[Ealasaide]

Ulric let the Eorl’s taunts slide past him without a reaction. Of course, he would hold a woman as his shield. He would hold a six-month-old baby as his shield if that’s what it took to save his skin. Still keeping his gaze focused primarily on the Eorl, he cast a lightning glance in either direction to check the relative positions of Ghem and Withold. Withold had begun to edge in the direction of the door to the kitchen yard, while Ghem, inexplicably, had shifted in the opposite direction. He now stood closest to the man with the axe who had first burst into the kitchen, and seemed to be moving in the direction of the doorway to the Great Hall: a doorway which was rapidly filling with men.

Pulling Rowenna with him, Ulric, like Withold, moved toward the door to the kitchen yard. Locking his gaze with that of the Eorl, he said, “We are leaving through that door. The first of your men to move against us will bear the death of this woman on his soul, for I will plunge this knife into her throat. The second man will bear the death of that young woman.” He nodded toward Withold and the serving girl. “Blood will be spilled, but the first blood will not be ours. It will be that of the ladies.”

Withold nodded and shifted his blade so that the knife pointed upward into the soft spot just below the serving girl’s chin. A single push would finish her.

When the Eorl showed no initial reaction, Ulric continued to move slowly, carefully toward the door. “Ghem!” he barked. “Open the door.”

Seeing the hallway fill up behind Elián with a half-a-dozen armed men, Ghem abandoned his plan of slipping past the seaman and did as Ulric said. He edged back past the man with axe and raised the bolt of the door to the kitchen yard. Pushing it open a crack, he glanced out. Only two men occupied the kitchen yard: a single man-at-arms and a hobbit. Ghem decided to take his chances. Closing his hand around the meat cleaver in a white-knuckled grip, he threw the door open and bolted directly at the two in the yard. With a little luck, he could be past them both before either one of them had time to react. Lowering his head, Ghem charged forward, his shoulder pointed directly into the middle of the man-at-arms’ chest. He hit him with resounding thud, knocking him off his feet and knocking the wind out of him. Leaping over his momentarily prostrate figure, Ghem pelted off as fast as he could for the open space beyond the stable. The hobbit made a grab for his leg as he passed, but a swipe of the meat cleaver at the hobbit’s arm seemed to make the halfing think twice. Ghem didn’t wait to see if the blow had actually hit its mark. He lowered his head and ran, flinching almost immediately as a rather large stone sailed past him, frighteningly close to his left ear.

As Ghem made his sudden break for freedom out the back door, the standoff in the kitchen broke as well. Ulric and Withold, dragging the two women with them, made their move for the door. Ulric, the first through the door, found himself face-to-face with the man-at-arms that Ghem had flattened on his way past. The man had recovered his feet and, although still gasping for breath, raised his sword, pointing it at Ulric. Silently cursing Ghem for his treachery, Ulric tightened his grip on Rowenna. His dark eyes studied his antagonist shrewdly, trying to get feel for what sort of man he was, what sort of strategy would be most effective against him.

Behind him in the kitchen, chaos erupted. Ulric startled as Withold came flying out the door backward and landed sprawling on his back at the bottom of the steps, his hostage on top of him, and a burly and roaring madman on top of her. Withold’s knife flew out of his hand, disappearing somewhere in the area of the woodpile. Completely ignoring the girl trapped between them, the madman had grabbed Withold by the throat and was choking the life out of him, while at the same time pounding Withold’s head against the packed dirt of the path. Withold, in a desperate attempt to save himself, had let go of the girl and groped with one hand for his attacker’s throat. The other hand threw violent punches at the man’s face, but landed very few blows, as the servant girl still squirmed and screamed between them.