flee fell where they stood, and scarcely struck a blow. Only the captain
of the ship, knowing that all was lost, turned and threw a spear in the
Wanderer's face. But he watched the flash of the bronze and stooped
his head, so that the spear struck only the golden helm and pierced it
through, but scarcely grazed his head. Now the Wanderer sprang on the
Sidonian captain, and smote him with the flat of his sword so that he
fell senseless on the deck, and then he bound him hand and foot with
cords as he himself had been bound, and made him fast to the iron bar in
the hold. Next he gathered up the dead in his mighty arms, and set them
against the bulwarks of the fore-deck--harvesting the fruits of War.
Above the deck the man who had crept along the yard was hanging by his
two hands which the spear had pinned together to the yard.

"Art thou there, friend?" cried the Wanderer, mocking him. "Hast thou
chosen to stay with me rather than go with thy friends, or seek new
service? Nay, then, as thou art so staunch, abide there and keep a good
look-out for the river mouth and the market where thou shalt sell me for
a great price." So he spoke, but the man was already dead of pain and
fear. Then the Wanderer unbuckled his golden armour, which clanged upon
the deck, and drew fresh water from the hold to cleanse himself, for
he was stained like a lion that has devoured an ox. Next, with a golden
comb he combed his long dark curls, and he gathered his arrows out of
the bodies of the dead, and out of the thwarts and the sides of the
ship, cleansed them, and laid them back in the quiver. When all this
was ended he put on his armour again; but strong as he was, he could not
tear the spear from the helm without breaking the gold; so he snapped
the shaft and put on the helmet with the point of the javelin still
fixed firm in the crest, as Fate would have it so, and this was the
beginning of his sorrows. Next he ate meat and bread, and drank wine,
and poured forth some of the wine before his gods. Lastly he dragged