He trod close. Sword clanged on sword. It was hard and dangerous work until Uffi sagged. He lay in the mire while the last of his blood drained off into the gurgling brown streamlets. Rain beat over him. Lightninglight flamed on his mail.

Hadding looked about. The Swedish guards had fought stoutly, slain four Danes and wounded all the rest. But they took worse losses, and when they saw their king go down, they broke and ran. Their foes were too worn out to give chase.

Everywhere over the field, their fellows were likewise in flight. None stayed behind but the crippled and the dead. Hadding set about getting his troop back together.

The storm passed. The night was calm. Morning shone lovely. Mists steamed low above the battleground, where birds flocked and cried. Hadding gave his men a day of ease, except for those who buried fallen friends. Himself he ordered that King Uffi’s body be undressed, washed, and shrouded in three good cloaks.

Next morning he sent most of his followers home under their shire-leaders. With three hundred long-seasoned warriors he bore northward. Taking remounts and pack horses for food and gear, they rode speedily. One horse bore King Uffi.

As Hadding had foreseen, they met no trouble along the way. Beaten men were straggling back to their dwellings by ones or two or threes. Nothing was left that could stand against even so small a troop as his. Nevertheless he kept them from doing any harm except, maybe, now and then stealing a chicken or a pig. He had a higher end in mind.

And thus after a few days they came to Uppsala. That was on another rainy day, but a mild one. Only a drizzle grayed the land, cool and still. It was as if the earth mourned. The town across the river stood dim, almost dreamlike.

Fast though the Danes went, word of them was bound to have gone ahead. Some scores of warriors waited before the bridge. Hunding sat mounted in front. He rode forward, sword in sheath, alone. Hadding rode to meet him. They halted.

“Be welcome, if that is your wish,” said Hunding low. Raindrops glistened in the hair of his bare head and trickled down his face.

“It is,” answered Hadding as quietly.

“You are bold to come into our lair with no more strength than this.”

“I thought it would be strength enough to break through anything we might find.”

“Yet you did not await more fighting.”

“No. I have heard how it is with you.”

Hunding nodded. He pointed offside. “See yonder,” he said. Charred snags stuck out of an ash heap. “I’ve had the house of shame burned.”

Hadding’s voice warmed. “That was good of you. For my part, I’ve brought your brother, Uffi, home.” Hunding stared. “He was a fearless man, who did mighty deeds,” Hadding said. “I would give him his honor.”