t
forward the soldiery in the second rank, to smite and to crush. And,
from the core of the wedge, poured the shafts of the archers. Down
rolled in the dust half the charge of those knights. Bruse reeled on his
saddle; the dread right hand of D'Aumale fell lopped by the axe; De
Graville, hurled from his horse, rolled at the feet of Harold; and
William, borne by his great steed and his colossal strength into the
third rank--there dealt, right and left, the fierce strokes of his iron
club, till he felt his horse sinking under him--and had scarcely time to
back from the foe--scarcely time to get beyond reach of their weapons,
ere the Spanish destrier, frightfully gashed through its strong mail,
fell dead on the plain. His knights swept round him. Twenty barons
leapt from selle to yield him their chargers. He chose the one nearest
to hand, sprang to foot and to stirrup, and rode back to his lines.
Meanwhile De Graville's casque, its strings broken by the shock, had
fallen off, and as Harold was about to strike, he recognised his guest.

Holding up his hand to keep off the press of his men, the generous King
said briefly: "Rise and retreat!--no time on this field for captor and
captive. He whom thou hast called recreant knight, has been Saxon host.
Thou hast fought by his side, thou shalt not die by his hand!--Go."

Not a word spoke De Graville; but his dark eye dwelt one minute with
mingled pity and reverence on the King; then rising, he turned away; and
slowly, as if he disdained to fly, strode back over the corpses of his
countrymen.

"Stay, all hands!" cried the King to his archers; "yon man hath tasted
our salt, and done us good service of old. He hath paid his weregeld."

Not a shaft was discharged.

Meanwhile, the Norman infantry, who had been before recoiling, no sooner
saw their Duke (whom they recognised by his steed and equipment) fall on
the ground, than, setting up a shout--"The Duke is dead!" they fairly
turned round, and fled fast in disorder.

The fortune of the day was now well-nigh turned in favour of the Saxons;
and the confusion of the Normans, as the cry of "The Duke is dead!"
reached, and circled round, the host, would have been irrecoverable, had
Harold possessed a cavalry fit to press the advantage gained, or had not
William himself rushed into the midst of the fugitives, throwing his
helmet back on his neck, showing his face, all animated with fierce
valour and disdainful wrath, while he