at of those two was the first combat of the battle.
Before the engagement Brian harangued his troops, with the crucifix in
one hand and a sword in the other. He reminded them of all they had
suffered from their enemies, of their tyranny, their sacrilege, their
innumerable perfidies; and then, holding the crucifix aloft, he
exclaimed: "The great God has at length looked down upon our sufferings,
and endued you with the power and the courage this day to destroy for
ever the tyranny of the Danes, and thus to punish them for their
innumerable crimes and sacrileges by the avenging power of the sword.
Was it not on this day that Christ Himself suffered death for you?"
He was then compelled to retire to the rear, and await the result of the
conflict; but Murrough performed prodigies of valour. Even the Danish
historians admit that he fought his way to their standard, and cut down
two successive bearers of it.
The mailed armour of the Danes seems to have been a source of no little
dread to their opponents. But the Irish battle-axe might well have set
even more secure protection at defiance. It was wielded with such skill
and force, that frequently a limb was lopped off with a single blow,
despite the mail in which it was encased; while the short lances, darts,
and slinging-stones proved a speedy means of decapitating or stunning a
fallen enemy.
The Dalcassians surpassed themselves in feats of arms. They hastened
from time to time to refresh their thirst and cool their hands in a
neighbouring brook; but the Danes soon filled it up, and deprived them
of this resource. It was a conflict of heroes--a hand-to-hand fight.
Bravery was not wanting on either side, and for a time the result seemed
doubtful. Towards the afternoon, as many of the Danish leaders were cut
down, their followers began to give way, and the Irish forces prepared
for a final effort. At this moment the Norwegian prince, Anrud,
encountered Murrough, whose arms were paralyzed from fatigue; he had
still physical strength enough to seize his enemy, fling him on the
ground, and plunge his sword into the body of his prostrate foe. But
even as he inflicted the death-wound, he received a mortal blow from the
dagger of the Dane, and the two chiefs fell together.
The _melee_ was too general for an individual incident, however
important in itself, to have much effect. The Northmen and their allies
were flying hard and fast, the one towards their ships, the others
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