While they were thus speaking, Warwick, turning to Montagu and his
knights, said,--

"Our sole hope is in the courage of our men. And, as at Towton, when
I gave the throne to yon false man, I slew, with my own hand, my noble
Malech, to show that on that spot I would win or die, and by that
sacrifice so fired the soldiers, that we turned the day, so now--oh,
gentlemen, in another hour ye would jeer me, for my hand fails: this
hand that the poor beast hath so often fed from! Saladin, last of thy
race, serve me now in death as in life. Not for my sake, oh noblest
steed that ever bore a knight,--not for mine this offering!"

He kissed the destrier on his frontal, and Saladin, as if conscious of
the coming blow, bent his proud crest humbly, and licked his lord's
steel-clad hand. So associated together had been horse and horseman,
that had it been a human sacrifice, the bystanders could not have been
more moved. And when, covering the charger's eyes with one hand, the
earl's dagger descended, bright and rapid, a groan went through the
ranks. But the effect was unspeakable! The men knew at once that to
them, and them alone, their lord intrusted his fortunes and his life;
they were nerved to more than mortal daring. No escape for Warwick--
why, then, in Warwick's person they lived and died! Upon foe as upon
friend, the sacrifice produced all that could tend to strengthen the
last refuge of despair. Even Edward, where he rode in the van, beheld
and knew the meaning of the deed. Victorious Towton rushed back upon
his memory with a thrill of strange terror and remorse.

"He will die as he has lived," said Gloucester, with admiration. "If
I live for such a field, God grant me such a death!"