desired to effect,--it was the wedge in
the oak of war. There, rooted in the very midst of Somerset's troops,
doubling on each side, passing on but to return again, where helm could
be crashed and man overthrown, the mighty strength of Edward widened the
breach more and more, till faster and faster poured in his bands,
and the centre of Warwick's army seemed to reel and whirl round the
broadening gap through its ranks, as the waves round some chasm in a
maelstrom.

But in the interval, the hard-pressed troops commanded by Hastings were
scattered and dispersed; driven from the field, they fled in numbers
through the town of Barnet; many halted not till they reached London,
where they spread the news of the earl's victory and Edward's ruin.
[Sharon Turner.]

Through the mist, Friar Bungey discerned the fugitive Yorkists under
Hastings, and heard their cries of despair; through the mist, Sibyll
saw, close beneath the intrenchments which protected the space on which
they stood, an armed horseman with the well-known crest of Hastings on
his helmet, and, with lifted visor, calling his men to the return, in
the loud voice of rage and scorn. And then she herself sprang forwards,
and forgetting his past cruelty in his present danger, cried his
name,--weak cry, lost in the roar of war! But the friar, now fearing he
had taken the wrong side, began to turn from his spells, to address the
most abject apologies to Adam, to assure him that he would have been
slaughtered at the Tower but for the friar's interruption; and that
the rope round his neck was but an insignificant ceremony due to the
prejudices of the soldiers. "Alas, Great Man," he concluded, "I see
still that thou art mightier than I am; thy charms, though silent, are
more potent than mine, though my lungs crack beneath them! Confusio
Inimicis Taralorolu, I mean no harm to the earl. Garrabora, mistes et
nubes!--Lord, what will become of me!"

Meanwhile, Hastings--with a small body of horse, who being composed of
knights and squires, specially singled out for the sword, fought
with the pride of disdainful gentlemen, and the fury of desperate
soldiers--finding it impossible to lure back the fugitives, hewed their
own way through Oxford's ranks to the centre, where they brought fresh
aid to the terrible arm of Edward.

CHAPTER V. THE BATTLE.

The mist still continued so thick that Montagu was unable to discern
the general prospects of the field; but, calm and reso