Now that told Alfred that the tidings of the defeat had not yet arrived, and he was the more anxious to stay there; for he desired to learn what the chiefs would do when they heard the news.
And into the camp he went with the vikings; and not one there even dreamed that beneath the ragged clothes and feeble form the King of Wessex was hidden. And Alfred saw the whole camp, and heard the talk of the vikings; and sometimes he sat in the lower part of the hall while the soldiers feasted, and he heard the chiefs talking of their plans.
And the fourth day while he thus sat, there came a horseman, all spent with his journey and covered with dust; and when he entered the hall, he cried aloud, without even giving greeting—
"Evil tidings, chiefs, are mine to tell. Evil and black tidings. The fleet is destroyed, and the warriors are slain, and the banner of Regner Lodbrok is taken."
Then a great hush fell on all there; and men looked from one to another in dismay; for worse to them than the loss of the fleet, was the loss of the banner, which they supposed had been blest by the gods, and which always led them to victory.
And then did Hungwar start up and cry aloud—
"Now evil was it that I suffered the banner to go with Hubba my brother; and if he recover it not again, then we twain will have a word to say and a deed to do together when we meet."
"Speak no evil of Hubba," answered the messenger. "For him the death-song has been sung; and he died as a hero should die; and also Biorn Ironside has gone to the storm-land with him."
"Hubba dead and Biorn dead," said Guthrun. "Now truly thy tidings are heavy."
"Think not of them. Not of the dead, but of the banner, must we think," cried Hungwar fiercely. "Blood, and much blood, must flow for this. Who led the foe, man? Not this King of Wessex, whom we have hunted for, and who has disappeared as though the earth had swallowed him?"