companies of the Goths. I will challenge the Huns and offer them
battle before the Southern Gate."

Then Ormar rode out of the fortress against the Huns. He called loudly
bidding them ride up to the fort, saying:

"Outside the gate of the fortress, in the plains to the south--there
will I offer you battle. Let those who arrive first await their foes!"

Then Ormar rode back to the fortress, and found Hervoer and all her
host armed and ready. They rode forthwith out of the fort with all
their host against the Huns, and a great battle began between them.
But the Hunnish host was far superior in numbers, so that Hervoer's
troops began to suffer heavy losses; and in the end Hervoer fell, and
a great part of her army round about her. And when Ormar saw her fall,
he fled with all those who still survived. Ormar rode day and night as
fast as he could to King Angantyr in Arheimar. The Huns then proceeded
to ravage and burn throughout the land.

And when Ormar came into the presence of King Angantyr, he cried:

From the south have I journeyed hither
To bear these tidings to thee:--
The whole of the forest of Myrkvith
Is burnt up utterly;
And the land of the Goths is drenched with blood
As our warriors fall and die.

Then he continued:

All of thy noblest warriors
On the field are lying dead.
King Heithrek's daughter fell by the sword;
She drooped and bowed her head.
Thy sister Hervoer is now no more.--
By the Huns was her life-blood shed.
O prouder and lighter the maiden's step
As she wielded spear and sword
Than if she were sped to her trysting place,
Or her seat at the bridal-board!

When King Angantyr heard that, he drew back his lips, and it was some
time before he spoke. Then he said:

"In no brotherly wise hast thou been treated, my noble sister!"

Then he surveyed his retinue, and his band of men was but small; then
he cried:

The Gothic warriors were many,
As they sat and drank the mead;
But now when many are called for,
The array is poor indeed!
Not a man in the host will adventure--
Though I offer a rich reward--
To take his shield,
And ride to the field,
To seek out the Hunnish horde.

Then Gizur the Old cried:

I will crave no single farthing,
Nor ringing coin of gold;
I will take my shield
And ride to the field
To the Huns with their myriads untold.
And the message of war that you se