e the throng; he was not so roughly dealt with as was
Wolfkettle, for he was a bowman, and had this while past shot down on the
Romans from aloof; and he yet held his bended bow in his hand. He also
came up on to the dais and stood beside Wolfkettle glancing down on the
hall-crowd, looking eagerly from side to side.

Yet again the Hall-Sun spake: "No aliens now are dwelling in the Mark;
come hither, ye men of the kindreds! Come thou, our brother Hiarandi of
the Elkings, for thy sisters, our wives, are fain of thee. Come thou,
Valtyr of the Laxings, brother's son of Otter; do thou for the War-duke
what thy father's brother had done, had he not been faring afar. Come
thou, Geirbald of the Shieldings the messenger! Now know we the deeds of
others and thy deeds. Come, stand beside us for a little!"

Forth then they came in their rent and battered war-gear: and the tall
Hiarandi bore but the broken truncheon of his sword; and Valtyr a
woodman's axe notched and dull with work; and Geirbald a Roman
cast-spear, for his own weapons had been broken in the medley; and he
came the last of the three, going as a belated reaper from the acres.
There they stood by the others and gazed adown the hall-throng.

But the Hall-Sun spake again: "Agni of the Daylings, I see thee now. How
camest thou into the hard handplay, old man? Come hither and stand with
us, for we love thee. Angantyr of the Bearings, fair was thy riding on
the day of the Battle on the Ridge! Come thou, be with us. Shall the
Beamings whose daughters we marry fail the House of the Wolf to-day?
Geirodd, thou hast no longer a weapon, but the fight is over, and this
hour thou needest it not. Come to us, brother! Gunbald of the Vallings,
the Falcon on thy shield is dim with the dint of point and edge, but it
hath done its work to ward thy valiant heart: Come hither, friend! Come
all ye and stand with us!"

As she named them so they came, and they went up on to the dais and stood
altogether; and a terrible band of warriors they looked had the fight
been to begin over again, and they to meet death once more. And again
spake the Hall-Sun:

"Steinulf and Grani, deft are your hands! Take ye the stalks of the war
blossoms, the spears of the kindreds, and knit them together to make a
bier for our War-duke, for he is weary and may not go afoot. Thou Ali,
son of Grey; thou hast gone errands for me before; go forth now from the
garth, and wend thy ways toward the wat