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.
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