And as they came up the Roman road, they were aware of a great press of men in front of them, and hard fighting toward.
Some of the English would have spurred forward at once. But Hereward held them back with loud reproaches.
“Will you forget all I have told you in the first skirmish, like so many dogs when they see a bull? Keep together for five minutes more, the pot will not be cool before we get our sup of it. I verily believe that it is Waltheof, and that Gilbert has caught him already.”
As he spoke, one part of the combatants broke up, and fled right and left; and a knight in full armor galloped furiously down the road right at them, followed by two or three more.
“Here comes some one very valiant, or very much afeared,” said Hereward, as the horseman rode right upon him, shouting,—
“I am the King!”
“The King?” roared Hereward, and dropping his lance, spurred his horse forward, kicking his feet clear of the stirrups. He caught the knight round the neck, dragged him over his horse’s tail, and fell with him to the ground.
The armor clashed; the sparks flew from the old gray Roman flints; and Hereward, rolling over once, rose, and knelt upon his prisoner.
“William of Normandy, yield or die!”
The knight lay still and stark.