All day we waited, and no help came; and with evening the last food had gone. It had rained heavily, however, and the want of water was past for the time. The Danes never moved from their places, waiting to starve us out; and in the last light of evening a small party came across the little valley from the main body, bearing a white flag in token of parley. Hubba bid us yield, and our lives should be spared.
"It is good of Hubba to give us the chance of living a little longer," answered Odda; "but we will wait here a while, so please him."
The Danes threatened us, and mocked, and so went back. We had no more messages from their chief after that.
That night we slept round the standard where it flapped on the hilltop. The men watched, turn by turn, along the lower ramparts; and the Danes were not so near that we could be surprised by them, for there was no cover to hide their coming. Nestled under the northwest rampart was a little hut--some shepherd's shelter where the three poor ladies were bestowed. Osmund the jarl sat a little apart from us, but all day and night he had been tending the wounded well. Harek who, as befitted a scald, was a good leech, said that the jarl knew almost as much of the craft as he.
Now, in the early morning, when the light was grey, I woke, hearing the rattle of arms and the quiet passing of the word as the men changed guard, and I thought I would go round the ramparts; and then Odda woke also. The rest slept on, for they had taken their turns on watch--Heregar with his arm round the pole of the standard, and his sword beneath his head.
Odda looked at me as we sat up stiffly, and spoke what was in his mind and mine also.
"I have a mind to send Osmund to Hubba, and ask him to let the women go hence. There is nought to eat today."
"There is enough kept for them," I said; for Heregar had seen to that, and none had grudged a share.
"Ay," he answered; "but what are we to do? Are we to be starved like rats here?"
"There are the half-dozen horses," I said.