The Saxons were all on foot. The Carmen contemptuously says of them:—
"Nescia gens belli, solamina spernit equorum,
Viribus et fidens hæret humo pedibus."[1]
and again tells us, that on their arrival on the field of battle:—
"Omnes descendunt, et equos post terga relinquunt;[2]
while Wace assures us that they were ignorant of jousting and of bearing arms on horseback—a statement which might be deemed incredible did it not rest upon such excellent authority.
At length, according to Wace (to whose ample account of the battle I am principally indebted)," the English stood ready to their post, the Normans still moving on; and when they drew near, the English were to be seen stirring to and fro; men going and coming; troops ranging themselves in order; some with their colour rising, others turning pale; some making ready their arms, others raising their shields; the brave man rousing himself to the fight, the coward trembling at the approaching danger."[3] Now was the struggle about to begin—a struggle fraught with tremendous consequences; and many an islander trembled, and many a transmarine heart beat high, at the recollection of an old prophecy attributed to Merlin,[4] "that a Norman people in iron coats should lay low the pride of the English," "Then," to quote the monk of of Battel, it "was manfully fought with arms."[5]
But first, there comes upon the stage of this eventful drama, a character to whom the old historians, Guy, Benoit, Gaimar, and Wace, allude with peculiar gusto. Among the Norman knights was one who, from his prowess and agility, had acquired, according to the usage of the times, the sobriquet of Taillefer or "cut-iron." He is usually designated a jouglere or a minstrel; but whatever his accomplishments might have led others to call him,[6] it is evident from what follows, that he was also a personage of equestrian rank, a noble or a knight. He asked and obtained the duke's permission to strike the first blow,[7] but previously, he commenced in lofty strain the composition
