; and William then hastened to inform him that he
was about to make a military expedition against the Bretons; and knowing
his peculiar acquaintance with the warfare, as with the language and
manners, of their kindred Welch, he besought his aid in a campaign which
he promised him should be brief.

Perhaps the Earl was not, in his own mind, averse from returning
William's display of power by some evidence of his own military skill,
and the valour of the Saxon thegns in his train. There might be prudence
in such exhibition, and, at all events, he could not with a good grace
decline the proposal. He enchanted William therefore by a simple
acquiescence; and the rest of the evening--deep into night--was spent in
examining charts of the fort and country intended to be attacked.

The conduct and courage of Harold and his Saxons in this expedition are
recorded by the Norman chroniclers. The Earl's personal exertions saved,
at the passage of Coesnon, a detachment of soldiers, who would otherwise
have perished in the quicksands; and even the warlike skill of William,
in the brief and brilliant campaign, was, if not eclipsed, certainly
equalled, by that of the Saxon chief.

While the campaign lasted, William and Harold had but one table and one
tent. To outward appearance, the familiarity between the two was that of
brothers; in reality, however, these two men, both so able--one so deep
in his guile, the other so wise in his tranquil caution--felt that a
silent war between the two for mastery was working on, under the guise of
loving peace.

Already Harold was conscious that the politic motives for his mission had
failed him; already he perceived, though he scarce knew why, that William
the Norman was the last man to whom he could confide his ambition, or
trust for aid. One day, as, during a short truce with the defenders of
the place they were besieging, the Normans were diverting their leisure
with martial games, in which Taillefer shone pre-eminent: while Harold
and William stood without their tent, watching the animated field, the
Duke abruptly exclaimed to Mallet de Graville, "Bring me my bow. Now,
Harold, let me see if thou canst bend it."

The bow was brought, and Saxon and Norman gathered round the spot.

"Fasten thy glove to yonder tree, Mallet," said the Duke, taking that
mighty bow in his hand, and bending its stubborn yew into the noose of
the string with practised ease.

Then he drew the arc to his ear; a