And also he looked at the Prince, and the Atheling looked mighty in his war gear. Usually he looked pale, seeing that he had a sickness which forever kept him in pain; but now all thought of pain was gone, and he laughed right joyously as he looked abroad at the field whereon the battle would be waged, and he said—
"Now, truly, this is a sight for the heart of any warrior, and great deeds will be done to-day, and yonder heathen foe will be valiant. Yet remember, soldiers, that we fight for much—not for life only, but for freedom, for our hearths and families, for our wives, our sisters, our mothers, and daughters. Strike for them a good blow and true, and never let it be said of one 'This man was a nithing.' See yonder"—and he pointed across the plain—"see, there waves the magic banner of Regner Lodbrok—there the raven of Odin flaunts his wings. But here is the sign of the Lord," and he pointed to the cross which a priest held, "and we will see which is mightier this day—Odin or our Lord."
"Now," thought Wulnoth, "that is a sign, and we will see, for truly the foe is the greater and should beat us, for there are many holdas of fame there. Well, we may see, and may I come near to Hungwar, Regner's son, this day."
Then did the war-horns blare and shriek, and the armies moved forward. And first the bowmen sent their arrows hissing like hail, and many a barbed shaft bit deeply and drank its fill of the red blood, but the warriors held their shields and caught the arrows thereon, and laughed, and no nithing was found in the ranks of either side.
Then, as they drew nearer, the spears began to hurtle through the air and join the arrows, and the Valkyrs—those grim storm sisters who love the battlefield and who wait to carry the souls of the heroes to the storm-land—gathered, and floated above the field of slaughter, where the thirsty earth already began to turn red as the victims fell.
But this was but the beginning—the game was hardly started—the fierce, mad sport was to come later.
For now, sweeping forward, came ranks of champions armed with axe, with sword, and shield, and they ran to meet each other, and the strokes fell like hail, and the pikes gored like the horns of angry bulls.
Now Wulnoth had schooled his men, and they drew together in shape like a wedge, with Wulnoth and the captain at the point of it; and so a long line of shields linked each to each, a long line of axes rising and falling, or swinging upwards from beneath, they drove into the heart of the Danish ranks, and then, opening out, swept the vikings into a mass of struggling disordered men, who hardly had room to move and who mixed friend with foe in their fury.
Oh, great were the deeds done that day, and truly did the Atheling behave like a hero in the fight as he led his men, crying encouragement, pressing wherever the game was the hottest, and seeming to be in a score of places at once.
And bravely fought the King, and he singled out the great Danish champion, King Bacseg, and he called to him and said—