"The king!" he roared; "about him, men!"
With a fierce shout, the Danes rallied and thrust in behind Karl with such desperate valor that he was cut off from the horsemen, with scarce a dozen followers. At once the mailed champions closed in on the handful of riders, and hewed them down with axe and halberd. Karl alone sat his saddle when the Danish ranks opened, and the war-earl came leaping for his vengeance. The first blow of his sword split the skull of the king's stallion, and Karl was hurled forward at the feet of the Saxon.
In the fall, the hilt of Ironbiter, slippery with blood, was wrenched from his grasp. He saw Wittikind's whirling sword, and sprang up to grip him fast about the body. Unable to strike, the Saxon in turn gripped the king. For a little, the Danes held back, while the giant leaders bent and strained to overthrow one another. But the Frank had the vantage of the hold. A bear would have smothered in that hug. Already Wittikind's face was blackening, when a Dane sprang in and struck the crowned helmet of the king with his war-hammer.
Instantly the king's grip broke. The war-earl thrust him away, and he fell senseless upon the bloody ground. Half-smothered, the Saxon stood gasping, unable to raise his sword. Then he was plucked aside by his henchmen, as Olvir and Floki came leaping into the midst and thrust out their shields to guard the fallen king.
Back to back, the two Northmen stood alone in the midst of the Danes, and so furiously did the champions of King Sigfrid press upon them, that even Floki, in all his many battles, had never been put to such straits to hold his own. Well was it the war-earl yet lacked breath to leap upon them. While he stood gasping, Liutrad and Gerold burst through, at the head of the wedge.
Ground mercilessly between the Frankish horsemen on the one side and the in-thrusting wedge, the Danes at last drew back from about the king, and sought to form another shieldwall.
"They break!" cried Gerold, and springing upon a riderless horse, he wheeled about in the lead of the horsemen. "Heu! heu! Follow me, Franks! Give the wolves no time to turn!"
Rallying to the call, the Franks spurred their horses upon the disarrayed ranks of the Danes, and for a while all Wittikind's efforts could not make the beaten warriors stand and face the attack. Luckily for them, they were rid of the Norse champions, else their retreat would soon have broken into a rout. But Olvir had called upon his sea-wolves to stand while he and Liutrad sought to restore the king to consciousness.
Fearful of the worst, the two stooped over the great Frank, and were chafing his wrists, when his grey eyes opened in a fierce stare, and he sat up, to grope eagerly about.
"My sword--Ironbiter!" he muttered.