A square built, brown-bearded man with a red, angry face pushed his
way to the front of his men, and frowned at me.

"What will you? here am I," he said shortly.

One could understand his words well enough when face to face, for
he spoke in the mixed tongue that any Northman understands, the
plain words of which all our kin have in common.

"I am no foe of Alfred's," I said; "I do not know, therefore, why I
should fight you."

"Are you not for the Danes?" he said.

"I hate them more or less, and I have no traffic with them."

"Well, then, what will you?"

"You bade me yield, and therefore I am here. Now I think it is a
matter to be seen whether of us does so."

"It seems that you have slain about half my men," he said.
"Nevertheless, I do not give up without fighting for the rest of my
ship that you have not won."

"That is well said," I answered.

But the men were laughing, for Kolgrim had stooped, and, reaching
under an oar bench, had dragged out a rower by the neck. The man
swore and struggled; but Kolgrim hove him up, and lifted him over