y think will excite
their anger against another, repeated these words to William. Sick as he
was, the sarcasm aroused him to a furious paroxysm of rage. He swore by
"God's brightness and resurrection" that, when he got out again, he
would kindle such fires in Philip's dominions, in commemoration of his
delivery, as should make his realms too hot to hold him.

He kept his word--at least so far as respects the kindling of the fires;
but the fires, instead of making Philip's realms too hot to hold him, by
a strange yet just retribution, were simply the means of closing forever
the mortal career of the hand that kindled them. The circumstances of
this final scene of the great conqueror's earthly history were these:

In the execution of his threat to make Philip's dominions too hot to
hold him, William, as soon as he was able to mount his horse, headed an
expedition, and crossed the frontiers of Normandy, and moved forward
into the heart of France, laying waste the country, as he advanced, with
fire and sword. He came soon to the town of Mantes, a town upon the
Seine, directly on the road to Paris. William's soldiers attacked the
town with furious impetuosity, carried it by assault, and set it on
fire. William followed them in, through the gates, glorying in the
fulfillment of his threats of vengeance. Some timbers from a burning
house had fallen into the street, and, burning there, had left a
smoldering bed of embers, in which the fire was still remaining.
William, excited with the feeling of exultation and victory, was riding
unguardedly on through the scene of ruin he had made, issuing orders,
and shouting in a frantic manner as he went, when he was suddenly
stopped by a violent recoil of his horse from the burning embers, on
which he had stepped, and which had been concealed from view by the
ashes which covered them. William, unwieldy and comparatively helpless
as he was, was thrown with great force upon the pommel of the saddle. He
saved himself from falling from the horse, but he immediately found that
he had sustained some serious internal injury. He was obliged to
dismount, and to be conveyed away, by a very sudden transition, from the
dreadful scene of conflagration and vengeance which he had been
enacting, to the solemn chamber of death. They made a litter for him,
and a corps of strong men was designated to bear the heavy and now
helpless burden back to Normandy.

[Illustration: WILLIAM'S HORSE STEPPING ON THE E