"The reeds are on fire, men! Have a care," shouted Ivo.
"Silence, fool! Frighten them once, and they will leap like sheep into
that gulf. Men! right about! Draw off,--slowly and in order. We will
attack again to-morrow."
The cool voice of the great captain arose too late. A line of flame was
leaping above the reed bed, crackling and howling before the evening
breeze. The column on the causeway had seen their danger but too soon, and
fled. But whither?
A shower of arrows, quarrels, javelins, fell upon the head of the column
as it tried to face about and retreat, confusing it more and more. One
arrow, shot by no common aim, went clean through William's shield, and
pinned it to the mailed flesh. He could not stifle a cry of pain.
"You are wounded, Sire. Ride for your life! It is worth that of a thousand
of these churls," and Ivo seized William's bridle and dragged him, in
spite of himself, through the cowering, shrieking, struggling crowd.
On came the flames, leaping and crackling, laughing and shrieking, like a
live fiend. The archers and slingers In the boats cowered before it; and
fell, scorched corpses, as it swept on. It reached the causeway, surged
up, recoiled from the mass of human beings, then sprang over their heads
and passed onwards, girding them with flame.
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