For the Danes had grown over-confident, and had given their time to the wine horn, and had neglected their war tools in peace time; and now, instead of shrieking women and fleeing churls, they had men burning with the memories of many wrongs endured, and determined to wipe the stain of the invader from English ground. Backward and forward did the fight sway, and none would yield; and the leaders called to encourage their men, and plunged into the peril heedlessly; and so, for two long hours did the war game go, and then, sullenly but surely, the Danes were driven back, and the Saxons pressed on with shouts of victory, while thousands lay there gasping their life away, or still in the death-sleep. And now again did Wulnoth rage like a lion; and he shouted to Hungwar to stay and meet him face to face; but Hungwar only glared at him, and slew those near, showing his teeth like an old she-bear when she stands over her cub. "Press on, press on," cried the King. "The victory is ours. One more good stroke, a strong stroke, and they flee. Press on, my men, for our dear Lord, and for England." Then, led by the King himself, and by Hugoline, the Saxons charged, and the Danes broke and fled, though Guthrun cried aloud and beat his breast in his grief; and though Hungwar smote down his own men, when they turned their backs to the foe. But there was no staying them, for their hearts were gone, and they said that now the Raven Banner was gone, Odin fought for them no more; and so, pursued by the victorious Saxons, they, who had never fled, now ran like the flock before the sheep-dogs; and the leaders and the holdas were borne along with them, grief torturing their hearts, and shame on their faces; and thus they were chased even to their very camp; and then King Alfred gave the signal and ordered the pursuit to cease, for he saw that there was danger, and that the soldiers might fall into a trap did they go on. And outside the camp Wulnoth stood, his axe on his shoulder, all jagged and notched, and covered with a dreadful hue; and he cried aloud to the fleeing Danes, and said-- "Ho! sons of Odin, why flee ye so swiftly? Tell ye that one desires to speak with the son of Regner. Long this day have I sought him, yet with no avail; and now I would meet him and give him greeting, and send him on that journey on which I have sent his brother, Hubba." So he shouted, and the vikings hung their heads, and muttered that it was shame that the son of Regner did not go out and meet this champion; but Hungwar heeded not, and only said that he could wound Wulnoth more surely in another way. And on the steep mounds he stood, and answered, and called Wulnoth the shameless son of a thrall. "See, thou Wanderer, what a dainty prize I have here!" he cried. "I sold the brother into slavery; and the sister shall be my maiden now." And then, to Wulnoth's dismayed eyes, there appeared Edgiva, held by two rude vikings.