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.”