Then gathered straight the leaders of the folk
Their mighty troops; unto the prison strong
The faithless host of heathen warriors
Came fully armed, where late their captive thralls 1070
Had suffered woe within the prison mirk.
They weened and wished, those stubborn-hearted foes,
That they might make those foreign men their meat,
Food for the multitude; their hope was vain,
For, coming with their troops, those spearmen fierce
Found prison-doors wide open, and the work
Of hammers all unloosed, the watchmen dead.
So back they turned, those luckless warriors,
Robbed of their joy, to bear the tidings sad;
They told the folk that of the stranger men, 1080
The men of foreign speech, not one they found
Remaining in that prison-house alive;
But there upon the ground all stained with gore,
Lifeless the watchmen lay, robbed of their souls,
Mere slaughtered bodies. At that sudden news
Dismayed was many a captain of the host,
Sad and cast down at thoughts of famine stern,
That pale guest at the board. No better way
They knew than on the dead to make their feast
For their own sustenance; in a single hour 1090
The bed of death was spread by cruel fate
For all those watchmen.

Then, as I have heard,
A gathering of the townsmen was proclaimed;
The heroes came, a host of warriors