The last of the Hebrideans fell to Bjorn's axe, his corpse collapsing over the rail to dangle over the waters, spouting blood from a half-severed neck. Gudrun was gazing towards the rest of the battle, where the two Earls' warriors were struggling aboard their flagships. We can't keep this prize. He was thinking like a greasy merchant again. Aye, sink her.
Some sacrifices are necessary.
His warrior was pointing towards the ship skippered by the three traders they had encountered in Kaupang. Earl Sigurd dodged a blow from a Hebridean who had burst from the struggling mob, and hacked the man's legs from under him. That last charge almost finished me. Then he saw it. Earl Gilli's starboard flanking ship was sinking, while on the other vessel his allies were roaring with celebration.