he 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."

Then two spearmen turned and shouted, and went to drive their
weapons into the body of my foe, and I put my shield in the way.

"Strike not a fallen man," I said, and they forebore, ashamed.

Then I loosed the baldric that his sword hung in--his axe was gone
as he fell or wrestled--and took the weapon. And lo! it was sword
Foe's Bane, my father's sword; and I cast away my axe and gripped
the well-known hilt, and bade the spearmen guard my captive, and
turned back into the fight. And all this had gone by in a whirl, as
it were, and the Danes were still striving to regain their lord,
while Olaf and Ottar were smiting unceasingly. Only Prat was gone,
while now our whole line was of spearmen and vikings mingled, and
the Danish line was in no sort of order, but I thought they
prepared for another rush on us.

Then it came, and we were driven back fighting; it slackened, and
we took our ground again. And then I know not what sign Olaf saw in
the faces of the Danes before him, but suddenly he spoke, and our
war horns brayed. Then Ottar raised the standard and pointed it
forward, and there rose a thundering cheer from our whole line as
we charged and swept the Danes before us, spear and axe and sword
cleaving their way unchecked. And surely sword Foe's Bane wiped out
the dishonour of biding in a foeman's power that day.

Then rode our horsemen among the disordered crowd, and that was the
end. The Danes broke and fled, and Olaf had won his seventh battle,
and I had seen victory at last; moreover the sword of Thorgeir was
in my hand.

The light-armed men and the riders followed the flying Danes, and
Olaf sheathed his red sword with the light of victory shining on
his