"Follow me!" cried Richard. "I know a way to baffle them. Ride, sirs—ride as ye were devils!"
Edric of Clun, on horseback, planted himself in fitzOsbern's way with menacing gesture; William hurled his truncheon, hit him on the head, and sent him tumbling from his saddle. Ednoth clung like a vice to Richard's legs for some yards, and was thrown to the ground, and trampled by many hurrying hooves. The few mounted English tried valiantly to intercept the trained cavalry, but were unhorsed or put to flight.
"To Richard's hall!" shouted Ulwin, from the background, where he was making tentative passes in the air with an antique sword. "Overton! Overton! Fire! Burn! Torches, I say—bring torches! Come on, all of you! Come, burn his house to the ground!"
The Earl and his men had rallied to Richard the Scrob, who called and signalled to them from Walter de Lacy's crupper. He headed straight for the forest of Haye.
"Warily now," said he. "There is much bogland."
He led them westward, skirting swamps, threading apparently impenetrable thickets, with scarcely a pause. They could hear faintly the voices of a few Englishmen who cursed as they wandered among the briary undergrowth. The hindmost of the Normans looked back and saw Ludford flaming, crumbling, and falling into ruins.
"It is mine own secret path," their guide announced. "Verily, mon seignior, I have prepared for your coming."
They left the forest behind them, and rode through the hamlet of Overton.
"Look yonder!" said Richard, pointing to the grey gleam of a stone rampart among the trees surrounding his mansion.
"What is this?" laughed the Earl. "Have ye licence from King William to erect a castle within his realm?"