ord-stroke be told of in such a medley?) they drew the death-ring
around the Romans that were before them, and slew them all to the last
man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward of them of the North gate,
who still stood before Hiarandi's onset. There again was no long tale to
tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning the gate, and the wall was cleared
of the Roman shot-fighters, and the Markmen were standing on the top
thereof, and casting down on the Romans spears and baulks of wood and
whatsoever would fly. There again were the Romans all slain or put out
of the fight, and the two bands of the kindred joined together, and with
what voices the battle-rage had left them cried out for joy and fared on
together to help to bind the sheaves of war which Thiodolf's sickle had
reaped. And now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they still
fought in knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed and thrust
without more thought or will than the stone has when it leaps adown the
hill-side after it has first been set agoing.

But now the garth was fairly won and Thiodolf saw that there was no hope
for the Romans drawing together again; so while the kindreds were busied
in hewing down those knots of desperate men, he gathered to him some of
the wisest of his warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf and Grani the
Grey, the deft wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously hurt by a
spear and was out of the battle), and drave a way through the confused
turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made straight for the
Man's-door of the Hall. Soon he was close thereto, having hewn away all
fleers that hindered him, and the doorway was before him. But on the
threshold, the fire and flames of the kindled hall behind him, stood the
Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned armour and surcoat of sea-born purple;
the man was cool and calm and proud, and a mocking smile was on his face:
and he bore his bright blade unbloodied in his hand.

Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their eyes met; it had gone hard
with the War-duke, and those eyes glittered in his pale face, and his
teeth were close set together; though he had fought wisely, and for life,
as he who is most valiant ever will do, till he is driven to bay like the
lone wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. His helm
and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought coat,
but the work of Ivar's hand: the blood was running down fr