_How Hungwar was slain, and the Danes became Christians_
Now, on the morning following the battle, Wulnoth rose and donned his
war gear, and took his shield and his axe; and he girded on the great
sword which he had found amongst the ashes in ruined Lethra, and set
forth for the Danish camp; and with him went the King, and many a
thane, and a great following of the soldiers.
And to meet them came Guthrun and his holdas, and the Danish vikings;
and a truce was proclaimed, and death pronounced upon any man of either
camp who drew sword or made brawl that day.
And with Guthrun was brought Edgiva the Beautiful, guarded by the
vikings, and as the prisoner of Hungwar the son of Regner Lodbrok.
And Guthrun greeted the King as one brave soldier should greet another,
and he said--
"O King, thou who wast brave enough to come alone to my camp, had I
found thee then, surely I had slain thee; but if thou come to-day, thou
shalt be my guest, and with my own life will I defend thee."
And Alfred answered him with courteous words, and said that could they
only be at peace, they might be good friends, and feast together often.
Then did Osric stand forward, and make proclamation, and say that
Wulnoth the Wanderer declared Hungwar the son of Regner Lodbrok to be
nithing and coward, and slayer of bound men, and torturer of women and
children, and that he challenged him to battle alone, with none to help
either. And this was to be the condition of the fight--that if Hungwar
conquered Wulnoth, then he should have his life to keep or to take as
he chose, and he should receive again the Raven Banner, and Edgiva
should be his to sell or to keep. But if Wulnoth conquered, then Edgiva
should be given back to freedom to do as she list, and Hungwar's life
should belong to Wulnoth.
And the Danes and Saxons said ay to this, and swore to observe the
conditions; and then all men drew back, and looked on breathlessly, and
the two champions in their armor, and holding shield and axe, advanced
and stood alone. And Wulnoth said--
"At last, Hungwar! At last we meet, and I have lived for this, these
many years."
"And thou wilt rue it forever after," was the grim answer. "With this
axe will I slay thee."
"Seest thou this sword, Hungwar?" laughed Wulnoth. "I picked it from
the ruins of Lethra, and I have kept it for this day. It has wearied
waiting for a song to sing, and thou canst guess what song that will
be, and whose it will be. So now let us make an end of the matter, for
speech is for women, and deeds are for men."
So they drew near, and all there wondered how this fight would go. For
though Hungwar was older than Wulnoth, he had the strength of ten;
and his great muscles stood up in masses upon his arms, and with his
grizzled hair and flowing beard and moustache, he looked like Thor
himself in his might.
And from his parted lips his teeth showed yellow and black, like fangs;
and his bloodshot eyes rolled angrily; yet deep in his heart was there
a black fear, for he dreaded Wulnoth more than a score of champions.
And the Wanderer looked strong and mighty, and his face was full of joy
light; for was he not fighting for the freedom of his Princess, and now
avenging the wrongs done to her brother, and her father, and his own
father and mother?
"Art ready, Hungwar?" he asked, and Hungwar growled, "I am weary of
waiting," and smote at him a mighty blow, that seemed as if nought
could turn it aside.
But Wulnoth caught it on his shield; and then he struck in turn, and
Hungwar caught his blow and was unharmed.
Then like circles of light did the axes swing and play, and the blows
fell fast, and the shields groaned and shivered; and at last Hungwar's
split in twain, though it was of stoutest oak, and lined with triple
leather, and studded with massive bosses.
And when Wulnoth saw that, he swung his axe upwards with all his might,
and cut clean through the handle of Hungwar's weapon, as he had cut
through the handle of his mace in the long past; and then he cast aside
his own axe and shield, and drew the great sword with the blue-veined
steel blade; and he laughed aloud, though his breath came in deep
gasps, so hard had he labored.
"Now, Hungwar, now we have finished this child's play with shield and
axe; now draw thy sword and let us have a good song."
But Hungwar never answered; only he looked into Wulnoth's face with
eyes of hate, which were yet eyes of fear; for he who had never feared
death, now feared, not the dying, but the man by whom death was to come.
"The maiden will be freed," said the vikings to each other. "There is a
shadow on the spirit of Hungwar, and the Valkyres tarry for him."
And Hungwar drew his sword and advanced, and now it was a man's game,
indeed; for Hungwar's shield was broken, and Wulnoth had cast his
aside, and the great blades must be sword and shield alike.
They clashed together, and the sparks flew as from a smith's anvil;
and each champion strove, his eye fixed on his foe; and each knew that
death was near.
"By Thor!" growled Guthrun, "'t is a mighty fight, and one that it does
a man good to see. They are champions both." And to that a holda said--
"Ay, for Hungwar is fighting for life, and Wulnoth is fighting for
love; and methinks that love will win."
And presently Hungwar's sword was smitten from his hand, and all looked
for Wulnoth to make an end. But he cast aside his own sword, and with
his bare hands he gripped his foe; and they two strained and swayed in
their efforts; and Hungwar grinned in rage to think that Wulnoth was
putting him to shame by thus refusing to take advantage of him; and in
their struggling the berserker rage came upon him, and he bent forward
and gashed Wulnoth's cheek with his fangs, crying--
"A mark for a mark, Wanderer."
"And a dog's death for a mad dog who bites," cried Wulnoth angrily; and
he put out all his strength,--the strength which Osth the giant had
taught him--and he squeezed and squeezed, and Hungwar gasped, and smote
blindly with his fists, and his lips parted, and the foam came from
them, and it was tinged with blood.
And Wulnoth squeezed yet harder, and the muscles gave, and the great
bones yielded, and the ribs snapped; and Hungwar gave a gasp and became
limp, so that Wulnoth cast him helpless to the earth, and knelt beside
him.
"There, son of Regner!" he cried. "I have beaten thee with but my bare
hands. Now dost thou yield to me and sue for life?"
"Thus do I yield," answered Hungwar; and he raised himself and he
plucked a knife from his girdle where he had hidden it, though they had
agreed that they would wear no daggers, and he struck a bitter blow at
Wulnoth.
The Wanderer sprang back only just in time, and even so the knife left
a crimson trail on his brown arm; and he seized his sword from where he
had flung it down.
"I swore to slay thee with this," he cried; "and yet but now I thought
to spare thee, seeing that I have shamed thee who hast bitten like a
dog and stabbed in secret like a nithing. It is thy fate, and thou
shalt have it. Die, Hungwar, and go to thy brother. This is for my
father and mother, and for Edgiva and Guthred, and for their father,
the King of Lethra. Thus is the debt paid and the story ended." And
with that he smote, and Hungwar the mighty viking lord fell back slain.
Then did Alfred speak with Guthrun and ask him whether he would yield;
and Guthrun said nay, but that he would go back to his camp and make
the best stand that he might.
And Edgiva the Beautiful was set free; and she thanked Guthrun for his
kindness, and went back with Wulnoth and the King; while the vikings
took up the body of Hungwar and buried it nigh that place, and raised a
mound over it, and sang his death-song with dark and gloomy hearts.
Now, back in his camp, Guthrun thought dark thoughts, for his heart
was heavy, and he saw not what to do. And the Saxon King placed men all
round, so that none might come in and none might go out; and so for a
fortnight did things stand, and there was no food amongst the Danes,
and they tasted of the hunger which they had so often made others
endure.
Each day did the Saxon King send and ask them whether they would yield
to him, and each day they sent back an answer that they would not. But
Alfred made no attempt to attack them, for he knew that hunger must do
its work in the end.
And at the end of that fortnight Guthrun called a great meeting of all
his warriors, and asked them what should be done--
"We wait in vain for aid," he said, "and this Alfred grows in power
each day. Men have wearied of our cruelty and hate us for our deeds;
and methinks sometimes that I hate myself for having taken part in some
things that have gone. Now, what can we do? We can stay till hunger
slays us--but that is not a warrior's death."
"We can go forth sword in hand and die like heroes," said one holda;
and the others nodded.
"That is a hero death," Guthrun said, "but it is death, and life is
sweet."
"We may not go back to the Northland with this shame tale," said
another. "Landless and nameless should we then be, and all men would
scoff at us."
"This England is a fair land, and plenteous," said Guthrun, "and here
it would be good to stay."
"And here we cannot stay, unless it be in the death-sleep," was the
reply he received.
"Softly," he replied. "Here we can abide as Alfred's thanes. If we
swear obedience to him, he will give us land, and we can live in peace;
and that is better than this perpetual slaying and harrying, and better
than being slain."
Then the holdas were silent, and they pondered; and at last one said
gravely--
"Now, Guthrun, the matter is thus. Alfred may do as thou sayest if we
are Christians; but Alfred will not do so if we are worshippers of our
gods. For myself," and he laughed bitterly, "I care little what gods I
worship, and the gods of our land have failed us."
Now again all the holdas bent their brows and thought. And Guthrun
spoke and said that long he had pondered this thing; and that he felt
that the gods of the Northland were no gods, but only the creatures of
sagas; but that the Lord Christ was a God indeed, who had been on earth
amongst men, and had been spoken with.
And he told them how the maiden Edgiva had spoken with him concerning
the matter; and how she had said that Wulnoth the Wanderer was a
Christian. And he had determined to abide by the issue of the fight;
and to say that did Wulnoth conquer, then the Lord Christ was the true
God; and that if Hungwar conquered, that the gods of the Northland were
the mightier.
"Ye know how the fight went," he said--"how Hungwar was shamed, and
broken, and slain. To my mind, the Christians' God is the true God; and
if Alfred will but make terms with us, and accept our service, I, for
my part, am right ready to accept the faith of this land and remain
here in peace."
Then rose one old graybeard of a warrior, and he spoke, leaning on his
axe, and his voice was deep and full, and he said--
"What is life, O holdas? We know not. Nor know we what death is,
whether it be a beginning or an end. Whence come we? We know not; nor
know we whither we go, beyond the wild dreams of the ancient times.
'T is as when we sit around the welcome fire in the dark winter, and
without the tempest roars. Lo, through the window a little bird comes,
storm-driven and nigh perished; and for a little space it flutters in
the light and warmth, and then flies out into the darkness again. So
are we. For a little space we are here--we came from a darkness of
which we know nothing; and presently the death-song is sung, and into
the darkness we go again. Now, O holdas, if this Christian creed can
tell us aught of the darkness, and make our pathway light, then I say
it is a good religion, and one for men to think of; and I for one say
Skoal to the Lord Christ if this be so."[11]
Long and earnestly did the Danes ponder; and finally Guthrun himself
went to King Alfred, and spoke with him, saying that for a man to
change his religion simply to save his life was a poor thing, and that
he and his must know what they did, ere they accepted the Lord Christ
for their God.
And then did the King rejoice, not only because he was glad that the
Danes should become Christians, but also because it helped him from a
hard problem. For, though he had conquered the Danes, he saw not how to
utterly make an end of them and drive them out; and if they would stay
and be his servants, then they would be of help to him indeed.
So he talked long with Guthrun, and he sent priests and learned men to
converse with the holdas; and the end of the matter was that Guthrun
and all his host said that they would put aside their gods, and become
Christians.
And then there was rejoicing throughout the land; and on one day the
host were baptized, and Wulnoth and Guthrun at the same time, and King
Alfred became their godfather and sponsor; and together did they kneel
and receive blessing, and swear to live to the honor of Christ the Lord.
Then did King Alfred give broad lands to the Danes; and those lands in
part which were most open to attack from other invaders. East Anglia
and part of Mercia did fall to their lot, and in the very place where
they had carried fire and sword and slaughtered King Edmund, did
Guthrun build churches and walk in God's way.
And these lands which the King gave to Guthrun, together with the land
of Northumbria, became known as the Danelagh; and so it continued for
many years.
And of Guthrun but little more is said; only this, that during the rest
of his life he faithfully kept his promise, and never rebelled against
Alfred the King, but ruled his people wisely, and was the King's
liegeman and friend.
Now, this is how Wulnoth went holmgang with Hungwar the Dane, and slew
him, and set Edgiva the Beautiful free; and this is how Guthrun and his
host turned to the Lord Christ, and dwelt in the Danelagh.