his heels as he saw the charging column, headed by the raven steed of
Warwick, come giant-like through the fog. The terror of one man is
contagious, and the Londoners actually turned their backs, when
Nicholas Alwyn cried, in his shrill voice and northern accent, "Out on
you! What will the girls say of us in East-gate and the Chepe?
Hurrah for the bold hearts of London! Round me, stout 'prentices! let
the boys shame the men! This shaft for Cockaigne!" And as the troop
turned irresolute, and Alwyn's arrow left his bow, they saw a horseman
by the side of Warwick reel in his saddle and fall at once to the
earth; and so great evidently was the rank of the fallen man that even
Warwick reined in, and the charge halted midway in its career. It was
no less a person than the Duke of Exeter whom Alwyn's shaft had
disabled for the field. This incident, coupled with the hearty
address of the stout goldsmith, served to reanimate the flaggers, and
Gloucester, by a circuitous route, reaching their line a moment after,
they dressed their ranks, and a flight of arrows followed their loud
"Hurrah for London Town!"

But the charge of Warwick had only halted, and (while the wounded
Exeter was borne back by his squires to the rear) it dashed into the
midst of the Londoners, threw their whole line into confusion, and
drove them, despite all the efforts of Gloucester, far back along the
plain. This well-timed exploit served to extricate the earl from the
main danger of his position; and, hastening to improve his advantage,
he sent forthwith to command the reserved forces under Lord St. John,
the Knight of Lytton, Sir John Coniers, Dymoke, and Robert Hilyard, to
bear down to his aid.

At this time Edward had succeeded, after a most stubborn fight, in
effecting a terrible breach through Somerset's wing; and the fog