in two, so that he died. But even as he fell, a man, it may have been friend or foe, for the moon was sinking and the darkness grew dense, thrust a spear into Ragnar's back, and he was carried, dying, to his own vessel by those who remained to him.
Then that fight ceased, for all Athalbrand's people were dead or wounded to the death. Meanwhile, on the right, I was fighting the ship that was commanded by Steinar, for it was fated that we two should be thrown together. Here also the struggle was desperate. Steinar and his company boarded at the prow, but I and my men, charging up both boards, drove them back again. In that charge it is true that I, Olaf, fighting madly, as was my wont when roused, killed three of the Lesso folk with the Wanderer's sword. Still I see them falling one by one. Followed by six of my people, I sprang on to the raised prow of Steinar's ship. Just then the grapnels parted, and there we were left, defending ourselves as best we could. My mates got their oars and once more brought our boat alongside. Grapple they could not, because the irons were lost. Therefore, in obedience to the order which I shouted to them from the high prow of the enemy's ship, they began to hurl their ballast stones into her, and thus stove out her bottom, so that in the end she filled and sank.
Even while she was down the fray went on. Nearly all my people were down; indeed but two remained to me when Steinar, not knowing who I was, rushed up and, having lost his sword, gripped me round the middle. We wrestled, but Steinar, who was the stronger, forced me back to the bulwarks and so overboard. Into the sea we went together just as the ship sank, drawing us down after her. When we rose Steinar was senseless, but still clinging to me as I caught a rope that was thrown to me with my right hand, to which the Wanderer's sword was hanging by a leathern loop.
The end of it was that I and the senseless Steinar were both drawn back to my own ship just as the darkness closed in.
An hour later came the dawn, showing a sad sight. My father, Thorvald's, ship and one of Athalbrand's lay helpless, for all, or nearly all, their crews were dead, while the other had drifted off and was now half a mile away.
Ragnar's ship was still grappled to its foe. My own was perhaps in the best case, for here over twenty men were left unhurt, and another ten whose wounds were light. The rest were dead or dying.
I sat on a bench in the waist of the ship, and at my feet lay the man who had been dragged from the sea with me. I thought that this man was dead till the first red rays of dawn lit upon his face, whereon he sat up, and I saw that he was Steinar.
"Thus we meet again, my brother," I said in a quiet voice. "Well, Steinar, look upon your work." And I pointed to the dead and dying and to the ships around, whence came the sound of groans.
Steinar stared at me and asked in a thick voice:
"Was it with you, Olaf, that I fell into the sea?"
"Even so, Steinar."
"I knew it not in the darkness, Olaf. If I had known, never would I have lifted sword against you."
"What did that matter, Steinar, when you had already pierced my heart, though not with a sword?"
At these words Steinar moaned aloud, then said:
"For the second time you have saved my life."
"Aye, Steinar; but who knows whether I can do so for a third time? Yet take comfort, for if I may I will, for thus shall I be best avenged."
"A white vengeance," said Steinar. "Oh, this is not to be borne." And drawing a knife he wore at his girdle, he strove to kill himself.
But I, who was watching, snatched it away, then gave an order.
"Bind this man and keep him safe. Also bring him drink and a cloak to cover him."
"Best kill the dog," grumbled the captain, to whom I spoke.
"I kill that one who lays a finger on him," I replied.
Someone whispered into the captain's ear, whereon he nodded and laughed savagely.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "I am a thickhead. I had forgotten Odin and his sacrifice. Yes, yes, we'll keep the traitor safe."
So they bound Steinar to one of the benches and gave him ale and covered him with a blood-stained cloak taken from a dead man.
I also drank of the ale and drew a cloak about me, for the air was keen. Then I said,
"Let us go to the other ships and see what has chanced there."
They got out the oars and rowed to Ragnar's vessel, where we saw men stirring.
"How went it with you?" I asked of one who stood upon the prow.
"Not so ill, Olaf," he answered. "We won, and but now, with the new light, have finished the game. They are all quiet yonder," he added, nodding at the vessel of Athalbrand, to which they were still grappled.
"Where is Ragnar?" I asked.
"Come on board and see," answered the man.
A plank was thrust out and I ran across it, fear gripping at my heart. Resting against the mast sat Ragnar, dying.
"Good morrow to you, Olaf," he gasped. "I am glad you live, that there may be one left to sit at Aar."
"What do you mean, my brother?"
"I mean, Olaf, that our father, Thorvald, is dead. They called it to us from yonder." And he pointed with his red sword to our father's ship, that lay side by side with one of Athalbrand's. "Athalbrand is dead, for I slew him, and ere the sun is well clear of the sea I also shall be dead. Oh, weep not, Olaf; we have won a great fight, and I travel to Valhalla with a glorious company of friends and foes, there to await you. I say that had I lived to be old, never could I have found a better death, who then at last might have died like a cow. Get the ships to Fladstrand, Olaf, and gather more men to put all Lesso to the sword. Give us good burial, Olaf, and build a great mound over us, that we may stand thereon at moonrise and mock the men of Lesso as they row past, till Valhalla is full and the world dies. Is Steinar dead? Tell me that Steinar is dead, for then I'll speak with him presently."
"No, Ragnar, I have taken Steinar captive."
"Captive! Why captive? Oh, I understand; that he may lie on Odin's altar. Friends, swear to me that Steinar shall lie on Odin's altar, Steinar, the bride-thief, Seiner the traitor. Swear it, for I do not trust this brother of mine, who has woman's milk in his breasts. By Thor, he might spare him if he had his way. Swear it, or I'll haunt your beds o' nights and bring the other heroes with me. Swift now, while my ears are open."
Then from both ships rose the cry of
"We swear! Fear not, Ragnar, we swear."
"That's well," said Ragnar. "Kiss me now, Olaf. Oh! what is it that I see in your eyes? A new light, a strange light! Olaf, you are not one of us. This time is not your time, nor this place your place. You travel to the end by another road. Well, who knows? At that end we may meet again. At least I love you."
Then he burst into a wild war song of blood and vengeance, and so singing sank down and died.
Afterwards, with much labour, I and the men who were left roped together our vessels, and to them those that we had captured, and when a favouring wind arose, sailed back for Fladstrand. Here a multitude awaited us, for a fishing-boat had brought tidings of the great sea battle. Of the hundred and fifty men who had sailed in my father, Thorvald's, ships sixty were dead and many others wounded, some of them to death. Athalbrand's people had fared even worse, since those of Thorvald had slain their wounded, only one of his vessels having escaped back to Lesso, there to tell the people of that island and Iduna all that had happened. Now it was a land of widows and orphans, so that no man need go wooing there for long, and of Aar and the country round the same song was sung. Indeed, for generations the folk of those parts must have told of the battle of Lesso, when the chiefs, Thorvald and Athalbrand, slew each other upon the seas at night because of a quarrel about a woman who was known as Iduna the Fair.
On the sands of Fladstrand my mother, the lady Thora, waited with the others, for she had moved thither before the sailing of the ships. When mine, the first of them, was beached, I leapt