him to stumble and the shield to
shift so that I could get a chance at him behind it. But I did not, so
at last, again praying to St. Hubert, I drew the big bow till the string
touched my ear, and let drive. The shaft, pointed with tempered steel,
struck the shield full in the centre, and by Heaven, pierced it, aye,
and the mail behind, aye, and the flesh it covered, so that he, too, got
his death.

"A great shot, Master," said William, "that no other bow in Hastings
could have sped."

"Not so ill," I answered, "but it is my last. Now we must fight as we
can with sword and axe until we be sped."

William nodded, and the women in the cave began to wail while I unstrung
my bow and set it in its case, from habit I think, seeing that I never
hoped to look upon it again.

Just then from the French ships in the harbour there came a great
blaring of trumpets giving some alarm, and the Frenchmen of a sudden,
ceasing from their attack, turned and ran towards the shore. I stepped
out of the cave with William and looked. There on the sea, drawing near
from the east before a good wind, I saw ships, and saw, too, that from
their masts flew the pennons of England, for the golden leopards gleamed
in the sun.

"It is our fleet, William," I said, "come to talk with these French."

"Then I would that it had come sooner," answered William. "Still, better
now than not at all."

Thus were we saved, through Hamo de Offyngton, the Abbot of Battle
Abbey, or so I was told afterwards, who collected a force by land and
sea and drove off the French after they had ravaged the Isle of Wight,
attacked Winchelsea, and burned the greater part of Hastings. So it
came about that in the end these pirates took little benefit by their
wickedness, since they lost sundry ships with all on board, and others
left in such haste that their people remained on shore where they were
slain by the mob that gathered as soon as it was seen that they were
deserted, helped by a company of the Abbot's men who had marched from
Battle. But with all this I had nothing to do who now that the fight
was over, felt weak as a child and could think of little save that I had
seen my mother burning.

Presently, however, that happened which woke me from my grief and caused
my blood which had grown sluggish to run again. For when she knew that
she was safe the lady Blanche came out of the cave and addressed me as I
stood there leaning against the rock with the red sword W