“There is place in my house in Port Kar “ I said, “for one such as you, if you wish to serve me.”

“My place,” said Sarus, “is in Tyros.” Then he said, “Drink, Bosk of Port Kar, and restore the honor of Chenbar, and the honor of Sarus, and of Tyros.”

I removed the stopper from the vial.

“It may itself be poison,” said Samos.

I smelled it. It smelled sweet, not unlike a syrup of Turia. “Yes,” I said, “it may be.” It was true what Samos had said. It could be, indeed, that I held in my hand not an antidote, but a lethal dose of some unknown toxin. I thought of Turia, of its baths and wines. The plan of Tyros might thus, foiled upon the coast of Thassa, be in ef~ect accomplished in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth, at least with respect to him known as Bosk of Port Kar.

“Do not drink it,” said the Forkbeard to me.

But I had felt, after the battle, again in my body the effects of the poison, though briefly. I had ~ittie doubt but that it still linger~d in my body. I had little doubt but that, in time, it would again force me to the blankets and chair of a recluse in a hall in Port Kar. If not countered, it would, eventually, doubtless, have its way.

“I shall drink it,” I told Ivar Forkbeard.

The Forkbeard looked upon Sarus of Tyros. “If he dies,” he said, “your death will be neither swift nor pleasant.”

“I am your hostage,” said Sarus.

“You, you called Sarus of Tyros,” said Ivar, “you drink first.”

“There is not enough,” said Sarus of Tyros.

“Chain him,” said the Forkbeard. Chains were brought.

“Sarus of Tyros,” I said to Ivar, “is a guest in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth.’

The chains were not placed on Sarus.

I lifted the vial to Sarus of Tyros. “I drink,” I said, “I drink to the honor of Tyros.”

Then I downed the contents of the vial.

Chapter 22 I take ship from the north

Slave girls, naked, carrying burdens, loaded the ship of Ivar Forkbeard, the Hilda, moored at the wharf of the Thing Fields. We stood on the wooden boards of the wharf.

“Will you not return to Port Kar with Sarus and myself?” asked Samos.

“I think,” said I, smiling, “I will take ship south with Ivar Forkbeard, for I have yet to learn to break the Jarl’s Ax’s gambit. ‘

“Perhaps,” said Samos, “when you reach Port Kar, we may talk of weighty matters.”

I smiled. “Perhaps,” I said.

“I think,” said Samos, “that I detect a difference in you. I think that here, somehow, in the north, you have found yourself.

I shrugged.

A seaman dragged Telima, by the arm, before us. She was stripped. Her hair was before her face. Her wrists were fastened behind her by the rude bracelets of the north. The Kur collar, leather, some three inches in height, ho]ding her chin up, with its ring, was still on her throat. She had spent the last five days chained in a small, log slave kennel. She looked at Samos, and then, swiftly, lowered her eyes.

He looked upon the vulnerable, stripped girl with fury. He knew well, now, what had been her role, her willing role, in the plan of the Kurii.

“I will see that she is well punished,” he said.

“You are speaking of one of my slave girls,” I said.

“Ah!” he said.

“I will see that she is punished,” I said. She looked at me. There was fear in her eyes. “Put her on the ship,” I said to the seaman. He thrust her, ahead of him, stumbling, up the narrow gangplank, and put her on the ship.

In Port Kar I would remove the Kur collar and put her in one of my own. I would, too, have her beaten. Afterwards she would serve in my house, as one of my slave girls.

About my forehead I wore a Jarl’s talmit. This morning Svein Blue Tooth, before cheering men, had tied it about my head. “Tarl Red Hair,” had said he, “with this talmit accede to Jarlship in Torvaldsland!” I had been lifted on the shields of shouting men. In the distance I had seen the Torvaldsberg, and, to the west, gleaming Thassa. “Never before,” had said Svein Blue Tooth, “has one not of the north been named Jarl amongst us.” There had been much shouting, much clashing of weapons. Conscious I was indeed of the signal honor seen fit to be bestowed upon me. I had lifted my hands to them, standing on the shields, a Jarl of Torvaldsland, one who might now, in his own name if need be, send forth the arrow of war, sumrnoning adherents; one who might, as it pleased him, comrnand ships and men; one who might now say to the rough, bold seamen of the north, as it pleased him, “Follow me, there is work to be done,” and whom they would then follow, gathering weapons, opening the sheds, sliding their ships on rollers to the sea, raising the masts, spreading the striped sails to the wind, saying, “Our Jarl has summoned us. Let us aid him. There is work to be done.”

“I am grateful,” said I to Svein Blue Tooth.

“I wish you well, Bosk of Port Kar,” said Samos.

“Tarl Cabot,” said I to him.

He smiled. “I wish you well, Tarl Cabot,” he said.

“I wish you well, Samos,” said I.

“I wish you well, Warrior,” said Sarus.

“I, too, wish you well, Warrior,” said I, “Sarus of Tyros.” Samos and Sarus turned about and left the wharf. They were going to the ship of Samos, on which they had come north.

Coast gulls screamed overhead. The air was sharp and clear. The sky was very blue.