Owing to the difficulty of getting the levies formed up and set in motion, the Norsemen had arrived on the ground and had taken up a defensive position before the English reached it. Had the force contained a strong body of housecarls, Wulf, who had talked the matter over with the earls, would have advised that they should fight on the defensive and allow the Norsemen to attack; but with freshly-raised troops, ready and eager for battle, but wanting the discipline that alone enables trained soldiers to endure patiently a long series of attacks, he thought that there was more chance of victory in attacking the enemy. Morcar commanded on the left, Edwin on the right. Wulf took up his position by the side of Morcar, and exchanged a few words with Osgod before advancing to the charge.
"This will be a right royal contest, master," the latter said as he fingered his heavy axe. "Never before have I seen a set battle like this."
"Do you keep close to me, Osgod."
"That I am sure to do, master," the latter broke in.
"Yes, I know that while we fight you will be by my side, but it may be that we shall have to fly. The Norsemen outnumber us greatly, and their king is a host in himself. This is a good position to defend, but a bad one to fly from. The king's last words were a charge to me not to throw away my life, and therefore while I shall fight as long as fighting can avail, I shall also do my best to save myself if we are defeated. As we came along I kept near to the edge of the swamp, and some hundred yards back I marked a spot where, as it seemed to me, there was a sort of path, worn either by broken men and outlaws, who may dwell somewhere in its recesses, or by men from a village beyond it. For this point, then, I shall make if we are defeated. It may be that it was not a path, but at least it offers a chance of escape. So when I give you the word, keep close to my side."
Osgod nodded. His confidence in Wulf was absolutely boundless, and though he revolted at the thought of retreat he knew well that so long as a chance of victory remained Wulf would not quit the field. When within two or three hundred yards of the enemy, Morcar advanced to the front of the line with his standard-bearer beside him.
"On men!" he shouted, and with a yell the English poured down to the attack The line of the Norsemen was on this side less strong than it was near the river where their king had posted himself, and the Norsemen gave way before the furious attack of the English. Morcar and many of his thanes fought in the front rank. Wulf was close beside him, and before their swords and the terrible axe of Osgod the invaders fell back foot by foot, and shouts of triumph rose from the English; but it was not for long. On the left Edwin could make no impression on the shield-wall of the enemy, and presently their king caused his horns to blow the signal for attack, and his line, hitherto immovable, flung itself on the English. The king, a head taller than any of his men, fought in their front rank, his terrible two-handed sword hewing down every man who opposed him. As the English gave way the assault became more and more impetuous, and in a few minutes the English broke and fled all along the line.
"All is lost, Osgod," Wulf said; as after fighting to the last he turned his back on the foe. The scene on the ridge was now terrible; the exulting Norsemen followed hard upon the flying English, uttering their shouts of victory and cutting down all they overtook. Hampered by the crowd in front of them great numbers of the English fell beneath the weapons of their pursuers, others turned to the right or left, and hundreds were smothered in the swamp by the river or in that on the other side. Once the flight began, Osgod placed himself in front of his master, his powerful figure and his weight enabling him to push his way through the crowd of fugitives. Wulf kept close behind him, and they followed the edge of the swamp until Wulf saw the faint indication of a path he had before noticed.
"Turn off here, Osgod; this is the place I spoke of. Let me go first, I am lightest."
The ground shook beneath their feet, the slime oozed up to their ankles, but, moderating their pace now, they sprang from tussock to tussock until two or three hundred yards from the edge of the swamp. Then they paused and looked round. The work of slaughter was still proceeding. Along the edge of the swamp numbers of English could be seen, some half immerged, some fast disappearing. In the din of the struggle none heard or heeded their cries, each man was occupied solely with the thought of flight or slaughter. Some half-dozen of the fugitives, seeing the two men were making their way across the swamp, had followed in their footsteps.
Slowly and cautiously Wulf moved forward again. Sometimes a treacherous tuft gave way and he slipped waist-deep into the mire, but Osgod was always close at hand, and his long arm enabled him to reach forward to his master from a firmer spot and to draw him from the bog. After an hour's painful work the ground began to be firmer, and before long they were safe in the forest beyond the swamp. Here for a while the party threw themselves down exhausted. After an hour's rest the others asked Wulf what they had best do.
"There is but one thing to be done," he replied; "make off to your homes. The remnant of the army will reach York, and the Norsemen will doubtless surround the city and lay siege to it. For the present our cause is lost, and there is nought for us to do but to try and save our lives, which have been spared well-nigh by a miracle."
Keeping south through the forest Wulf and his follower were several hours before they emerged from its shade. Another three miles' walking brought them to a village, where they learned they were six miles west of Selby. Here they obtained some food, and then bearing off so as to strike the south road arrived soon after nightfall at the house of the thane who had supplied them with their last change of horses on their way north. The news they brought excited the greatest consternation, but their host saw at once that the only hope now was that Harold might bring help, and at once placed the two horses which they had ridden to his house at their disposal. Wulf and Osgod mounted at once, and travelled southwards at a speed equal to that at which they had journeyed north.
When within a few miles of Peterborough they received news that seemed almost too good to be true. Harold at the head of a great army had already reached that town, and was pressing north at the top of his speed. From east and west he was being joined by the levies of the thanes. Riding forward to Peterborough they found the town crowded with troops, who, as they learned, were to march forward again in half an hour. Wulf at once made his way to the monastery, in which Harold was lodged.
"I need not ask your news, Wulf," Harold said, as, covered with dust and mire, and almost reeling with exhaustion, the young thane entered his private closet.
"The army of the northern earls has been well-nigh destroyed two miles from York. Whether the earls themselves escaped I know not, for I left the field while the slaughter was still going on. York will be at once besieged, and as most of its fighting men went out to the battle and a large proportion must have been slain, I fear that it can resist but a short time the attack of the Norsemen. It was good news indeed when I heard that you were advancing north."
"It is bad tidings that you bring, Wulf, but not unexpected. Directly I heard that the enemy's fleet were off our northern coast and were burning and pillaging unopposed, I speedily gathered what force I could in the South, and sending on messengers ahead to summon the levies of East Anglia to join me on the way, started north. Yesterday the news reached me that the great fleet of Norway had sailed up the Humber, and I saw that I should be too late to join Edwin and Morcar before they were forced to give battle before York. Now tell me of the fight, and how you managed to escape, for I see by your mail-coat and helmet, which are dinted and frayed and the steel rings shorn off in many places, that you were in the thick of it."
Wulf related the story of the battle, and the manner in which he had escaped.
"You did wisely, Wulf, to mark a way of retreat before the battle commenced. A good general should ever be prepared for defeat as well as for victory. So the levies fought well?"
"They did, my lord. They engaged the Norsemen gallantly and well—much better, indeed, than I had looked for them to do, and the day went favourably until the King of Norway with his picked men threw themselves upon them. Even after that they fought sturdily for a short time, and had there been but a body of housecarls to form a shield-wall, behind which they could have rallied, the day might still have been theirs. But you look ill, my lord."
"I was on a bed of sickness when the news came; but it was no time for lying abed. For the first two or three days' marches I was carried on a litter, but I am now well enough to sit my horse. It cost me a sore struggle to leave the South unguarded simply because my orders were not obeyed here in the North. But there was no help for it, and we have been marching well-nigh night and day in hopes that we might bring this matter to a close, and return south before the Norman fleet appears off the coast. We have already marched farther than would seem possible in the time, but the men are all in good heart and eager to meet the Norsemen, and I have addressed them and shown them the urgent necessity for speed. We shall set forward again in half an hour. They have had six hours for rest, so they can do another fifty miles before they halt again. You can tarry here for a day to rest yourself, and can then ride on and overtake us."
"I will go down and take a plunge in the river," Wulf said, "and shall be ready to mount again by the time that the rearguard is in motion. I could have kept on to London had it been needful, and shall be quite ready to proceed with the army."
They were within a day's march of York when the news came that the city had surrendered without waiting for an assault. The King of Norway had offered favourable terms; a local Gemot had been held, and it had been agreed to make peace with Harold of Norway, and not only to receive him as king but to join him in his warfare against the South. Hostages were given for their fidelity to their new lord, who in return gave hostages to York for the good conduct of his troops. It was the city only that had so treacherously behaved, and the surrender by no means included the whole province. It was arranged, however, by the earls, that hostages should be given for Northumbria at large, and they promised that a hundred and fifty of these should be handed over at Stamford Bridge, eight miles north-east of the city.
Here there was a palace of the old Northumbrian kings. The spot was favourable for the encampment of an army, for the country round was fertile and the bridge across the Derwent afforded facilities for the collection of provisions over a large area. The bridge was a wooden one, the country on either side of the river was flat, but considerably elevated above the stream, with a slope down to it on both sides of the bridge.
The news of the surrender of York made no change in Harold's plans. He had come to give battle to the Norsemen, whether he did so under the walls of the northern capital or elsewhere; accordingly he pressed rapidly forward.
In a few hours the army arrived in sight of York, which, had it resisted but a day longer, would have been saved the humiliation of the surrender and treaty. The invaders had all marched to Stamford Bridge, and the people opened its gates and received with rejoicing the king, whose authority they had the day before cast off. Beyond a short pause for food there was no delay. Harold's thoughts were on the South, and he grudged every hour that delayed his return to his post there. The men of the city and the survivors of the army defeated at Fulford joined the force, which kept on its way east to Stamford Bridge. The invaders, believing that Northumbria lay at their feet, and without a thought that Harold was advancing, were encamped in careless security on the low ground by the river. The greater portion of their host had crossed the bridge; their king, Tostig, and many of the great chiefs had taken up their abode in the royal palace at Aldby, and were preparing to return to York, where the king was to hold his court and formally to assume the government and to proclaim the laws for his new kingdom.
Already the cortege had set out, clad not in warlike armour but in court habiliments, when on the long road leading gently down to the river a cloud of dust and the sparkle of arms was seen. There was little room for doubt as to the nature of the arriving force. Northumbria could gather no array that would venture thus to approach the army that had but five days before crushed the levies of the North. It could only be Harold himself who, with the men of the South, had thus unexpectedly arrived. Tostig at once proposed a retreat to the ships at Riccall, so that the whole army might be gathered together, but Harold Hardrada strove to marshal his army for the battle, at the same time sending off mounted messengers to summons the party left at the ships. But while all was in confusion among the main body of the invaders on the eastern bank of the river, while men were buckling on their armour and gathering in their ranks, the cloud of war rolled rapidly down the descent, and with a mighty shout the English vanguard fell upon the Norsemen on the western bank.
Valiantly they fought, but there was no resisting the solid array of the English housecarls, or Thingmen as they were also called. Taken altogether unprepared, and for the most part without their defensive armour, the Norsemen could offer no successful resistance to the English host. Great numbers were killed; others were driven headlong across the bridge or were drowned in the stream, which is said to have been literally choked with dead. But for a time the advance of the English was stayed; for one Norseman, a man of great stature and prodigious strength, took post in the middle of the narrow bridge and barred the way to the English host. But one foe could attack him at a time, and so great was his strength and prowess that it is said forty Englishmen fell under the mighty blows of his two-handed sword, and at last he was only over-powered by one who made his way along beneath the timbers of the bridge and stabbed him with his spear from below.
His gallant stand, however, had sufficed to give his countrymen time to complete their preparations, and the shield-wall of the Norsemen stretched across the gentle ascent from the bridge. With his hands raised aloft, as a sign that his mission was a peaceful one, an English thane with twenty mounted horsemen rode across the bridge. He was met by the king, Tostig, and his chiefs. Raising his voice the thane addressed Tostig, "I bring to Tostig the greeting and message of his brother King Harold. Let him return to his allegiance and he shall again have the earldom of Northumberland; nay, he shall have a third of the kingdom to rule together with the king."
"What, then," Tostig asked, "shall be given to King Harold of Norway?"
"Seven feet of English ground!" the thane said sternly, "or more, perchance, seeing he is taller than other men."
"Return to King Harold of England," Tostig said, "and bid him make ready for the battle. Never shall men say in Norway that I brought their king hither to England and then went over to his foes."
Harold's ambassador returned with his men across the river with Tostig's message, and then in solid array the English Thingmen moved forward to the attack. Had the King of Norway advanced to the end of the bridge a battle would have been impossible, for the English could never have forced their way across. But the kings were equally anxious for a battle. Harold of Norway knew as well as the King of England that the host of Normandy was on the point of sailing, and it was as essential for him to crush the English army before the Normans landed as it was for Harold of England to dispose at once of the Norse invaders. There were three claimants for the English crown, and both kings felt the necessity of having their hands free to meet the Normans. Harold of Norway may well have believed that his host of tried warriors was capable of disposing of an army that, save for its small body of regular troops, was wholly unused to war; therefore, he held his array immovable while the English army crossed the bridge and formed up for battle.
Steadily and firmly the solid line of the housecarls moved up the ascent, and then as Harold's trumpet gave the signal of attack, flung themselves upon the shield-wall of the Norsemen. The conflict was a terrible one. The heavy two-handed axes of the English clashed against the long two-handed swords of the Norsemen. Against such terrible weapons wielded by such powerful arms, helmet and hauberk afforded but a poor defence. Casques and the heads beneath them were cleft like egg-shells under the terrible blows; but the gaps thus made in the ranks were at once filled from behind, and for hours the struggle continued with unabated vigour on both sides. Harold himself with a body of his thanes fought in the front line, his position marked to his followers by his standard kept flying close behind him. His great strength and height made him so formidable an assailant that his standard generally flew well in advance of his fighting line, while on the other side the still greater height and strength of the King of Norway rendered him equally conspicuous. At last the obstinate valour of the English housecarls prevailed over the resistance of the fierce Norsemen, and the invading host was driven backward step by step up the ascent until the level ground was reached.
Here the battle again raged as fiercely as ever. In vain did Harold of Norway, followed by his bravest warriors, hurl himself upon the ranks of the English, his terrible sword carrying death in its path. In vain did his followers again and again strive to take the offensive. The English line ever bore up against their attacks. The battle was still undecided when, as the sun was going down, an English arrow pierced the throat of the giant King of Norway. How Tostig, who had throughout the day fought by his side, fell, we know not, but he died, as did the Irish prince who had brought his followers to share in the plunder of England. There fell, too, most of the bravest warriors of Norway, the last of the sea-kings who had carried the banner, known as the land-waster, far and wide over Europe.
The slaughter was terrible, and at nightfall the Norsemen who survived broke and fled to the shelter of their ships. Never in the history of England was there a harder fought battle; never were English valour and endurance more splendidly shown. Terrible, too, had been the losses on their side. Many of the king's bravest thanes had fallen, and the ranks of the housecarls were fearfully thinned. Complete as had been the victory, absolute as had been the destruction of their foes, there was but little rejoicing in the English camp that night. So exhausted were the troops by their long march and the desperate struggle of the day that they threw themselves down to sleep on the ground they had won, thickly covered as it was with the bodies of friend and foe.
Wulf throughout the day had fought close to Harold. Osgod had kept close beside him, and had warded off many a sweeping blow and cut down many a pressing enemy. At the end of the day his left arm hung useless by his side, well-nigh cleft off by the blow of a Norseman's sword. Wulf himself had escaped without a scratch, thanks in a large measure to his follower's watchfulness. When the battle was over he was one of the few thanes who gathered round Harold. The latter felt no exultation at this victory. It had cost him the flower of his army and numbers of his most valued thanes. It had cost him, too, the life of a brother, to whom in spite of his faults he had been deeply attached. He knew that there was before him a struggle even more serious than that from which he had just emerged a victor, and there was no saying how that struggle might end.
"I thank God that you are spared to me, Wulf," he said as the young thane came up. "I marked you near me all through the battle, and none fought more bravely. It has been a terrible day, and our victory is dearly purchased indeed. I have sent a messenger to York, praying that every monk skilled in surgery will at once hasten hither, that all men and boys shall come and help to collect the wounded, and that such women as can aid will accompany them. I cannot ask the men who have marched well-nigh night and day since we left London, and borne the brunt of the day's battle, to do more. England has need of their strength. The messenger was to stop at Helmsley, and bid every soul left there to hurry to the field. It is but two miles away, and in half an hour they will be here. The first thing for them to do is to carry water to the wounded; there are no lack of vessels in the Norsemen's camp."
"I will go to the bridge, my lord, and take them in charge when they arrive, and set them at the work."
"You need rest as much as any, Wulf."
"I can rest to-morrow," Wulf said; "and at any rate could not sleep to-night, for I must see to Osgod, who will, I fear, lose an arm."
"I am sorry to hear it," Harold said, "for one could ill spare so brave a fellow. I saw the Norsemen going down under his axe, and assuredly no man did more than he to-day."
"I will tell him what you say, my lord; it will do him good. I left him sitting down on a bank bemoaning himself that he might not be cured in time to fight the Normans."
Harold shook his head. "I would give half my estates, Wulf, that he should be well enough to fight by your side in our first battle with the Normans. That would mean that they would not land before two months have passed, and by that time I would have all the force of England gathered to receive them. As you are willing that it should be so, I will leave you in charge of the camp to-night. It will be three hours before help can arrive from York. Till then there is nought to do but to carry water to the wounded. When they arrive the monks will dress the wounds, and the men and women carry such as can be moved down by the river, where they can be treated more easily than lying in the fields. Have a strict search made for the body of my brother, and place a guard over it. Sweyn is in charge of the Norse camp. There is great treasure there, which shall to-morrow be partly divided among the troops."
Wulf went at once down to the bridge, while Harold and his thanes lay down like the soldiers on the field of battle. In a short time men, women, and children came in from Helmsley. Having been told what they were required for, they had brought with them jugs and drinking cups, and also a supply of torches. The first search was made over the ground west of the river. Here few English had fallen, but the Norsemen lay thickly. Wulf ordered that water should be given to all, foe as well as friend. The number of living was small, for the heavy two handed axes had done their work thoroughly. When such as survived had been seen to, Wulf led the villagers over the bridge.
"Scatter right and left," he said, "and then move forward. You cannot go wrong." Having seen them all at work, he hurried away to the spot where he had left Osgod sitting. He had before leaving him staunched the flow of blood by winding a bow string round the arm above the wound and then twisting it tightly.
"How fares it with you, Osgod? Here is a ewer of water."
"That is good," Osgod said, after taking a mighty draught. "Truly I felt as if the moisture of my body had all dried up, and not only my mouth but my whole frame was parched."
"Why, Osgod," Wulf exclaimed, as he held the torch he carried close to him, "your arm has gone!"
"That is so, master, an arm after the bone has been cleft through is of no use to anyone, so I thought the sooner I got rid of it the better, and having my knife handy I just cut through the flesh that remained. That was the end of it. Would that we could get rid of all our evils as readily. To-morrow I will walk to York and get the wound seared."
"The king sent to York for aid directly the battle was over, and we shall have all the townsfolk here soon, among them monks and others skilled in the dressing of wounds. I told the king of your misfortune." And he then repeated what Harold had said.
"It does me good to hear that Harold is satisfied with me. I hope to strike many a good blow for him yet."
"How still it is here, Osgod! There is scarce a sound to be heard from all those lying round."
"There are but few with life in them, I reckon," Osgod said. "A Norse sword and an English axe let out the life quickly when they strike fair. This blow fell on my arm as my axe was raised to strike, and it were well it did so, or it would have taken me in the neck, and then neither monk nor leech could have brought me back to life. Had it been my right arm I would as lief have been killed at once, for what good is a man without his right arm?"
"You would have learned to use your left in time, Osgod. Now if you can walk, come down to the river, and I will see that you are among the first attended to."
"I will lie down here," Osgod said, "for in truth I feel as if I need sleep. For the last two days I have been scarce able to keep my eyes open, and now that I have had a drink I feel that a few hours' rest will do me more good than any monk."
Osgod's words came slowly and heavily, and as he ended he lay down on his back. Wulf saw that it was best that he should sleep, and so left him. In two hours a great number of lights were seen along the road, and soon a crowd of men and women from York appeared and scattered themselves over the battlefield, the monks pouring balm into wounds and bandaging them up, while the men and women carried the wounded, as fast as they were attended to, down to the river. The bodies of Tostig and of the King of Norway were both found, and a guard placed over them, and in the morning that of Tostig was carried to York for burial in the cathedral, while Harold Hardrada was buried where he fell.
Harold sent messengers to the Norsemen's fleet offering mercy to them if they would surrender, and their chiefs come to York and swear never again to raise their swords against England—an offer which was thankfully accepted, for the English fleet had entered the Humber, and their retreat was cut off.
The next day the Norse chiefs went to York and took the required oath, and were then escorted back to their ships. So terrible had been the slaughter, so complete the destruction of the invading army, that, even including the guard that remained at the fleet, twenty-four ships sufficed to carry away home the survivors of the mighty host. The task of burying the slain was too great to be undertaken, and for many years afterwards the field of battle was whitened with the bones of the invaders who had fallen there.
On the day after the battle Harold returned with his army to York. Here all who had fallen away from the cause of England were pardoned. Measures were taken for making the fighting strength of the North available for the general defence of the country. The wounded were cared for in the houses of the citizens, and for five days the troops rested after their prodigious exertions.
Early in the morning after the battle Osgod's wound had been seared with red-hot irons. He had borne the pain unflinchingly, saying that he had suffered as much from burns more than once while learning his trade as an armourer. Wulf was not present, as he had thrown himself down to sleep as soon as he had been relieved at daylight, but he saw him before he started with the king for York.
"Yes, it hurts a bit, master," Osgod replied in answer to his inquiries. "I could not expect otherwise. You will have to do without me for a few days. I have made friends with some peasants at Helmsley. I shall stay with them till the army marches south. If I were at York I should never keep quiet; and the monks tell me the quieter I am the sooner my wounds will heal. They are poor creatures, these monks; they wanted to make out that it might be two or three months before I was fit for service again. I told them it would be a shame to my manhood if in a fortnight I could not wield an axe again. It is not as if I had been brought up softly. I have burnt myself with hot irons many a time, and know that a few days suffices to heal a sore."
"It is not the sore, Osgod; it is the veins that might burst out bleeding again."
"That is what they said, master; but at present there is not much blood left in me, I think, and by the time it comes again my veins ought to have healed themselves. This plaguey bowstring hurts me well-nigh as much as the smart of the irons; but the monks say I must bear it for a couple of days, when they will put on some tight bandages in its place, but if I can bear the pain it were better that it should be kept there for a week or two."
Five days passed. The king laboured incessantly at making a settlement of the affairs of the North. The thanes came in from all Northumbria. They were full of thankfulness at the deliverance that had been wrought for them, and the victor of Stamford Bridge was far more to them than the King of England had ever been. All were received with kindness and courtesy, and Harold felt that at Stamford Bridge he had conquered not only the host of Norway but the Northern earldoms. On the evening of the fifth day after the battle they held a great banquet at York. The feasting was at its height when Harold was told that a messenger had arrived with urgent news, and the man was at once brought in. He had ridden in two days from the South, and brought the momentous news that on the third day after the victory of Stamford Bridge the Norman host had landed in Sussex.
While Harold with his army had been anxiously and impatiently watching the sea on the southern coast of England, the mixed host of the Duke of Normandy had been no less anxiously awaiting a favourable breeze at the port where the whole of the expedition was gathered. William had, however, one great advantage. While Harold's army and navy were composed of levies, bound by feudal obligations to remain but a certain time under arms, and eager to return to their harvest operations, their wives and families, William's was made up to a great extent of seasoned troops and professional soldiers, gathered not only from his own dominions but from all parts of Europe.
These were far more amenable to orders than were the English militia. Tempted by the thought of the plunder of England, they had enlisted under the duke's banner for the expedition. They had no thought of returning home, and as long as they were well supplied with food, the delay in starting mattered comparatively little to them; and thus while at length the fleet and army of Harold scattered to their homes the Normans remained in their camp, ready to embark on board the ships as soon as a favourable wind blew. They were kept in good temper by receiving regular pay and provisions, and as all plundering was strictly forbidden the country people freely brought in supplies, and for a month the great army was fed without difficulty; but as the resources of the country became exhausted the duke grew more and more anxious to move to another port, and taking advantage of a change of wind to the west he embarked his army and sailed north along the coast of Normandy to the mouth of the Somme, and the troops disembarked and encamped round the town of St. Valery.
Here there was another long delay, and while Harold was marching north to meet the King of Norway the Normans were praying for a favourable wind at the holy shrine at the Abbey of St. Valery. Two days after the host of Harold Hardrada had been destroyed the wind suddenly shifted to the south. There had on the previous day been a great religious ceremony; the holy relics had been brought by the priests into the camp; the whole army had joined in a solemn service; precious gifts had been offered at the shrine, and as the change of wind was naturally ascribed to the influence of the saint, the army was filled with enthusiasm, and believed that heaven had declared in their favour.
From morning till night the scene of bustle and preparation went on, and when darkness fell the whole host had embarked. Every ship was ordered to bear a light, and a huge lantern was hoisted at the masthead of the Mora, the duke's own ship, and orders were issued that all vessels should follow the light. The Mora, however, was a quick sailer, and was not, like the other vessels, deeply laden down with horses and men. When daylight broke, therefore, she had so far outstripped the rest that no other sail was in sight, and she anchored until the fleet came up, when the voyage was continued, and at nine on the morning of Thursday the 28th of September the Normans landed on English soil, near the village of Pevensey.
The landing was unopposed; the housecarls were away north with their king, the levies were scattered to their homes. To the surprise of the Normans who landed in battle array no armed man was to be seen. Parties of mounted men at once examined the country for miles round, but without finding signs of the defending army they expected to meet. On the following morning a small force was left in the Roman fortifications near Pevensey to guard the ships, hauled up on the beach, from attack, and the duke with his army marched away along the Roman road to Hastings, where William established his headquarters and resolved to await the approach of the army of England. A wooden castle was raised on the height, and the country for miles round was harried by the Norman horse. Every house was given to the flames; men were slain, women and children taken as slaves, and the destruction was so complete that it seemed as if it had been done with the deliberate purpose of forcing Harold to come down and give battle.
No sooner did Harold hear the news that the Normans had landed and were harrying the land than he ordered the hall to be cleared and issued a summons for the assembly of a Gemot, and in an hour an assemblage of all the thanes gathered at York was held in the hall that had so shortly before been the scene of peaceful feasting. Harold proclaimed to them the news he had heard, and called upon them to arm and call together their levies for the defence of England. An enthusiastic reply was given. As the men of the South had crushed the invaders of the North, so would the men of the North assist to repel the invasion of the South. Morcar and Edwin promised solemnly to lead the forces of Northumbria and Mercia to London without a day's delay, and though Harold trusted his brothers-in-law but little, he hoped they would have to yield to the patriotic spirit of the thanes and to play their part as Englishmen.
An hour later messengers started on horseback for the South, bidding all men to assemble at London to fight for home and freedom against the foreign invader, and orders were issued that the troops who had fought at Stamford Bridge should march at daybreak. As soon as the council was over Wulf mounted his horse and rode at full speed to Helmsley. He had each day ridden over to see Osgod, who in his anxiety for a rapid cure was proving himself a most amenable patient, and was strictly carrying out the prescriptions of the monk who had taken charge of him and of other wounded who were lying in the village. He was asleep on a rough pallet when Wulf entered.
"A pest upon the Norman!" he exclaimed angrily when he heard Wulf's news. "He might have given me a week longer at any rate. I am feeling mightily better already, for to-day the monk has bandaged my arm, and that so tight as almost to numb it. But that I care little for, as he has now taken off that bow-string which was cutting its way into the flesh. He told me that everything depended upon my keeping absolutely quiet for another week, for the slightest exertion might make the wound break out afresh, and that if it burst there would be but a poor chance for me. Well, I must travel in a waggon instead of on horseback."
"You will do nothing of the sort, Osgod; I absolutely forbid it. It would be an act of sheer madness. Besides, you would be useless at present even if you went south, while if you rest here for three or four weeks you may be able to take part in some of the battles; and, moreover, it may be weeks before Harold moves against the Normans. At any rate, it is out of the question that you should move at present. I am not going to have you risk your life by such folly."
Osgod was silent for a minute or two and then said, "Well, master, I must obey your orders, but never before did I feel it so hard a thing to do."
"It is for your own good and mine, Osgod. I am not going to lose so faithful a follower, and would rather do without you for two months than for all my life. But now I must be going, for I shall ride on ahead so as to go down to Steyning and fetch our men. I was before sorry that, owing to my being here, they did not come down with the king; now I am glad, for I might have lost half of them, while as it is I shall have a hundred men as good as his own to help to fill up the ranks of Harold's housecarls, besides the general levy of my tenants."
On his march south Harold was joined by large numbers of men. The news of the destruction of the army of Harold Hardrada had excited the greatest enthusiasm, and the thanes presented themselves as a rule with more than the number of men they were bound to furnish. Wulf rode on fast to London. As soon as he arrived there he went to the armourer's shop. Ulred paused at his work as he entered. "Welcome back, my lord Wulf!" he said. "So you have come safe through the two great battles in the North. Has Osgod fared equally well, I see that you have come without him?"
"Not equally well, Ulred. He fought with me at Fulford and received no serious hurt, but at Stamford Bridge he was wounded so sorely that for a time we thought it would go hard with him; but he has rallied and is doing well, and save that he will come home without his left arm, he will, I trust, soon be recovered. No man fought more stoutly than he did at Stamford Bridge, and the king himself noticed his valour. Although his wound was but five days' old when we started, he would have come south at once if I would have suffered him, though he must assuredly have been carried the whole way in a litter. It troubled him greatly to hear that we should be face to face with the Normans, and he not there to strike a blow for England."
"I am glad to hear that the boy lives," the armourer said; "for indeed when I saw you alone my first thoughts were that he had fought his last battle. We have terrible news from the South. The Normans are plundering and slaying from Beachy Head well-nigh to Dover, and the people are flying before them in crowds. However, matters will be changed as soon as the king returns to town. London will send her militia in full strength, and we hear that the thanes of the West are hurrying hither. 'Tis a pity indeed that Harold was drawn off north, for had he been here the Normans would have had to fight their best before they established themselves on our shores."
"They could have landed in any case, Ulred. It was not the King of Norway and Tostig, but the impatience of our sailors and troops, that left our shores unguarded. Harold tried his best to keep them together, but in vain. However, they rallied quickly when they heard of the landing in the North, and are coming in freely now."
"Will the troops of Northumbria be here?"
"I doubt it greatly, Ulred. They are not true men, Edwin and Morcar; they surrendered York before an arrow was shot against its walls, and received Harold Hardrada as their king. They would be equally willing to acknowledge William of Normandy so that they might but preserve their earldoms under him. They have promised to send their whole forces forward without delay, but I have no belief that they will be here. I am going to Steyning as soon as I have eaten a meal and rested for a few hours. I shall miss Osgod sorely. I trust that it will not be long before I have him by my side."
"When will the army be back here, master?"
"In three days at most, I imagine. There will be but short stay here before Harold marches south to meet the Normans. The news of the wanton destruction they are making has roused him to fury, and he will assuredly lose no time, even though he have but half the force of England behind him."
"It is as well to have something to fall back on," the armourer said. "It is not by one battle that England is to be conquered, and even if we lose the first we may gain the second. We can stand the loss better than the Normans, for doubtless William has brought all his strength with him, and if beaten must make his way back to his ships, while Harold would in a short time find himself at the head of a larger army than that with which he may first meet them. Was the slaughter as great as they say at Stamford Bridge?"
"It was terrible, Ulred; and though the Norsemen suffered vastly more than we did, the ranks of the housecarls, on whom the brunt of the fighting fell, have been sorely thinned. We shall feel their loss when we meet the Normans. Against their heavily-armed troops and their squadrons of knights and horsemen one of the Thingmen was worth three untried peasants. Had we but half the number of our foe, and that half all housecarls, I should not for a moment doubt the issue."
"London will put a strong body in the field, and though we have not the training of the Thingmen you may trust us to fight sternly, Master Wulf; and if we are beaten I will warrant that there will not be many of us to bring the tidings back."
"Of that I am sure, Ulred. The citizens have more to lose and better know what they are fighting for than the country levies, and as you say, I am sure they will do their part stoutly. Well, I must stay here no longer. I shall sleep for two or three hours, and then take a fresh horse from the king's stable and to-morrow shall be at Steyning. By nightfall I shall be on my way back with every man on the estate, a hundred and fifty besides the housecarls, and two days' march will bring us here again. Ulf is well, I hope? I do not see him."
"He has but carried home some arms I have been mending. We are working night and day; since the news that the Normans had landed came, there has been no thought of bed among the armourers and smiths of Westminster and London. Each man works until he can work no longer, then throws himself down for two or three hours' sleep, and then wakes up to work again; and so it will be till the army has moved south with most of us in its ranks."
Wulf reached Steyning soon after daybreak, and as soon as the news that he had arrived went round, the tenants flocked in. His coming had been anxiously expected, for the alarm caused by the incursions all over the country by the Norman horse was intense; and although, so far, none had come west of Beachy Head, there was a general feeling that at any moment they might make their appearance. The news, therefore, that Harold was marching south with his army, and that all were to share in a pitched battle with the invader instead of being slaughtered on their hearthstones, caused a deep feeling of satisfaction. Wulf gave orders that every man should assemble in fighting array at noon, and that if, later on, news came that the enemy were approaching, the houses were to be deserted, the stacks fired, and, driving the cattle before them, the women and children should cross the hills and take shelter in the great forest beyond. A few of the older men who were unfit to take part in a long day's fighting were to aid the women in their work.
The arms of all the men were carefully inspected, and the weapons remaining in the armoury served out to those worst provided. At one o'clock the force marched off, Wulf riding at the head of the hundred housecarls, while the tenants, a hundred and fifty strong, followed in good order. Each man carried six days' provisions. They camped that night in a forest twenty miles from Steyning, marched thirty miles the next day, and early the following morning joined the great array that was gathering on the hills south of London. To his great pleasure Wulf found that Beorn had arrived the day before with his levy. They had not met since they had returned from the North with Harold.
"So you have been up there again, Wulf, and fought at Fulford and Stamford Bridge. It was very unlucky I was not in London when the army marched north; but I received no summons, and heard nothing of it until the king was well on his march. None of the thanes along the south coast were summoned."
"So I heard, Beorn. I fancy the king thought that in case of a landing by the Normans the men near the coast would all be wanted to help take the women and cattle to places of security."
"No doubt that was the reason," Beorn said. "At any rate, I am sorry I missed the fight at Stamford Bridge. The other seems to have been a bad affair."
"Very bad; we suffered terribly. So much so, indeed, that the earls will have a good excuse for not getting their levies together in time for the battle with the Normans."
"They are false loons," Beorn said; "and brothers-in-law as they are of his, it would have been well had the king after Stamford Bridge had their heads smitten off for their traitorous surrender to the Norsemen."
"I have no doubt they will hold aloof now, Beorn, until they see how matters go in the South, and if we are worsted they will hasten to make their peace with William, and to swear to be his liegemen, just as they swore to be liegemen to Harold Hardrada. But they will find out their mistake in the end. William has promised to divide England among his needy adventurers if he wins, and Edwin and Morcar will very speedily find that they will not, in that case, be allowed to keep half the country as their share."
It was a great host that was gathered ready for the march south. Gurth had brought down the fighting men of East Anglia; the thanes of the West were there with their tenants; the Bishop of Winchester, Harold's uncle, not only brought the tenants of the church lands, but he himself with twelve of his monks had put on armour under their monkish robes. The Abbot of Peterborough headed a contingent from the Fen Country; the men of London under the sheriff of the Mid Saxons were there, and prepared to die in defence of the royal standard, which it was the special privilege of London to guard. In the Abbey of Westminster, where Harold had received his crown, and in every church of London, mass was celebrated day and night, and was attended by crowds of troops and citizens.
Harold himself snatched a day from the cares of preparation to visit Waltham, the abbey that he had founded, and in which he had taken so lively an interest, and there earnestly prayed for victory, with the vow that did he conquer in the strife he would regard himself as God's ransomed servant, and would throughout his life specially devote himself to His service. A day or two after Wulf's arrival in London a messenger came from William of Normandy calling upon Harold to come down from his throne, and to become, as he had sworn to be, the duke's man. Harold in reply sent back a full answer to William's claims. He admitted that Edward had promised the crown to William, but he said that according to the law of England a man might at any time revoke his will, and this Edward had done, and had named him as his successor. As to the oath he himself had sworn, he maintained that it was an extorted oath, and therefore of no binding force. Finally, he offered rich gifts to William if he would depart quietly, but added that if he was bent on war he would meet him in battle on the coming Saturday.
It is probable that William's insolent message was meant to have the effect of inducing Harold to march against him. The Norman position was a very strong one, and had been carefully fortified, and he hoped that Harold would attempt to storm it. Gurth urged his brother to remain in London, while he himself went with the army to battle. A large number of the levies had as yet not come in, and with these, should the first battle be unsuccessful, another army could be gathered to continue the struggle. Moreover, whether the oath Harold had sworn was binding or not, he had sworn, and it were better that another who was perfectly free in his conscience should lead the English to battle.
Then, too, Gurth urged, if he himself was slain, it would matter comparatively little, while Harold's death would jeopardize the whole kingdom. He prayed him therefore to stay in London, and to gather another and greater force, and to lay waste the whole land between London and the coast, so that the Normans, whether successful or not in their first battle, would be starved into a departure from the land. The counsel of Gurth was approved of by the thanes, but Harold rejected it. He declared that he would never let his brothers and friends go forth to danger on his behalf while he himself drew back from facing it, neither could he bring himself to harm the lands or the goods of any Englishman.
For six days Harold remained in London waiting, but in vain, for the forces from the North to join him, and on the Thursday morning set out with his army in order to meet the invaders on the day he had named. Accounts differ very widely as to the strength of that army. Norman writers, in order to glorify their own victory, speak of it as one of prodigious numbers. English writers, on the other hand, endeavour to explain the defeat by minimizing the number of those who followed Harold's standard. Doubtless the English king, knowing the proved valour of his housecarls, and fresh from the crushing defeat inflicted on the Norsemen, considered the numbers to be sufficient. His military genius was unquestionable, and next only to William the Norman he was regarded as the greatest general in Europe. As there was no occasion for haste so long as the Normans remained at Hastings he would not have moved forward with a force he deemed insufficient, when he knew that in another week its numbers would have been doubled.
On the day that the king made his last visit to Waltham, Wulf rode over to Croydon in compliance with an entreaty he received from Edith.
"When does the army march?" she asked anxiously as she entered.
"The day after to-morrow, lady."
"And my lord goes with it?"
"He does. I myself think that Gurth's counsel was good, and that it were best for England that he remained at Westminster; and yet I can understand well that he himself would feel it a shame did he remain behind."
"I feel sore misgivings," Edith said, bursting into tears. "When he marched north against the King of Norway and Tostig I felt no doubt he would return victorious; but night after night I have had evil dreams, and though I pray continually my spirit has no relief. I have never feared for him before. I have always felt sure that whoever died Harold would be spared for the sake of England, but I have no such feeling now. It seems to me that I sacrificed him and myself in vain when I bade him leave me and marry the sister of the Northern earls. No good has come of it. They are behaving now as traitors, and he has lost his life's happiness. And yet I did it for the best."
"It was a noble sacrifice, lady, and come what may you have no cause to regret it."
"The queen is not with him," Edith said bitterly.
"No, she is at Oxford. You must not think, lady, that the king has been unhappy since he came to the throne. He has been so incessantly occupied with work that he has had no time for domestic happiness, even if it had been within his reach. His thoughts are ever on England, and he has no thought of self. Labouring ever for the good of his subjects, he has his happiness alike in their love, and in the knowledge that he is doing all that man can for their welfare. If he dies, he will die the death not only of a soldier but of the noblest king that ever sat on the English throne, and at all times he will be enshrined in the hearts of the English people, whether Normans or Englishmen reign over the land."
"That is true, and I must take comfort from it, Wulf; but it was not for this that I sent for you, but to ask you where the battle is likely to be fought."
"Near Hastings, assuredly," Wulf replied.
"I shall travel south to-morrow. I have had a message from the king praying me to see him, but that would be too much for me. He is another woman's husband and I dare not meet him, it were sin for me to do so; but I would fain be nearer to the scene of battle, so that in a few hours I might journey there, in order that, if my lord dies, I might see him once again. I know the superior of a convent at Lewes, and there I will betake myself. Thence, as I believe, it is some sixteen miles to Hastings, and so far as I have heard the Norman plunderers have not gone so far west. Should aught happen to him, will you send a speedy messenger to me?"
"Should I live through the fight I will do so, lady, but even should I not return the news will travel swiftly; but God forfend that so great a loss should fall upon England."
"Amen," Edith murmured, "and yet I fear. Thanks, Wulf, for coming, perchance we may not meet again. I am thinking of entering a convent, probably that at Lewes. The struggle and pain here is well-nigh too great for me, but in the walls of a cloister I may find peace. If my fears are fulfilled I shall assuredly do this, and when I return to the convent I shall leave it no more. My life is over. I have a happy past to look back upon, in that am blest, and shall be happier than those who have no such consolation. Moreover, I can still be proud of Harold, and may love him as I might love the memory of a husband who is lost. God bless you, Wulf, and protect you through the coming battle!"
Wulf rode sadly back to the camp. Although he had denied it to Edith, he could not but admit to himself that the sacrifice that she and Harold had made had, so far, been unavailing. It had failed to draw the Northern earls closer to the king. The marriage had been productive of no happiness to Harold, and the only reward he had gained had been in the sympathy of the people, who knew well enough that he had sacrificed his love for the good of his country.
The army marched rapidly. Beorn and Wulf rode together, and talked over the chances of the coming battle.
"I cannot blame Harold for not remaining behind," Wulf said, "though it were certainly more politic for him to have stayed in London. As he could not do so, I think it would have been well had he bidden Gurth remain behind to gather another army with which to meet the Normans should we be defeated; or if he could not spare Gurth he might have left Leofric behind. It is assuredly a mistake for the three brothers all to come, for should all fall England would no longer have a head."
"Surely no such misfortune as that will befall us, Wulf."
"I know not. They will fight side by side, and should one fall all may perish together. One at least ought to remain behind. It matters not how many of us are killed, so that one of Godwin's sons is left to rally the kingdom. You may be sure that if we are conquered the victors will be in but poor condition to meet another foe; but if there is no one to gather an army and unite all England against the Normans they will eat us up piecemeal."
"We must not think of so terrible a thing, Wulf. It is not like you to look at the dark side. Why, when we were in Wales, and in as bad a plight as could well be, you always made light of danger, and managed affairs as if we were certain to succeed. Why should we be defeated? Why should the king be killed? He went through the terrible fight at Stamford Bridge without a scratch. We have seen the Normans at work, and know that they are not such terrible fellows; and as for their duke, I would assuredly rather meet him in battle, doughty as he may be, than have faced Harold Hardrada with his two-handed sword."
"I have every hope of winning the day, Beorn, but still I do regret much that Gurth and Leofric are both here. Do you remember that in Wales we agreed that it was always well to have a way of retreat in case of defeat? Well, I feel that defeat this time will mean not only the defeat of an army but the ruin of England."
On Friday afternoon the army reached rising ground near the village of Senlac, which Harold had beforehand fixed upon as the place where he would give battle to the invaders. Kent and Sussex he knew well. They had been the home of his family, and he owned vast estates there. Doubtless in the long weeks of waiting for the coming of the Norman fleet he had fixed upon this spot as one well suited for a battle. It was necessary that the English should fight on the defensive. The Normans were strong in cavalry, while the English were unaccustomed to fight on horseback, and would have been at a grievous disadvantage had they attacked the enemy.
The hill offered many advantages to a force standing on the defensive. The great eastern road passed close to its foot, and its possession barred the passage of the invaders in that direction. The ground between it and the sea was marshy and broken, and its occupation by an English force left the Normans no choice but to come out and attack them.
The sides were steep and the ground rose rapidly in the rear, so that the Norman cavalry could not attack from behind. It was, indeed, a sort of peninsula running southward from the main range of hills.
The moment the troops reached the ground the royal standard was planted, and the men set to work to fell trees and to form a triple palisade along the accessible sides of the hills. The force at Harold's command must have been far nearer to the estimate given of its strength by the English chroniclers than by the Normans, for the space occupied was insufficient for the standing room of such an army as that enumerated by the latter writers.
Harold relied almost entirely upon the housecarls. The levies might be brave, but they were undisciplined, and might easily be thrown into disorder; they would, too, be impatient under the trial of a long day's battle. It is even said that he sent away some of the ill-armed levies, who came flocking in from the country round, eager to revenge the injuries received at the hands of the Normans. It was upon the shield-wall, the favourite formation of the English, that he relied to win the battle. It was their national mode of fighting. It was that in which Alfred had led the Saxons to victory over the Danes. It was that in which they clashed against the shield-wall of Norway and shattered it, and he might well hope that the barons of Normandy and the adventurers from all parts of Europe who fought under William's banner might well try in vain to break it.
In the evening a messenger arrived from William, again bidding Harold resign the kingdom or meet the duke in single combat, the crown of England to be the prize of the victor. Harold refused the challenge. He had proved his personal courage too often for it to be supposed that he declined from any feeling of cowardice, but he knew well that the issue could not be thus decided. Were he to fall, the people would still refuse to accept William as their king; were William to fall, the host that had gathered for the plunder of England would still give battle. Nothing was therefore to be gained by the proposed combat.