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Updated: May 26, 2025
They laid waste the coast lands; attacked the city of Bristol, but were beaten off by the citizens; landed again further down in Somerset, and were defeated in a great battle by Ednoth, who had been Harold's staller, where many were killed on both sides, including Ednoth himself; and then returned with nothing gained but such plunder as they succeeded in carrying off.
There was a studied humility in it all, as if he shunned all comparison with the king. Ednoth said grace, and the chanters responded.
No one spoke to him; all the company seemed utterly bewildered, as well they might be until, after the expiration of an hour, during which time Ednoth had left the hall, and the company broke up by degrees, an officer of the court came and whispered in his ear that Edmund awaited him without the gates.
"Alfgar can perhaps inform you, but one day must have been much like another to him in the Danish camp." "His statement would need verification," said Ednoth. "He is as true and brave as any man here." "Of course, all Danes are true and brave," said Edric. "He is a Christian." "Yes; I think he became one on St. Brice's day," suggested Edric. "To save his life, no doubt," said the sheriff.
With a deep sigh Edmund recognised Ednoth, bishop of Dorchester, lying stark and stiff in his bloody robes. A troop of Danish horsemen had surrounded the hill and massacred them all. The assassins had even hewn Ednoth's finger off for the episcopal ring.
"A curse seemed upon all our exertions this last year," said Ednoth, sorrowfully. "We were defending our hearths and our homes, yet we were everywhere outmanoeuvred and beaten. It could not have been worse had we had spies and traitors in command."
His holy blood fell on the earth, and his soul he sent forth to God's kingdom. On the morrow they allowed the body to be taken to London, where the bishops, Ednoth of Dorchester and Elfhelm of London, received it, with all the townsmen, and buried the holy relics in St. Paul's minster, where they say many miracles have already been wrought at his tomb.
Yet it may be noted that Dorchester never fully recovered the events of that dreadful year, and that its decay probably dates from the period. Resting only a few hours, during which they were the guests of Ednoth, the bishop, they departed with his fervent blessing and earnest prayers for their success, and rode westward, attended by their whole troop.
The Danes are sleeping, hibernating like bears in their winter caves." "While they are so near as the Wight, who can rest in peace?" said Ednoth. "The Wight! it must be a hundred miles from here; the Danes have never reached any spot so far from the coast as this."
First and foremost was the king of Southern England, the valiant Ironside, and his attendant and friend Alfgar; Elfwyn and Father Cuthbert from Aescendune, with the Lady Hilda and Ethelgiva; Herstan, his wife Bertha, and son Hermann, from Clifton, with his sisters; and Ethelm, the new bishop of Dorchester, the successor of the martyred Ednoth.
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