There was a little time while I might see all that happened, and at the first rush I saw Biorn’s men give back a pace—­no more—­and win their place again.  I saw our horsemen watching for a chance to charge in on the Danish flank, and I saw the Danish riders wheeling to meet them.  Then I must keep my eyes for what was before me, for men were falling.  Then Ottar began to sing, and his voice rose over the cries of battle, and rang in tune with the sword strokes as it seemed to me, and with his singing came to me, as to many, the longing to do great deeds and to fall if I might but be sung thus.

Then I saw a Dane fell one of the vikings, and leap at the men of Olaf’s shield wall, and an axe flashed and he went down.  The fighting was coming nearer to me, and I watched and waited, and I knew that I had never seen so stern a fight as this, for before me Olaf’s veterans fought against Swein’s—­the trained thingmen who held the towns.  And neither side had ever known defeat, and it seemed to me that surely we must fight till all were slain, for these were men who would not yield.

Then was a gap in the ranks before me for a moment, and through it glanced like light a long spear with a hook that caught the edge of Prat’s red shield and tore it aside; and I smote it and cut the shaft in twain, so that it was but wood that darted against Prat’s mail, and he said, “Thanks, master,” and smiled at me, for the ranks had closed up again.

Then before me I saw Egil’s black armour, and the mighty form of the chief who had led the mounted Danes; and they rushed on us and their men followed them, and in a moment one was shield to shield with me, and I took his blow on mine, and my stroke went home on his helm, and he fell at my feet, swaying backwards, while over him tripped Egil, and lost his footing, and came with a heavy fall against me, so close and suddenly that I could not strike him or he me, and I grappled with him and we went down together.

Then my spearmen roared “Out, out!” and charged on the Danes who had broken our line thus, and I heard Olaf’s voice shouting, and then I was inside our line behind the heels of the men who fought, and struggling with the Danish chief for mastery.

That was a tough wrestle, but I had been in training with Olaf, and the Dane had been shut up in the town at ease; and at last he gave way, and I knelt on his broad chest, drew my seax, and bade him yield.

“Not I,” he said, panting for breath.

But I would not slay a brave warrior who had fallen as I knew by chance, and so I said—­for fighting was too hot for any man to pay heed to us, as his Danes were trying to reach him through my spearmen: 

“You had better.  For you have fought well, and this is but chance.”

“Tie me up, then,” he growled.  “Who are you?”

“Olaf’s cousin,” said I.

“I can yield to you, then,” he said; “take my sword and tie me up, for I will escape if I can.”