Despair aids courage. A day came in the siege in which
Odun, grown desperate, left his defences before dawn, glided silently
down the hill with his men, and fell so impetuously upon the Danish
host that the chief and twelve hundred of his followers were slain, and
the rest driven in panic to their ships. The camp, rich with the spoil
of Wales, fell into the victors' hands, while their trophies included
the great Raven standard of the Danes, said to have been woven in one
noontide by Ragnar's three daughters. This was a loss that presaged
defeat to the Danes, for they were superstitious concerning this
standard. If the raven appeared to flap its wings when going into
battle, victory seemed to them assured. If it hung motionless, defeat
was feared. Its loss must have been deemed fatal.
Tidings of this Saxon victory flew as if upon wings throughout England,
and everywhere infused new spirit into the hearts of the people, new
hope of recovering their country from the invading foe. To Alfred the
news brought a heart-tide of joy. The time for action was at hand.
Recruits came to him daily; fresh life was in his people; trusty
messengers from Ethelingay sought the thanes throughout the land, and
bade them, with their followers, to join the king at Egbert, on the
eastern border of Selwood forest, in the seventh week after Easter.
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