Early the following morning the conflict was renewed. After the battle had raged fiercely for a season, Ivar attacked the apex of the array of Starkad. His father’s sword Hrotti shone like fire, and he cut down the host of Starkad like saplings. Neither helmet, chain-armor, nor shield could withstand his blows. He went through the host with his foster-brothers, and slew all those who were in his way. The shield-maiden Heid, seeing the appalling death of men in the array of Starkad, rushed towards Ivar. Many men engaged in single combat stopped by common accord to see the conflict. Her fiery steed, white with froth, seemed to enjoy the fray. Heid’s hair was loose and dishevelled, and swung to and fro, following the motion of her body; her eyes seemed to send out flashes of fire; lightning seemed to spring from her sword as it struck that of Ivar. Never in his life had Ivar been so hard pressed, but finally the pressure of other combatants separated them.
Ubi the Frisian advanced before the host of Ivar, and all retraced their steps before him, so deadly were his blows. When the archers recognized him, they said, “We will not shoot elsewhere, but let us all aim our arrows at this man for a while, for we will never get the victory until he is dead.” The most skilled archers began to shoot at Ubi, and he fell at last, but not before twenty-five arrows had been sent into his body, and not before he had slain six champions, severely wounded eleven others, and killed sixteen Sviar and Gotlanders, that stood in front of the ranks.
After the death of Ubi, the host of Ivar made a fierce attack on the host of Starkad, and nothing could resist them. When Starkad saw this great slaughter of his men, he urged his host not to let one man overcome all, such valiant and proud men as they were. He shouted, “Where is Storkud, who until now has always borne the shield of victory?”
Storkud, who was near, answered: “We will try to gain a victory; though where Ivar is, a man may be fully tried.”
He rushed to the front, towards Ivar; a fierce fight ensued, and Storkud fell. Great, indeed, was the slaughter of men.
When Heid the shield-maiden saw so many valiant men fall, she rushed forward, and however valiant and skilful a man was in the handling of his sword, he was almost sure to meet his death while fighting against her.
Ivar entreated his men to take her alive, but she would not be taken, and fell fighting furiously. As she fell, Ivar sang: “Sunk to the ground is Heid the shield-maiden. The Sviar have slain her, and with her many of her champions. She was more at home in the fight than talking with a wooer, or going to the bridal bench with bridesmaids.”
When Starkad looked over the wing Heid commanded, and saw how it had diminished, he sang: “Many were we when we drank the mead; now we are fewer, when we should be more. I do not see one among my men who can carry a shield and meet Ivar’s host; nevertheless I will carry a shield with what is left of my men, and go and fight the Gotlanders and their followers.”
Then he advanced towards the host of Ivar, and at last the decisive conflict took place. Both sides fought with the greatest fury. The field of battle where the swords met appeared like a lurid sheet of fire, and after the most heroic struggle Starkad fell with his standard.
When Ivar saw that the standard of Starkad had fallen, he knew that he was dead; he had the horns blown, the peace shield raised, and shouted an order that the battle stop. When the host of Starkad became aware that he had been slain, the combat ceased, and Ivar offered truce to them all, which was accepted. Several chiefs became his vassals, and promised to pay him tribute every year, and send men to his standards when needed, Ivar putting his foot on their necks as a sign that he had become their ruler.