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following
    me since Saltaness. I recognize that piebald horse.”
    He had his scanty possessions gathered in a moment and slung
    over one shoulder in a battered pouch. Seizing his lance and shield,
    he started away to lose his enemies among the barrows—or maybe turn
    the tables on them, if he found a good place for an ambush. A few well-
    placed arrows could end him of the thief-takers forever.
    His mind was so busy with his calculations that he did not notice
    Gotiskolker limping along at his heels until he had covered a
    considerable distance. Halting suddenly, he demanded, “Where do you
    think you’re going? You’d better get away from me as fast as you can.
    There’s going to be a pretty good fight, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
    Gotiskolker paused in the lee of a tilted lintel stone. “I’m going to
    help you escape, in return for a small favor from you.”
    “Oh no, not me. I’m not going to fight your wizard. These thief-
    takers are almost more than I can manage. They’re going to kill me,
    unless I can ambush them first.”
    Gotiskolker seized a handful of his cloak. “Your means of
    deliverance is closer than you know. Head for that flat-topped barrow
    and you’ll see what I mean.”
    “Let go, you wretched vermin! How do I know this all isn’t a
    trap you’ve connived with those thief-takers? I’m not easily fooled.” He
    made a menacing gesture with his sword, but Gotiskolker did not flinch.
    “If I don’t rescue you from your pursuers, you may cut my
    throat. I have more to gain by keeping you alive than any tight-fisted
    prize a thief-taker would give. Besides, that barrow offers more cover
    than anything else nearby.”
    A swift survey of the barren landscape corroborated
    Gotiskolker’s assessment. Leifr started a determined dash toward the
    flat barrow. The thief- takers spied their quarry crossing an open
    space and spurred their horses forward with challenging shouts. Leifr
    stopped to face them in a last defiant stand, motioning Gotiskolker to
    get out of the way.
    “No one will ever say that Leifr Thorljotsson ran from a fight,”
    he replied in response to Gotiskolker’s outraged protests. “Now get
    behind that rock and keep your mouth shut. I have my honor to
    uphold!”
    “You sound like Fridmarr exactly!” Gotiskolker gritted his teeth
    in exasperation. “Not running from a fight is the same as running to find
    one. There’s three of them and only one of you, fool!”
    “I’ll take at least one of them down with me,” Leifr replied
    grimly, peering over the rim of his shield at the thief-takers flogging
    toward him, with their hairy faces wreathed in triumphant grins.
    Holding their weapons aloft, they charged forward confidently. They
    were formidable fighters; Leifr had tangled with them several times
    already and he did not relish the thought of another engagement.
    Gotiskolker tugged frantically at his cloak, measuring the
    advance of the assassins with a wild eye. With an oath, Leifr shoved
    him aside, raising his lance for a thrust which he hoped would
    skewer his vengeful enemy. The swarthy leader wore a particularly
    gleeful leer on his face. Leifr had wounded him in their first encounter,
    and he was anxious to repay blood for blood.
    As Leifr took his stance, something struck him between the
    shoulders from behind. Whirling around, he saw Gotiskolker standing
    on the flat barrow, throwing rocks at him and making insulting
    gestures. “One more rock and you’re dead,” he warned.
    “Here I am, you great dolt!” Gotiskolker called down to Leifr.
    “Come up here and make me stop.” As he spoke, he heaved a large
    stone over the edge, which rolled toward Leifr at a dangerous, lurching
    gait.
    Casting a quick look over his shoulder at the thief-takers, Leifr
    started up the barrow as fast as he could climb, muttering balefully
    under his breath. An arrow shattered against a rock beside him, and
    another pierced his billowing cloak. Gotiskolker laughed