The Etheling perceived it, and rushed to the scene just as two or three of the English, less used to arms, were yielding before the ponderous weapons of the Danes. Throwing himself into the breach, his practised arm made a desert around him. Of immense muscular strength, his blows came down like the fabled hammer of Thor, crushing helmet and breastplate alike before the well-tempered steel of his favourite weapon. The foe were driven back, and for one moment he stood in the breach alone.