(M. Guichard) did not live to analyze these operations, as he
has done the campaigns of Africa and Spain.]

Against the advice of his wisest captains, Alexius resolved to risk
the event of a general action, and exhorted the garrison of Durazzo to
assist their own deliverance by a well-timed sally from the town. He
marched in two columns to surprise the Normans before daybreak on two
different sides: his light cavalry was scattered over the plain; the
archers formed the second line; and the Varangians claimed the honors of
the vanguard. In the first onset, the battle-axes of the strangers made
a deep and bloody impression on the army of Guiscard, which was
now reduced to fifteen thousand men. The Lombards and Calabrians
ignominiously turned their backs; they fled towards the river and the
sea; but the bridge had been broken down to check the sally of the
garrison, and the coast was lined with the Venetian galleys, who played
their engines among the disorderly throng. On the verge of ruin, they
were saved by the spirit and conduct of their chiefs. Gaita, the wife of
Robert, is painted by the Greeks as a warlike Amazon, a second Pallas;
less skilful in arts, but not less terrible in arms, than the Athenian
goddess: [73] though wounded by an arrow, she stood her ground, and
strove, by her exhortation and example, to rally the flying troops. [74]
Her female voice was seconded by the more powerful voice and arm of
the Norman duke, as calm in action as he was magnanimous in council:
"Whither," he cried aloud, "whither do ye fly? Your enemy is implacable;
and death is less grievous than servitude." The moment was decisive: as
the Varangians advanced before the line, they discovered the nakedness
of their flanks: the main battle of the duke, of eight hundred knights,
stood firm and entire; they couched their lances, and the Greeks deplore
the furious and irresistible shock of the French cavalry. [75] Alexius
was not deficient in the duties of a soldier or a general; but he no
sooner beheld the slaughter of the Varangians, and the flight of the
Turks, than he despised his subjects, and despaired of his fortune. The
princess Anne, who drops a tear on this melancholy event, is reduced
to praise the strength and swiftness of her father's horse, and his
vigorous struggle when he was almost overthrown by the stroke of a
lance, which had shivered the Imperial helmet. His desperate valor broke
through a squadron of Franks who opposed hi