Then I saw that on the far bank was gathered another host, and that was of Alsi’s men, and among them I knew the forms of some who had fallen in the first onset when I led the charge.

I tried to put forth my hand to wake Withelm, but I could not stir, and when I would have spoken, I could frame no word, so that alone in all the host I saw the slain men fight their battle over again, step by step.  The wedge of the Northmen won to the far shore as we had won—­as they had won in life but a few hours ago—­and into the line of foemen they cut their way, and on the far side of the stream they stayed and fought, as it had been in the battle.  Yet though one could see that the men shouted and cried, there was no sound at all, and among the wildest turmoil walked the sentries of Alsi’s host unconcerned and unknowing.  And to me they seemed to be the ghosts, and the phantom strife that which was real.

Then I was ware of a stranger thing yet than all I had seen so far, for on the field were more than those whom I knew.  There stood watching on either side of the battle two other ghostly hosts, taking no part in the struggle, but watching it as we had watched from our place when we fell back into the rear to rest, pointing and seeming to cheer strokes that were good and deeds that were valiant.  And I knew that these were men who had fought and died on this same field in older days, for on one side were the white-clad Britons, and on the other the stern, dark-faced Romans, steel and bronze from head to foot.

So the battle went onward to where we had won and had been pressed back; and then, little by little, the hosts faded away, and with them went the watchers, and surely across the field went the quick gallop of no earthly steeds, the passing to Odin of the choosers of the slain, the Valkyries.

Then came across the brook to me one through the mist, and the sentries paid no heed to him, and he came to my side and spoke to me.  It was Cadwal, the Welsh thane, and his breast was gashed so that I thought that he could not have lived.

“Ay, I am dead,” he said, “as men count death, and yet I would have part in victory over Alsi, for the sake of Havelok and of Goldberga.  Stay up my body on the morrow, that I may seem to fight at least, that I may bide in the ranks once more in the day of victory.  Little victory have the British seen since Hengist came.  Say that you will do this.”

Then he looked wistfully at me, and I gave him some token of assent; and at that came back all the shadows of our men, and seemed to pray the same.  And then was a stir of feet near me, and a shadow across the trampled grass, and instead of the dead the voice of Havelok spoke softly to me, and with him was Goldberga, clad in her mail.  And I thought that they and I were slain also, and I cried to this one who seemed to be one of Odin’s maidens that I too would fain be stayed up with Cadwal and the rest, that I might have part in victory.