"That is easily said," Ingvar answered, frowning. "I have my own thoughts on that--else had I not been here. But this land is in my power, therefore I will let you go if you will hold it for me, and own me as overlord, doing my will."
"My answer is the same as it was this morning. It is not for me to give over this land into the hands of heathen men to save myself."
That was Eadmund's calm answer, and looking on Ingvar I saw the same bode written in his face as had been when I would not honour his gods. Then he spoke slowly, and his words fell like ice from his lips.
"It seems to me that this land is in the hands of us heathen without your giving."
"So that may be, for the time," answered Eadmund; "but your time of power has an end."
"Has it so?" said Ingvar, and his eyes flashed. "Where is your help to come from? Do you look to Ethelred?--He is busy in Wessex with more of us heathen. Where is Mercia?--It is ours. Will Kent help you?"
"Our help is in the name of the Lord, who hath made heaven and earth," answered Eadmund, lifting his eyes heavenwards so earnestly, that in spite of himself the wild heathen king followed their upward gaze for a moment.
It was but for a moment, and that weakness, as he would deem it, was the spark to light Ingvar's wrath, that as yet he had kept under.
"Hammer of Thor!" he shouted, "you dare throw that in my face! Now will I show you if heathen or Christian is stronger."
Then with his face white with rage he turned to his men: "Bind him to yon tree, and we will speak with him again!"