"How! Otkar his foe?" exclaimed Olvir.
The Frank stared up at him and nodded faintly as he sank back upon the heap of bodies. The Northman gazed back at him for a little with a puzzled look. But an impatient growl from Hroar recalled his attention to the Dane.
"Hark, my Frank hero," he said; "we will talk of this later. Now my sword sings the death of Hroar the betrayer. Run, maiden; fetch drink for the hero, that he may have strength to watch the sword-game."
"So the laggard at last draws sword," sneered Hroar. "He has had his pleasure; now I claim mine. Ironbiter thirsts; yet before he tastes the warm blood the pledge of the fight shall be made known. Speak out, bairn! If I win I go hence with trade-ship and all, unhindered,--let the charge against me be what it may."
"Such are the terms,--all men bear witness!"
A grin of cunning triumph broadened the Dane's ferocious face.
"Then now is Hroar ready," he called loudly. "Now will Ironbiter split the skull of this base-born changeling as it split the skull of the man he calls father."
A terrible oath burst from the lips of Floki; but Olvir silenced him with a look. Then, white to the lips, the young sea-king turned again to his enemy.
"Dare you repeat that lie?" he asked in the soft lisp that betrayed to his steersmen how deadly was his anger.
"So the bairn begins to quake," jeered the Dane, deceived by the Northman's seeming mildness. "Even so quaked that braggart Thorbiorn when I swung Ironbiter his own sword above his head."