im reprovingly.

"Is it an insult, Alwin of England, to take you at your word? It is not
three hours since you vowed never to turn your back on a challenge while
the red blood ran in your veins. Have witches sucked the blood out of
you, that your mind is so different when you are put to the test?"

At least enough blood was left to crimson Alwin's cheeks at this
reminder. Those had been his very words, stung by Rolf's taunt.

The smouldering doubt he had felt burst into flame and burned through
every fibre. What if it were all a trap, a plot?--if Rolf had brought
him there on purpose to fight, the horses being only a pretext?
Thorgrim's wink, his allusion to Alwin's swordsmanship, it had all been
arranged between them; the velvet cloak was the clew! Rolf had wished to
possess it. He had persuaded Thorgrim to stake it on his thrall's
skill,--then he had brought Alwin to win the wager for him. _Brought_
him, like a trained stallion or a trick dog!

He turned to fling the deceit in the Wrestler's teeth. Rolf's fair face
was as innocent as those of the pictured saints in the Saxon book. Alwin
wavered. After all, what proof had he?

Jeering whispers and half-suppressed laughter became audible around him.
The group believed that his hesitation arose from timidity. Ignoring the
smart of yesterday's wound, he snatched the sword Rolf held out to him,
and started forward.

His foot struck against the Saxon book which he had let fall. As he
picked it up and laid it reverently aside, it suggested something to
him.

"Thorgrim Svensson," he said, pausing, "because I will not have it said
that I am afraid to look a sword in the face, I will fight your
serf,--on one condition: that this book, which can be of no use to you,
you will give me if I get the better of him."

The freckled face puckered itself into a shrewd squint. "And if you
fail?"

"If I fail," Alwin returned promptly, "Rolf Erlingsson will pay for me.
He has told me that while he is free and I am bound, he is answerable
for what I do."

At this there was some laughter--when it was seen that the Wrestler was
not offended. "A quick wit answered that, Alwin of England," Rolf said
with a smile. "I will pay willingly, if you do not save us both, as I
expect."

Anxious to be done with it, Alwin fell upon the thrall with a fierceness
that terrified the fellow. His blade played about him like lightning;
one could scarce follow its motions. A flesh-wound in the hip; a