Leif, the son of Beo, wheeled away with Lars, and Ned shouted after them:
"Oh, Vebba! I am coming to join thee and Lars as soon as we have taken York."
"Maybe thou wilt and maybe thou wilt not," growled Father Brian. "A good many Vikings are to be killed before sunset. Look how the Saxons come on! I am willing to keep well away from their axes."
So was Ned himself, and, being on horseback, on pretty high ground, he was able to get a fair view of all that was going on.
Except for arrows and javelins, all the fighting would be hand to hand, so that personal skill and strength would count for all they were worth, while the small and weak were pretty sure to go down.
"There is the banner of King Hardrada," said Ned, "away at the left, toward the Ouse River. I guess Tostig is with him, and I won't go in that direction. Father Brian and I can see more if we stay in the middle. Whoop! Here comes the crash! It's awful!"
It was the tremendous onset of the English. It struck the Norwegian line first at the right, and all opposition seemed to be crushed before it. There could be no question of the courage or prowess of the Northumberland warriors, and their earls were leading them well.
"All the saints!" exclaimed Father Brian. "Are we to be beaten at once? Then I am thankful that thou and I will have a chance to ride away, for the English will spare no man."
"Wait a bit," replied Ned. "The king and the earl are charging in. All their best men are with them. See the rush of Hardrada, with his two-handed sword. He is like a man a-mowing! He is a giant!"
He had a sudden advantage given him, too, for the English followed the routed Vikings on the right, so that their own flank was exposed. They were necessarily in some disorder when the rush of the king's veterans struck them. Even numbers were at this point much in favour of the invaders, and there was soon a change in the aspect of the battle. Hard, terrible, desperate, was that long struggle of life and death. The slaughter thinned the ranks on both sides fearfully.