Before they could collect themselves or form any plan for defense, the Norsemen were upon them, and then there followed an awful scene of carnage. The clash of steel, the hoarse shouts and cries of the Saxons, the shrieks and groans of the women, mingled with the exultant yells of the Danes. High above all, rose the Norse battle song which contained a covert sneer at the English religion: “We have sung the mass of the lances. It began at sunrise, and lo! the bright star hath gone to her rest, And the orison is not completed. Odin awaits us in Valhalla! The perennial boar steams upon the festive board! Hela, the death goddess, gnashes her teeth that we escape her! The kite and the raven scream with joy at the feast! Red runs the blood! Fearful the carnage! Guthrum the old hath destroyed the great one. The black Raven with pointed beak Hath subdued the Dragon of Wessex.” On and on it went while the sharp-edged swords did their work. The Saxons made a brave but ineffectual resistance. On every side they fell. The tables were overturned in the strife, and mead and pigment mingled with the blood of those who such a short time before quaffed the cup so gayly. Through the struggling combatants, Wulfhere made his way somehow to the upper end of the hall where Egwina, Ethelfleda, Elswitha, the lady’s mother, Eadburga, the two youths and the little ones were huddled together, terrified at the sudden onslaught. “Thou must not stay here,” he cried to the Lady Elswitha. “It is no place for thee, or these others.” A thegn darted to them at this moment. “Retire,” he shouted. “Retire, Lady, to thy bower.” “Retire!” exclaimed the lady, “and leave my lord’s hearthstone to the invader?” “Thou must,” cried the thegn in anguish. “For the love of the Holy Mary, seek thy bower. We must answer to the king for thy safety.” Without further remonstrance, the lady turned to flee with her children. It was none too soon. The Northmen pressed furiously toward that end of the hall. The few remaining Saxons threw themselves between the terrible Danes and their beloved lady. “Go, lads,” commanded the same thegn who had before spoken, pushing the youths who lingered towards the fleeing group; “ye can do naught here, and your duty lies there. Go!” and the boys obeyed him. As quickly as possible the little party made its way into the bower and barricaded the entrance behind them. “Now what?” asked the lady of Wulfhere. “We must not stay here,” answered he. “After the slaughter comes the flame. The Dane will apply the torch as is his wont. Let us to the king.” “The king! Alack!” Elswitha cried in sudden terror. “Where is he? I fear, oh, I fear that he hath fallen into the hands of Guthrum.” “Where went he?” asked Wulfhere. “To Malmesbury to determine the limits of some bocland. Were he living, he would have been here ere this. Oh, I fear, I fear!”