The multitude was hoarse with shouting, and now they grew silent, for they knew by the lists that they were next to see a trained swordsman torn asunder by the unconquerable lion from Numidia, the beast which had slain heroes before Cæsar.
The trumpet had not yet sounded when Ulric, the son of Brander, went down the stairway to the room below where waited for him the master of the games, and upon this man's face was a bitter smile, for he was a servant of Julius.
"O Saxon," he said, "the edict forbiddeth thee to wear mail. Thou hast but a sword and buckler. The lion weareth no armor."
"Ulric the Jarl," exclaimed Wulf the Skater, "this is a trick for thy destruction!"
"Wait thou, true friend," said the jarl. "Trust me yet a little. Odin is with me this day, and fear not thou these tricksters."
The master of the games understood not the Saxon tongue, but he read well the fierce eyes of Wulf and he fell back a little, for the Skater's hand was on his sword-hilt and the Saxons were known to act suddenly.
"No helmet!" said the cunning friend of Julius. "The lion fighteth bareheaded."
The sword of Wulf rattled loosely in the sheath as the helmet was put aside, but he obeyed a sign from Ulric and drew it not.
"If the jarl be slain," he muttered, "that dog must die. I will see to this matter."
Knud the Bear had come down, but he was silent and his face was dark. He and Wulf turned and went up the stairs and so did the master of the games, well satisfied.