whole division, whom
he had corrupted. After that all was disorder amongst the English; but
they continued fighting bravely until the moon arose, and they were
becoming surrounded on all sides, when, in sheer desperation, they at
last gave way.

Edmund would not yield until Alfgar seized the bridle of his horse,
and almost by violence caused him to turn his steed, bidding him live
for England, for he was its hope. It was growing dark rapidly, and the
darkness alone saved Edmund and the relics of the English army.

With a faithful few, including both Alfgar and Hermann, nearly all of
the party wounded, the English king rode sadly from the scene,
groaning bitterly in spirit.

"Why did I trust him again? Why did I trust him?" he kept muttering to
himself.

"You did not trust him. The council overruled you. I was present,"
said Alfgar.

"But I might have resisted."

And he persisted in his unavailing regret.

It was a sad sight to see the field of battle strewn for miles with
the dead and dying, while gangs of plunderers swarmed in all
directions. One sharp encounter with such a party served to warm
Edmund's blood, after which he was a little more cheerful.

But the saddest scene in the flight lay on a gentle eminence,
commanding a view of the field, whose deformities night mercifully
shrouded from view, although the murmurs of the wounded reached them
even there in one long subdued wailing moan.

There, on that little hill, lay bishops and abbots in their sacerdotal
apparel. Where they had met to pray, there they lay in death! With a
deep sigh Edmund recognised Ednoth, bishop of Dorchester, lying stark
and stiff in his bloody robes. A troop of Danish horsemen had
surrounded the hill and massacred them all. The assassins had even
hewn Ednoth's finger off for the episcopal ring.

Yet, even at this awful crisis, Edmund's lion heart did not wholly
fail him, as he left the field where lay all the flower of the
Anglo-Saxon race: the brave and faithful Ulfketyl, Earl Ethelweard,
Earl Godwin, Elfric the ealdorman, and well nigh all the great men of
England, all sleeping in death. He rode to the south till he reached
the vale of the Thames, which he pursued until he reached the
neighbourhood of Gloucester--Alfgar and Hermann still by his side. And
now it was seen how his merits were recognised, and how he had already
gained the love of his people, for, from the territory of the Hwiccas,
and all the extreme west of Me