Returning
to the tents, the duke and Harold paused where Osgod, who had sunk
to the ground as soon as the Breton attack had ceased, was sitting
by the side of his master.
"Whom have we here?" the duke asked. "Whoever they are we owe our
safety to them, Harold, for had it not been for the resistance they
made, the Bretons would have been among our tents before we had
time to catch up our arms. Bring a torch here!" he shouted; and two
or three soldiers came running up from the tents with lights.
"Methinks it is one of my men," Harold said, and repeated the duke's
question in Saxon.
"I am Osgod, my lord, the servant of Wulf of Steyning, who with his
friend, Guy de Burg, lies here beside me, I fear done to death."
"I trust not, indeed," Harold said, stooping over the bodies.
At this moment the men came up with the lights. "By the rood,"
William exclaimed, "but they fought stoutly, whoever they are. The
ground round them is covered with the bodies of these Breton rascals.
There must be at least a score of them, while so far as I can see
there are but three of our men. Who are they, Harold?"
"One is Guy, son of the Baron de Burg," Harold replied. "Another
is young Wulf, and this stout fellow is his man."
"Right gallantly have they done," the duke exclaimed, "and I trust
that their lives are not spent. Let someone summon De Burg here
quickly. Carry his son to his tent, and bid my leech attend at once
to his wounds and to those of these brave Saxons.
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