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Duffy didn't understand Norse, but he understood that these Vikings had somehow mistaken him for someone -and who could that be? He simply stood there and looked stem, hoping some solution would present itself.
There was a commotion on the bridge above; several people shouted quit shoving! and then Aurelianus leaned out over the rail. 'What is this?' he called anxiously. 'I missed the beginning.'
Duffy waved at the kneeling northmen. 'They seem to think I'm somebody else.'
Bugge glanced timidly up, saw Aurelianus' white-fringed, eye-patched face peering down at him, and simply pitched forward onto the deck. 'Odin!' he howled. The other mariners also dropped flat, and the ones in the water, peeking now through the oarlocks, whimpered in the clutch of real awe.
'This is very odd,' Aurelianus observed. 'Did they say who they believe you are?'
'Uh. . .Sigmund,' said the Irishman. 'Unless that means who the hell are you.'
'Ah!' said Aurelianus after a moment, nodding respectfully. 'We're dealing with the real thing here, beyond a doubt!'
'What the devil do you mean? Get me out of here. I'm a laughingstock - covered with filth and carrying a broken sword.'
'Hang onto the sword. I'll explain later.' With more agility than Duffy would have expected, the eternally black-clad old man vaulted the bridge rail and landed in a relaxed crouch on the ship's central catwalk. Then, to the Irishman's further surprise, Aurelianus strode confidently to the prostrate captain, touched him on the shoulder and began to speak to him in Norse.
Duffy simply stood by, feeling like a clown, as the Viking captain and his crew got reverently to their feet. Bugge answered several questions Aurelianus put to him, and then crossed to where the Irishman stood and knelt before him.
'Touch his shoulder with your sword,' Aurelianus told him. 'Do it!'
Duffy did it, with as much dignity as he could muster.
Very good,' Aurelianus said with a nod. 'Ho!' he called to the interested gawkers on the shore. 'Bring some sturdy planks here, quick! Captain Bugge and his men are ready to disembark.'
It was a bizarre parade that Epiphany saw marching up the street, heralded by the wild barking of dogs. She stood in the Zimmermann's doorway and gaped at these twenty-one armed Vikings being led by what appeared to be a revivified drowned man. Then, paling, she recognized him.
'Oh, Brian!' she wailed. 'They've killed you again!' Immediately Aurelianus was behind her shoulder, having somehow got into the building unnoticed. 'Shut up,' he hissed. 'He's in fine health, just fell in the canal. He can tell you all about it later. Right now get back to work.'
Duffy led his gray warriors around back to the stables, and said hello to Werner, who was fastidiously picking up some lettuce leaves that had fallen out of a garbage bin.
'What's this?' the innkeeper demanded. 'Who are these boys?'
Duffy answered as he'd been told to. 'They're twenty-one Danish mercenaries Aurelianus has hired to help defend the city against the Turks.'
'What Turks? I don't see any Turks - just a crowd of old vagabonds who'll drink up my beer. And what did somebody dip you in? This is too foolish. Get them out of here.'
The Irishman shook his head. 'Aurelianus is in the dining room,' he said. 'You'd better go talk to him.'
Werner wavered. 'You won't do anything out here while I'm gone...?'
'Well.. .he told me to turn the horses out of the stables so these gentlemen can sleep there. He said it's a mild Spring, and the horses ought to be able to survive the night air, and during any cold spells they could spend the night in the kitchen.'
'Horses in my kitchen? Vikings in my stable? You're out of your mind, Duffy. I'll -
'Go talk to Aurelianus,' the Irishman told him again.
The Vikings regarded the ranting innkeeper with great curiosity, and one of them asked him something in Norse.
'Silence from you, lout!' Werner barked. 'Very well, I'll go ask him about this. I'll tell him to get rid of the whole gang of you - including you, Duffy! My opinion carries weight with him, or perhaps you didn't know!'
'Good!' Duffy grinned. 'Go acquaint him with it.' And he gave Werner a hearty slap on the back that propelled him half the distance to the kitchen door. Actually, though, the Irishman thought as he turned to the stable, Werner is the only one that makes sense anymore. Why in hell should we take in these decrepit Danes? They're sure to be always either rowdy-drunk or morose; and either way we'll get no work out of them.
'Now then, lads!' the Irishman called, clapping his hands to get their attention. 'We movee horsies out of stable into yard, eh?'
The northmen all grinned and nodded, and even helped out once they saw what he was doing. 'Hey, Shrub!' Duffy shouted when all the horses stood looking puzzled on the cobbles. 'Bring us some beer!'
The boy peered around the kitchen door jamb. 'Are those friendly Vikings?' he queried.
