At that Rorik lost patience, and lifting his axe, ground his teeth and said savagely: 

“I will even make you honour Thor yonder.”

Now at that Halfden saw a chance for me, and at once stayed Rorik’s hand, saying in a loud voice: 

“Ho! this is well.  Let Wulfric and Rorik fight out this question—­and then the life of him who is slain will surely appease the gods.”

That pleased our crew well, for they had no great love for Rorik, who had taken too much command on him, for a stranger on board.  Now, too, Ingvar’s brows cleared, for he cared nothing for the life of either of us, so that the gods were satisfied with blood.  And he said: 

“So shall it be.  Take axes and make short work of it.  If Wulfric can slay Rorik, we know that he is innocent of aught to dishonour the gods.  But if he is slain—­then on his head is the blame.”

Then he looked round and added: 

“Let Guthrum and Hubba see fair play.”

Now came Hubba, pleased enough, for he knew my axe play, and that chief whom they called Guthrum, a square, dark man with a pleasant, wise face, and took four spears, setting them up at the corners of a twelve-pace square, between the line of our crew and the altar.

So now it seemed to me that I must fight for our faith, for truth against falsehood, darkness against light.  And I was confident, knowing this, that the death of one for the faith is often the greatest victory.  So I said: 

“I thank you, Jarl.  I will fight willingly for my faith.”

“Fight for what you like,” said Ingvar, “but make haste over it.”

Then Hubba and Guthrum placed me at one side of the square, and Rorik at the opposite.  And I faced the image of Thor, so that under the very eyes of the idol I hated I must prove my faith.

Then came a longing into my mind to lift my axe in Thor’s face and defy him, but I put it away, for how should an idol know of threat or defiance?  Surely that would be to own some power of his.

When we were ready, Hubba and Guthrum, each with drawn swords, stood on either side of the spear-marked square, and signed to Ingvar to give the word.  At once he did so.

Then I strode forward five paces and waited, but Rorik edged round me, trying to gain some vantage of light, and I watched him closely.

And all the host stood silent, holding breath, and the altar smoke rose up over our heads, and the ravens croaked in the trees, and over all stared the great statue of Thor, seeing naught.

Then like a wolf Rorik sprang at me, smiting at my left shoulder where no shield was to guard me.  And that was Rorik’s last stroke, for even as I had parried Thormod’s stroke in sport, the man’s wrist lit on the keen edge of my axe, so that hand and weapon flew far beyond me with the force of his stroke.  Then flashed my axe, and Rorik fell with his helm cleft in twain.

Then roared our crew, cheering me: