Then gathered straight the leaders of the folk Their mighty troops; unto the prison strong The faithless host of heathen warriors Came fully armed, where late their captive thralls 1070 Had suffered woe within the prison mirk. They weened and wished, those stubborn-hearted foes, That they might make those foreign men their meat, Food for the multitude; their hope was vain, For, coming with their troops, those spearmen fierce Found prison-doors wide open, and the work Of hammers all unloosed, the watchmen dead. So back they turned, those luckless warriors, Robbed of their joy, to bear the tidings sad; They told the folk that of the stranger men, 1080 The men of foreign speech, not one they found Remaining in that prison-house alive; But there upon the ground all stained with gore, Lifeless the watchmen lay, robbed of their souls, Mere slaughtered bodies. At that sudden news Dismayed was many a captain of the host, Sad and cast down at thoughts of famine stern, That pale guest at the board. No better way They knew than on the dead to make their feast For their own sustenance; in a single hour 1090 The bed of death was spread by cruel fate For all those watchmen. Then, as I have heard, A gathering of the townsmen was proclaimed; The heroes came, a host of warriors Riding on horses, brave men on their steeds Exchanging speech; skilled were they at the spear. So in the meeting-place the people all Were gathered, and they bade the lot decide Among them, who should first give up his life 1100 For food unto the rest; they cast the lots With hellish craft; before their heathen gods They counted them. Behold, the lot did fall Upon an aged chieftain, one who was A counselor among the noble lords, In front rank of the host. Soon was he bound In fetters fast, despairing of his life. Then cried that chieftain fierce with voice of woe, Proclaiming he would give his own young son Into their power as ransom for his life. 1110 With thankful hearts they took his offering, For greedily they lusted after food, Sad-minded men; no joy had they in wealth, Nor hope in hoarded riches; they were sore Oppressed with hunger, for the famine dire Held cruel sway. Then many a warrior And hero battle-bold was fired in heart To struggle for the life of that young man; The sign of woe was published far and wide Throughout the town to many a hero brave, 1120 That they should seek in troops the young man's death, That, young and old, they should receive their share As food to keep their lives. The heathen priests Straightway collected there a multitude Of dwellers in that town; loud shouts arose.