The Tale Returns to the Springs—Describes a Great Land Fight, and Tells of a Peculiar Style of Extending Mercy to the Vanquished.  
In a previous chapter we left Skarpedin discussing with his chiefs the best mode of attacking the small band of his opponents in the pass of the Springs. They had just come to a decision, and were about to act on it, when they suddenly beheld six warships sweeping round the ness.
 
“Now will we have to change our plans,” said Skarpedin.
 
Thorvold agreed with this, and counselled getting on board their ships and meeting the enemy on the water; but the other objected, because he knew that while his men were in the act of embarking, Erling would sally forth and kill many of them before they could get away.
 
“Methinks,” said he, “I will take forty of my best men, and try to entice that fox out of his hole, before he has time to see the ships.”
 
“Grief only will come of that,” says Thorvold.
 
Skarpedin did not reply, but choosing forty of his stoutest carles he went to the pass and defied Erling to come out and fight.
 
“Now here am I, Erling, with forty men. Wilt thou come forth? or is thy title of Bold ill bestowed, seeing thou hast more men than I?”
 
“Ill should I deserve the title,” replies Erling, “if I were to meet thee with superior force.”
 
With that he chose thirty men, and, running down to the plain, gave the assault so fiercely that men fell fast on every side, and the Danes gave back a little. When they saw this, and that Erling and Thorer hewed men down wherever they went, the Danes made a shield circle round Skarpedin, as was the custom when kings went into battle; because they knew that if he fell there would be no one so worthy to guide them in the fight with the approaching longships. Thus they retreated, fighting. When Erling and his men had gone far enough, they returned to the pass, and cheered loudly as they went, both because of the joy of victory, and because they saw the warships of their friends coming into the bay.
 
King Haldor and his companions at once ran their ships on the beach near the mouth of the river, and, landing, drew them up, intending to fight on shore. Skarpedin did not try to prevent this, for he was a bold man, and thought that with so large a force he could well manage to beat the Northmen, if they would fight on level ground. He therefore drew up his men in order of battle at one end of the plain, and Haldor the Fierce, to whom was assigned the chief command, drew up the Northmen at the other end. Erling joined them with his band, and then it was seen that the two armies were not equal—that of the Northmen being a little smaller than the other.
 
Then Haldor said, “Let us draw up in a long line that they may not turn our flanks, as they have most men.”
 
This was done, and Haldor advanced into the plain and set up his banner. The Danes in like manner advanced and planted their banner, and both armies rushed to the attack, which was very sharp and bloody. Wherever the battle raged most fiercely there King Haldor and Erling were seen, for they were taller by half a head than most other men. Being clothed alike in almost every respect, they looked more like brothers than father and son. Each wore a gilt helmet, and carried a long shield, the centre of which was painted white, but round the edge was a rim of burnished steel. Each had a sword by his side, and carried a javelin to throw, but both depended chiefly on their favourite weapon, the battle-axe, for, being unusually strong, they knew that few men could withstand the weight of a blow from that. The defensive armour of father and son was also the same—a shirt of leather, sewed all over with small steel rings. Their legs were clothed in armour of the same kind, and a mantle of cloth hung from the shoulders of each.
 
Most of the chief men on both sides were armed in a similar way, though not quite so richly, and with various modifications; for instance, the helmet of Thorvold was of plain steel, and for ornament had the tail of the ptarmigan as its crest. Skarpedin’s, on the other hand, was quite plain, but partly gilded; his armour was of pieces of steel like fish scales sewed on a leathern shirt, and over his shoulders he wore as a mantle the skin of a wolf. His chief weapon was a bill—a sort of hook or short scythe fixed to a pole, and it was very deadly in his hands. Most of the carles and thralls were content to wear thick shirts of wolf and other skins, which were found to offer good resistance to a sword-cut, and some of them had portions of armour of various kinds. Their arms were spears, bows, arrows with stone heads, javelins, swords, bills, and battle-axes and shields.
 
When both lines met there was a hard fight. The combatants first threw their spears and javelins, and then drew their swords and went at each other in the greatest fury. In the centre Haldor and Erling went together in advance of their banner, cutting down on both sides of them. Old Guttorm Stoutheart went in advance of the right wing, also hewing down right and left. With him went Kettle Flatnose, for that ambitious thrall could not be made to remember his position, and was always putting himself in front of his betters in war; yet it is due to him to say that he kept modestly in the background in time of peace. To these was opposed Thorvold, with many of the stoutest men among the Danes.
 
Now, old Guttorm and Kettle pressed on so hard that they were almost separated from their men; and while Guttorm was engaged with a very tall and strong man, whom he had wounded severely more than once, another stout fellow came between him and Kettle, and made a cut at him with his sword. Guttorm did not observe him, and it seemed as if the old Stoutheart should get his death-wound there; but the thrall chanced to see what was going on. He fought with a sort of hook, like a reaping-hook, fixed at the end of a spear handle, with the cutting edge inside. The men of Horlingdal used to laugh at Kettle because of his fondness for this weapon, which was one of his own contriving; but when they did so, he was wont to reply that it was better than most other weapons, because it could not only make his friends laugh, but his enemies cry!
 
With this hook the thrall made a quick blow at the Dane; the point of it went down through his helmet into his brain, and that was his deathblow.
 
“Well done, Kettle!” cried old Guttorm, who had just cleft the skull of his opponent with his sword.
 
At this Thorvold ran forward and said:
 
“Well done it may be, but well had it been for the doer had it not been done. Come on, thou flatnose!”
 
“Now, thou must be a remarkably clever man,” retorted Kettle, with much of that rich tone of voice which, many centuries later, came to be known as “the Irish brogue”, “for it is plain ye know my name without being told it!”
 
So saying, with a sudden quick movement he got his hook round Thorvold’s neck.
 
“That is an ugly grip,” said Thorvold, making a fierce cut at the haft with his sword; but Kettle pulled the hook to him, and with it came the head, and that was Thorvold’s end.
 
While this was going on at the right wing, the left wing was led by Ulf of Romsdal and Glumm the Gruff; but Ulf’s men were not so good as Haldor’s men, for he was not so wise a man as Haldor, and did not manage his house so well.
 
It was a common saying among the people of Horlingdal that Haldor had under him the most valiant men in Norway—and as the master was, so were the men. Haldor never went to sea with less than a fully-manned ship of thirty benches of rowers, and had other large vessels and men to man them as well. One of his ships had thirty-two benches of rowers, and could carry at least two hundred men. He had always at home on his farm thirty slaves or thralls, besides other serving people, and about two hundred house-carles. He used to give his thralls a certain day’s work; but after it was done he gave them leave and leisure to work in the twilight and at night for themselves. He gave them arable land to sow corn in, and let them apply their crops to their own use. He fixed a certain quantity of work, by the doing of which his slaves might work themselves free; and this put so much heart into them that many of them worked themselves free in one year, and all who had any luck or pluck could work themselves free in three years. Ulf did this too, but he was not so wise nor yet so kind in his way of doing it. With the money thus procured Haldor bought other slaves. Some of his freed people he taught to work in the herring fishery; to others he taught some handicraft; in short, he helped all of them to prosperity; so that many of the best of them remained fast by their old master, although free to take service where they chose. Thus it was that his men were better than those of his neighbour.
 
Ulf’s men were, nevertheless, good stout fellows, and they fought valiantly; but it so happened that the wing of the enemy to which they were opposed was commanded by Skarpedin, of whom it was said that he was equal to any six men. In spite, therefore, of the courage and the strength of Ulf and Glumm, the Northmen in that part of the field began slowly to give back. Ulf and Glumm were so maddened at this that they called their men cowards, and resolved to go forward till they should fall. Uttering their war-cry, they made a desperate charge, hewing down men like stalks of corn; but although this caused the Danes to give way a little, they could not advance, not being well backed, but stood fighting, and merely kept their ground.
 
Now it had chanced shortly before this, that Haldor stayed his hand and drew back with Erling. They went out from the front of the fight, and observed the left wing giving way.
 
“Come, let us aid them,” cried Haldor.
 
Saying this he ran to the left wing, with Erling by his side. They two uttered a war-cry that rose high above the din of battle like a roar of thunder, and, rushing to the front, fell upon the foe. Their gilt helmets rose above the crowd, and their ponderous axes went swinging round their heads, continually crashing down on the skulls of the Danes. With four such men as Haldor, Erling, Ulf and Glumm in front, the left wing soon regained its lost ground and drove back the Danes. Nothing could withstand the shock. Skarpedin saw what had occurred, and immediately hastened to the spot where Haldor stood, sweeping down all who stood in his way.
 
“I have been searching for thee, Erling,” he cried, going up to Haldor, and launching a javelin.
 
Haldor caught it on his shield, which it pierced through, but did him no hurt.
 
“Mistaken thou art, but thou hast found me now,” cried Erling, thrusting his father aside and leaping upon the Dane.
 
Skarpedin changed his bill to his left hand, drew his sword, and made such a blow at his adversary, that the point cut right through his shield. With a quick turn of the shield, Erling broke the sword short off at the hilt. Skarpedin seized his bill and thrust so fiercely that it also went through the shield and stuck fast. Erling forced the lower end or point of his shield down into the earth, and so held it fast, dropped his axe, drew his sword, and made it flash so quick round his head that no one could see the blade. It fell upon Skarpedin’s neck and gave him a grievous wound, cutting right through his armour and deep into his shoulder blade.
 
A great cry arose at this. The Danes made a rush towards their chief, and succeeded in dragging him out of the fight. They put him on his shield and bore him off to his ship, which was launched immediately. This was the turning-point in the day. Everywhere the Danes fled to their ships pursued by the victors. Some managed to launch their vessels, others were not so fortunate, and many fell fighting, while a few were taken prisoners.
 
Foreseeing that this would be the result, Haldor and Erling called off their men, hastened on board their ships, and gave chase, while the rest of the force looked after the prisoners and the booty, and dressed their own and their comrades’ wounds.
 
“A bloody day this,” said Ulf to Guttorm, as the latter came up, wiping the blade of his sword.
 
“I have seen worse,” observed the old warrior, carefully returning his weapon to its scabbard.
 
“The Danes will long remember it,” observed Glumm. “The ravens will have a good feast to-night.”
 
“And Odin’s halls a few more tenants,” said Guttorm:
 
    “The Danes came here all filled with greed,
 
    And left their flesh the crows to feed.
 
“But what is to be done with these?” he added, pointing to the prisoners, about twenty of whom were seated on a log with their feet tied together by a long rope, while their hands were loose.
 
“Kill them, I suppose,” said Ulf.
 
There were thirty men seated there, and although they heard the words, they did not show by a single glance that they feared to meet their doom.
 
Just then Swart of the Springs came up. He had a great axe in his hands, and was very furious.
 
“Thou hast killed and burned my wife, children, and homestede,” he said fiercely, addressing the prisoner who sat at the end of the log, “but thou shalt never return to Denmark to tell it.”
 
He cut at him with the axe as he spoke, and the man fell dead. One after another Swart killed them. There was one who looked up and said—
 
“I will stick this fish bone that I have in my hand into the earth, if it be so that I know anything after my head is cut off.”
 
His head was immediately cut off, but the fish bone fell from his hand.
 
Beside him there sat a very handsome young man with long hair, who twisted his hair over his head, stretched out his neck, and said, “Don’t make my hair bloody.”
 
A man took the hair in his hands and held it fast. Then Swart hewed with his axe, but the Dane twitched his head back so strongly, that he who was holding his hair fell forward; the axe cut off both his hands, and stuck fast in the earth.
 
“Who is that handsome man?” asked Ulf.
 
The man replied with look of scorn, “I am Einar, the son of King Thorkel of Denmark; and know thou for a certainty that many shall fall to avenge my death.”
 
Ulf said, “Art thou certainly Thorkel’s son? Wilt thou now take thy life and peace?”
 
“That depends,” replied the Dane, “upon who it is that offers it.”
 
“He offers who has the power to give it—Ulf of Romsdal.”
 
“I will take it,” says he, “from Ulf’s hands.”
 
Upon that the rope was loosed from his feet, but Swart, whose vengeance was still unsatisfied, exclaimed—
 
“Although thou shouldst give all these men life and peace, King Ulf, yet will I not suffer Einar to depart from this place with life.”
 
So saying he ran at him with uplifted axe, but one of the viking prisoners threw himself before Swart’s feet, so that he tumbled over him, and the axe fell at the feet of a viking named Gills. Gills caught the axe and gave Swart his death-wound.
 
Then said Ulf, “Gills, wilt thou accept life?”
 
“That will I,” said he, “if thou wilt give it to all of us.”
 
“Loose them from the rope,” said Ulf.
 
This was done, and the men were set free.
 
Eighteen of the Danish vikings were killed, and twelve got their lives upon that occasion.