the dogged perseverance, the inexhaustible
faculty of resource which shone at Mortemer and Varaville. His Breton
troops, entangled in the marshy ground on his left, broke in disorder,
and as panic spread through the army a cry arose that the Duke was slain.
William tore off his helmet; "I live," he shouted, "and by God's help I
will conquer yet." Maddened by a fresh repulse, the Duke spurred right at
the Standard; unhorsed, his terrible mace struck down Gyrth, the King's
brother; again dismounted, a blow from his hand hurled to the ground an
unmannerly rider who would not lend him his steed. Amidst the roar and
tumult of the battle he turned the flight he had arrested into the means
of victory. Broken as the stockade was by his desperate onset, the
shield-wall of the warriors behind it still held the Normans at bay till
William by a feint of flight drew a part of the English force from their
post of vantage. Turning on his disorderly pursuers, the Duke cut them to
pieces, broke through the abandoned line, and made himself master of the
central ground. Meanwhile the French and Bretons made good their ascent
on either flank. At three the hill seemed won, at six the fight still
raged around the Standard where Harold's hus-carls stood stubbornly at
bay on a spot marked afterwards by the high altar of Battle Abbey. An
order from the Duke at last brought his archers to the front. Their
arrow-flight told heavily on the dense masses crowded around the King and
as the sun went down a shaft pierced Harold's right eye. He fell between
the royal ensigns, and the battle closed with a desperate melly over his
corpse.

Night covered the flight of the English army: but William was quick to
reap the advantage of his victory. Securing Romney and Dover, he marched
by Canterbury upon London. Faction and intrigue were doing his work for
him as he advanced; for Harold's brothers had fallen with the King on the
field of Senlac, and there was none of the house of Godwine to contest
the crown. Of the old royal line there remained but a single boy, Eadgar
the AEtheling. He was chosen king; but the choice gave little strength to
the national cause. The widow of the Confessor surrendered Winchester to
the Duke. The bishops gathered at London inclined to submission. The
citizens themselves faltered as William, passing by their walls, gave
Southwark to the flames. The throne of the boy-king really rested for
support on the Earls of Mercia and Northum