But Wulf was by far the most powerful, and
speedily got the upper hand. He had not noticed that his opponent, while
holding his sword in his right hand, had his dagger already drawn in his
left. The sword had flown from Fitz-Urse's hand as he fell, and Wulf,
believing him to be powerless, glanced round to see how the fray went with
the others, when the Norman stabbed him deeply in the side. Before he could
repeat the blow Wulf snatched his own dagger from his girdle and buried it
in the assassin's throat Then he raised himself on his left hand. It was
but a matter of seconds since the fight had commenced, but it was already
over. Osgod had slain one man, Beorn was following a flying opponent down
the corridor, and Harold, sword in hand, had just rushed from his chamber.
Wulf saw no more, but fell over insensible by the side of his adversary.
"What is all this?" Harold shouted as he turned to Osgod, the only figure
standing, raising his sword as he spoke, for in the dim light he did not
recognize him.
"It means, my lord, that there has been an attempt on your life. I am
Osgod, Wulf's man. I fear my brave young master is killed!" and he dropped
on his knees by Wulf's side. By this time doors were opening all along the
corridor, and the king's thanes and other guests, awakened by Wulf's shout
and the clashing of swords, were pouring out, armed with the first weapon
they could snatch up.
"Bring lights!" Harold shouted.
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