"Ay, for Hungwar is fighting for life, and Wulnoth is fighting for love; and methinks that love will win." And presently Hungwar's sword was smitten from his hand, and all looked for Wulnoth to make an end. But he cast aside his own sword, and with his bare hands he gripped his foe; and they two strained and swayed in their efforts; and Hungwar grinned in rage to think that Wulnoth was putting him to shame by thus refusing to take advantage of him; and in their struggling the berserker rage came upon him, and he bent forward and gashed Wulnoth's cheek with his fangs, crying-- "A mark for a mark, Wanderer." "And a dog's death for a mad dog who bites," cried Wulnoth angrily; and he put out all his strength,--the strength which Osth the giant had taught him--and he squeezed and squeezed, and Hungwar gasped, and smote blindly with his fists, and his lips parted, and the foam came from them, and it was tinged with blood. And Wulnoth squeezed yet harder, and the muscles gave, and the great bones yielded, and the ribs snapped; and Hungwar gave a gasp and became limp, so that Wulnoth cast him helpless to the earth, and knelt beside him. "There, son of Regner!" he cried. "I have beaten thee with but my bare hands. Now dost thou yield to me and sue for life?" "Thus do I yield," answered Hungwar; and he raised himself and he plucked a knife from his girdle where he had hidden it, though they had agreed that they would wear no daggers, and he struck a bitter blow at Wulnoth. The Wanderer sprang back only just in time, and even so the knife left a crimson trail on his brown arm; and he seized his sword from where he had flung it down. "I swore to slay thee with this," he cried; "and yet but now I thought to spare thee, seeing that I have shamed thee who hast bitten like a dog and stabbed in secret like a nithing. It is thy fate, and thou shalt have it. Die, Hungwar, and go to thy brother. This is for my father and mother, and for Edgiva and Guthred, and for their father, the King of Lethra. Thus is the debt paid and the story ended." And with that he smote, and Hungwar the mighty viking lord fell back slain. Then did Alfred speak with Guthrun and ask him whether he would yield; and Guthrun said nay, but that he would go back to his camp and make the best stand that he might. And Edgiva the Beautiful was set free; and she thanked Guthrun for his kindness, and went back with Wulnoth and the King; while the vikings took up the body of Hungwar and buried it nigh that place, and raised a mound over it, and sang his death-song with dark and gloomy hearts. Now, back in his camp, Guthrun thought dark thoughts, for his heart was heavy, and he saw not what to do. And the Saxon King placed men all round, so that none might come in and none might go out; and so for a fortnight did things stand, and there was no food amongst the Danes, and they tasted of the hunger which they had so often made others endure.