And I think the earl has not sent for me in such terms as those." The man raised his hand a little and made a sign, and I heard the quick steps of men crossing the street with clatter of steel.

Then I knew that Edric had sent for me, dead or alive.
"Come you must," the man said.
"What if I will not ?" I answered.
"I will make you," he said, and with that he smote Thrand fairly in the face and felled him, hitting squarely from his left shoulder, and then his sword was out and he made one step towards me.
Quick as thought I grasped the hilt of my sword, and smote upwards with it as I drew it from under the fold of my cloak.

There is no stopping that stroke, and the man leapt back from it as it seemed, but the blade smote him beneath the chin, and so far as he was concerned Edric's message had come to naught.

He would never draw sword on any man again.

Nor do I think he would have been thus bold had he not thought me unarmed.
Then at the same moment my man was up, cursing, and the doorway to the street was full of Edric's men, and some of mine were coming leisurely through the other.
The crash of the falling man woke my people into life, and they ran to their spears, which were piled along the walls, and the earl's men faltered on the threshold, for they liked not the look of sword Foe's Bane, maybe.