The Savage Shriek of the Victor

i rose in my stirrups and hoarse as any raven that ever dipped a black wing, the crimson pools of battle, shouted to my veterans. It did not need i had fought least well of any in that grim company. And now with one accord, we pushed the foemen hard. We saw the great rhon flanders jennets slide back upon their haunches and slip and plunge in the purple quagmire we had made. Then each, like a good ship well freighted, lurch and go down under our hoofs. The day was well nigh won.