The Danes had established themselves in a strongly fortified camp at Chippenham, in Wiltshire. The hill which they occupied is still pointed out, and from the neighbouring plain it still appears rugged, abrupt, and difficult of ascent. The English forces were too few to venture on an unpremeditated attack; therefore Alfred arrayed himself as a wandering minstrel, and, harp in hand, approached the enemy’s outposts. The _scald_ would be right welcome, for the Danes ever loved a song, and camp life was dull. Alfred sang and played to the Danes, and was led even to the tent of Guthrum, the chief. As he struck the chords and trolled the lay, his keen eyes were busy photographing the defences of the camp on the sensitive plate of his memory. Dismissed with praise and gifts from the Danish entrenchments, he hastened to his island retreat, and there matured his plan of attack. The naked sword and the war-arrow were borne by loyal hands through the length and breadth of the south-western counties, and soon all was ready for the fateful battle. Alfred drew up his forces on the plain, and Guthrum marshalled his men in front, with Bratton Hill, crowned by its strong encampment, as a secure retreat in the rear. Massing his men in a close shield-wall, the English king gave the signal for battle. His soldiers rushed on the enemy; they broke the Danish ranks, and a fierce hand-to-hand fight raged on the plain. Furious was the _mêlée_ of sweeping sword, crashing battle-axe, and sharp javelin, and slowly the Danes began to gain ground, when a storm of arrows suddenly fell upon them, followed by an impetuous charge of English spearmen. The Danes were swept to earth; and through the island ranks ran the inspiring rumour that a renowned English saint had joined the fray, and that angelic hosts were fighting for the stricken land. The English had fought stoutly before; now they were irresistible. The Danes fell before their onslaught like corn before the reaper’s sickle. All was over; the shattered remnant of the Vikings turned and fled to their hill-top camp, leaving the field strewn with their dead and dying. Then Alfred girdled the hill with his forces, and for fourteen days closely besieged the Danes. Hunger, cold, fear, and despair gradually undermined the resolution of the besieged, and every day Alfred’s triumphant army was swelled by new recruits. On the fourteenth day Guthrum yielded, and humbly sued for peace. “They engaged to give the king as many hostages as he pleased, and to receive none from him in return—in which manner they had never before made peace with any one.”