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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Thane of Wessex"


At last came one, running at a steady pace, and I sprang to meet him,
for it was Wulfhere. His face was hard and set, his armour was covered
with blood, and he had a bandage round his head instead of helmet; but
he was not hurt much, as one might see by the way he came.
He grasped my hand without a word, and threw himself on the bank by the
road side to get breath, and I stood by him, silent for a while.
"Heregar," he said at last, "it is well for Bridgwater town, and these
here in this nunnery, that you obeyed and fought not."
"Wherefore?" I said. "Must we fly?"
"I saw you rally the men on Cannington Hill, and that was the best thing
done in all this evil day."
"Then," I asked, "do they yet stand?"
"Aye; for the Danes have drawn off, and our men bar the way here."
I told him what I had hoped from a charge of our levy; but he shook his
head and told me that, even had our men the skill to see their
advantage, the Danes had formed up again on seeing that this might be,
and had gone back in good order to their first post at Combwich.
"But our levy will not bide a second fight," he said sadly. "Already the
men are making off home, in twos and threes, saying that the Danes will
depart, and the like. Tomorrow the way here will be open, for there will
be no force left to Osric by the morning.


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