But the strangest thing to me was to see what they had done to the
great timber bridge itself, for they had made that also into a
fortress. The old railing along the roadway was gone, and in its
place were breast-high bulwarks of strong timber, and on each span
of the bridge was a high wooden tower whose upper works overhung
the water, looking downstream, as if they feared assault from the
river itself.

We came up to the Pool on a good flood-tide, and as we dropped
anchor there we saw all this, and, moreover, that the place was
held by the Danes in force. The red cloaks of Cnut's thingmen were
on bridge and walls and fort alike, and no few of them in either
stronghold. There was work before us if we would win the place for
our king.

Before any word had come to Olaf of what should be done, Eadmund
had gone ashore with all his warriors, and had fallen on the
Southwark earthwork. It was Olaf's first thought to follow him, but
he held back.

"Let him go," he said. "Maybe he will like best to win his own city
without my help at the first onset. Yet unless that fort is weaker
than it looks, his attack will be of no use. For, see--all the
Danes from the bridge are going to help."

So it was, and from the deck of Olaf's ship I looked on at the
fight for half an hour. At one time I thought that we had won the
place, for our men charged valiantly through the moat and up the
steep sides of the earthworks.