Champion: Part II

"I am astounded, Don Rodrigo!" A third man rode out from the group and bowed gracefully from the saddle, a Moor dressed in fine robes. "I always thought you were a sensible man, a man of intellect."

De Vivar lowered his sword. "Master Ibrahim? Is that you? What are you doing in the midst of these rogues?" Even as he spoke, a movement from the axeman drew his attention; the man seemed to be chanting something barely audible, his eyes unfocused, a thin line of bubbles on his lips. The hairs on the back of De Vivar's neck rose. He'd heard of such men, long ago, and the stories of battle madness.

"Don Rodrigo?"

He turned back to Ibrahim. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The smaller man's eyes flickered once towards Harold, then back to the Castilian. "I said, I am here by order of your Lord, King Alfonso, may Allah bless him for his compassion. He has sent me to the King of Toledo, who, he has heard, has fallen ill and taken to his bed. Is this true? Is he in dire need?"

"The only need al-Qadir has is a spine," De Vivar snarled. "If he sat less on a cushion and more in a saddle he would not have needed Alfonso's help to keep his throne in the first place."

"Praise to Allah, then. I shall still examine him as your lord king has ordered, for I find it is good to obey the orders of a king. Don't you agree?"

Rodrigo's eyes once more flickered towards Harold; the tall blonde youth was whispering something in the other's ear, but if the man was listening he did not cease his chanting. "You there! What is that he is saying?"

"It's Saxon. A death chant, I think. Ravens feeding, axes hacking, that type of thing." He shrugged. " Not very pleasant, I fear." He said all this with such innocence that Rodrigo decided he was most likely some page or squire.

"Who is in command here?"

The youth smiled, then bowed. "I have the honor, although the Twisted Otters is Captain Ferret's company. My name is Ian Blackthorn."

"Yes, that is so, " added Ibrahim. "This Ferret person sent these men to meet my party. Unfortunately, we were beset by brigands; if these men had not arrived when they did, I fear King Alfonso would have been most angry indeed, most angry."

"This is Ferret's company? Madmen and bare cheeked boys?

Blackthorn had finally succeeded in talking Harold into remounting. He smiled brightly as he took the reins of his own "Well, we do what we can. Now, will you move aside and let us escort the Royal Physician into the city, or am I going to have to let Harold get back off his horse?" He leaned his arm across the horse's neck, his manner at odds with his hard words. His eyes locked with Rodrigo's for a few seconds, and suddenly the Castilian decided not to press the point here. He turned to his men.

"Put away your weapons. Let them through"

"But, Don Ruy, I was here first!" A disbelieving Teo scowled, backing his horse over to the side as ordered, but obviously not happy.

"There'll be another time, Cousin." He motioned the rest of his troop to let the mercenaries ride on, then did so himself. Ibrahim was the first to move forwards, stopping to lean towards Rodrigo.

"You know, out of the two of them, the boy or the madman, I'd be more careful round the boy." He lowered his voice. "He's an ifrit, you know." He rode on, to be followed by the boy, who stopped, smiled, and said, "Half- -ifrit " and then he, too began to ride past. A sudden gust of wind blew his hair back, and for a brief moment Rodrigo glimpsed a pointed ear, then the wind shifted and the ear was once more covered.

Rodrigo watched them all pass over the bridge, then moved back to the middle of the bridge, looking after Blackthorn and his men.

"There will be another time…."