The greater number of the Danes were already across the stream; but a few of the more resolute had halted to hold the passage against the pursuers. Olvir, however, stared over the heads of the desperate champions, to the little islet upon which Wittikind, striding up out of the water, had paused to glance back at the Norse wedge. As the Saxon's eye fell upon the viking earl, the latter raised his hand, and sent a challenge ringing over the stream.
"Ho, hero!" he shouted; "stand and wait--I would meet you in single fight."
"Faul seize you, dog of the Frank!" retorted the Saxon. "Am I a witling to linger while your bloody wolves come up?"
"Listen, son of Wanekind," said Olvir, very earnestly. "Odin bear witness--I swear that no man in my following shall cross the stream, if you fight with me. Let these men follow over to their mates. Mine will stand here."
"And if you fall, bairn?"
"My pledge shall hold good nevertheless. But if you falter and fail to meet me, I shall name you nithing from Rhine Stream to Trondheim Fiord."
"Teu! It is a bold cockerel!" cried Wittikind. But the flush which reddened his bearded cheek showed that the taunt had gone home. Only blood could wipe out that threat of coward-naming. He signed impatiently to the Danish rearguard.
"Across, men!" he shouted. "I 'll soon trim the comb of this loud-crowing cock, and then we shall see how the sons of Thor keep faith."
Olvir smiled, well pleased, and, as the Danes sprang into the stream, he turned about, with upraised hand, to check the wild charge of his vikings.
"Hold, men!" he called. "I meet the war-earl singly. Whether scathe come to me or to him, none among you shall cross over the stream."