Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line on the bloody grass behind them—­persevered, like men longing for the close hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadly grip.  The shock arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping the harvest of death.  So great was the physical strength of the combatants that arms and legs were mown off by a stroke, and men were cloven in two, from the crown downwards, by the sweeping blows of the deadly steel.

It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was unshaken in its strength; in vain Edwy’s archers behind shot their arrows so as to curve over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst the foe; the men of Wessex recoiled and gave way.

Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of the foe, although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered his cavalry to charge.  The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance; down on their knees went the first line, their spears resting on the ground; behind them the second bent over to strike with their axes; while a third rank, the archers, drew their bows, and prepared to welcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of deadly arrows.

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.