valry were driven upon a
deep trench which the English had dug and artfully concealed. In they
went in numbers, men and horses falling and perishing. Disaster
threatened Duke William's army. The Bretons, checked by the marshes on
the right broke in disorder. Panic threatened to spread through the
whole array, and a wild cry arose that the duke was slain. Men in
numbers turned their backs upon the foe; a headlong flight was begun.

At this almost fatal moment Duke William's power as a leader revealed
itself. His horse had been killed, but no harm had come to him.
Springing to the back of a fresh steed, he spurred before the fugitives,
and bade them halt, threatened them, struck them with his spear. When
the cry was repeated that the duke was dead, he tore off his helmet and
showed his face to the flying host. "Here I am!" he cried, in a
stentorian voice. "Look at me! I live, and by God's help will conquer
yet!"

Their leader's voice gave new courage to the Norman host, the flight
ceased; they rallied, and, following the headlong charge of the duke,
attacked the English with renewed fierceness and vigor. William fought
like an aroused lion. Horse after horse was killed under him, but he
still appeared at the head of his men, shouting his terrible war-cry,
striking down a foeman with every swing of his mighty iron club.

He broke through the stockade; he spurred furiously on those who guarded
the king's standard; down went Gurth, the king's brother, before a blow
of that terrible mace; down went Leofwin, a second brother of the king;
William's horse fell dead under him, a rider refused to lend him his
horse, but a blow from that strong mailed hand emptied the saddle, and
William was again horsed and using his mighty weapon with deadly effect.

Yet despite all his efforts the English line of defence remained
unbroken. That linked wall of shields stood intact. From behind it the
terrible battle-axes of Harold's men swung like flails, making crimson
gaps in the crowded ranks before them. Hours had passed in this
conflict. It began with day-dawn; the day was waning, yet still the
English held their own; the fate of England hung in the scale; it began
to look as if Harold would win.

But Duke William was a man of resources. That wall of shields must be
rent asunder, or the battle was lost. If it could not be broken by
assault, it might by retreat. He bade the men around him to feign a
disorderly flight. The trick succeeded