"Their commander hath some wisdom, I think," said Ulric. "His trumpets call back his men for a retreat. He will escape."
"He loseth half his force," said Olaf; "he will lose more as he retreateth."
Fiercer and fiercer arose the sounds of the combat, the shouting, the howling, the twanging of loud harp strings, and the braying of the trumpets. Hard was it for the vikings that they might not have a part in such a battle.
"The Romans are outnumbered," said Olaf, "but they fight well. Their retreat will be to the river mouth, where was my village. There have they a camp in our own stockade, and they have also increased it with a rampart of earth and palisades. There we must strike them. It is but a little distance. Come and see."
"But first," said Ulric, "I would see the end of this battle, and I would have speech with a Druid concerning the sacrifices."
"That thou mayest not this day," said Olaf, "and the Romans are cutting their way through the tumult of half-naked spearmen. Lo, how they slay the Britons! But the ranks of their cohort will be thin when the remnant reacheth the fort. So hath it often been in their warfare in Britain, but each new commander of legionaries cometh here a proud one, thinking only of easy victory."
"The darts fly in showers," said Ulric, but Wulf the Skater urged him.
"O jarl!" he exclaimed. "The village! The fort! The trireme! Why wait we here? Let us go with Olaf!"
The jarl answered not, but walked rapidly, and the rocky ledge grew higher as they went; but there came an end of it.