I can still see the terrible picture.

Calli's panting horse stood near by with drooping head.

Max's charger lay quivering in the convulsions of death.
Calli, whose helmet had dropped from his head when he fell, lay resting on his elbow, half risen and bareheaded.

Max stood deliberately taking his battle-axe from his girdle chain, while Yolanda still knelt at his feet.

Battle-axe in hand, Max stepped toward Calli, who had risen to his knees.