Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with a sound like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at their head, clad in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of fear was gone now in the mad excitement of the charge; before them they saw the wail of spear points; nearer and nearer their coursers bounded, until they seemed to fly. Every rider leant forward, that his sword might smite as far as possible; and, daring the points, trusting perhaps to the breastplates of their horses and their own ready blades, they rushed madly upon the foe. In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against such an obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of Edwy seemed capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became almost a pure calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, for none were cowards on either side, but of mere physical laws of force and resistance. Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance point, about to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he was hurried into the midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the warrior opposite to him in the second rank raise his axe to inflict a fearful blow, which would have severed his horse’s neck, had not an arrow transfixed the foe. The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in the anticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of the entrenchment rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon Edwy’s forces in the rear, and in a few moments all was confusion. The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines, advanced slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingled together in deadly strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed to have sought and found his individual foe. They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man falling and dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, writhing bodies. Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which had been cut almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: he succeeded, with great difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ran along the bottom of the valley, and, with the stream in their front, they prepared to afford a refuge to their own, and to resist the hostile horse. Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, called upon his friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped round behind the foot, where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him. He had fought well, had slain more than one foe with his own royal hand, as became a descendant of Cerdic, and now he but retired to organise another and stouter resistance to the daring foe.