The Norman foot led the van, seeking to force a passage across
the English stockade. "Out, out!" fiercely shouted the men of Kent, as
they plied axe and javelin with busy hands. The footmen were driven
back. The Norman horse in turn were repulsed. Again and again the duke
rallied and led his knights to the fatal stockade; again and again he
and his men were driven back. The blood of the Norseman in his veins
burned with all the old Viking battle-thirst. The headlong valor which
he had often shown on Norman plains now impelled him relentlessly
forward. Yet his coolness and readiness never forsook him. The course of
the battle ever lay before his eyes, its reins in his grasp. At one time
during the combat the choicest of the Norman cavalry were driven upon a
deep trench which the English had dug and artfully concealed. In they
went in numbers, men and horses falling and perishing. Disaster
threatened Duke William's army. The Bretons, checked by the marshes on
the right broke in disorder. Panic threatened to spread through the
whole array, and a wild cry arose that the duke was slain. Men in
numbers turned their backs upon the foe; a headlong flight was begun.
At this almost fatal moment Duke William's power as a leader revealed
itself.
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