Then Kolgrim and I went on.  What we had seen was a man lying motionless by the farm gate, in a way that was plain enough to me.  And when we came near, we knew that the man had been slain.  He was a farm thrall, and he had a pitchfork in his hand, the shaft of which was half cut through, as with a sword stroke that he had warded from him, though he had not stayed a second cut, for so he was killed.

“Here is somewhat strangely wrong,” I said.

“Outlaws’ work,” answered Kolgrim; for the wartime had made the masterless folk very bold everywhere, and the farm was lonely enough.

We rode through the swinging gate, and then we saw three horses by the stable yard paling, and with them was an armed man, who saw us as we came round the house, and whistled shrilly.  Whereon two others came running from the building, and asked in the Danish tongue what he called for.  The first man pointed to us, and all three mounted at once.  They were in mail and helm, fully armed.

Now we were not, for we had thought of no meeting such as this, and rode in woollen jerkins and the like, and had only our swords and seaxes, as usual; but for the moment I did not think that we should need either.  Outlaws such as I took them for do not make any stand unless forced.

Presently one of the men, having mounted leisurely enough, called to us.

“There is no plunder to be had,” he said, “even if you were not too late; our folk cleared out the place over well last time.”

Then a fourth man, one who seemed of some rank, rode from beyond the house, passing behind us without paying any heed to us, except that he called to the men to follow him, and so went down the lane towards where Osmund was waiting with Harek.

All this puzzled me, and so I cried to the three men: 

“What do you here?  Whose men are you?”

At that they looked at one another—­they were not more than ten yards from us now—­and halted.

“You should know that,” one said; and then he put his hand to his sword suddenly, adding in a sharp voice: 

“These be Saxons; cut them down.”

When hand goes to sword hilt one knows what is coming, and even as the man said his last words I was on them, and Kolgrim was not a pace behind me.  The Dane’s sword was out first; but I was upon him in time.  His horse swerved as mine plunged forward, and I rode him down, horse and man rolling together in the roadway.  Then the man to my right cut at me, and I parried the blow and returned it.  Then that horse was riderless, and I heard Kolgrim laugh as his man went down with a clatter and howl.

My horse plunged on for a few steps, and then I turned.  Kolgrim had one horse by the bridle, and was catching that which had fallen.  I caught the other, and so we looked at each other.

“This is your luck, master,” said Kolgrim.

“Well,” said I, “these are Danes, and I do not think they are wanderers either.  Here are forage bags behind the saddles.  One would say that they were on the march if this were not mid-winter and time of peace.  The horsemen in advance of a host, or the like.”