nd the tree itself seemed to shake at
the shock, as the shaft, piercing the glove, lodged half-way in the
trunk.

"Such are not our weapons," said the Earl; "and ill would it become me,
unpractised, so to peril our English honour, as to strive against the arm
that could bend that arc and wing that arrow. But, that I may show these
Norman knights, that at least we have some weapon wherewith we can parry
shaft and smite assailer,--bring me forth, Godrith, my shield and my
Danish axe."

Taking the shield and axe which the Saxon brought to him, Harold then
stationed himself before the tree. "Now, fair Duke," said he, smiling,
"choose thou thy longest shaft--bid thy ten doughtiest archers take their
bows; round this tree will I move, and let each shaft be aimed at
whatever space in my mailless body I leave unguarded by my shield."

"No!" said William, hastily; "that were murder."

"It is but the common peril of war," said Harold, simply; and he walked
to the tree.

The blood mounted to William's brow, and the lion's thirst of carnage
parched his throat.

"An he will have it so," said he, beckoning to his archers; "let not
Normandy be shamed. Watch well, and let every shaft go home; avoid only
the head and the heart; such orgulous vaunting is best cured by
blood-letting."

The archers nodded, and took their post, each at a separate quarter; and
deadly indeed seemed the danger of the Earl, for as he moved, though he
kept his back guarded by the tree, some parts of his form the shield left
exposed, and it would have been impossible, in his quick-shifting
movements, for the archers so to aim as to wound, but to spare life; yet
the Earl seemed to take no peculiar care to avoid the peril; lifting his
bare head fearlessly above the shield, and including in one gaze of his
steadfast eye, calmly bright even at the distance, all the shafts of the
archers.

At one moment five of the arrows hissed through the air, and with such
wonderful quickness had the shield turned to each, that three fell to the
ground blunted against it, and two broke on its surface.

But William, waiting for the first discharge, and seeing full mark at
Harold's shoulder as the buckler turned, now sent forth his terrible
shaft. The noble Taillefer with a poet's true sympathy cried, "Saxon,
beware!" but the watchful Saxon needed not the warning. As if in
disdain, Harold met not the shaft with his shield, but swinging high the
mighty axe, (which wit