the sand of the sea. The king looked upon his realm, and saw it gnawed
to the bone. None drave the plough, nor cast seed in the furrow. The
castles and the walled cities were breached and ruined. He marked the
villages blackened by fire, and the houses of God stripped bare as a
peasant's hovel. The heathen pilled and wasted, but gathered neither
corn into barns nor cattle within the byre. He testified that this
should not endure, so he returned in safety from the battle.

When Hengist knew that the king followed closely after, and that fight
he must, he strove to put heart and hardihood into the breasts of
his fellows. "Comrades," said he, "be not dismayed by reason of this
rabble. We know well enough what these Britons are, since they never
stand before us. If but a handful go against them, not one will stay
to fight. Many a time, with but a mean company, have I vanquished and
destroyed them. If they be in number as the sand, the more honour is
yours. A multitude such as this counts nothing. A host like theirs,
led by a weak and foolish captain, what is it worth? These are a
trembling folk, without a chief, and of them we should have little
fear. The shepherd of these sheep is a child, who is yet too young to
bear a spear, or carry harness on his back. For our part we are heroes
and champions, proven in many a stour, fighting for our very lives,
since for us there will be no other ransom. Now be confident and bold.
Let our bodies serve us for castles and for wall. Be brave and strong,
I say, for otherwise we are but dead men." When Hengist ceased
heartening his comrades, the knights arrayed them for the battle. They
moved against the Britons as speedily as their horses might bear
them, for they hoped to find them naked and unready, and to take them
unawares. The Britons so misdoubted their adversary that they watched
in their armour, both day and night. As soon as the king knew that the
heathen advanced to give battle, he ordered his host in a plain that