to the earth, bathed in his gore. Even as he fell, aid was at hand.
The ceorls in the Roman house had caught the alarm, and were hurrying
down the knoll, with arms snatched in haste, while a loud whoop broke
from the forest land hard by; and a troop of horse, headed by Vebba,
rushed through the bushes and brakes. Those of the Welch still
surviving, no longer animated by their fiery chief, turned on the
instant, and fled with that wonderful speed of foot which
characterised their active race; calling, as they fled, to their Welch
pigmy steeds, which, snorting loud, and lashing out, came at once to
the call. Seizing the nearest at hand, the fugitives sprang to selle,
while the animals unchosen paused by the corpses of their former
riders, neighing piteously, and shaking their long manes. And then,
after wheeling round and round the coming horsemen, with many a
plunge, and lash, and savage cry, they darted after their companions,
and disappeared amongst the bushwood. Some of the Kentish men gave
chase to the fugitives, but in vain; for the nature of the ground
favoured flight. Vebba, and the rest, now joined by Hilda's lithsmen,
gained the spot where Harold, bleeding fast, yet strove to keep his
footing, and, forgetful of his own wounds, was joyfully assuring
himself of Edith's safety. Vebba dismounted, and recognising the
Earl, exclaimed:

"Saints in heaven! are we in tine? You bleed--you faint!--Speak, Lord
Harold. How fares it?"

"Blood enow yet left here for our merrie England!" said Harold, with a
smile. But as he spoke, his head drooped, and he was borne senseless
into the house of Hilda.