Johnston McCulley

“ Svend gasped.
"You have men of skill among your followers, kinsman. Put one forth against me. Let us throw the javelin, or the ax. If I win, the thrall is mine to do with as I please. If I do not win, you compel him to punishment."
"You would throw ax or javelin?" Svend gasped.
"Against any of your men!"
Magnus surged forward and touched Svend on the shoulder. He thought that he saw his chance to humble Edvard Haakonsson before the king, and when he spoke, Svend had the same opinion. Olaf loved rough sports, and he did not love losers. ”

“ The ax he had hurled was buried to the hilt in the trunk of the tree. It quivered in the center of the blazed space above that of Magnus.
Edvard Haakonsson stepped backward and bowed to the king. A chorus of cheers assailed his ears. But Magnus strode forward, his face black with wrath.
"Accidents happen!" he cried. "Can the black jarl throw so well again?"
"I have won, have I not?" Edvard demanded.
"You have won," Olaf decided. "The thrall's life is spared, and he belongs to you. ”

“ He raised the dagger to strike, but Edvard Haakonsson sprang before the thrall and held up a hand in warning.
"If there be blame, it is mine, kinsman," he said. "I commanded the thrall to do as he did."
"One side, jarl! I punish my slaves when I please!"
"But it is not just!" Edvard cried. "The thrall did only as I ordered. Can he be blamed? I appeal to the king!"
Olaf's brow darkened. He had no wish to affront Svend now, after the new pact of friendship. And there were laws regarding a thrall's relations to his master.
"It is Svend's right to punish the man if he so wills," the king said. ”