Now very silently we drew off from that place to the edge of the hill
which looks across the road to Stert. And there the bishop drew us up in
line, four deep, and told the men what we must do, bidding them be
silent till we charged, though that could not prevent a hum of stern
approval going down the line.
One man the bishop called out by name, and when he stood before him,
bade him, as a swift runner, hasten back to Eanulf or Osric, and bid
them on here with all speed. And, when the man's face fell, the bishop
bade him cheer up and go, for the swifter he went the sooner would he be
back at the sword play. Whereat the man bowed, and, leaving his mail at
a tree foot, started at a steady run over the ground we had covered
already, and was lost in the trees.
Then we waited, and the light grew stronger every moment. As we lay in
line among the bushes we could see without much fear of being ourselves
seen, and by and by we could make out the ships. They had their masts
raised, and the sails were plain to be seen, ready for hoisting. The men
were busy about their decks, and on shore as well, while the vessels
were yet close up to the land.
They must haul off soon, little by little, or they would be aground, as
doubtless they had been with every tide till this, for rocks are none,
only soft mud on which a ship may lie safely, but through which no man
may go, save on such a "horse" as the fishers use to reach their nets
withal, sledge-like contrivances of flat boards which sink not.
The wait seemed long, but at last we heard the hum of voices, and the
tramp of feet, and our hearts beat fast and thick, for the time was coming.
Over the hill and down it they streamed in a long, loose line, laughing
and shouting as the ships came in sight. A long breath came from us, and
there was a little stir among the men; but the time was not yet, and we
crouched low, waiting to make our spring.
Then ran up a long red forked flag, with a black raven on it, from the
largest ship, and that seemed to be a signal for haste, for the tide was
failing, so that some of the foremost men began to stream away from
their comrades. And then I saw that many carried packs full of plunder,
and also that the last of them were on the level.
So also saw the bishop, and he rose to his feet, pointing with the great
mace he bore (for he might not wield sword) to the Danes, and saying:
"For the honour of Dorset--for the holy cross--charge!"
With a mighty shout we rose up, each in his place, and down the hill we
rushed sword and axe aloft, on that straggling line.
Then from the Danes came a howl of wrath and terror, and, for a moment,
dropping their burdens, they fled in a panic towards the ships.
Yet that was not the way of Danish men and vikings, and that flight
stayed almost before it had gone fifty yards. Up rose amidst the throng
a mighty double axe, and a great voice was heard shouting, and round
their chief began to form a great ring of tried warriors, shoulder to
shoulder as well as might be. But that ring might not be perfect all at
once--too close were we upon them, having already cut down many of the
last to fly.
And then the battle began in earnest, and I will tell what I saw of it.
For I was in the centre of our line, as befitted, and on either side of
me were Wulfhere and Wislac, and on either side of them again, my
collier next to Wulfhere, and next to Wislac his young thane. Before me
were Guthlac and two brethren, and the other three behind me. That was
the standard's shield wall. Behind that came Ealhstan the Bishop, hemmed
in by twelve of his own best men.
So, with voice, and gesture of arm and mace the bishop swung our line in
a half circle round the face of that grim ring of vikings, and as they
closed up we closed, and faced them. Then saw I that we were outnumbered
by three to one, but we were fresh, and they tired with a long march,
quickly made, and under burdens.
Now began the spears to fly from one side to the other, and men began to
fall. And yet there was no great attack made on either side. Then grew I
impatient, for it seemed to me that as we were the weaker side the first
charge might do all for us. So I spoke to Wulfhere, saying:
"We must charge before they. Let us break into that circle."
"Aye!" said the veteran, and "Aye!" shouted Wislac; and so I pointed the
banner forward and shouted for my shield men to charge.
And that, with a great roar, they did; and down before the brawny arms
of those foremost three lay brethren went three of the heathen, and we
were pressing into the circle. Then a brother fell, dragging a Dane with
him, and Wislac took his place, and three more Danes fell. Then went
Aldhelm to Wislac's side, and Lo! the circle was broken, and our
standard stood in the midst.
Yet was not that ring destroyed, and in a moment it closed after us, and
now were we ten in the midst of a crowd of foes, while again outside
them raged Ealhstan and his men, striving to break through to us.
Then knew I that our case was hard, and I struck the spear that held the
standard into the ground, and round it we stood, back to back, Wulfhere
and Wislac once more to right and left of me. And it would seem that so
grim looked we in our desperation, that they feared us a little, or, at
least, that each feared to be the first to fall on us, for the Danes
drew back and let us stand for a breathing space, until that great chief
who rallied the men--leaving the care of the outer ring for a moment
--came and faced me, speaking in fair Saxon enough, and bidding us
surrender.
And for answer I threw my seax at him, and as he raised shield to stop
it, for it flew straight and hard as a forester can throw, I leapt at
him, going in under his shield, and he fell heavily, moving not, for my
blow went home. Well it was that Wulfhere came after me, for he warded
blow of axe that would have slain me. And then the Danes howled and fell
on us.
Hard fighting it was, but round us grew a ring of dead, and no man had
laid hands on the standard. Guthlac was down, and Aldhelm, two lay
brethren also, and we were all but sped when I was ware of a Saxon
shout, and the crash of a great mace on a helmet before me, and then,
"Well done, my sons!" cried Ealhstan the Bishop, as he came and ringed
us round with his own men, and we might breathe again.
Now was the ring of Danes parted, and the ring was of our men; yet round
it raged the vikings, as we had raged round their ring but a short space
before. Yet, every man of us knew that we had won, for, even if each one
of us fell before Eanulf came, the ships would not sail that tide. For
the tall masts were listing over as two ships took the ground unheeded,
and four were hauling out as the tide fell.
And I thought of my vision last night, and of those I had seen, and of
what they had bid me think of them; and the roar of battle went on
unheeded by me as I leant against the standard staff while I might, and
found my strength again.
"See," cried Wislac, pointing. And I looked over to the hill where the
road came down. It was full of horsemen, charging with levelled spears,
and surely that was Osric at their head! Then near me a voice cried
thrice "Victory!" but it seemed not as one of our men's rough voices,
but very strange.
Over the level the spearmen swept, and a cry broke from the Danes as
they saw the fresh foe upon them, and again they fell back from us
quickly, and, spite of our charge on them, and the spears of the leading
horsemen, once more closed up into their iron ring. But now it was not
motionless, but moved ever towards the ships, going backward steadily.
Round it went Osric and his men: but into it they could not break. For
the Danes hewed the ash shafts of the spears, and near them no horse
might live, for their axes would shear through man and horse alike.
Then Ealhstan shouted to Osric, bidding us stand. And right glad were we
to do this, while ever the Danes shrank away from us.
"Trapped they are, Sheriff," said Ealhstan, when Osric rode up to him,
bearing still a headless spear. "Let them bide till Eanulf comes. None
can reach the ships."
"He is hard behind me with all the levy," said Osric. "Let us finish
this without him."
But Ealhstan shook his head, pointing to our men. And when he looked
more coolly, he saw that barely half of us were left, and those worn
out. So must we stand and wait; but we had done what we went to do, and
had trapped the heathen when the tide was low. Yet the Danes went
steadily back towards their ships, having yet half a mile to cover, but
they left a line of wounded men to mark where they had gone, as one
after another dropped.
Now were we who were left safe, and knew we had done a deed which would
he told and sung till other tales of victory blotted out its remembrance
if they might.
Then Ealhstan bade us sit down, for our horsemen were between us and the
foe, and thereon he raised his voice, and with one accord his lay
brethren and his own housecarles joined in singing a psalm of victory.
And it was just at the matin time--yet that psalm ended not as it was
wont, for ere the last verses were sung, it was drowned in a great and
thundering war song of Wessex, old as the days of Ceawlin or beyond him.
And if I mistake not, in that song bishop and lay brethren joined,
leaving the chant for their own native and well-loved tongue, else would
they have been the only men of all the host unstirred thereby and silent.
Now, from that war song came a strange thing. It caused two great Danes
to go berserk in their rage, and back they flew on us, their shields
cast aside, and their broad axes overhead, howling and foaming as they
came.
One of Osric's men tried to stop them. But he and his horse fell, for (I
say truth) one leapt high above the horse, smiting downwards with his
axe, so that the man was swept in twain under that blow, and the berserk
Dane came on unhindered, straight for the standard, for his comrade had
hewed off the horse's head.
Now I rested, by the standard, a long spear's length in front of our
line. But by this I had leapt to my feet; and it was time, for he was
almost on me. Spear had I none; so I dragged out the standard shaft from
the ground where I had struck it, and levelled that sharp butt end full
at his chest. Overhead was his axe again, and I had no shield to stop
the blow; but I must leap aside from it.
He paid no heed to the spear-ended shaft, but rushed straight on it,
spitting himself through and through, while his axe fell; but I had
wrenched myself and the shaft at once to one side, and he fell over,
burying the axe head in the ground but an inch from the collier's foot.
Yet had he not done with me, for, leaving the axe, he clawed the ashen
shaft and dragged himself up along it, howling, not with the pain, but
with madness, and I must needs smite him with my sword, for his dagger
was already at my throat.
Then looked I round for the other, but at first could not see him, for
he was dead also, pinned to the ground by another of the horsemen, from
behind. And all our men were on their feet, and the ring of Danes were
shouting, and cheering their two mad men, yet keeping close order.
This seems long in telling; but it was all done in a flash, as it were,
for the first I knew of the coming of these men was by the wheeling of
the horse and the leaping of the berserk above it.
Then my men came and rid the standard of its burden, not easily, while
Ealhstan stood with his arm on my shoulder, looking white and scared:
for that had been the greatest danger he had seen that day, as he told
me, which, indeed, it must have been, for else he had never changed
countenance.
"Gratias Domino," he said, "verily into these heathen evil spirits
enter, driving them to death. Now have you fought the evil one, both
spiritually and bodily, my son, and have won the victory!"
Even as he spoke, the men, being sure of no more of such comings, began
to crowd round me, shouting and cheering as though I had done some great
deed. Which, if it were such, it seems to me that great deeds are forced
on men at times; for what else I could have done I know not, unless, as
Wislac says, I had run away, even as he was minded to do. But I had no
time for that, nor do I believe his saying concerning himself.
When the Danes were nigh their ships Ealhstan bade us tend our wounded.
And the first man tended was myself, for Wulfhere came to me, looking me
over, and at last binding a wound on my left shoulder, of which I knew
not, saying that my good mail had surely saved me. He himself had a gash
across his face, and Wislac one on the leg, but none of us was much hurt.
Then Wislac sought Aldhelm, whom he found sitting up, dazed, from a blow
across the helm that had stunned him, but he was soon able to walk,
though dizzy and sick. But Guthlac was slain outright, and two others of
the brethren.
Well, so might I go on, for of all our two hundred men there were left
but ninety fit to go on with the fight, the rest being slain or sore
wounded by the Danish axes. Ealhstan was unhurt; for, save that once
when he had broken the ring to reach us when we were hemmed in, his men
had kept before him.
Now what befell after that will not bear telling; for it was not long
before Eanulf and all the Somerset and the rest of the Dorset levy came
down and fell on the Danes as they fought their last fight as brave men
should, with a quarter mile of deep mud between them and their ships.
Into that fight none of us bishop's men went, for we had done our part.
But we lay and saw the Danes charge again and again against odds, their
line growing thinner each time, until our men swept the last of them
from the bank into the ooze, and there was an end.
Yet a few managed, I know not how, to reach the ships, and there they
were safe; but thence they constantly shot their arrows into our men,
harmless enough, but yet showing their mettle.
So was a full end made of that host, for none but those few were left
alive from Stert field, and Somerset and Dorset had taken their fill of
vengeance.
But, for all the victory, down sat Ealhstan the Bishop, and hiding his
face in his hands wept that such things could be, and must be till war
is no more.