“It has been a good fight,” said Erling. “Men will talk of it in days to come, after we are far away in the world of spirits.”
There was deep pathos in the tone of the young warrior as he spoke these words, and cast his eyes upwards to the blue vault as if he sought to penetrate that spirit world, on the threshold of which he believed himself to stand.
“If we had but one hour’s rest, or one other man on our side; but—” He stopped suddenly, for the six men now stood in the middle of the little plain where Erling and Glumm had fought so long and so valiantly that day, and awaited their coming.
Hastily descending the mound, the two friends strode boldly towards their opponents, scorning to let them see by look or gesture that they were either fatigued or depressed. As they drew near, Erling singled out Hake, and Glumm went towards a tall, powerful man, who stood ready with a huge sword resting on his shoulder, as if eager to begin the combat. Glumm had arranged in his own mind that that man and he should die together. Beside him stood a warrior with a battle-axe, and a steel helmet on his head. Before Glumm could reach his intended victim the tall man’s sword flashed in the air like a gleam of light, and the head with the steel helmet went spinning on the ground!
“That’s the way that Kettle Flatnose pays off old scores,” cried the Irish thrall, turning suddenly upon his late friends, and assailing one of them with such fury that he cut him down in a few seconds, and then ran to draw off one of the two who had attacked Erling. Glumm’s amazement at this was, as may well be believed, excessive; but it was nothing to the intensity of his joy when he found suddenly that the fight was now equalised, and that there stood only one man to oppose him. His heart leaped up. New life gave spring to his muscles; and to these new feelings he gave vent in one loud shout, as he sprang upon his adversary and cleft him to the chin with one sweep of his sword!
Meanwhile Kettle Flatnose had killed his man; and he was about to come up behind Hake and sweep off his head, when he was seized by Glumm and dragged violently back.
“Would ye rob Erling of the honour of slaying this noted berserk?” he said sternly.
“Truly,” replied Kettle, somewhat abashed, “I did not know that he was noted; and as for the honour of it, I do think that Erling seems to have got honour enough to-day (if all this be his work) to content him for some time to come; but as ye will,” he added, putting the point of his sword on the ground, and resting his arms on the hilt.
Glumm also leaned on his sword; and standing thus, these two watched the fight.
Now, it may perhaps seem to some readers that as the other men had been disposed of so summarily, it was strange that Erling the Bold should be so long in dispatching this one; but for our hero’s credit, we must point out several facts which may have perhaps been overlooked. In the first place, Kettle Flatnose was a thoroughly fresh man when he began the fight, and although he killed two men, it must be remembered that one of these was slain while off his guard. Then, Glumm did indeed slay his man promptly, but he was one of King Harald’s ordinary men-at-arms; whereas Erling was opposed by one of the most celebrated of the King’s warriors—Hake, the berserk of Hadeland—a man whose name and prowess were known far and wide, not only in Norway, but in Denmark, and all along the southern shores of the Baltic. It would have been strange indeed had such a man fallen easily before any human arm, much more strange had he succumbed at once to one that had been already much exhausted with fighting.