He stopped stock-still, heart hammering in his chest, and, as if from somewhere far off, he felt the wind of the charging horses that were running all around him.
Up the hill there were hoarse cries of "Ut! UT!" and the high, sharp ring of steel. Dust was rising all around him and somewhere off to the left a dying horse was screaming. Out of the dust a man came running down the hill. He staggered and fell and got up and ran again and Bishop could see that blood poured out of the ripped armor and washed down across the metal, spraying the dead, sere grass as he ran down the hill.
The horses came back again, some of them riderless, running with their necks outstretched, with the reins flying in the wind, with foam dashing from their mouths.
One man sagged in the saddle and fell off, but his foot caught in the stirrup and his horse, shying, dragged him sidewise.
Up on top of the hill the Saxon square was cheering and through the settling dust he saw the heap of bodies that lay outside the shield wall.
Let me out of here! Bishop was screaming to himself. How do I get out of here! Let me out -
He was out, back in the room again, with its single chair and the four blank walls.
He sat there quietly and he thought:
There was no Taillefer.
No one who rode and sang and tossed the sword in the air.