"That thou canst not do," answered Wahrmund; and then he turned, standing with his back to the chasm and his shield advanced, and thus he met the rush of the foe, and made his axe sing a good song and bite deeply ere he fell himself.
And Wulnoth stood on the farther bank and watched the fight, and he cried aloud in his grief and called upon the Danes to fight fairly.
"Oh, nithings!" he cried. "Oh, slayers of little children and weaklings, is there not a man amongst you now? Does no hero soul dwell in Denmark? Not so would Regner Lodbrok have dealt with a brave man. Oh, cowards and nithings that you are, would I were with my friend, to stand by his side!"
But little did the Danes heed his cries. They pressed upon brave Wahrmund, seeking to take him alive. He was bleeding from a score of wounds, and his strength was all gone.
He tried to cast himself into the chasm, but they laid hands upon him, seeking to drag him away; and he turned his face towards Wulnoth, and cried to him—
"A boon, comrade—a boon for friendship's sake! Thou hast thy spear. A cast, comrade—a good, true cast, right between the shoulders. Better death from a comrade's spear than torture by Hungwar."
Then, as he made an end of speaking, he turned back to the foe, gripping them and holding them at arm's length, planting his feet firmly and standing with his back towards Wulnoth.
And Wulnoth understood, and he raised his spear.
"Skoal to thee, hero amongst men," he cried. "Art ready?" and Wahrmund panted—
"Skoal and farewell. I am ready, comrade."