numbers.

In the midst of the carnage in the centre, Edward reined in his steed
as he heard the cry of victory in the gale.

"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, "our men at the left are cravens! they fly!
they fly!--Ride to Lord Hastings, Sir Humphrey Bourchier, bid him
defile hither what men are left him; and now, ere our fellows are well
aware what hath chanced yonder, charge we, knights and gentlemen, on,
on!--break Somerset's line; on, on, to the heart of the rebel earl!"

Then, visor closed, lance in rest, Edward and his cavalry dashed
through the archers and billmen of Somerset; clad in complete mail,
impervious to the weapons of the infantry, they slaughtered as they
rode, and their way was marked by corpses and streams of blood.
Fiercest and fellest of all was Edward himself; when his lance
shivered, and he drew his knotty mace from its sling by his saddlebow,
woe to all who attempted to stop his path. Vain alike steel helmet or
leathern cap, jerkin or coat of mail. In vain Somerset threw himself
into the melee. The instant Edward and his cavalry had made a path
through the lines for his foot-soldiery, the fortunes of the day were
half retrieved. It was no rapid passage, pierced and reclosed, that
he desired to effect,--it was the wedge in the oak of war. There,
rooted in the very midst of Somerset's troops, doubling on each side,
passing on but to return again, where helm could be crashed and man
overthrown, the mighty strength of Edward widened the breach more and
more, till faster and faster poured in his bands, and the centre of
Warwick's army seemed to reel and whirl round the broadening gap
through its ranks, as the waves round some chasm in a maelstrom.