And the sword was the king's own.
Then said Sighard, and his voice came hoarse and broken: "Our king is slain! Hounds of Mercians, tell us who has wrought this!" One answered him from dry lips: "We cannot tell.

It is a shame on the house of Offa, and on the very name of Mercia.

Kill us if you will, for we are niddering." He plucked his sword from his belt and threw it on the floor.

The thane who had gone into the council chamber was on his feet and staring at us through the open doors, and Erling was ready to fall on him if he cried out.

But the third Mercian, whose name was Witred, did not lose his senses thus.
"True enough," he said, looking fearlessly at the angry group before him.