For the duel, the Tronds chose a warrior of medium height and muscular build. He wore his brown hair in a tight ponytail, revealing a long scar that disfigured his left cheek. He carried neither shield nor helm, and wore only leather trousers to protect his legs. The inked designs of serpents and animals snaked across his muscled chest and arms.
“Who is he?” Hakon asked Toralv.
“They call him Ketil Widowmaker. He was a professional dueler before joining Thorberg"s hird.”
Ketil"s dark eyes studied Hakon intently from across the dueling ground as he tossed his seax from hand to hand. A spear stood beside him, its butt planted firmly in the soft ground.
“I am glad I"m not married,” said Hakon with a smile as he handed his cloak to Toralv.
“Where is your weapon and armor?” asked Toralv, f
