"Not so," said Ben Ezra, "for if some of them were living all we were dead. Let us cast them into the sea."
Wulf the Skater had watched the clouds, and now he said:
"Ulric the Jarl, if thou wilt, they should be over the sides speedily, for a wind cometh. We shall use no oars henceforth."
Sad work it was to cast so many forms of dead heroes into the sea, but so had it been foredoomed by the Nornir, and there were some of the wounded who died while the task went on.
Then Ulric sat down by the hammer of Thor and bowed his head, for his heart was heavy.
"I can sing no song," he thought, "over such a fight as this. I think it will now be long before I see the fiords and the hillsides of the Northland. My fate hath changed for me in an hour, and I know not what cometh. O Hilda, was this thy dark saying, that I understood not?"
No voice responded, nor any motion of the air, but he looked upward and he saw birds that were flying eastward.
"So will I go," he muttered, "and they who are with me. There is too much blood upon this keel. I would she were burned with fire, for I hate her. The gods of the Romans have had their revenge upon me. I will never again speak lightly of any gods, for they have ways of their own and they are cunning. Who shall protect himself against an enemy whom he cannot see?"
Well blew the wind, and there was little now to be done save to steer and to rest. All ate and drank, and Ben Ezra seemed to love that dark, strong wine, but he used it sparingly.