But that noble king was scarcely able to receive the congratulations of his supporters. He strove to remain standing, but the scene swam before his eyes; he forced himself to speak, but the words would not form themselves on his lips, and he would have fallen heavily on the ground had not two or three of his attendants run to support him. They laid him gently on the grass and stanched his wounds: both cuts were fortunately clean ones, and a simple bandage round the arm prevented much loss of blood there; but the cut in the neck was more serious. Ceolwulf was sitting near, a grim and satisfied expression on his weather-beaten face. The blood was oozing from the wound in his chest, but he was doing nothing to stop the bleeding. His eyes were fixed on Cædwalla's pale face, and he was muttering some grumbling remarks to himself. The little grassy platform high up on the hillside, so lately the scene of desperate, relentless strife, was now covered with dead or dying men, and the few survivors were too worn out to do more. They sat or reclined on the sward, waiting for the rest of their comrades to come up. The sun had now set, and the cold breeze of evening blew keen on that elevated spot.
Presently a West Saxon eorldoman rode up, attended by a few footmen, and gazed at the silent group. Seeing Cædwalla, he dismounted, and hastily went up to him, fearing the worst, but was reassured by the men who sat beside him.
"We must carry him down from here," said the eorl. "Get you as many young withies or hazel boughs from the copse down yonder," he added, turning to the men who had come with him, "and make a litter for your king."
Then he mounted his horse, rode to the brow of the hill, where the now numerous band of survivors were clearly seen in the valley below, raised his axe, on which he had put the helmet of Arwald, high above his head, and shouted, in a voice that rang over the silence of the hills:
"Long live Cædwalla, king of Wessex, Sussex, and Wihtea!"
Directly after a ringing cheer could be heard in the valley, and even the exhausted warriors on the summit joined in the shout of triumph. Again and again the cheers rang out, and rapidly the news spread over the island.
The men with the litter now returned, and carefully Cædwalla was lifted upon it. The movement caused him to open his eyes, and they happened to fall upon Ceolwulf. The king feebly beckoned him to his side, and, as the old man slowly and stiffly came up to him, the wounded king said: "Ceolwulf, old man, I owe my life to thee. Ask me what thou likest, and thou shalt have it."
But Ceolwulf made no reply. He merely shook his head slowly, and went on grumbling to himself.
Cædwalla was carried down the hill, and, as it was now too dark to go much further, the eorldoman who had taken charge of the little army gave directions that the king should be carried to a cottage near, and the rest of the men were to encamp around. With prudent foresight, another eorldoman had gone on with a party of men to make the country people bring them in provisions, and the victors were supplied with necessary food after their hard day's work.
The wounded men were cared for, and proper guards were set to keep watch during the night. Nothing, however, happened to disturb their rest.