moments the flames began to do their destroying work.

An officer addressed Ragnar--"There are three thralls locked up in an
outbuilding, shall we leave them to burn?"

"Nay; why should we grudge them their miserable lives; they have done us
no harm."

At that moment a loud cry of dire alarm was heard, the trampling of an
immense body of horse followed--a rush into the hall already filled
with smoke--loud outcries and shrieks from without.

"What is the matter?" cried Ragnar.

"The Mercians are upon us! the Mercians are upon us!"

Ragnar rushed to the gateway, and a sight met his startled eyes he was
little prepared to behold.

The clouds had been driven away by a fierce wind, the moon was shining
brightly, and revealed a mighty host surrounding the hall on every side.
Every horse before the gateway was driven away or seized, every man who
had not saved himself by instant retreat had been slain by the advancing
host; without orders the majority of his men had repassed the moat, and
had already raised the drawbridge against the foe, not without the
greatest difficulty.

"Extinguish the fires which you have raised; let each man fight fire--
then we will fight the Mercians."