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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

It seemed
almost impossible to scale this hill as we looked on its slope in
the darkness, but we reached its foot where the hill is steepest,
and held on northward yet, until we came to where there is a long
steady rise up to the very gate of the earthworks.
Now there should have been an outpost halfway along this slope
toward the camp, for whatever tribe of the Britons made the
stronghold had not forgotten to raise a little fort for one. But we
were in luck, for this outpost was not held, and we rode past it,
and knew that there was every chance now of our fairly surprising
the camp. The first grey of dawn was coming when I passed the word
to the men to close up, and told them what we were to do.
"We charge through the earthworks, for there is no barrier across
the gate, and spread out across the camp with all the noise we can.
Follow a flight for no long distance beyond the earthworks, but
scatter the Welsh."
So we rode on steadily until we were but a bow shot from the
trench, and yet no alarm was raised, for the foe watched hardly at
all, deeming that no Saxon force would think of crossing where we
crossed the river, or of coming on them from the north at all.
Then Thorgils and I and Erpwald rode forward, and I gave the word
to charge, and up the long smooth slope we went at the gallop, with
a heavy thunder of hoofs on the firm turf of the ancient track.


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