ancient picturesque Saxon armor, described by Sir Samuel Meyrick,1 heirlooms from warriors who had fought against the Danes, plates of tough, hard leather overlying one another on a long-skirted tunic, leaf-shaped and stained variously, brown, orange, or scarlet, so that the men must have seemed to have clothed themselves from the October woods that were gorgeous about them. Raising my eyes and glancing across to the opposite slope, I tried to call up a vision of the Norman columns, troops of horsemen in steel, with front and flanks guarded by archers and pikemen in quilted coats or girt about with hides. I thought I could nearly fix the spot where the duke, putting on his hauberk, threw it over his shoulder, the back side in front. Those who stood near were sorely alarmed at the bad omen, as at the landing; but the ready leader changed it in an instant, crying out: "The hauberk which was turned wrong by me and then set right signifies that a change will take place out of the matter which is now stirring. We shall see the name of duke changed to King." The duke then mounted his Spanish charger and careered before his retinue, who burst forth into impetuous tribute to his strength and prowess. Down the slope there, at nine o'clock, moved the Norman lines. But the page of battle about to be written in blood was illuminated at its edge with picThe minstrel turesque poetry. The minstrel Taillefer, Taillefer. having begged the boon of William, suddenly spurred forward to within a few paces of the waiting Saxons, pausing, I conjectured, a few rods down the slope from where I sat. There he sang the 1 Antient Armour, I, p. liiii, introduction. song of Roland and the peers of Charlemagne, engaging meantime in single combats, until at length he fell under a lance-thrust. Says the "Roman de Rou": "Taillefer, ki mult bien cantout, Sor un cheval ki tost alout, * Sires, dist Taillefer, mierci, Otreiz mei, ke jo n'i faille, Li primier colp de la bataille." The battle now began with the utmost fierceness. Over the slopes the trumpets rang, the tramp of the horses resounded hollow on the earth, the shields echoed, struck by swords and maces. Like swarms of migrating wild fowl, the feathered arrows of the archers sounded through the air, which they darkened by their number. The Normans shouted their war-cry, "God aid us!" The Saxons clamored in return, "Out, out, Holy Cross! God Almighty!" The "Roman de Rou" is here most pleasantly quaint: "'Olicrosse, 'sovent crioent; Ke Sainte Croix est en franceiz, E'Godemite, 'altretant Com en franceiz Dex tot poissant." Dangerous The wicker-work, which with modern arms would be so feeble a barrier, was to the Normans a most formidable obstacle. From nine o'clock until situation of noon there was no advantage on either side. the Normans. Then, however, a troop of Bretons under Eustace, Count of Boulogne, which had been specially engaged, fell back before the Saxons in almost utter rout. In the low ground, his followers became involved in ditches and in the brook, and perished by the hundred. Utter defeat seemed to lie before the invaders. Bishop Odo of Bayeux, William's brother, with a white ecclesiastical dress sweeping about his stately figure, but wearing a hauberk as well and with a mace swinging at his wrist, dashed on a white horse into the confusion, crying, "Stand fast!" William, too, who had been supposed to be slain, flung his helmet from him, and with head bare, stopped the flight. "I am here!" he cried. "Look at me; I live, and will conquer!" Throughout the afternoon the clang of the conflict was unabated. Somewhere toward four o'clock, it is probable, took place the event which was the beginning of the end. William, observing that the shafts of the archers, shot horizontally, stuck in the osiers and did little harm, ordered that they should be shot upward, that they might descend vertically upon the heads of the Saxons. Aloft flew the arrows. Harold, looking up unwarily, received one in his left eye. Blinded, and crazed with pain, he drew it out, and leaned exhausted upon his shield. Just here the Normans practised a stratagem with results to them most fortunate. Their horsemen feigned a retreat in great confusion into the low ground, leaving their archers behind them. Harold wounded. The Saxons, unrestrained now that Harold was wounded, rushed down the hill in disorderly pursuit, -"like sand without lime," is the graphic phrase of Matthew of Westminster. At a signal from William, the knights returned on the gallop and swept round them; then, fighting backward, Norman and Saxon entered the entrenchment together. The closing scenes are made sadly vivid in the old tales. The men of Kent who survived, and the levies of Essex and Sussex collected with the The rout of bleeding Harold at the foot of the gleam- the Saxons. ing standard. Covered with sweat and blood, they shouted cries of defiance that the Normans compared to the barking of dogs. But the knights came charging, William at the head fighting like a common manat-arms. The sun had sunk below the level of the woods. Twenty Norman knights, devoting themselves to death or victory, made their way to the standard's foot. The blinded King struck wildly at his foes; but a blow on the helmet felled him, and the sword of a knight cut his thigh through to the bone. In the twilight the last resistance was beaten down, and a group of exhausted men stood with uncertain footing upon the heap of corpses. The standard of the dead Harold fell, and that of William took its place. "Then the duke took off his armor, and the Barons and knights came, when he had unstrung his shield, and took the helmet from his head and the hauberk from his back, and saw the heavy blows upon his shield and how his helmet was dinted in, and all greatly wondered, and said: Such a Baron never bestrode war-horse, nor dealt such blows, nor The wicker-work, which with modern arms would be so feeble a barrier, was to the Normans a most formidable obstacle. From nine o'clock until Dangerous the Normans. situation of noon there was no advantage on either side. Then, however, a troop of Bretons under Eustace, Count of Boulogne, which had been specially engaged, fell back before the Saxons in almost utter rout. In the low ground, his followers became involved in ditches and in the brook, and perished by the hundred. Utter defeat seemed to lie before the invaders. Bishop Odo of Bayeux, William's brother, with a white ecclesiastical dress sweeping about his stately figure, but wearing a hauberk as well and with a mace swinging at his wrist, dashed on a white horse into the confusion, crying, "Stand fast!" William, too, who had been supposed to be slain, flung his helmet from him, and with head bare, stopped the flight. "I am here!" he cried. "Look at me; I live, and will conquer!" Throughout the afternoon the clang of the conflict was unabated. Somewhere toward four o'clock, it is probable, took place the event which was the beginning of the end. William, observing that the shafts of the archers, shot horizontally, stuck in the osiers and did little harm, ordered that they should be shot upward, that they might descend vertically upon the heads of the Saxons. Aloft flew the arrows. Harold, looking up unwarily, received one in his left eye. Blinded, and crazed with pain, he drew it out, and leaned exhausted upon his shield. Just here the Normans Harold wounded. stratagem with results to them most for horsemen feigned a retre the low ground, leavi |