The Romans did well, nor might the Britons do better. A
thousand men came swiftly to their deaths, for the two hosts arrayed
themselves proudly one against the other, and strove right scornfully.
Not a judge on earth could declare which host should be vanquished,
nor what man of them all would come victor and quick from the tourney.
Now Mordup, Earl of Gloucester, was constable of the bailly Arthur
had hidden on a high place within a wood. Mordup remembered Arthur's
counsel that should evil befall, and the battle draw back to the wood,
he must charge boldly on his adversaries. Mordup rode from his hiding
with a company of six thousand six hundred and sixty-six riders, clad
in gleaming helmets and coats of mail, and carrying sharp lances and
swords. These drew down the hillside, unnoticed of the Romans, and
coming out on their rear, charged hotly on the legion. The legion was
altogether discomfited. Its ranks were pierced, its order was broken,
with the loss of more than one thousand men. The Britons rode amongst
the Romans, parting each from his fellow, trampling the fallen beneath
the horses' hoofs, and slaying with the sword. The Romans could
endure no longer, for the end of all was come. They broke from their
companies, and fled fearfully down the broad road, climbing one upon
the other in their haste.
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