Valour wins the prize, not sloth, and failure lacks renown.For one is followed by triumph and honour, the other by an unsightly life or by a stagnant end.I, who know not which way the issue of this duel inclines, dare not boldly anticipate that as a reward, of which I know not whether it be rightly mine.For one whose victory is doubtful may not seize the assured reward of the victor.I forbear, while I am not sure of the day, to claim firmly the title to the wreath.I refuse the gain, which may be the wages of my death as much as of my life.It is folly to lay hands on the fruit before it is ripe, and to be fain to pluck that which one is not yet sure is one's title.This hand shall win me the prize, or death." Having thus spoken, he smote the barbarian with his sword; but his fortune was tardier than his spirit; for the other smote him back, and he fell dead under the force of the first blow.Thus he was a sorry sight unto the Danes, but the Slavs granted their triumphant comrade a great procession, and received him with splendid dances.On the morrow the same man, whether he was elated with the good fortune of his late victory, or was fired with the wish to win another, came close to the enemy, and set to girding at them in the words of his former challenge.For, supposing that he had laid low the bravest of the Danes, he did not think that any of them would have any heart left to fight further with him upon his challenge.
Also, trusting that, now one champion had fallen, he had shattered the strength of the whole army, he thought that naught would be hard to achieve upon which his later endeavours were bent.For nothing pampers arrogance more than success, or prompts to pride more surely than prosperity.
So Rorik was vexed that the general courage should be sapped by the impudence of one man; and that the Danes, with their roll of victories, should be met presumptuously by those whom they had beaten of old; nay, should be ignominiously spurned; further, that in all that host not one man should be found so quick of spirit or so vigorous of arm, that he longed to sacrifice his life for his country.It was the high-hearted Ubbe who first wiped off this infamous reproach upon the hesitating Danes.For he was of great bodily strength and powerful in incantations.He also purposely asked the prize of the combat, and the king promised him the bracelets.Then said he: "How can I trust the promise when thou keepest the pledge in thine own hands, and dost not deposit the gift in the charge of another? Let there be some one to whom thou canst entrust the pledge, that thou mayst not be able to take thy promise back.For the courage of the champion is kindled by the irrevocable certainty of the prize." Of course it was plain that he had said this in jest; sheer courage had armed him to repel the insult to his country.But Rorik thought he was tempted by avarice, and was loth to seem as if, contrary to royal fashion, he meant to take back the gift or revoke his promise; so, being stationed on his vessel, he resolved to shake off the bracelets, and with a mighty swing send them to the asker.But his attempt was baulked by the width of the gap between them; for the bracelets fell short of the intended spot, the impulse being too faint and slack, and were reft away by the waters.For this nickname of Slyngebond, (swing-bracelet) clung to Rorik.But this event testified much to the valour of Ubbe.
For the loss of his drowned prize never turned his mind from his bold venture; he would not seem to let his courage be tempted by the wages of covetousness.So he eagerly went to fight, showing that he was a seeker of honour and not thc slave of lucre, and that he set bravery before lust of pelf; and intent to prove that his confidence was based not on hire, but on his own great soul.
Not a moment is lost; a ring is made; the course is thronged with soldiers; the champions engage; a din arises; the crowd of onlookers shouts in discord, each backing his own.And so the valour of the champions blazes to white-heat; falling dead under the wounds dealt by one another, they end together the combat and their lives.I think that it was a provision of fortune that neither of them should reap joy and honour by the other's death.
This event won back to Rorik the hearts of the insurgents and regained him the tribute.
At this time Horwendil and Feng, whose father Gerwendil had been governor of the Jutes, were appointed in his place by Rorik to defend Jutland.But Horwendil held the monarchy for three years, and then, to will the height of glory, devoted himself to roving.
Then Koller, King of Norway, in rivalry of his great deeds and renown, deemed it would be a handsome deed if by his greater strength in arms he could bedim the far-famed glory of the rover;and cruising about the sea, he watched for Horwendil's fleet and came up with it.There was an island lying in the middle of the sea, which each of the rovers, bringing his ships up on either side, was holding.The captains were tempted by the pleasant look of the beach, and the comeliness of the shores led them to look through the interior of the springtide woods, to go through the glades, and roam over the sequestered forests.It was here that the advance of Koller and Horwendil brought them face to face without any witness.Then Horwendil endeavoured to address the king first, asking him in what way it was his pleasure to fight, and declaring that one best which needed the courage of as few as possible.For, said he, the duel was the surest of all modes of combat for winning the meed of bravery, because it relied only upon native courage, and excluded all help from the hand of another.Koller marvelled at so brave a judgment in a youth, and said: "Since thou hast granted me the choice of battle, I think it is best to employ that kind which needs only the endeavours of two, and is free from all the tumult.
