“Back, prince, or thou shalt die,” said Feargus once more, wishing to spare the spilling of blood. Drunk and mad with anger, however, the prince heeded not, but laid his steel against that of Feargus, though it was only a moment ere the sword of Feargus was buried in his body, and the blood of him leaped up suddenly from his mouth and, to the horror of his men, he fell back dead. Then Feargus tried to stop the Northumbrians, stout fighting men and big of body, but they would not hearken to him, coming on crying, “Down with him! he hath killed the prince!” They pressed against him on the right hand and the left, but so close the one upon the other that they had little space to move, while lightly Feargus swung his brand from behind the benches, so that they could not get into him, and legs and arms were shorn in its sweep, until there lay before him a confused and bloody mound, mixed up with wine cups and meat and drink and table gear, and still the Picts and Britons withheld from the strife. But Feargus knew that the fight must go against him, so thick and fast they came, wounding and trampling on each other in their eagerness to get at him. Then, wounded and weary of so much sword play, in a pause of the fight he cried out in Gaelic, “Now here am I, Feargus, son to king Nechtan of the Hundred Fights, and kin to all ye Picts and Britons, and my lady is of the South Albanich by her mother’s side. Yet though of these Northumbrians I have slain some and maimed more, till I am sick of slaughter, yet my lady and I must fall, so many are our enemies. Never a friend shall he lack though all the world be turned against him who helpeth me.” Then said one to his fellows, “This must indeed be Feargus, king Penda’s captain, for never saw I man so giant-like or of so great strength and hardihood. All that man can do hath he done; shameful and unknightly of us were it to see him, our kin, who is in his right, destroyed.” Then many of the others agreed, though they were loth to join the fray, fearing for their own lands. But he who had spoken first, one Llewellin of the Gwynedd tribe of Britons whose lands had stretched up into the Lothians, stepped to the leader of the Northumbrians and for a moment the fight ceased. “Now,” said he, “ye men of Northumbria, ye have had your fill of fighting and it is dastardly of all ye to attack one, though he hath ye at some advantage. Surely your king would little admire ye.” “Hath he not slain our prince? right angry will be the king. Not one of us dare face him without this man’s head, stark though he be, for he is son to king Nechtan and it must be he who was Penda’s captain.” “Then no hand will we have in this unknightly work; but we bid ye desist, or an ye do not we will join with Feargus, and what could we not do under so mighty a leader?”