Oswald, unlike his opponent, was perfectly cool, though not by any means blind or indifferent to the momentous issues involved in this life-and-death struggle. He knew that any yielding, or declining of the combat, either in the interest of peace, or for any other reason, meant the loss of supremacy in the camp. He knew also that Sigurd meant it to be to the death. Now, Oswald fell little short of Sigurd in sheer brute strength and force; and in coolness of temper, agility, and skill, he was much more than a match for his opponent. He saw clearly also that this was to be no child's play, but dead earnest. The look in the black and louring visage of Sigurd, and the unmitigated ferocity of his onslaught, told more plainly than words that he, at least, would give no quarter. Oswald fought a purely defensive battle, having no desire to injure his foeman, but steadily parrying, with masterly skill, the thundering blows of Sigurd, steadily giving ground before his eager and impetuous onslaught. None knew better than he, however, that vital exhaustion must follow quickly on the heels of such dire rage; and it soon became very evident to him that the pace was telling upon his adversary. The rush and eagerness of his attack, and the consuming passion within him, told their tale very speedily, for the perspiration poured from him in streams, and his countenance became deadly pale. This was soon followed by a palpable weakening of the strength of his wrist; and Oswald, watching carefully every stroke of his adversary, awaited his chance. Soon it came; and with one powerful blow he sent the weapon from Sigurd's grasp. Then, in a climax of senseless rage at losing his weapon, Sigurd rushed on Oswald, in the vain endeavour to close with him. But Oswald, turning the flat of his sword, dealt him a powerful blow on the head with its broadside, which knocked him senseless and bleeding to the ground. He quickly rose to his feet again, however.
"There," said Oswald, coolly sheathing his weapon, "take thy sword. I have given thee thy life. Be advised, and cross my path no more whilst thou art in thy present mood, for, Saxon or no Saxon, there will be but one more passage-at-arms between me and thee; and thou mayest fare worse at our next meeting."
"I offer thee no thanks for thy clemency, nor do I abate one jot of my hatred of thee and of thy womanish philandering with Norman wenches, when thy countrymen's blood cries aloud for vengeance. I warn thee to take heed lest, next time we meet, fortune may not be on thy side." So, with a scowl, he hurried off.
Oswald remained for a long time with folded arms and bowed head, pacing to and fro on the sward, in anxious and troubled thought, which found vent in audible words.
"Too well I understand that foul menace, and well I understand the untamed and implacable nature of this foe in my own household. When our forefathers broke upon this land, wild and daring, counting human life as nothing, and ruthlessly trampling underfoot their fallen enemies, none more fierce and cruel in all the savage crews were there than he. But this is the question to be settled: were those old days of heathenish rites and savage valour the prime days of our race? Our forefathers braved all hazards, and they were a conquering people. What are we? Are we not abjectly ground down—a subject race, and serfs of a braver people? Is this lingering type of our ancient race in the right? What are books; and music; and chivalry? What is this lately born love of mercy, and justice, and righteousness? Tell me, is it merely a debilitating southern wind come this way, transforming heroes into effeminate dreamers, and weaklings? Can I be again a Saxon of the old type?—for I must make my choice here, and now. A Viking, with savage instincts, and implacable, undying hatred of my enemies; indulging in ruthless butchery and indiscriminate massacre of helpless women and children. Can I see eye to eye with this man? This question I must settle once for all!"
He took a turn, in deep mental conflict.
"No!" said he, with concentrated energy; "it cannot be, come what may. I abominate his savagery! I despise his ignorance, and his boorish habits! He and I can never be one in aim and action. Then, I owe my life to this fair Norman; such a debt upon my honour calls aloud for a full requital. Besides all this," said he, whilst his broad chest heaved with the powerful emotions which stirred within him, "waking I hear continually the music of her voice, and I see the love-light in her dark eye. Sleeping I commune with her, and I dream of days of peace and happiness to come. The die is cast, and my path is marked out for me! Perilous it is in very truth, with Norman foes destitute of mercy, and, added to them, a foe in this mad Norseman, cruel and revengeful as death. I will follow the light! Let God judge between me and this people he hath given me to defend."