But it was steel biting steel. Once the impetus of the viking charge was lost, the advance became very slow. Even at the wedge's point, the movement, though sure, meant for every step gained a matter of fiercest struggle. Olvir and Floki yet fought as at first; but Liutrad, for all his massive young strength, was glad enough for a time to give place to Gerold.
If, however, the viking wedge failed to burst open the shieldburg at once, the slaughter they had wrought among the Saxons and their presence in the Danish rear were not without effect on both friend and foe. The fleeing Neustrians had turned again, and the Saxons, disconcerted by the viking charge, no longer pressed so fiercely upon the Franks, who immediately followed up the slight show of weakness by renewed efforts to regain their lost ground.
With the attack of the vikings, Wittikind, who had been trying to single out his royal opponent, on the farther side of the shieldburg, quickly heeded the greater danger of the fresh attack, and hastened to the rear to aid in checking the in-thrusting wedge.
Slowly but steadily, Olvir was piercing a rift for his followers into the steel core of the shieldburg, when the Danish ranks before him opened, and in the gap towered up the terrible figure of the Saxon war-earl. He had time only for a glimpse of the Saxon's bearded face and glaring blue eyes; then a blade more ponderous than Ironbiter whirled down upon him.
Unable to avoid the blow, Olvir raised his shield to meet it. Never had he tilted the little buckler with greater skill. But his arm was somewhat wearied, and the Saxon struck with a force that only Otkar Jotuntop himself might have exceeded. Though the blow glanced aside, it beat the shield down upon Olvir's helmet with stunning violence. As he stood there, dazed and blinking, Liutrad thrust a protecting shield above his head, while Gerold flung himself upon the Saxon. As the Swabian leaped, he cut fiercely at Wittikind's neck. But the Saxon caught the blow on his sword, and as Gerold's shield clashed upon his own, he hurled the leaper backwards.
"Teu! Teu!" he roared, and he whirled his great blade to cut down the reeling Swabian. But then Liutrad swung up his axe, and dealt the war-earl a crashing two-handed blow. Driven by all the massive strength of the wielder, the heavy blade split the Saxon's shield, and sent him staggering back as though struck by Thor's hammer.
Even as the Danes pressed in before their war-earl, their close-set ranks heaved and staggered with the force of a tremendous shock from beyond. The Frankish horsemen had withdrawn from the battle-line, and, led by the king himself, had hurled upon the shieldburg in a charge more impetuous than any that had gone before.
Galloping in the lead of his heavy horsemen, Karl spurred his charger full against the wall of locked shields. A dozen spear-points glanced from his shield or splintered upon his scale hauberk. Then his heavy stallion struck the shieldwall like a war-ram, and burst through, trampling upon the overthrown Danes. From all sides ready blades were brandished to cut down the royal leader. But not even the halberds could beat through the king's guard. His grey eyes flamed with white fire, and he shouted joyfully, as Ironbiter swirled down to right and left: "Heu! heu! Christ reigns! Down with the fiend-gods! Follow me, Franks!"
"Heu! heu! Christ and king!" shouted the horsemen, and, fired by the example of their leader, they burst through the Dane wall in a dozen places. In a twinkling, the close ranks of the shieldburg were rent asunder, and Danes and Franks were mingled in a wildly furious struggle.
Berserk-mad, Wittikind turned again from the Northmen, and rushed to meet the Frank king as he came plunging through the heart of the shieldburg.