King Lot's host, led onward thus unthinking, were sure of victory. But their cries of triumph were short and quickly turned to woe; for when they had passed the place of ambush, they heard cries of terror in their rear, and turning, they found a great host pouring forth from the hollow combe, thick as angry bees from a hive.
Then, indeed, taken in the rear and in the front, there was little hope of victory, and King Lot's men fought for dear life.
Seeing King Bors, where he hewed terribly in the press of battle, King Lot, who knew him well, cried out:
'Ah, Mary, now defend us from death and from horrible maims, for I see well we be in fear of quick death! Yonder is King Bors, one of the most worshipful and best knights in the world; and there is his twin brother, King Ban, as terrible as he. How came they and their host into Britain, and we not know it, alas?'
'By the arts of that wizard Merlin, I doubt not,' said King Uriens. 'And I doubt not we shall all be sped. Look you, Lot,' he went on, 'whoever that Arthur may be, I'll swear by my head he is not of low-born breeding, but a very man and a marvellous fighter.'
'If you lose heart now, why, go and swear fealty to him!' sneered King Lot.
'Keep your sneers,' said Uriens sternly. 'I'll pay the price of rebellion to my last breath, as I have vowed.'
By now the great mass of King Lot's host was either slain or run away, and the evening drew on; but the eleven kings, wounded, spent, and full of anguish at defeat, drew together with a few hundred of their knights, and vowed to die fighting. When they looked to see where they stood, they found that Arthur had penned them upon a little bluff of land that ended steeply over a deep river, and that no way was open for them to escape from the death of swords, unless they chose to leap on the rocks below the cliff.
'See!' said Uriens, with a laugh, 'while we fought like wild boars, and thought of nothing but the killing, this base-born king kept his wits and moved us like pawns on a chessboard, we all unwitting. First, he drew us into ambush, and now he thrusts us into a chasm. We war-wise fighters, grown grey in battle, checkmated by a boy!'
Nevertheless, though wearied, full of dread and shame, and looking death in the eyes, the little band of men withdrew backwards, waiting until Arthur should command his lines of glittering knights to dash upon the remnant of the rebel kings.