Now, although Elfric had got an ugly cut upon his brow, he smiled, and said, “’Tis nothing, good my Lord: ’tis only a scratch from the sharp end of Bishop Odo’s pastoral crook. If he had not been so timeously succoured, I would have cleft his shaven crown in spite of his steel cap, or have made him a prisoner!”
When this was said, and when the keen eye of Hereward had made survey of the whole field, he and his sword-bearer, and all his matchless band, who had been trained to war in a hundred fights and surprises, rushed towards the spot where floated the proud banner of Duke William. They were soon upon that prime of the Norman army; and then was seen how the Lord of Brunn and his Saxons true bore them in the brunt of war. Thunder the battle-axes; gride the heavy swords! Broad shields are shivered, and the Norman left arms that bore them are lopped off like hazel twigs; helms are broken, and corslets reft in twain; and still this true Saxon band shouted, “Holy rood! holy rood! Out! out! Get ye out, Normans! Hereward for England! Saxons, remember Hastings!” Stout young Raoul of Caen, the page that carried the arms and the shield (arma ac scuta) of the Duke, was slain by Hereward’s sword-bearer; and where Raoul met his untimely death, other Normans perished or bled. Duke William shouted, “Notre Dame! Notre Dame! Dieu aide! Dieu aide!” but was forced to give ground, and the Duke retreated beyond the earth-raised mound or great embankment which girded the Camp on that side.
“The patrimony of Saint Etheldreda is not easy to conquer! We have beaten off the two brothers!” Thus spoke Elfric.
“So far is well,” quoth Hereward! “but what is this I see and hear? What are those cravens doing in the centre of the Camp? By the Lord of Hosts, some of them be throwing down their weapons, and crying for quarter! Wipe the blood from out thine eyes, Elfric; keep close to my side, and come on, brave men all!”
And away from the earth-raised mound, over which he had driven the Norman Duke, went the Lord of Brunn with his warrior band; and then was the fight renewed in the midst of the Camp, where some of the disheartened Saxons were using all the French they knew in crying, “Misericorde! misericorde! Grace! grace!”
“Fools!” shouted the Lord of Brunn, “these Normans will show ye no mercy! There is no grace for ye but in your own swords!” And then the Saxons took heart again, and rallying round Hereward, they soon charged the foe, and fought them hand to hand. In their turn the Normans began to yield, and to cry for quarter; but this band in the centre was supported by another and another; and soon Duke William, and that ungodly bishop, his brother, came back into the interior of the Camp, with many knights and men-at-arms that had not yet tasted the sharpness of the Saxon steel, and that were all fresh for the combat. Louder and louder waxed the war-cry on either side, and terrible and strange became the scene within the wide Camp; for the cattle, scared by the loud noise, and by the clash and the glittering of arms, were running wildly about the Camp in the midst of the combatants; and the fierce bulls of the fens, lashing themselves into furor, and turning up the soil with their horns, came careering down, and breaking through the serried lines of the invaders; and many a Norman was made to feel that his mail jacket was but a poor defence against the sharp horns of the bull that pastured on the patrimony of Saint Etheldreda. Also rose there to heaven a dreadful rugitus, or roaring, mixed with the loud bewailing and the shrieks of timid herdsmen, and of women and children; and the wives and children of the Saxons ran about the Camp, seeking for a place of safety, and finding none. The Saxon warriors were now falling fast, but the Normans fell also; and victory was still doubtful, when loud shouts were heard, and another forest of lances was seen coming down on the Camp from the south; and upon this, one entire body of the Saxon host threw down their arms, and surrendered themselves as prisoners.
Hereward, who was leaning upon his battle-axe, and wiping the sweat from his brow, said to his sword-bearer, “This is a sad sight!”
“A sad sight and a shameful,” quoth Elfric; “but there are Saxons still that are not craven; Here our lines be all unbroken.”
“And so will we yet fight on,” quoth Hereward.
But the Lord of Brunn had scarcely said the words when a number of Saxon lords, old dwellers in the Camp of Refuge, and men that had fought at Hastings, and in many a battle since, gathered round Lord Hereward, and threw their swords and battle-axes and dinted shields upon the ground, and told him that the fight was lost, and that (de communi concilio magnatum), with the common advice and consent of the magnates, they had all determined to surrender upon quarter, and take the King’s peace.