he main body
of his troops with a perfect breastwork against the charge of the horse.
Stakes and strong hurdles interwoven with osier plaits, and protected by
deep dykes, served at once to neutralise the effect of that arm in which
William was most powerful, and in which Harold almost entirely failed;
while the possession of the ground must compel the foe to march, and to
charge, up hill, against all the missiles which the Saxons could pour
down from their entrenchments.

Aiding, animating, cheering, directing all, while the dykes were fast
hollowed, and the breastworks fast rose, the King of England rode his
palfrey from line to line, and work to work, when, looking up, he saw
Haco leading towards him up the slopes, a monk, and a warrior whom, by
the banderol on his spear and the cross on his shield, he knew to be one
of the Norman knighthood.

At that moment Gurth and Leofwine, and those thegns who commanded
counties, were thronging round their chief for instructions. The King
dismounted, and beckoning them to follow, strode towards the spot on
which had just been planted his royal standard. There halting, he said
with a grave smile:

"I perceive that the Norman Count hath sent us his bodes; it is meet that
with me, you, the defenders of England, should hear what the Norman
saith."

"If he saith aught but prayer for his men to return to Rouen,--needless
his message, and short our answer," said Vebba, the bluff thegn of Kent.

Meanwhile the monk and the Norman knight drew near and paused at some
short distance, while Haco, advancing, said briefly:

"These men I found at our outposts; they demand to speak with the King."

"Under his standard the King will hear the Norman invader," replied
Harold; "bid them speak."

The same sallow, mournful, ominous countenance, which Harold had before
seen in the halls of Westminster, rising deathlike above the serge garb
of the Benedict of Caen, now presented itself, and the monk thus spoke:

"In the name of William, Duke of the Normans in the field, Count of Rouen
in the hall, Claimant of all the realms of Anglia, Scotland, and the
Walloons, held under Edward his cousin, I come to thee, Harold his liege
and Earl."

"Change thy titles, or depart," said Harold, fiercely, his brow no longer
mild in its majesty, but dark as midnight. "What says William the Count
of the Foreigners, to Harold, King of the Angles, and Basileus of
Britain?"

"Protesting against thy assumptio