“I bear you word from King Uffi,” he said boldly. “He dares you to meet him man to man.”
“Whatever the outcome, it would not quiet our followers,” Hadding answered slowly.
“No. Let them clash. But the way to him shall stay as open for you as he can keep it.”
“Then I will take it,” Hadding said. “Tell King Uffi that I look forward.”
The messenger nodded and rode back. Hadding gazed after him. “Uffi is a worthier foe than I thought,” he murmured. “Whoever fells him will win a great name. He shall have thanks for that.”
The ranks were taking shape. Riders went aside, dismounted, tethered their steeds, and came back. For a little, only the rising chop on the water stirred, only the wind and the nearing thunder spoke. Wrack hid the sun. Lightning flared in the clouds.
Horns sounded. The hosts roared and broke into a trot. They shocked together.
The two big men at the Danish forefront smashed with axes. One knocked a sword aside and bit through the bone of the leg beneath. The other clove a shield and sent the bearer staggering backward, to tangle with those behind him. The four Danes in the second row smote rightward, leftward, and ahead. The weight of those at their backs helped press them forward. In and in the swine array drove.
The Swedish ranks buckled and split. No longer did man stand side by side with man. Warriors milled about, striking where they could, each for himself. From the Danish wings arrows sleeted, slingstones hailed.
Hadding had taken the right end of his fourth row. That kept his unshielded side open to attack; but the men behind were ready to cut down or cast a spear into anyone who came at him. All those closest to him were from the pick of his housecarles. The man on his left upheld his banner. Its raven flew wildly in the wind.
Before the onslaught he had marked King Uffi’s. As he hewed he kept an eye on it, where it swayed and flapped above the helmets. The Swede-king did likewise. By jags and jerks they drew nearer one another.
Lightning sheeted. For that blink of time the strait shone molten. Thunder crashed down the heights of heaven. Rain fell in a flood whipped by the storm. Men fought half-blinded. Soon streams ran around the fallen, washing away their blood.
The tide of battle swept clear the ground between Hadding and Uffi. The Dane-king caught the arm of his banner bearer, pointed, and loped from the wedge. After him dashed those men he had told to go always with him. By then it mattered little. The swine array was breaking up into bands, for only thus could most of the warriors now get at foemen hopelessly scattered.
The last of Uffi’s guards had made a shield wall around their lord. A score or so, they outnumbered by a few Hadding’s oncoming gang. Rain runneled down them. Their iron shimmered with it. Whenever lightning glared, each sword or spearhead stood forth stark in sight. Thunder hammered the world.
The wall parted. Out from its midst trod Uffi. Bearlike he hunched, waiting. The top of his shield was in splinters and the rain coursed red from a gash on his right cheek, for he had fought hardily himself. But it was no weakening wound, and the sword that he gripped was heavier than most.
“Strike at the others,” Hadding called over his shoulder to his men. “That one is mine.”
He stopped a yard or two short. Through seven lightning flashes they stood and stared, feet braced in the mire. “I think you ken me,” said the Dane-king across the wind-howl. “I am Hadding Gramsson, whom you have sought for so long.”
The Swede-king nodded. “And I am Uffi Asmundsson,” he answered. “Hadding the Halt, this day you shall go down hell-road with the limp my father gave you.”
“I think you will go first,” said Hadding, “but we shall see.”
He took a step forward. His blade whirred. Uffi caught it in his shield. He cut at a leg while he tried to twist the sword from Hadding’s hand. Hadding had already slacked the thews in his other leg. He swung aside and the blow missed. Nor had he driven his own edge too deeply into the wood. He had hewn slantwise, to strike across the grain, and merely nicked it. With nothing to drag at, Uffi’s twist swept his shield aside, baring the arm behind it. Before he could bring it back, Hadding had slashed from elbow to wrist.
Uffi lowered his head and bored in. Iron banged and rang. Hadding’s sword found only helmet or byrnie. Uffi struck Hadding on the left thigh. There likewise ringmail turned the edge, but it was a mighty blow. With no padding beneath, that low down, it bruised like a slingstone on bare flesh. Hadding faltered. Barely did he get his shield between Uffi’s blade and his own neck. Uffi chopped at his calf. Hadding sidestepped, but his lame foot betrayed him. He slipped on the mud and went over.
Uffi yelped and moved in to hack him from above. Hadding rolled onto his back. His two-legged kick got Uffi in the belly. The Yngling fell too. He was up on his knees as fast as the other man. For a while, kneeling, the two flailed.
Hadding worked his way backward. When he knocked Uffi’s swordpoint to the ground, he could leap up. The Swede swung at his shin. Awaiting that, he blocked with his blade. His right boot dug into the mire. It flung a spattering gob into his foeman’s eyes.
Uffi screamed. Before he could see again, Hadding caught him once more on the left forearm. This time the sword hit better. Blood spurted. The shield fell free.
Rain flooded Uffi’s face clean.
