"Odin! What a bound was that!" exclaimed Ulric, and all the Saxons shouted for the pleasure of seeing the stricken beast fly through the air toward them.
"He belongeth to the Greek," said Sigurd. "Spoil not his sport. He shooteth well. He is a warrior's son."
It had been a disgrace to any viking to interfere, even if the lion should slay the Greek, but Svip, the son of Leiknar went forward wrongfully, lifting his spear. All others did but stand where they were and they called out angrily to Svip.
"He is but a Greek," said the son of Leiknar; but the lion sprang again and he sprang far, with a short roar which was fierce and guttural, taking Svip for his enemy. Brave was the son of Leiknar, but he knew not aught of lions. Upon him fell the mighty beast, beating down the spear with a forepaw. Sharp were the long claws and swift and terrible was the tearing. The shield was no defense and the mail was rent as if it had been leather. Torn into fragments was the strong viking ere he might draw his seax, but the bow of Lysias twanged again and his arrow sped well.
"The lion hath no mark but his," said Sigurd, the son of Thorolf. "Back! This is his battle. Let him win it or perish!"
This was a moment when men look, but do not breathe, for the lion turned upon Lysias and the youth faced him boldly, drawing his long arrow to the head.
"Well shot!" shouted Tostig. "O Greek, thou art a good bowman, but he hath thee!"
The lion had gathered his strength to spring, but the shaft had gone in too far. The roar choked in his throat. His limbs refused to cast him. He rolled over, snarling, and pawing at the pavement.
"I would thou wert a Roman!" said Lysias. "But such as thou art have torn my kindred in the arena."
"Slain!" shouted Sigurd. "Thou hast done well, O Greek!"