Octa, the son of Hengist, was within, and some of his
kindred with him. When Octa was persuaded that none might win to his
aid, he considered within himself whether he should render him to the
king's mercy. If he took his fate in his hand, and humbly besought
pity of the king, so mercy were given him all would be well, but if
his prayer was scorned, then he would defend himself to the death.
Octa did as he devised, and as his kinsfolk approved. He came forth
from the gate of the city with a company of all his barons. Octa
wore a chain of iron upon his wrists, and walking at the head of his
companions, came first to the king. "Sire," said he, "I beseech you
for mercy and pity. The gods in whom we put our trust have failed us
at need. Your gods are mightier than they. They have wrought wonders,
and set strength upon you, since we are stricken to the dust. I am
vanquished, and own myself thy servant. Behold the chain of thy
bondman! Do with me now according to thy will, to me, and these my
men. Life and limb, yea, all that we have, are at thy pleasure. But
if it seem good to the king to keep us about his person, we will
toil early and late in his service. We will serve him loyally in his
quarrels, and become his liege men.
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