It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank had
broken down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot had
contrived to cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost.
The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the state
of things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the king
and his broken and routed followers time to escape, while they made good
the defence with their lives. So they retired at once into the camp,
whither Edwy and his few surviving companions galloped a moment after them.
Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery red
with heat and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on the
plain. He saw those of his own followers who had not yet made good their
escape, ridden down, cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement of the
moment without mercy; the sight stung him, be would have sallied out to
their defence, but Cynewulf, who was yet living, met him in the gateway,
and sternly seized the bridle of his steed.
"My lord and king," he said; "your life is precious to Wessex, you may
not throw it away."
"I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command you;"
and he raised his sword impetuously.
"You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living,
you shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am old
enough to be your father.
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