For Guthrun and Hungwar, alarmed at the tidings they received of how the King of the West Saxons was advancing against them with a host, had hastily broken their old camp and advanced to meet him, travelling swiftly so that they might be beyond the reach of those left at Athelney; and now they were encamped in a strong place, with earthworks thrown up, to which they might retire if the fight went against them, and there hold out till more came to rescue them. So the night through, the forces remained; and in the Danish camp was heard the sound of wild revelry, but in the Saxon army the voice of prayer; and in the morning the King advanced to a place called Ethandune, and there the Danes came to meet him, now, alas! with no raven banner floating over them. Woe, woe, for the Danes! Woe for the daughters of Regner Lodbrok who had woven that banner in a single night! Woe to the sons of the Northland, for great was to be the slaughter that day. And the King drew up his army in battle array, and he sat his steed, and spoke to them, and urged them to be of good courage and each one play a man's part. "My dear subjects and fellow countrymen," he said, "this day is a day big with fate, and England calls to each of her sons to be a hero. Yonder are the Black Strangers who would trample out the church of the Lord, and put the priests and the holy maidens to shame and death. Yonder are the murderers of little children and gray-heads, yonder the spoilers of your homes. Is it not said that they who slay with the sword shall by the sword be slain? Ye are as the arm of the Lord this day. Up and smite them, and may His blessing be on our fair England, on this day of battle." Then did the battle begin; and the Saxon archers stood forward, and shot thick and fast, and their bows were like the bow of Einar Tamberskelver who fought with King Olaf in his last fight, and their arrows like the bite of serpents, so that the Danes fell fast, and cried to their leaders to hasten forward, that they might get at the Saxons with sword and axe. And then, as the Danes began to charge, the archers stepped back, and the spears of the champions were hurled, and the Danes were smitten again, for the Saxons could cast as well as they could shoot, and there were men of the Britons with the King also, who could cast right hand or left. Thus it was that ere the Black Strangers reached the King's lines, the death-song had been sung for many a viking warrior; for there were thoughts of wrongs received, and vengeance desired, which made the Saxon arm strong, and sent the spears like the lightning stroke, piercing armor and shields.