By this time fifteen hundred or so of the Imperial troops had collected, and against them stood, perhaps, four hundred men in all, so that the odds were great.

Still, they had no horsemen or archers, and our position was very good, also we were Northmen and they were Grecian scum.
On came the Byzantines, screaming "Irene! Irene!" in a formation of companies ranged one behind the other, for their object was to break in our centre by their weight.

Jodd saw, and gave some orders; very good orders, I thought them.

Then he sheathed his short-sword, seized the great battle-axe which was his favourite weapon, and placed himself in front of our triple line that waited in dead silence.
Up the slope surged the charge, and on the crest of it the battle met.
At first the weight of the Greeks pressed us back, but, oh! they went down before the Northmen's steel like corn before the sickle, and soon that rush was stayed.

Breast to breast they hewed and thrust, and so fearful was the fray that Irene, forgetting her rage, clung to me to protect her.
The fight hung doubtful.