side, turned pale and murmured, "This is the end!" He saw that they had to deal with veteran soldiers under perfect control, and he dreaded the result. There were not many moments for fear or for preparation. The Earl's horsemen came on, gradually increasing their speed, until they were within forty or fifty yards. Then just as the Count—a brave scoundrel—was about to give the order to charge, the Earl raised his own battle-cry, and the horsemen came down like a breaking wave.
There was never an instant's doubt of the result. The Count's line broke to pieces like slate under a hammer, and all hope of resistance was gone. The Count and Luke stood their ground, but the Earl had picked out the leader, and his lance carried the Count to the ground. Luke turned to flee, but when he reached the edge of the wood Edgar overtook him, and struck him down. It was a rout. The Earl's men, learning that the leaders of the besiegers had been slain, drew rein, and let the smaller villains go.
It was hardly a quarter of an hour since the arrival of the Earl's forces on the field, and the siege was a thing of the past—the Count and Luke the Lurdane were dead, and their forces were in scattered flight through the woods.
The garrison in the castle had seen the battle, and now, breaking up the fastenings of the doors,
