"That do I indeed," De Burg replied. "The great fellow who fought by his side that night against the Bretons, and saved my son's life. Was he there?"
"He was," Wulf said, "though greatly against my wishes; for he had lost an arm in the fight at Stamford Bridge, and though it is little more than a fortnight since, he had himself carried down here, contrary to my orders, and insisted upon joining in the battle. I would fain search for his body and give him burial."
"I will come with you at once," the Norman said, "I too owe him a debt of gratitude."
The housecarls of Steyning had fallen to a man where they stood, and among them after some searching they came upon the body of Osgod, distinguished alike by its bulk and the loss of an arm. His axe lay with a broken shaft by his side. His helmet was cleft asunder, and his face covered with blood.
"His body is yet warm," Wulf said, as he lifted his arm. "I believe he still lives."
De Burg called upon two Norman soldiers near to aid, and with their assistance Wulf and Beorn carried Osgod down to the stream, where they washed the blood from his face and bathed the wound in his head.
"He is certainly alive," Beorn said. "Doubtless he was stunned by the blow, and has remained unconscious from the loss of blood."
De Burg sent for a flask of wine, and a little of this was poured through Osgod's lips. Presently there was a deep sigh and a slight motion of the figure, and then Osgod opened his eyes.
At first he seemed bewildered, but as his eyes fell on Wulf a look of pleasure came into them, and he smiled faintly.
"I am alive, Osgod, and glad indeed to find that you are also. Beorn has also escaped. Take a draught of wine; you have lost a lot of blood and had none to spare."