Page 46 of The Refuge

Mayhap he is as surprised as the rest of them that Steinar can wield a blade.

Rian slashed at Steinar with his knife while swinging his sword, but Steinar danced away.

The crowd murmured their amazement at Steinar’s ability to repeatedly deflect the blade of a man whose sword they had obviously feared.

Catrìona was relieved Steinar was holding his own. Even with a wounded leg, he fought well. What a magnificent warrior!

Steinar pivoted to avoid the other man’s lunge but one edge of Rian’s sword caught his arm.

She winced to see Steinar hurt, but he seemed not to notice as he shoved his seax into the sheath at his belt and grabbed the pointed end of his blade with his glove.

What is he doing?

Holding the hilt of his sword in his other hand, Steinar met Rian’s next strike with a forceful blow of the blunt side of the blade. His shoulder muscles flexed beneath his tunic with the force of the impact that shoved Rian back.

The larger man stumbled and his sword fell from his hand, clanging as it hit the ground.

Steinar kicked it away. “Do you wish to continue with only that knife?”

Rian sheathed his seax, his chest heaving with exertion. “Nay, ’tis enough.”

“Then concede me the victory.”

The brute wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Ye have won.”

Catrìona relaxed, realizing the fight was over.

Giric jumped from the bench and ran to her side, his dog following. “Did ye see him? Did ye see the scribe fight?”

“Aye,” she said. “I saw it all.”

Steinar sheathed his sword. “From now on,” he told Rian, “you will leave the archer alone.”

“Aye, I’ll leave the paltry archer be,” Rian conceded with bad grace.

“I’d be careful what you call the king’s archers,” Steinar cautioned. “Their arrows bear the kiss of death.”

The crowd was quiet now, listening with interest.

Rhodri came to stand beside Niall. “I will see you have a new bow, this time a longbow of elm like mine.”

Niall smiled his approval.

Catrìona’s heart burst with gratitude for Steinar’s defense of her brother. But before she could go to him to express her thanks, the king marched into the midst of the crowd, a satisfied smile on his face.

Seeing the king, the crowd fell away.

Steinar, whose back had been to the king, whirled around. “My Lord.”

Malcolm slapped Steinar on the back. “It appears you have as much skill with a sword as you do with a quill.”

The men standing around nodded and she heard murmurs of agreement.

“I have need of your sword arm as one of my guards,” said the king.

Catrìona’s heart lurched. Oh, God, a guard. A guard was a man of war like her father, like all of Malcolm’s men. Steinar could be injured or killed.

“As for you, Rian of Lothian,” Malcolm’s tone was harsh as he faced the warrior, towering over the brute, “if ever I hear of you instigating another fight, you will be gone from my court and my army.”