"Look, lad!" shouted Olvir. "It must be old Rudulf has come before us. The king has driven back the attacking foe, and followed after, across the stream."
"If such has-- Saint Michael! Who are those come flying from the field?--the Neustrians! God grant we 're not too late--"
"None too late for the sword-play!" answered the Northman, his nostrils quivering, and then, silent as his men, he led the way past the Frankish camp. As they skirted the war-hedges, the charging warriors were greeted by a welcoming hail from the frightened camp-followers within, and Pepin Hunchback came racing out to meet Olvir and Gerold.
"Turn back, king's son! We go into battle," commanded Gerold. But Pepin urged his horse close in beside Zora, and rode along with Olvir.
"Hero," he pleaded, "let me go with you. My father left me to hold the camp. What place is that for a king's son?"
"Come, then, king's son," answered Olvir, and the boy's face flushed with joy. Then his horse leaped with Zora into the Haze, and close after dashed the vikings, panting with eagerness for the blood-game. As they floundered across the stream, the glimpse which they caught of the retreating Neustrians down the bank served only to whet their temper the keener.
But on the farther side, Olvir wheeled the red mare, and sprang to the ground.
"Hold, men!" he commanded. "Form wedge. Afoot, Gerold. You 'll stand behind me at the fore, with Floki and Liutrad. The king's son rides beside the 'Gleam'--stay! he himself shall bear the banner. Put Zora and the count's horse in the midst. So; well done! Now for Odin's game. Keep close, all. When my wedge strikes, it should be with the weight of every man linked to his fellows."
"Lead on, son of Thorbiorn!" croaked Floki, and the men burst into a roar: "Lead on! Lead on, ring-breaker! Haoi!"
Al-hatif glittered above the sea-king's head, and he sprang about, to lead his band at a half run through the screening coppice. A few swift strides, and he burst from the thickets into full view of the battle. Before him on the trampled gorse heath stretched out the vast disordered mass of the battling hosts, locked fast in the death-grapple and reeling to and fro with the stress of their mighty struggles.