And so the fight swept on to the base of Edington hill and along its sides, for there Alfred had held his best men in reserve.

Already the Danes had made for themselves some shallow lines of earthworks along the crest, and now these were manned against their own attack.
Men who looked on from afar tell strange tales of the shouts and cries that rang among the quiet Polden hills and woodlands that day for long hours.

It was very still, as it chanced, and the noise of battle went far and wide from the place where Saxon and Dane fought their greatest fight for mastery.
Ever rode Alfred with the light of battle on his face, confident and joyous, among his men from post to post.

Ever where the tide of battle seemed to set against us his arm brought victory again, until at last Guthrum drew his men together for one final attack that should end the day.
On Edington hillside he massed them, and steadily they came on under shield in a dense column to where, in their own camp, we waited under the Dragon banner.

Half our men, the best spearmen of the force, were lying down resting, but along the little ridges of the earthworks the archers stood, each knowing that he fought under the eye of the king he loved.
"This is the end," said Alfred, as the Danes came on.