And then the war game and the man's game began in good earnest, and the King cried to his army to go forward down the slope on which they stood, and meet the charge; and the war-horns sounded, and the English war-cry rolled to the air, affrighting even the eagles who came to the slaughter; and rank met rank, and the thirsty land drank deep its fill of red blood. Now Guthrun had taken the old Danish plan of forming his men wedge-shaped, and seeking to drive them into the heart of the Saxon ranks, and to cast them into disorder. But Wulnoth knew of that plan, for he had so fought himself in the old days; and he had spoken to the King of a way to thwart it, and turn it to account--and thus did he and Osric, one on either side. Each had a chosen band, and each formed his men into the wedge, and at the point of either wedge was Osric and Wulnoth, one at each. They stood back hidden by the host, until Guthrun's warriors made their attack, and then they thundered out one on either side, and they smote the Danish wedge, and pierced it through and through, and broke the ranks and scattered the warriors, and gave them as prey to the sword and the axe; and there was no mercy asked, and no mercy given, for Dane and Saxon were alike minded to make an end of the matter. Woe for the Danes that day, for many of their mightiest leaders were slain, and sore Guthrun longed for the strong Hubba and the wise Ironbeard, and for Halfdane the Fierce, who had gone northward. Yet heroes were the holdas, and valiant deeds did they do; and many a good Saxon fell, and his bones are still far beneath the green fields which now grow o'er that field of slaughter. Here raged Hungwar like a berserker, and ever towards him did Wulnoth strive, and ever did it seem as if some invisible power kept them sundered. And there fought Guthrun, his eyes flashing, his teeth gnashing, wielding his man-feller, a great iron mace fully twenty pounds' weight, beneath whose blows the stoutest helm cracked like a nutshell, and the strongest fell as the ox falls in the shambles. And there, too, was a young holda, Hastings by name, who in after years spread fire and sword through the land; and grim old Harold Blackfang, and Forkbeard the One-eyed, and many a mighty one who played the man's game with fierce joy, and piled the slain high along his path. But the Saxons were mighty also, and the King was where the battle was thickest, and with him Osric, and Ethelred, and Borric, and Abbot Hugoline clad in war gear and doing his part like a man and hero; and with them many a noble thane, and many a sethcundman; and each did mighty deeds that day, and made the sword sing a good song, and drove the vikings before them like sheep.