anes of Guthrum's host did in the old days--hold the land you
have won from an English overlord."

"A fine overlord, forsooth," said the Dane; "maybe one would think
of it had he been a second Alfred--but Ethelred the Unredy! Not so,
King Olaf. Will you own Cnut, or must we make you?"

"It seems that we shall not agree until we have fought out this
question," said Olaf, laughing a little.

The Dane laughed back.

"Aye, I suppose not. I would that you had a few more men. But that
is a hard lot in the centre."

And so he looked down our line with an unmoved face, and turned his
horse and rode slowly back to his own men. Olaf came back to us
with a confident look enough.

"There is a man worth fighting," he said to me; "he is foster
brother of Thorkel the High, who leads young Cnut, and he seems an
honest warrior enough."

Then all at once his face hardened, and he spoke in the sharp tone
of command:

"Get your spearmen forward--the horsemen are coming first."

And I saw even before he spoke that this was so, for they were
closing in across their line from the wings, and forming up for an
attack that they maybe thought would break the grim ranks of Olaf's
crew who were the strength of our centre.

So I gave the word, and my spearmen came quickly forward through
the viking line, and there stood two deep, setting the butt ends of
their spears firmly in the ground at their feet, and lowering the
points to meet the horses breast high. Olaf bade the front rank
kneel on one knee and take both hands to the spear shaft, and then
the thick hedge of glittering points was double. I had never seen
this plan before, but it was what Olaf had bidden us do if there
was a charge of horsemen. And I stood in the second rank with Prat
beside me, and behind me were the men of Olaf's shield wall. I took
my axe in my right hand instead of the sword, for the heavier
weapon seemed best against what was coming.

Now were the foes ready, even as the spearmen knelt, and a chief
rode out before them and gave the word to charge, and with a great
roar they answered him, spurring their horses and flying down on
us. The arrow shafts rattled on the bow staves as Olaf's vikings
made ready, and I cried to my spearmen to stand steady, for it
seemed as if that thundering charge must sweep the crouching lines
like chaff before it. And as it came we were silent, and no spear
wavered in all the long hedge to right and left of me.

They were but f