"She is ready!" exclaimed Ulric. "We will lift the anchors and move both ships. There will be many to see the burning."
Trumpetings and harpings and angry shouts were answering from a throng of Britons gathering along the shore. Not any of them could guess as yet what would be the next move of the Saxons, but great was their wrath that they were able to do no harm.
"They would we might find reason for landing," said Ulric to Wulf, "but I care not to strike them at this place. We would gain nothing."
"O jarl," said Wulf, "Lars, the shipmaker, lieth down. The valkyrias are with him."
"He dieth not a cow's death," said Ulric, "but as a true warrior of the North. It is as he would will, but he still is breathing."
"Yea, but heavily," said Wulf. "I would I were as he is, that I might not leave The Sword."
"O Wulf," said the jarl, "thou hast many a feast of swords before thee. Cheer thee up."
"Jarl Ulric," said Wulf, "do I not know thee? Thou too lovest thy first keel. But I think thou doest wisely. The men have demanded this, and they may not be gainsaid. But I would there had been men enough for both ships, and then I would not have left mine own."
On moved the two keels toward the ledge of rocks, and the tide was falling. They would be bare before long.
"Row, now!" shouted the jarl. "Send The Sword far up upon the ledge. She must be lifted by the rocks till she is out of the water. There come the Britons toward the point. Be ready to strike them! The Druids have gathered an army!"