Chapter IV (2)

They were at Avranches (some say at Bayeux), and the Norman barons were convoked in a great assembly. The Saxon was there by the side of the duke; a massbook was brought and placed upon a stool covered with a golden cloth. Suddenly William exclaimed, "Harold, I call upon you, before this noble assembly, to confirm on oath all that you have promised to do to help me to obtain the kingdom of England after the death of King Edward." The Englishman was again taken aback, and was in great peril. He advanced slowly, and swore with his hand on the book, to perform the promises made to the duke, provided that he were alive and that God should help him to do so. All the Normans cried out, "May the Lord help him!" Then at a sign from William, the rich cloth was removed and the Saxon discovered that he had sworn upon a receptacle filled with precious relics which had been brought, by order of the duke, from all the neighboring convents. William did not detain Harold any longer. He left the country, taking his nephew with him; but his brother remained in the power of the Normans.

"Did I not warn you that I knew William?" said the old king Edward when Harold related to him what had happened; and he added sadly, "May none of these misfortunes happen in my lifetime!"

The death of the king was destined to be the signal for England's misfortunes to recommence, and he was becoming weaker every day. Sinister reports had been circulated. Old prophecies were recalled which threatened England with invasion and subjugation by a foreign people. The king himself, constantly occupied with his devotional practices, saw fearful visions in his dreams and would cry out, with a vague remembrance of biblical imagery, "The Lord has stretched His bow, He has unsheathed His sword; He moves and brandishes it like a warrior; His wrath shall be manifested through fire and by sword."

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His servants shuddered at these threatening prophecies; but the Archbishop of Canterbury, Stigand, only laughed. "Dreams of the sick old man," he would say.

It is said that, before dying, Edward designated Harold to the members of the Wittenagemot as his successor; other chroniclers (the Norman writers) maintain, on the contrary, that when Harold and his relations presented themselves in the king's chamber, the latter said in a feeble whisper, "You know, my thanes, that I have bequeathed my kingdom to the duke of Normandy; do I not here see men who have sworn to uphold his rights?" Whatever the dying man may have wished, the opinion of the English chiefs was not to be mistaken. Scarcely had Edward the Confessor been buried in Westminster Abbey, which he had built in place of performing the pilgrimage to Rome, when the Wittenagemot proclaimed as king of England, Harold, the son of Godwin, and the grandson of the herdsman Ulfuoth, overlooking in his favor the rights of Edgar Atheling, son of Edward Atheling, and grandson of Edward Ironsides, as well as the more formidable pretensions of the duke of Normandy.

Harold's first care was to eradicate from the kingdom all traces of the Norman innovations introduced by King Edward; the ancient Saxon signature replaced, in the acts, the seals introduced from Normandy, and the Norman favorites whom Edward affectionately protected to the last, were deprived of their offices, though without being exiled or having their property confiscated. It was through them that the Duke William heard of the death of Edward and of the election of Harold. He was in a park, near Rouen, trying a new bow, when the important news reached him. He stopped immediately, gave his bow to his servants and went back to Rouen. He walked up and down the great hall in his palace, sat and rose alternately, and was quite unable to remain still. {89} His friends looked at him in silence without daring to accost him. At length one of them, who was on more familiar terms with him than most of the others, approached him. "My lord," he said, "of what use is it to keep your news from us? It is rumored in the town that the king of England is dead and that Harold has taken possession of the kingdom, unfaithful to his plighted word to you." "That is true," answered the duke, "and my grief is caused as much by the death of Edward as by the wrong which Harold has done me." "There is no remedy for Edward's death," replied the Norman, "but there is for Harold's infidelity; yours is the willing arm and yours are the willing soldiers; a thing well begun is half done."

William's courtiers were not the only persons to advise him to support his pretensions by force of arms. Harold's own brother, Tostig, who had been driven from Northumbria, and whom his brother had failed to reestablish in his government, came from Flanders to offer his help to the duke of Normandy in attempting the conquest of England. William was too prudent to undertake the invasion without premeditation; he presented ships to Tostig, who went to Denmark to seek the support of King Sweyn. Upon meeting with a refusal from the Dane, Tostig repaired to Norway. The king of that country was Harold Hardrada, son of Sigurd, a great voyager and corsair, who had formerly extended his excursions as far as the seas of Sicily, and who on one occasion on his return had married a Russian princess. He was a poet and would sing on board his black vessel, laden with his warriors, who were a source of great terror to all peaceful people. Tostig approached him with flattery. "The whole world knows," he said, "that there is not in the North a warrior who is your equal; you have only to wish it, and England is yours." The Norwegian allowed himself to be seduced and promised to put to sea as soon as the ice should thaw and make the ocean navigable.

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While Tostig was trying his strength on the coast of Northumbria with a band of adventurers, William, careful to have on his side all the appearances of right, sent a message to Harold as follows:--"William, duke of Normandy, reminds you of the oath which you swore with your own lips and with your hand upon good and holy relics." "It is true," answered Harold, "but I swore under constraint, not being free, and I promised what did not belong to me; besides, my services belong to my country, and I could not give up my position to anybody else without its consent, nor marry a strange woman. As to my sister, whom the duke claims for one of his chiefs, she died during this year. Does he wish me to send her body to him?" A second message, still calm and moderate, urged Harold at least to marry the Norman princess; but the king answered that he would not do so, and soon afterwards he chose a Saxon wife, a sister of Edwin and Morcar, the two sons of Elfgar, count of Mercia. William's anger at length burst forth, and, reproaching Harold bitterly for his perjury, he declared that he would come before the end of the year to exact payment of the whole of his debt and to pursue the perfidious Saxon even into the places wherein he considered his hold to be firmest. While awaiting the help of his allies from the North, William was aware of the importance of conciliating public opinion in Europe, or at least in that portion of Europe where the people were not altogether ignorant of what was happening in England and in Normandy. No influence was stronger than that of the Church for obtaining the good will of the people. The English were not in favor at Rome. {91} They had refused to receive Robert of Jumièges, a Norman priest, brought up in Canterbury by Edward the Confessor, who had been appointed to a high position by the Pope, and the Saxon Stigand, who was still under excommunication from Rome, under pretence that he had been guilty of simony, was chosen in his stead. The Saxon Church had often shown itself to be somewhat undisciplined, and the clergy had been accused of laxity in performing their duties. William caused these facts to be represented at Rome, besides employing many other arguments. He had sent Lanfranc there, a priest of Italian extraction, whom he had made abbot of St. Stephen's at Caen, and who by reason of his clever and prudent mind was enabled to render important services to his master. Harold had sent no ambassador to this tribunal, whose jurisdiction he did not recognize in temporal affairs; his perjury was strongly denounced there, and Pope Alexander II. declared that William of Normandy, cousin of King Edward, and consequently his heir, could legitimately style himself king of England and seize upon the kingdom. The king received this permission sealed by the Pope, with a holy standard and a ring containing a hair of St. Peter enclosed in a diamond.

Strong in the support of the Pope, to whom he had promised to place England again under the authority of the Holy See and to cause the Peter's pence to be levied there annually, as Canute had done, William began his preparations for the conquest. The Normans were a free people; they were still conscious of their rude origin, but nevertheless accustomed to be consulted in their own affairs. The duke called together all his most intimate friends, his two maternal brothers, Odo, bishop of Bayeux, Count Mortaign, and the friend of his childhood, William, son of Osbert, the seneschal of Normandy. All encouraged him in his project "But," they said, "you must ask help and advice of the majority of the inhabitants of this country, for it is right that whoever pays should be invited to consent to the expenditure."

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William was hot-tempered and haughty, but prudent and sensible. He convoked at Lillebonne a great assembly of men from every state of Normandy, the richest and most esteemed of their class. He unfolded his plans to them, and they retired to discuss them at their ease, out of the presence of the duke.

The excitement was great and the opinions various. William, son of Osbert, appeared in the midst of the groups. "Why do you discuss together?" he exclaimed. "He is your lord, and he has need of your services; your duty would be to make offers to him, and not to wait until he asks for anything. If you fail him, and he attains his object by the will of God, he will not forget it; show, therefore, that you love him and support him with a will." Low murmurs were heard; the opposition was beginning to burst forth. "No doubt he is our lord," they said; "but is it not enough for him that we should pay his taxes? We do not owe him any assistance for his foreign excursions; he has already oppressed us too much by his wars; if his new enterprise should fail, our country would be ruined." The offers accordingly were few, when Osbert's son was instructed to communicate them to William.

The assembly re-entered the room wherein the duke sat. The seneschal advanced. "Sire," he said, "I do not think that there are in the world men more zealous than these. You know how many burdens they have already borne for you? Well, they propose to add another, and to follow you to the other side of the sea as they do on this side. Push onward, then, and fear nothing; whoever has hitherto only supplied you with two good soldiers on horseback is willing to bear double the expense." {93} The seneschal was interrupted by a hundred voices crying "We did not commission you to make such an answer as that. Let him remain in his own territory, and we will serve him as we should do; but we are not compelled to help him to conquer another people's country. Besides, if we were for once to do him this service, he would expect it as a right ever afterwards, and would thereby oppress our children; it shall not be." And the assembly dispersed in anger.

The duke sent for the noblemen, one after the other, as well as the abbots and the merchants: he showed his plans to them, asked for their support as a personal favor which should not compromise their liberty in any way in future, and by degrees he obtained what he wanted. The merchants promised vessels and armed warriors, the priests gave money, and the barons placed themselves and their vassals at his disposition. The preparations began forthwith in all the Norman towns; adventurers were everywhere crowding round William, "who slighted nobody," according to the chronicles, "and was always ready to oblige people as far as he was able." He promised lands, castles, women, plunder; he even sold an English bishopric to a certain Rémi, of Fécamp, for a ship and twenty warriors.

While the noise of hammers was resounding throughout all the shipyards of Normandy, the ice had thawed in the Baltic, and Harold Hardrada had set sail with his sea-serpents; he had been joined by Tostig, and had ascended the Humber and the Ouse, causing great destruction on his way. A certain number of Englishmen had rallied round the standard of Tostig. Edwin and Morcar marched to oppose the allies, but they were repulsed with loss. The citizens of York, fearing an assault, promised to surrender. The Norwegians were already celebrating the victory in their camp.

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It was in the early morning, and Hardrada and Tostig, with a small body of troops, were advancing towards York to hold an interview with the chiefs of the town. Counting upon the terror which they inspired among the peaceful citizens, they were but half armed; Harold Hardrada had left his halbert in his tent, and wore a blue tunic embroidered with gold and a helmet ornamented with precious stones. Suddenly a cloud of dust, which was rising in the horizon, cleared away and revealed a forest of lances. It was King Harold whom the invaders believed to be in the South watching the movements of the Duke of Normandy, and who had come by forced marches to encounter them. The golden dragon of Wessex was displayed on his standard.

The position of the Norwegian, Hardrada, was critical, but his courage did not desert him. Planting in the ground his banner, the motto on which was "The despoiler of the world," he drew up around it all his forces at the foot of Stamford Bridge; he was riding backwards and forwards in front of his soldiers, when his horse stumbled and he fell. "A good omen!" he cried when he saw the faces of the pirates darken. His soldiers, resting their lances on the ground, with their points in the direction of the enemy, awaited the onslaught of the English. Hardrada was marching along the ranks, singing an improvised "skald." "Let us fight," he said, "let us march, although without any breast-plates beneath the edges of the blue steel; our helmets glisten in the sun; they are sufficient for brave warriors."

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The English were contemplating these valiant preparations. A small band of men had detached themselves from the body of the army. "Where is Earl Tostig, son of Godwin?" asked one of the warriors clad in steel. "He is here!" cried Tostig himself, stepping out from the ranks. "Your brother salutes you," rejoined the Saxon; "he offers you peace, friendship, and your former honors." "This is a sensible offer," said Tostig, "and if my brother had made it a year ago he would have spared the lives of many brave men. And what does he offer to my noble ally, King Harold, son of Sigurd?" "Seven feet of English soil," haughtily replied the warrior, contemplating the Norwegian's huge person; "a little more, perhaps, for he is taller than most men." "Then," cried Tostig, "my brother. King Harold, may prepare for the fray. It shall not be said that the son of Godwin abandoned the son of Sigurd."

The Saxons retired slowly. Tostig was still looking fixedly at his antagonist. "Who is the warrior with such a proud tongue?" asked Hadrada. "King Harold, son of Godwin," said Tostig. "Why did you not tell me so" cried Hardrada; "he would not have lived to boast of having defeated us." He then added, "He is little, but he sits firmly in the saddle." At the same moment, King Harold was asking his companions whether this gigantic warrior clad in blue was really the formidable sovereign of the seas. It is the same, they told him. "He is a powerful man," replied Harold thoughtfully, "but I think his good fortune has deserted him."

The battle began--Hardrada was killed almost immediately by an arrow which stuck in his throat. Tostig took command of the army. Harold sent proposals for peace a second time for Tostig and the Norwegians. "We will owe nothing to the Saxons," cried the Norwegians, and the struggle recommenced. Tostig was killed in his turn, and great havoc was made among his men. The "despoiler of the world" was now surrounded but by a small number of warriors. {96} They at length pulled up their precious standard, and slowly, defending themselves step by step, they regained the road leading to their vessels. A stout Norwegian had taken up his stand upon Stamford Bridge, covering the retreat of his comrades. They had nearly all passed the bridge, taking with them young Olof, son of Hardrada, when an English soldier, pushing his lance through a crevice in the timber, killed the valiant defender. The Scandinavian vessels unfurled their sails, and returned to Norway to spread the sad news of a defeat, indicated beforehand by the gloomy predictions of the soldiers, who had seen in their dreams a woman of gigantic stature seated on a wolf, and rushing along their ranks, making at each step a fresh corpse for the ferocious animal to devour.

Harold did not attempt to pursue the Norwegians on sea; he was recalled southward by the near approach of his great peril. William had assembled all his forces on the coast of Normandy, almost without any foreign help. The king of France, Philip I., had refused to give him any assistance, although the Duke had proposed to do homage to him when he should obtain possession of England. "You know," the French barons had said to the king, "how little the Normans obey you now; they will obey you still less if they conquer England, and if they fail in their enterprise, having assisted them we shall make enemies of the English people for ever afterwards."

The fleet and the army had been lying together for more than a month at Dive; the wind was unfavorable, and it was impossible to sail out of port. The south wind at length rose, and drove the vessels to Saint-Valéry-en-Caux, and then the bad weather began again. Several ships were dashed to pieces and their crews perished. In the army the men were murmuring. {97} "There has been no fighting," they said, "and yet there are already some men killed." The Duke caused the sands to be watched, in order that the dead bodies thrown up by the sea might be buried immediately; and he allowed good cheer to his soldiers to induce them to wait patiently. He sent for the relics of the wrecks from Saint-Valéry, which were carried through the camp with great pomp. At length a propitious wind arose; all the sails were unfurled, and four hundred large ships and a thousand transport vessels sped away from land. The Duke's ship was at the head of them, bearing on the foremast the banner sent by the Pope; the sails of various colors were flying in the wind. The Duke's vessel soon left all the others behind; at daybreak he found himself alone. He sent a sailor to the foremast. "I only see the sky and the sea," cried the sailor; but a short time afterwards he reported four vessels in sight, and the Duke had not taken his breakfast before a forest of masts and sails was discovered.

It was a fine morning, on the 28th of September, 1066. Harold's vessels, which had been cruising along the coast during a whole month, had put in to land on the previous evening, being short of provisions. The fleet of the Normans approached, therefore, without resistance, and landed in Sussex, at Bulverhithe, between Pevensey and Hastings. The archers landed first, then the horsemen, and lastly the pioneers carrying their tools and wood ready prepared for making trenches round their camp. The Duke was the last to set foot on English soil, after superintending the disembarking of his men. Immediately upon stepping down, he stumbled and fell, smearing his hands with dirt. A shudder ran along the ranks. "What ails you?" cried the Duke, who had instantly sprung to his feet. "I have seized the land with my hands, and by the grace of God, throughout its length and breadth, it is yours." They were reassured at these words; a camp was at once planned and fortified with wooden trenches, after the French fashion, and bands of soldiers overran the neighborhood, ravaging and laying waste the country. {98} Harold was still at Stamford, resting after the fatigues of the campaign against the Norwegians, when a messenger in an exhausted and breathless condition, burst into the room where he was at supper. "The enemy," he cried, "the enemy has landed!" Harold rose, for daybreak had arrived. He knew William and the Normans sufficiently well to feel confident that the struggle would be fierce and prolonged.

Time was precious. Harold was accustomed to make forced marches, and he accordingly started for London, ordering on his road all the earls and free men to rally round his standard. The whole country rose at his command, and large forces were being organized in different parts. "In four days the Saxon will have a hundred thousand men at his side," William was informed by one of those Normans formerly established in England during the reign of King Edward, who served him as spies. But some time was necessary to bring together these confused masses of men and to assemble them at a given point. Harold, in his haste, had not given them time to do so. He had arrived in London; his mother Gytha found his army worn-out and very small for opposing so formidable an enemy. "Do not risk a battle, my son," she said; "let the Normans pursue their ravages in the country, and famine will rid you of them." Harold trembled with indignation. "Would you have me ruin my kingdom?" he said. "By my faith, it would be treason; I prefer to put my trust in the strength of my arm and the justice of my cause." His young brother, Gurth, persisted, for the oath made to the Duke William weighed upon his conscience.

[Image] William the Conqueror Reviewing His Troops.

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"Either under constraint, or by your own free will," he said, "you swore, and your oath will paralyze your arm during the conflict. We have promised nothing; leave us to defend the kingdom. You shall avenge us if we should be killed." Harold smiled bitterly at the remembrance of the Duke's perfidy, but he was inflexible, and he started the same day for Hastings with a force very much less than that of William.

King Harold's first idea was to suddenly attack the enemy, who had been intrenched during a fortnight in their camp; but the Normans were well defended; their trenches had been skilfully constructed, and the Saxon therefore abandoned his project, and selecting also a strong position upon a hill near Hastings, he fortified it in the fashion of his country with a line of stakes of about a man's height, and with a rampart of latticed branches, which was to protect the bulk of his army when the first line should have passed outside the stakes to defend the approaches to the camp.

Harold was uneasy; very few troops had had time to join him, and the Norman army was as strong as it was well disciplined. He, however, laughed aloud when three Saxon spies, who had penetrated into William's camp, came and informed him, that having been recognized and taken over the camp by order of the Duke, they had seen more priests than warriors in the Norman army. They had mistaken for priests all the warriors who had closely shaven faces and short hair, for the English at that time wore long flowing hair and long moustaches. "All these priests are good warriors," said the king, "and you will shortly see them at work."

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William did not yet begin the attack. A Norman monk presented himself in Harold's camp. "The Duke William makes three proposals," said he; "first, to give up your kingdom to him; secondly, to submit his claim to the arbitration of the Pope; or, lastly, to decide the quarrel by single combat." "I will not give up my kingdom, I will not put the matter in the hands of the Pope, and I refuse the challenge to fight," replied Harold curtly. The monk returned to the Norman camp; but he soon reappeared, bearing another message: "if you will be faithful to your compact with him, the Duke will allow you to keep possession of all the country north of the Humber, and will give to your brother Gurth the land which was formerly held by Godwin. If you refuse, you are a perjurer and a liar, and all who fight for you shall be excommunicated by the Pope."

The Saxon chiefs looked at each other; but the love of liberty was stronger than their religious fears. "The Norman has given away everything beforehand to his soldiers," they said, "both land and goods. Where should we go, if we should lose our country?" And they resolved to die fighting to the last.

The night of the 13th of October, 1066, was passed very differently in the two camps. William's strict discipline only allowed religious music or devotional practices. After the fashion of the ancient Saxons and of the Danes, whose blood had become mixed with theirs, the English soldiers were eating, laughing, and singing warlike songs. At daybreak, after holy mass had been celebrated, the Normans issued from their camp. They were divided into three bodies, all preceded by archers. The duke was mounted on a Barbary horse which he had brought from Spain. He bore on his neck, in a golden casket, one of the relics upon which Harold had sworn the oath, as a silent witness of the latter's perfidy. By his side a young cavalier, Toustain le Blanc, was holding up aloft the standard sent by the pope. Odo, bishop of Bayeux, was marching through the ranks mounted upon his great white horse, and wearing a breastplate and helmet.

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"See how well he rides," said the Norman, looking at William. "He is a graceful Duke, and will be a graceful king." And they advanced joyfully behind him.

At seven o'clock the attack on the Saxon camp began. Taillefer, the knight-minstrel of the Norman army, was marching in front, singing the song of Roland. The Normans cried, "Our Lady, help us!" The monks who had come with them to the field of battle had retired to pray.

Three times the Normans were repulsed. It was noon. In spite of the arrows of the archers, which inflicted great losses on the Saxon, and one of which had destroyed Harold's left eye, the English camp held good at all points. The duke's horse had been killed during an assault; a rumor had gone forth that William was dead; but immediately taking off his helmet, and showing himself bareheaded to his affrighted soldiers, he cried out, "Here I am! Look at me; I am living, and I will conquer, with God's help." Some were already taking to flight; these he held back with his long lance, and reconducted to the attack on the enemy's camp. All the defenders of the rampart were killed, but the twig hurdles still protected the bulk of the Saxon army. The Normans pretended to fly; the Saxons rushed forth in pursuit of them and were all killed. The remainder could no longer resist; the Normans therefore beat down the barrier and entered sword in hand.

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Around Harold's banner, his chosen warriors had formed themselves into a compact circle, the "ring of death" as the Danes called it. Harold was there with his two brothers, Gurth and Leofwin. The fight recommenced furiously between the Normans and these brave men; not one of them receded; the heaps of bodies of the slain Normans formed a rampart for them, when twenty of their foes advanced together. They had sworn to cut a passage through the English or to perish to a man. Ten of them fell, but the ranks of the Saxons remained unbroken. William rushed to the attack, followed by his best warriors. The English soldiers were dying at their posts, immovable as the oaks in their forests. Gurth was dead, Leofwin was dying, bathed in blood, and Harold alone was still fighting at the foot of his banner. At sunset he fell, in his turn, and the standard of the pope replaced the golden Dragon of Wessex. All the English earls were stretched upon the field of battle, and the few Saxons who still remained were slowly retreating; yet so dauntless were they, even in defeat, that the Normans did not dare to disperse while it was still dark. Eustace of Boulogne, speaking to Duke William, was struck down by an unexpected blow.

On the morrow, at daybreak, Godwin's widow, whom William's pretensions to the English crown had deprived of four sons, came and asked permission to take away the bodies of her relations. Gurth and Leofwin had fallen together, at the foot of the banner. No one could find the body of Harold. His own mother could not distinguish him, but was obliged to send for "Swan-necked" Edith, whom her son had loved. Edith pointed to a body covered with wounds and disfigured by sword-thrusts. "That is Harold!" she said. He was borne with his brothers to Waltham Abbey, where he was buried beneath a stone bearing simply this inscription: "Infelix Harold."

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