The fight began furiously almost immediately, and he felled six of them without receiving any wound in return; and though the remaining three wounded him so hard in seventeen places that most of his bowels gushed out of his belly, he slew them notwithstanding, like their brethren.  Disembowelled, with failing strength, he suffered from dreadful straits of thirst, and, crawling on his knees in his desire to find a draught, he longed for water from the streamlet that ran close by.  But when he saw it was tainted with gore he was disgusted at the look of the water, and refrained from its infected draught.  For Anganty had been struck down in the waves of the river, and had dyed its course so deep with his red blood that it seemed now to flow not with water, but with some ruddy liquid.  So Starkad thought it nobler that his bodily strength should fail than that he should borrow strength from so foul a beverage.  Therefore, his force being all but spent, he wriggled on his knees, up to a rock that happened to be lying near, and for some little while lay leaning against it.  A hollow in its surface is still to be seen, just as if his weight as he lay had marked it with a distinct impression of his body.  But I think this appearance is due to human handiwork, for it seems to pass all belief that the hard and uncleavable rock should so imitate the softness of wax, as, merely by the contact of a man leaning on it, to present the appearance of a man having sat there, and assume concavity for ever.

A certain man, who chanced to be passing by in a cart, saw Starkad wounded almost all over his body.  Equally aghast and amazed, he turned and drove closer, asking what reward he should have if he were to tend and heal his wounds.  But Starkad would rather be tortured by grievous wounds than use the service of a man of base estate, and first asked his birth and calling.  The man said that his profession was that of a sergeant.  Starkad, not content with despising him, also spurned him with revilings, because, neglecting all honourable business, he followed the calling of a hanger-on; and because he had tarnished his whole career with ill repute, thinking the losses of the poor his own gains; suffering none to be innocent, ready to inflict wrongful accusation upon all men, most delighted at any lamentable turn in the fortunes of another; and toiling most at his own design, namely of treacherously spying out all men’s doings, and seeking some traitorous occasion to censure the character of the innocent.

As this first man departed, another came up, promising aid and remedies.  Like the last comer, he was bidden to declare his condition; and he said that he had a certain man’s handmaid to wife, and was doing peasant service to her master in order to set her free.  Starkad refused to accept his help, because he had married in a shameful way by taking a slave to his embrace.  Had he had a shred of virtue he should at least have disdained to be intimate with the slave of another, but should have enjoyed some freeborn partner of his bed.  What a mighty man, then, must we deem Starkad, who, when enveloped in the most deadly perils, showed himself as great in refusing aid as in receiving wounds!