Now after this we held the great Dowsborough fort on Quantocks for
a few days, looking out over the land that should see the greatest
deeds of Alfred, the wise king, from Glastonbury in the east to the
wide stretches of the great wood, Selwood Forest, beyond the
Stanmoor fens; and there, in the clear air, and with plenty of good
provender from the smiling Taunton vale behind us, we grew strong
again.
The Danes marched on Bridgwater, and the garrison must needs leave
the place and retreat to the heights at Petherton, and there hide.
I was grieved that my good ship was in Danish hands, but at least I
knew that they would not harm her; and such was our faith in Alfred
the king, that I believed that I should have her back. Old Thord
came up to us when his charge was thus lost.
"Maybe they will finish painting her, and we shall be able to
launch her, when we go back, without more trouble," he said. "Two
of Hubba's ships, moreover, are worth having."
Then the king rode up to us, and told us that we had done well, and
that the great plan yet held. Already he had messengers out
throughout all the southern counties, and already men were
gathering through the land and filling the towns that the Danes
were leaving.
"When I know that the Danes have their eyes fixed on Quantock side
again, I shall strike," he said.
So began again the life in Athelney and at Stanmoor fort; but now
the Devon men gathered openly on our hills, and every day the
Danish force grew also. When the last fight came, there would be an
end to either one side or the other, and Guthrum knew it.
Once in that time I rode with Alfred, and saw Neot again; and if it
were but for a few hours that we might stay with him, he found time
to speak with me, asking if I had learned aught of his faith as
yet.
"I have been in Athelney," I answered, "and I saw what might the
holy Name has at Chippenham. The old gods have passed from me."
Little have I said of this, for one cannot speak of inmost
thoughts; but so it was. Yet I think that, had I been older, the
old faith would have died more slowly from my mind. So it was also
with Harek the scald, but I think that he was Christian in heart
before I had bent my mind to the matter in earnest. Long talks had
he with Denewulf, the wise herdsman, while I listened.
So holy Neot rejoiced greatly over us, bidding me seek baptism at
once.
"Nay, father," I said; "I fear it, knowing what it is. Let me bide
for a time till I am stronger in these deep things."
He tried to persuade me gently, but at last let me be, knowing that
I spoke in earnest and with all wish to seek it rightly.
So we left him on the day after we came, and went back to Athelney,
and Alfred was very silent all the way.
"What ails you, my king?" I asked him at last, fearing that his
pain, which had left him of late altogether, might return.
"I will tell you, cousin," he said. "Plainly has Neot shown me that
all these troubles have come from my own pride and self will when
first I was king. It is a long chain of happenings, of which you
would know nought were I to try to tell you. But so it has been,
and I weep therefor in my very heart."
Then said I:
"What is past is past, King Alfred, and best friend. Look on to the
days to come, for I think that there shall rise a new and happier
England before the winter comes again. There is no man whom I have
met in all the hosts in whose heart is not love and best thoughts
of you. Old days are forgotten as if they had never been, save that
you led and conquered in the great battles beyond the Thames."
He held out his hand to me, and took mine and gripped it, saying no
word, and riding on in silence for a mile and more. And after that
he was of good cheer again till we came to Exeter, and there I
stayed to see how fared my ships, for it was time they were in the
water again.
Well had my men and the Saxon wrights wrought at building. If all
went like this, King Alfred would have a fleet that could sweep the
seas from Dover to Orme's Head, and keep his land from new
plunderers at least.
In a week I came back to Athelney, and there was good cheer, and
all were in the best of heart, for things went well. Messengers
came and went across the winding paths from the southern hills, and
Ethered met me laughing, and said:
"The king has robbed you of your glory, Ranald. He has been into
the Danish camp--even to the presence of Guthrum himself."
Then I would hear of this from Alfred himself.
"Ay," he said, when he had greeted me and heard that the ships were
almost ready, "I have outdone you; for I have played the gleeman as
I planned, and have been in the midst of them yonder on Edington
hill."
"It was an awesome risk to run, my king," I said.
"Which you taught me yourself, cousin. Howbeit I met no damsel, and I
had no companion to return with but him with whom I went--Heregar's
young son, my page. Thane is he now by right of unfearing service.
Once, when I climbed the hill, I began to fear greatly, and I stayed,
and asked the boy if he was afraid to go on. Tell me truly, Ranald,
did you fear when you were in Wareham?"
"Truly I feared at first," I answered; "but since I was there when
it came on me, I must even go through with the business. So it
passed."
"Well, I am glad you confess it," he answered, "for I was minded to
turn and run when the first lights of the great camp showed through
the trees. Then the boy answered me, 'My king, why should I fear
when you are with me?' I was ashamed, and took Harek's harp from
him--for he carried it--and went forward boldly, singing the song
of Gunnar in the snake pit. And it seemed to me that Harek would
have chosen that song as fitting my case; for, putting Danes for
snakes, I was in a close place enough. The warriors came out when
they heard me; and I was well treated, and listened as I drank.
Many things I learned."
Now I cannot believe that Alfred feared at all. He was surely but
anxious, and took that feeling for fear. So think all his people.
"It seems that they thought I sang well," he went on; "so they took
me to Guthrum. He indeed looked sharply at me once, and maybe
twice; but I went on singing Harek's songs, and paid no heed to
him. Presently he gave me a great horn of ale from his own table,
and this gold bracelet that I wear also, and sent me away. Then I
went about the camp and heard the talk. One man asked me if I had
seen Alfred, and what he was like. 'Faith,' said I, 'men say I am
like him.' Whereat they laughed long at me and at the king also.
Then heard I the truth about my own looks for once. I had some
trouble in getting away, but at last I seemed to wax hoarse, and so
made as if I would go to Bridgwater, and left them, promising to
come again. Ay, and I will keep my promise," he said; "but as
Harek's heathen songs say, it is the sword's mass that I will sing
to them."
Then his eyes glowed, and he was silent, and I wondered at the
courage and resource in the slight figure that was before me.
"All goes well, and the plan is good," he went on directly. "They
look for some easily-beaten attack from this side of the Parret,
and at the first sign thereof will leave Edington height for the
level ground below, as they did when Hubba came. Then when they
turn, on Edington hill will be our levy suddenly--a levy of which
they have not dreamed. And there will be the greatest fight that
England has seen yet, and after that there will be a Saxon overlord
of England against whom none will dare rise."
"May it be so, my king," I answered.
"It will be so," he said. "Here in this cottage have I had the word
that tells me thereof; and you, Ranald, brought the sign that made
the word sure to me."
I minded it, and I knew that for all my life my ways were bound to
the service of Alfred the king; for my fate was linked with his, as
it seemed, from my first coming.
It was not long now before the day came that will never be
forgotten; for word was brought in from every quarter that thanes
and freemen and churls alike would not be behind when Alfred gave
the word, and he sent back to bid them meet him at Ecgbryht's
Stone, beyond Selwood, on Whitsunday. There is a great and strong
camp there on a rocky hill that looks out far and wide, near the
two great roads, British and Roman, that cross in the vale beneath;
and to that all were to gather, for there would the Golden Dragon
be set up. Men call it White Sheet Castle.
On the day before I rode to Odda, who had already drawn his men to
the Petherton ridge above Bridgwater, and told him what the king's
word was. Then I went on up the long side of the Quantocks, and
spoke in the Maytime woods with Thora, telling her--for she was a
warrior's daughter, and was worthy of a warrior's love--that I must
be at the king's side. And so she bade me fight bravely, speaking
many noble and loving words to me, until I must go. Then I led her
back to Osmund in his place among the rough huts within the wide
circle of the camp ramparts, that now held but a few poor folk from
the Parretside lands.
"King Alfred makes some new move," I said to him, "and it is
possible that we may not meet again. I think that what is coming
will end all the trouble between Saxon and Dane."
He shook his head.
"Some day it will end," he said, "but not in my time or yours--not
until the Danes have grown to know that England is their home, and
that they are English by birth and right of time--maybe not till
Denmark has ceased to send forth the sons for whom she has no place
in her own borders."
Then I answered that perhaps he was right. I did not see into
things as far as he, and I was a stranger in the land.
"But this at last will give a strong overlord to England," I said.
"Ay, for the time. So long as a strong king rules, there will be
less trouble indeed; but if Alfred's sons are weak, it will begin
afresh. England will no longer bear two kings; and while there is a
Saxon kingdom alongside a Danish, there cannot be lasting peace."
Then I said:
"What of yourself? Shall you go back to Guthrum when this is over?"
"I cannot tell," he answered. "What my fate is I know not yet. What
mean you to do if all goes well for Alfred? Shall you bide in
England?"
We had walked apart now, and were looking over all the fair
Quantock vale beneath us. I think there is no fairer lookout in all
England: land and river and hills and sea, and beyond the sea the
blue mountains of the Welsh coast--ever changing and ever beautiful
under sun and cloud and flying shadows.
"I have found the fairest land under the northern sun," I said;
"and I have found the best king, as I think. I shall bide here. One
other thing I have found of which I hardly dare to think, so many
are the chances of wartime. Yet, jarl, but for them I should not
have met with Thora, though in my heart I believe that I should not
have spoken to her yet."
"I would not have had it otherwise," he said, kindly taking my arm.
"I have seen what was coming long before Etheldreda spoke. It has
been good for Thora that she did so, whatever befalls."
Then we spoke of my promised place with the king, as if his victory
were certain. Indeed, I believe that we both had no thought of its
being otherwise.
"I do not know, however," said Osmund, "if your taking a Danish
wife will be well received. It may be likely that Alfred will wish
you to be bound to him by some tie of that nearness which shall be
of his making."
I had not thought of that, but it was a thing that was common
enough. Harald Fairhair was wont to give a rich wife to some chief
whom he would keep at his side.
"If that is so, I shall go hence," I said. "There are things that
come before friendship."
"Well," he answered, "we shall see. There is always a place for us
both at Rolf's side in his new-won land."
"Yet I should be loth to leave Alfred," I said most truly. "I think
that this is the only thing that would make me do so."
"Thora would not stand in your way to honour with him, nor would
I," said Osmund.
"Honour with Alfred shall not stand in my way, rather," I answered.
"But we speak of chances, as I think."
We said no more, and he bade me farewell.
I went back to Alfred somewhat sad, and yet with many thoughts that
were good and full of hope; and soon I had little time to do aught
but look on at the way in which the king's plans worked out most
wonderfully.
On the eve of the great Whitsunday festival we set out through the
fen paths southward to the hills and the first woodlands of Selwood
Forest, and when the morning came we were far in its depths,
passing eastward towards the place where we were to meet the levy.
Presently we turned aside to a little woodland chapel that had
escaped the sight of the Danes, and from a hut beside it came out
an old priest, white-bearded and bent with age and scanty fare. At
first he feared that the heathen had found him at last; yet he
looked bravely at us, catching up the crucifix that hung at his
side and clasping it in both his hands as he stood in the open
doorway of his church, as if to stay us from it.
Alfred rode forward to him when he saw his fear.
"Father, I am Alfred the king," he said. "Far have I ridden on this
holy day. Now I would fain hear mass and have your blessing before
we go on."
Thereat the old priest gave thanks openly to the King of kings, who
had brought Alfred again into the land, and hastened to make ready.
So that was the king's Whitsuntide mass, and we three heathen and
our few men must bide outside while the others went into the holy
place and returned with bright faces and happy; for this was a
service to which we might not be admitted, though all knew that we
would be Christians indeed ere long.
So at last we came to the ancient castle, and saw the valley to
north and east beneath its height, bright everywhere with sparkling
arms that gleamed from lane and field and forest glade, as all
Wessex gathered to meet their king.
Then the Golden Dragon that we had lost and won was unfurled; and
the war horns blew bravely enough to wake the mighty dead whose
mounds were round about us; and soon the hillside was full of men
who crowded upwards and filled the camp and ramparts and fosse, so
that before sunset Alfred had a host that any king might be proud
to call his own. Yet he would call it not Alfred's force, but
England's.
Standing on the old ramparts, he spoke to them, while all the great
gathering was silent. And the words he said sank into the heart of
every man who heard, so that he felt as if on his arm alone it
rested to free England, and that his arm could not fail. Not long
did the king speak, but when he ended there rose a cheering that
was good to hear, for it came from hearts that had been made strong
to dare aught that might come.
After that he spoke to the thanes, giving each one his place, and
telling them all that he had planned, so that each knew what was
looked for from him. It seemed that he had forgotten nothing, and
that the day must go as he said he thought it would.
Men slept on their arms that night, without watch fires, lest any
prowling Danes should see that somewhat was on hand, although
Guthrum had drawn to him every man from out of Wessex, as was said,
and as seemed true. I have heard tales from some that in the night
the warriors who lie resting in the mounds around their old
stronghold came forth and wandered restless along the ramparts,
longing to take their part again in the mighty struggle they knew
was coming. I saw nothing, but Harek the scald says he saw.
Next day we marched towards our foes. Eighteen miles we went, and
then came to the holy place Glastonbury, where the burnt ruins
spoke again, as it were, to the warriors of wrong and cruelty to be
avenged.
There we were, but eight miles from the foe, and that night we lay
in a great meadow they called Iglea, deep down in the folds of the
hills, where even so great a host might be hidden for many days if
no chance betrayed them. Alfred took a few of us when night came,
and climbed the steep tor above Glastonbury town. Thence we could
see the long line of fires on Polden Hills that marked where the
Danes slept, all unknowing that any host could be gathered in their
rear.
In the grey of morning we set our ranks in order. I was with
Alfred, with Ethered of Mercia and Ethelnoth, and more nobles whom
I knew; and my few men were in the shield wall, among the best
warriors of the Saxon levies. None grudged that honour to those who
had made the point of the wedge that broke Hubba's ranks and won
the Raven banner.
Now, in our Norse land there is ever sacrifice to the Asir when one
leads a host to battle, that luck may be on the right side; and now
I was to see a more wondrous thing than even that. I knew by this
time the meaning of what I saw, and there crept into my heart a
wish that I might take full part therein with Alfred, who had
taught me.
When all the ranks were ordered, and the deep columns were drawn up
on Iglea meadows in three sides of a square, there came a little
train of robed monks, at whose head was Bishop Sigehelm of
Sherborne, before whom went a tall gilded cross. Careworn and
anxious looked the good fathers, for there was not one of them who
had not a tale of Danish cruelty and destruction to tell, and more
than one had hardly escaped with his life; but now their faces were
brighter with new hope as they came into the open side of the armed
square and waited for a moment.
Alfred and we stood before them, and the bishop raised his hand. At
that we all knelt, with a strange clash and rattle of arms that
went round the great host and ceased suddenly, so that the
stillness was very great.
Then was only the voice of the bishop, who in a clear tone spoke
the words of peace to those who should pass hence in the coming
battle, that they might fight bravely, and even rejoice in death.
So he shrived the host, and at the end they said "Amen" in one
voice.
Thereafter the bishop prayed to the Lord of hosts--not such a
prayer as I had been wont to hear, but more wonderful, and with no
boasting therein, nor, as it were, any hate of the foe, but rather
the wish that the strife should make for peace, and even blessing
to them.
Then he lifted his hand and blessed all the host as they bared
their heads, and again the last word rolled deep and strong round
the ranks, and that was all; then Alfred cried cheerily to his men,
and we began our march that must needs end in battle.
There is a great road that climbs up the slope of the Polden Hills
from Glastonbury and then runs along their top to Edington and
beyond, and by this way we went, among pleasant woodlands.
Guthrum's own place was on the spur of Edington, because thence one
looks out on all the land that Alfred held, from the fort at Stane
hill to Bridgwater and Combwich and the sea beyond. That was only
eight miles from us, and was the point which we would win. Thence
to Bridgwater is five miles, and the town was now held in force by
the Danes; and where the road leaves the hills to cross the marsh
to the bridge and town, two miles away, was a camp that guarded the
causeway through the level.
We went quickly as a great host may, and Alfred had so ordered
matters that even as we set out from Iglea, Odda and his force were
moving in battle array from the Petherton heights on the Quantock
side of the town, as if to attack it. That was what Guthrum had
looked for since the time we had beaten Hubba, and the only attack
which could have seemed possible in any way.
It is likely that he overrated the number which Odda had with him;
for those who escaped us at Combwich had not been near enough to
see from the far side of the river how small our force was, and
would make much of those who had been able to overcome their
mightiest chief. Moreover, since that time seven weeks had gone by,
and the gathering of Devon might be greater yet. So it was, indeed;
but Odda had not a thousand men. Perhaps, too, the Danes feared
some sally from the fens; but however it was, they made not the
mistake which destroyed Hubba by despising us rashly, for Guthrum
drew his whole force together, and left the hills for a march
towards the town which he heard was threatened.
So when we came to Edington, Guthrum's hill fort was empty, save
for a camp guard to keep the country folk who lurked in wood and
fen from pillaging it. These men fled, and we stood on the ridge
without striking one blow; and King Alfred turned to us, and cried
that surely his plan was working out well.
Then our host lined the ridge, and a mighty Saxon cheer from ten
thousand throats went pealing across the valley below us, and they
say that shout was heard even in Bridgwater. Guthrum heard it as he
rode with his host across the long causeway, and his men heard it
and halted, and saw in their rear the blaze of war gear that shone
from their own lines, and knew that they were pent in between fens
and hills, with an unknown force ready to fall on them.
Whereon a panic very nearly seized them. Hubba's end was fresh in
their minds, and it needed all that Guthrum could say to prevent
them making for the town. But he minded them of old victories, and
bade them not fear to face the despised Saxons once again, and they
rallied. But it was noon before he could lead them to attack us,
and by that time he learned that Odda had halted above the town,
and need not be feared. But by that time also every post of vantage
along the hills was in our hands, and if Edington height was to be
held by Danes again, it must be won by hard fighting. That is a
thing that no Dane shrinks from, and now for Guthrum there was
nought else to be done, for he was surrounded, as it were.
No man saw the whole of that fight, for it began at noon, as I have
said, when Guthrum turned to find the hillward road blocked behind
him. And from that time on it raged from spur to spur and point to
point, as step by step the Danes won back to the hillsides. But the
crest of the hill they never gained, save where for a time they
might set foot and be driven headlong in turn by those who had
given way before them at first. And so the fight swept on to the
base of Edington hill and along its sides, for there Alfred had
held his best men in reserve. Already the Danes had made for
themselves some shallow lines of earthworks along the crest, and
now these were manned against their own attack.
Men who looked on from afar tell strange tales of the shouts and
cries that rang among the quiet Polden hills and woodlands that day
for long hours. It was very still, as it chanced, and the noise of
battle went far and wide from the place where Saxon and Dane fought
their greatest fight for mastery.
Ever rode Alfred with the light of battle on his face, confident
and joyous, among his men from post to post. Ever where the tide of
battle seemed to set against us his arm brought victory again,
until at last Guthrum drew his men together for one final attack
that should end the day.
On Edington hillside he massed them, and steadily they came on
under shield in a dense column to where, in their own camp, we
waited under the Dragon banner. Half our men, the best spearmen of
the force, were lying down resting, but along the little ridges of
the earthworks the archers stood, each knowing that he fought under
the eye of the king he loved.
"This is the end," said Alfred, as the Danes came on. "Be ready,
spearmen, when I give the word."
And they lay clutching their weapons, with their eyes fixed on him
as he stood on the hilltop, surrounded by his thanes, gazing on the
last assault of the Danes, whose archers from the wings were
already at work, so that the men of the shield wall closed in
around him.
I think that the Danes had no knowledge of what force was hidden by
the hill brow. For when they were within half arrow shot, and
Alfred gave the word, and the long ranks of spearmen leaped from
the ground and closed up for their charge, a waver went along the
shielded line, and they almost halted, though it passed, and they
came on even more swiftly.
Then Alfred lifted his sword and shouted, and, with that awful roar
that I had heard before on the Combwich meadows, over the hill
crest and down upon the Danes the spearmen rushed. The lines met
with a mighty crash of steel on steel, and while one might count
two score they swayed in deadly hand-to-hand strife. Then Guthrum's
men gave back one pace, and howled, and won their place again, and
again lost it.
Then forward went Alfred and his shield wall, and I was on one side
of him and Ethered of Mercia on the other, while after him came
Heregar, bearing the banner. The Danes in the centre closed up as
they saw us come, and there were shouts in which Guthrum's name was
plain to be heard, and I saw him across a four-deep rank of his
men.
Straight for him went Alfred, and the Danish line grew thin before
us. But as their king went forward our Saxons cheered again and
pressed their attack home, and right and left the Danish line fell
back and broke. At that a wild shout and charge with levelled
spears swept them down the hillside in full rout, and the end had
come. His courtmen closed round Guthrum and bore him from before
us, and the full tide of pursuit swept him away before we reached
him.
Alfred stayed his horse and let the men go on. His face was good to
see as he glanced round at the hills to our right; but when it fell
on the slain, who lay thickly where the lines had met, he bared his
head and looked silently on them for a space, while his lips moved
as if he prayed.
Then he said:
"These have given their lives not in vain, for they have helped to
bring peace, and have died to set an English king over the English
land."
He put on his crown-circled helm again, and as he did so, among the
fallen there was a stir and movement, and the wounded rose up on
arms and knees and turned on their sides, and raised their hands,
waving broken weapons, and crying in a strange, wearied voice that
yet had a ring of victory in it:
"Waeshael to Alfred the king!"
For the silence that had fallen, and the lessening shouts of the
pursuers, told them that they had won, and they were content.
Thereat Alfred flushed red, and I think that he almost wept, for he
turned from us. And then he spoke to the men who yet stood round
him, and said:
"Let every man who has any knowledge of care for the wounded, or
who has known a wound of his own and the way it was cared for, go
among these brave ones and help them."
Nor would he leave the place till he saw men going up and down
among the hurt, tending them as well as they could; and he was the
more content when he saw Bishop Sigehelm and many other clergy come
on the field from the rear, where he had bidden them stay. The
bishop had mail under his robes, having been eager to join in the
fight, as would Eahlstan, his great forerunner, have certainly
joined; but Alfred would not suffer him to do so.
Once more Guthrum tried to rally his men, when the flight bore him
to his camp at the hill foot, on the way across the fens to the
town. There was a sharp fight there, and Ethelnoth was wounded as
he led on his men; and thence the Danes fled to Bridgwater, making
no more delay. So close on them were our men that Guthrum's
housecarls closed the gates after their king on many of their
comrades, who fell under the Saxon spear in sight of safety. Nor
did we give them time to drive in the cattle that were gathered
from all the countryside to the meadows round the place.
Then came Thord to me and put me in mind of somewhat.
"Now is our work to be done, king. These Danes will take Hubba's
ships and be gone down the river next. We must stop them in some
way, for the king's plan is to starve them out, as it seems."
We had left the king at that time, for we would not suffer him to
join in pursuit, which has its dangers, if men turn desperate and
make a stand, as many did, dying like brave warriors that they
were. So I rode on quickly with my followers, and came to the river
bank below the bridge. The Danes were swarming on the ramparts of
the fortress like angry bees, and in the ships, which lay beneath
the walls, men were busy, even as Thord had guessed they would be,
making ready to sail when tide served. We could not reach them by
any means, for every boat had been taken from this side long ago,
when the first news of defeat was brought back by flying horsemen.
Then Thord's face glowered under his helm, and he pointed to the
ship that was farthest from the bridge, and therefore likely to be
the first to start away when the tide was full. It was my own ship,
which they had got afloat.
"Thor's hammer smite them!" he growled; "they have launched the old
keel without finishing her painting--just as I left her. How are we
to stay their going off with her?"
"Is there a chain cable anywhere?" I asked.
"Not one in the place," he said; "and if we did get one across the
river, we should have to fight to keep the far end of it."
The tide was rising fast, and I thought we should surely lose every
ship, while Guthrum and his chiefs would escape us at the same
time. One might line the banks with archers, certainly, but that
would not stay the going. Evening was closing in, moreover. By
midnight they would be gone, and I was in a difficulty out of which
I could not see my way.
Suddenly Thord smote his hands together, and his face grew
brighter.
"I have it," he cried. "There is an old vessel that lies in a creek
a mile down the river. A great buss {xvi} she is, and worth
nothing; but she will float, and maybe will be afloat now. If we
can sink her across the channel in a place that I know, not one of
these ships will get away till she is raised."
Then I called every man to me whom I could see, and we went quickly
to the place where this buss was, and she was just afloat. Thord
knew where her tackle was kept, and he had the oars out--what there
were of them at least, for they were old and rotten enough. Then we
had to shove her off and get her boat into the water, and the
vessel itself floated up on the tide towards the narrow place where
she might best be sunk to block the channel against ships that came
from the town.
We had not gone far when there came a sound at which I started, for
it was nothing more or less than the quick beat of oars coming down
the river against the tide. Thord and I and eight men of my own
crew were in the buss, while I had maybe thirty men ashore who were
keeping pace with us along the bank. The rest of my own men were
with these, and one shouted that he could see the ship, and that it
was our own, crammed with men too.
Now at first it seemed as if the only thing for us to do was to go
ashore in the boat as quickly as we could and get away; but Thord
cried to me:
"Then will the Danes take our ship to sea, and we have lost her for
good. It should not be said of us that we let her go without a blow
struck to save her."
"Sink this hulk straightway, then," I said, falling to work, with
the axe I had in thy hand, on the lowest strakes. My men leaped to
work as well, and in two minutes the seams began to gape, and then
was a rush of water from broken planking that sent us over the side
and into the boat in hot haste.
Then we pulled for shore, towing the bows of the fast-sinking buss
with us till they grounded in the mud, and even as her stern swung
with the tide across the channel she lurched and sank.
"We should have bided in her and fought," growled Thord. "Now in
five minutes we shall see the bottom ripped out of our own ship by
our own deed."
But a foot of the bows and the mast of the buss stood out of the
water, and I thought the Danes would see these marks.
Even as we gained the shore our dragon stem swept round the bend
that had hidden us, and came on swiftly. Then the Danes saw us, and
those on the fore deck shouted, and the oars plashed wildly, and
many on the side next to us stopped altogether; and at the same
time the steersman saw the stem of the wreck, and, as I think, lost
his head between fear of it and the sudden appearance of the foe
whom he thought he had escaped. The larboard oars were going yet,
and the starboard had almost stopped. He paid no heed to it, and
the ship swung over. Then the tide caught her bows, and in a moment
she ran hard and fast on our bank, and the men in her fell right
and left with the shock.
I had seen what was coming, and so had Thord, and we ran our best
to meet her as she struck. The tide was a good one, and she came
well on the hard bank, and there was no need to tell my men what to
do. Before the Danes knew what had happened we were climbing over
the bows on board, and the Danes aft were leaping into the river to
get away from us.
Some few tried to fight; but there must have been two hundred men
packed along the gangways, and they could do nothing. They threw
themselves into the water like the rats that had left the old buss
even now, and we slew many, and the good ship was our own again.
Some of the Danes got ashore on the far bank, some were met by our
Saxons on this side, and but few got back to Bridgwater, for the
river had most of them.
Another ship was coming at this time, but those in her heard the
shouting and the cries; and it would seem that their hearts failed
them, for they went back before we could see more than the tall
mast above the banks from our decks.
Then we thought we might rest, for we were wearied out; but Thord
would not suffer us to do so till he had got the ship carefully
below the wreck, so that she was free. Had we waited for the next
tide we could not have done it, as it turned out; for the rise of
flood shortened quickly to the neap tides, and a bank of mud grew
round the sunken hull, making the channel impassable altogether for
the time, and so the last way of escape for Guthrum and his men was
barred.
So I thought we had done well, and left Thord and my men to guard
the ship and take her back to Combwich, where she would lie safely
in the creek, while I rode to Alfred, almost sleeping on my wearied
horse as I went.
There were two wrecks in that place in the morning; for they
brought down one of Hubba's ships in the dark on the next tide, and
she ran on the sunken stem of the buss, and went down almost at
once. After that no more attempt was made to fly by water.
Then began a siege that lasted for a fortnight, without anything
happening that is worth telling; for the fear of Alfred was on the
Danes, and they had not heart so much as to make one sally from the
gates.