ted, that they might speak together as
friend with friend. Peace above all he desired; peace he ensued; peace
was his love, and he sought her with tears. Nothing was further from
his wish than war, and he would rather be banished from the realm than
remain by force of arms. It was for the Britons to elect those whom
they willed to stay, and for the others they would return whence they
came. The Britons granted the love-day, and the two peoples took
pledges, one of the other; but who can trust the oath of a liar? A
time was appointed when this council should be holden. The king sent
messages to Hengist that he must come with few companions; and Hengist
plighted troth right willingly. Moreover, it was commanded that none
should bear weapons at the council, for fear that men should pass
from words to blows. The two parties met together near the Abbey of
Ambresbury, on the great Salisbury plain. The day was the kalends of
May. Hengist had taught his comrades, and warned them privily, that
they should come each with a sharp, two-edged knife hidden in his
hose. He bade them to sit in this Parliament, and hearken to the talk;
but when he cried, "Nimad covre seax" (which being interpreted means
"Pluck forth your knives," and would not be understanded of the
Britons), they were to snatch out their daggers and make each a dead
man of his neighbour. Now when the council was met, and men were
mingled together, the naked Briton near by the false heathen, Hengist
cried loudly, "Nimad covre seax." The Saxons, at his word, drew forth
the knives from their hose, and slew that man sitting at their side.
Hengist was seated very close the king. He held the king fast by his
mantle, so that this murder passed him by. But those who gripped the
knives thrust the keen blades through cloak and mantle, breast and
bowels, till there lay upon back or belly in that place nigh upon four
hundred and sixty men of the richest and most valiant lords of the
kingdom. Yet some won out and escaped with their lives, though they
had naught to defend their bodies save the stones.

Eldof, Earl of Gloucester, got a great club in his right hand, which
he found lying at his feet, though little he recked who had carried it
to the council. He defended his body stoutly with this mighty staff,
striking and smiting down, till he had slain fully sixty and ten of
the pagan. A mighty champion was he, and of rich worth. He clave a
path through the press, without taking a wo