onslaught.

So inside these ramparts were we with some six hundred men, and
there we were watched by three times our number. There was a strong
post on Cannington hill, between us and Bridgwater; another--and
that the main body--between us and the ships, on a little, sharp
hill crest across a stony valley two bowshots wide that lay between
it and the fort; and so we were well guarded.

At first this seemed of little moment, for we were to stay Hubba
before the place; and for a while there was nothing but rejoicing
over the return of the banner. Then I found there was no water in
the place, and that we had but what food each man happened to carry
with him. Presently that want of water became terrible, for our
wounded began to cry for it piteously. Maybe it was as well that we
had few with us, because the field was left in the hands of the
Danes.

Up and down among those few went Etheldreda and Alswythe and Thora,
tending them and comforting them, where we had sent them--to the
highest point of the hilltop, inside the upper rampart; and I could
see the flutter of their dresses now and then from where I watched
beside Odda on the lower works. I had spoken to neither since we
came here.

Towards dusk I spoke to Odda, and he gave me twenty men; and
gathering all the vessels of any sort that would hold water, we
climbed over the rampart next the marsh, and stole down to the
nearest pool and brought back all we could, using helms and
leathern cloaks and the like, for want of buckets. We got back
safely that time, and I sent the same men again, thinking that
there was no danger, and so not going myself.

They got back, indeed, but with a party of Danes after them; and
but for our arrow flights from the earthworks, they would have had
to fight, and lose what they brought. After that Hubba knew what we
needed, and sent a strong picket to keep us from the marsh.

So the night passed and we had some hopes that a force might come
to our help from Bridgwater in the morning, for it was possible
that the king would be able to gather men there. It was a slender
hope, though, for the host on Polden Hills had to be watched.

All day we waited, and no help came; and with evening the last food
had gone. It had rained heavily, however, and the want of water was
past for the time. The Danes never moved from their places, waiting
to starve us out; and in the last light of evening a small party
came across the little valley from the