It was at this inauspicious moment that the Danes charged the palisades again with deadly fury, while the attention of all was drawn to the flames; so fierce was the attack, that it was necessary once more to concentrate all the strength of the besieged to repel them; and the fire gained in strength, roared and hissed in its fury, seizing for its prey the whole roof of the eastern wing of the building.
And now the Danish archers, drawing nearer, sent fresh flights of arrows on those who were labouring on the house top, and, killing several, drove the others away. The condition of the English was rapidly getting desperate.
Edmund threw himself into the strife, and drove the foe back from the breach they had previously made, but even his valour could not restore confidence.
"All is lost! all is lost!" cried some panic-stricken trembler, as he saw the flames spread.
"To the river, to the river, to the boats!" cried others.
"Nay, nay," shouted Edmund, "we are not conquered yet; we can defend ourselves till daylight, or we can depart in order. Alfgar, bid the women and children prepare to leave the hall as the fire spreads; and you, Herstan, see that if the worst comes to the worst, the retreat to the river is made in order. We will defend the place if necessary till the last man, and cover your retreat; but all is not lost yet. Take a dozen stout men, mount the roof, the fire is not lower down; let them destroy the burning portion with their axes; let the women stand behind with the water.
"Archers, keep the Danes back. See those brutes there aiming at your wives on the roof; bring them down; make them keep their distance. Guard well the palisades."
But, although his orders were obeyed, the Danes grew bolder; the men could not work on the roof in the midst of the arrows. The women and children, emerging terror-struck from the hall, made every father's heart sink within him.
Edmund cried aloud:
"To the gate, to the gate! the villains have got the drawbridge down."