Wulf the Saxon: A Story of the Norman Conquest by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XXI.
HASTINGS.
The fiction of the Norman historians, that while the Normans passed thenight preceding the battle in prayer, the English spent it in feasting, iseven more palpably absurd than the many other falsehoods invented for thepurpose of damaging the character of Harold. The English army had marchednearly seventy miles in the course of two days, and had in additionlaboured incessantly for many hours in erecting the palisades and indigging ditches. We may be sure that after two such days the great mass ofthe army lay down dog-tired directly their work was done, and slept tillmorning. Harold and his thanes had shared in their labours, and knowing theterrible work that awaited them in the morning, would most surely bedisposed to get as long a sleep as possible to prepare for it.
But what is most opposed to the Norman story is the fact that Harold was asincerely and deeply religious man, far more so than his rival. The life ofthe one man was in accordance with his professions--he was gentle andmerciful, ever ready to forgive his enemies, averse to bloodshed, and sotrue a friend of the church that the whole of the prelates and clergy setthe interdict of the pope at naught for his sake. The only exception in hisclemency to the conquered was in the case of the Welsh, and in thisinstance the stern measures he adopted were in the end the most merciful.No oaths could bind these marauders, and the stern punishment he inflictedwas the means of procuring for the West of England a respite from theirincursions that lasted for three generations.
William of Normandy, on the contrary, was absolutely merciless in warfare.He was not cruel for the sake of cruelty, but where he deemed that thepolicy demanded it, he was ruthless, and spared neither age nor sex. He waslavish to the church, but it was rather because he needed and obtained itsaid than from any feeling of real piety.
In point of ability, both civil and military, the Duke of Normandy andHarold of England were perhaps about equal; in point of nobility ofcharacter there was no comparison between them. We may be sure that thenight before the battle Harold prayed as earnestly as he had prayed atWaltham for the aid of Heaven.
Wulf and Beorn lay down among the thanes, after Harold, sitting with themround a fire, had explained his plans for the battle. So calmly andconfidently did he speak, and so strong was their position, that even thosewho had, like Wulf, doubted the wisdom of an advance until the whole forceof England had assembled, now felt something like an assurance of victory,and all lay down to sleep with the belief that the victory at StamfordBridge would be repeated.
On waking, Wulf visited his men. They were already astir, and he wasastounded at seeing among them the towering figure of Osgod.
"Why, what means this, Osgod?" he exclaimed. "Did I not order you to restquietly at York?"
"That did you, my lord," Osgod said, "and no man obeys your orders morereadily than I, and anything that you bid me do I am willing to do ifpossible; but in this it was not possible, for I could not remain at York,either in rest or quiet. I should have had fever in my blood, and would bythis time have been lying as deep in the earth as Harold of Norway himself.Therefore, in order to get the rest and quiet you had ordered, it wasnecessary for me to come south. As you had left me well supplied withmoney, I was able to do so in comfort, and though I could well enough walkI have had myself carried in a litter by easy stages. I reached London onWednesday night, having been a fortnight on the way, and I arrived here anhour since. Each day I walked a little, so as to keep my health andexercise my limbs, and so well have I succeeded that my wound has well-nighhealed; and although I doubt whether I shall be able to use a heavy axe, Itrust I shall be able to strike hard enough with the right hand to split afew Norman helms."
"But the exertion may set your wounds bleeding afresh, Osgod," Wulf said,unable to repress a smile at Osgod's argument.
"Methinks there is no fear of that. The most nights I have slept atmonasteries, and have inquired from the monks, whom I told that I mustneeds stand by your side to-day, whether I should be fit. They said atfirst that there would be some risk in the matter, but that if I continuedto take rest and quiet as I was doing, and the wound continued to healfavourably, it was possible, if I abstained from actual fighting, I mightdo so; but of late they have spoken more confidently. I told the monk whoseared my arm to do it heartily, for a little pain more or less was ofsmall account, so that he made a good job of it. And so, what with the restand quiet and my mind being at ease, it went on so well that a monk whoexamined it at Westminster on Wednesday evening told me that save for thehealing of the skin the wound was pretty nigh cured, and that he thoughtthere was no chance whatever of its breaking out afresh. He bandaged ittightly to prevent any rush of blood into the veins, and though when Idrove an axe just now into that stump yonder, I felt that I had not gotback my strength fully, I expect when I warm to the work I shall strike asstrongly as most."
"Well, at any rate you must take care of yourself, Osgod. You can aid mein keeping our men steady, but I charge you not to fight yourself unlessyou see the line waver. Then you can, of course, throw yourself into thefray."
"I will keep myself back for that, master; but I am sure we shall all haveto do our best before sunset, and as all will be risking their lives thereis no reason why I should not do so as well as the rest."
The troops made a hearty breakfast from the food they carried, and quenchedtheir thirst at the little stream that ran down by the side of the slope,then they were told off to the ground they were to occupy.
At nine in the morning the vanguard of the Norman army appeared over thebrow of a rise, and the English at once took up their positions. In thecentre were the housecarls of the royal house and those of the thanes,together with the men of Kent, whose right it was ever to be in the frontof a battle, and the London citizens under their sheriff. All these werearmed and attired like the housecarls. In the centre of this array flew theroyal standard, and around it were the three royal brothers, Aelfwig theiruncle, with his monk's cowl over his helmet, and their nephew, Hakon, theson of Sweyn. The housecarls were in a triple line. To the left and rightof them were the levies, as brave as their more heavily armed comrades, butaltogether without discipline, and armed in the most primitive manner. Afew only carried swords or axes, the majority had spears or javelins. Manyhad only forks or sharp stakes, while some carried stone hammers and axes,such as were used by their primitive ancestors.
As the Norman army wound down from the opposite hill and formed up in theorder of battle, Harold rode along in front of his line exhorting all tostand firm.
"They were there," he said, "to defend their country, and to defend theircountry they had but to hold the hill. Were they steadfast and firm theycould assuredly resist the attack of this host who came to capture andplunder England."
The order in which the Normans prepared for battle was similar to that ofthe English. Both commanders had been well informed by spies of thestrength and position of their opponents, and the duke placed his triedNorman troops in the centre to match themselves against the Englishhousecarls. His Breton contingent was on his left, while on the right werethe French, the Flemings, and the other foreign adventurers who had come tofight under his banner. In the front line were the archers and slingers,who were to open the battle and shake the line of the defenders. Behindthese came the infantry, who were to hew down the palisades and clear a wayfor the cavalry charge full into the centre of the English host.
A Norman trumpet gave the signal for the commencement of the battle, andthe archers along the whole line poured a storm of arrows into the English.It was unanswered, for there were few bowmen among the defenders of thehill, and the distance was too great for the javelin-men to hurl theirmissiles. After the archers had shot several volleys of arrows they fellback, and the infantry advanced against the hill; but before they did soTaillifer, a Norman minstrel, dashed forward on horseback, and spurring upthe ascent, tossing his sword in the air and catching it as it fell, rodeup to the English line. One man he pierced with a lance, another he cutdown with his sword, and then f
With jeering cries too they greeted the efforts of their assailants tocross the palisade and break their line. At last the Norman infantry fellback broken and baffled, having suffered terrible loss, and now the knightsand horsemen, who formed the backbone of William's army, rode up the hill.The duke himself, as well as his brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeau, who foughtbeside him, had laid aside their Norman swords, and were armed with heavymaces, weapons as formidable as the English axe. But the valour of thehorsemen, the strength of their armour, the length of their lances, and theweight of their horses, availed no more against the shield-wall of thehousecarls than the infantry had done. The superior height and strength ofthe English, and the sweep of their terrible battle-axes, counterbalancedthe advantage the horses afforded to the Normans, and the hithertoirresistible chivalry of Normandy and France were, for the first time,dashed backwards by trained infantry.
In front of the English line the ground was thickly covered with fallen menand horses. There were but few wounded among them, for where the Englishaxe fell, whether on horse or rider, it did its work thoroughly. But theEnglish, too, had suffered. The action of swinging the axe with both armsabove the head left the neck and upper part of the body exposed, and manyhad fallen pierced through and through by the Norman spears. A great shoutof triumph rose from the English line as the Norman horsemen, unable to domore, fell sullenly back down the hill. As in the centre the king with histhanes and housecarls had repelled the attack of the Normans, so on theflanks the English levies had held their ground against the Bretons andFrench; but, carried away by their exultation, the levies on the right,forgetful of Harold's express orders that no man was to stir from his placeuntil he himself gave the signal for pursuit, broke their line, and rushingdown the hill fell on the retreating Bretons.
Unable to withstand the onslaught, and already disheartened by theirfailure, the Bretons fled in wild alarm, and rushing towards the centre forprotection threw the Normans also into confusion. The panic spread rapidly,the host wavered, and had already begun to fly, when William, throwing offhis helmet, rode among them, and exhorting some and striking others with alance he had caught up, at last restored order, and the Breton infantryrallied and fell upon their pursuers, killing many and driving the restback up the hill.
Again the Norman infantry and cavalry together advanced up the hill, andthe terrible struggle recommenced. William and his brother the bishopperformed prodigies of valour, but not less valiantly fought Harold ofEngland and his brothers. The palisade was by this time destroyed in manyplaces, and desperate hand-to-hand contests now took place. Cutting his waythrough meaner foes the duke strove to reach the royal standard andencounter Harold himself. He was nearing his goal, when Gurth sprangforward, eager above all things to protect Harold from harm. He hurled ajavelin at William, but the dart struck the Norman's horse only, and itfell beneath him. William leapt to his feet, and springing upon Gurth smotewith his heavy mace full on his helmet, and the noble Earl of East Angliafell dead at his feet. Almost at the same moment his brother Leofwin,fighting sword in hand, was slain. But the fall of the two royal brothersin no way changed the fate of the battle. The men of Kent and Essex,furious at the fall of their beloved earls, fought even more fiercely thanbefore to avenge their deaths.
William had remounted, but his second horse was also slain. Eustace ofBoulogne offered him his horse, and himself mounting that of one of hisfollowers they fell together upon the English line, but all the valour ofthe duke and his chivalry failed to break it. On the French left theBretons had, indeed, succeeded in completely destroying the palisade, butthe levies stood firm, and no impression was made upon their solid line.The attack had failed, and even William saw that it was hopeless any moreto hurl his troops against the shield-wall, but the manner in which theEnglish irregulars had been induced to break their array led him to try bya feigned retreat to induce them to repeat their error. While the fight yetraged around him he sent orders to the Bretons to turn and flee, and thenif the defenders pursued them to turn upon them while he ordered a portionof his Norman force to make straight for the gap as soon as the Englishleft their posts.
The stratagem was successful. Again with exulting shouts the levies pouredout in pursuit of the Bretons. These fled for some distance, and thensuddenly turning fell on their pursuers. Ill-armed and undisciplined as thelevies were, and unable to withstand the attack of such overwhelmingnumbers, they bore themselves gallantly. One party took possession of asmall outlying hill, and with showers of darts and stones they killed ordrove off all who attacked them. The greater part, however, made their wayto broken ground to the west of the hill, and made a stand on the steepbank of a small ravine. The French horsemen charging down upon them,unaware of the existence of the ravine, fell into it, and were slaughteredin such numbers by the knives and spears of the English that the ravine waswell-nigh filled up with their dead bodies.
But gallantly as the levies had retrieved their error, it was a fatal one.As soon as they had left their line, the Normans told off for the dutypressed into the gap, and were followed by the whole of their main body,and thus the English lost the advantage of position, and the contendinghosts faced each other on the hill, the ground now occupied by the Normansbeing somewhat higher than that on which the housecarls stood. It was nowabout three in the afternoon, and the fight had been raging for six hours,but though thus outflanked and the order of their battle destroyed, theveterans of Harold showed neither alarm nor discouragement. Their formationwas changed, the shield-wall still faced the Normans, and for a time everyeffort to break it failed.
In vain the Norman cavalry charged down upon it, in vain their duke pliedhis terrible mace. Occasionally men worn out by the long defensive battlesprang from the English ranks and engaged knight or baron hand to hand. Allalong the line such single-handed conflicts were going on, and the roar ofbattle was as loud and fierce as at the beginning of the day. So for threemore hours the fight went on; with diminishing numbers, but withundiminished bravery the English still held their ground, and as twilightwas now closing in, it seemed as if they would maintain it till nightfall.Then William ordered up his archers again, bade them shoot their arrowshigh into the air, so that they should fall among the king and his thanesgrouped round the standard.
The effect was terrible. Through helm and shoulder-guard the arrows madetheir way; the soldiers held their shields above their heads, but thethanes had no such protection. Harold glanced up for a moment, and as ifdirected by the hand of fate an arrow struck him full in the eye, and hefell prostrate as if struck by a thunderbolt. A cry of horror and dismayburst from the thanes around him, but there was no time for the indulgenceof grief. The Normans too had seen the king fall, and with shouts oftriumph a body of knights tried to force their way in to take possession ofhis body. But so long as an Englishman could swing axe this was not to be,and the assault was repulsed as others had been before. Nor, when the newsof Harold's fall spread, did the brave housecarls lose heart, but sternlyand obstinately as ever held together.
At last the Normans burst in at the centre, each baron and knight strivingto be the first to pluck down the standards, the one the king's owncogn
Beorn and Wulf had, through the long fight, stood side by side, and thewatchfulness with which they guarded each other had carried them so farunharmed through it.
"It is all over now, Beorn," Wulf said. "But it is not hard to die, forwith Harold the cause of England is lost."
"At any rate we will sell our lives dearly," Beorn said, as he struck aNorman knight from his horse. But they were the last defenders of thestandards, and the end was at hand. Blows rained down upon them. Beorn wasbeaten on to one knee; Wulf was so exhausted by his exertions that he couldscarce swing his axe, when a Norman baron pressed his horse through thethrong, and springing to the ground held his sword aloft and shouted:"Stand back! stand back! these two men hold the duke's solemn pledge fortheir lives!" Some of the others still pressed on, but he shouted again:"Whoever strikes at them strikes at me!"
There was still hesitation, so furious were the Normans at the resistancethey had met with and the tremendous losses they had suffered. But anotherbaron exclaimed, "De Burg is right! I heard the pledge given, and so didmany of you. This is the young Saxon who saved the duke's camp from theattack by the Bretons, and bore the brunt of their assault till we had timeto arm. The other brought with him the news that Harold was wrecked." Thewords were decisive, and the Normans turned aside their horses to attackother foes.
"Thank God I arrived in time, Wulf," Baron de Burg said. "I knew you wouldbe near the standard, but I was fighting elsewhere when the news reached methat the line was broken and the standard on the point of capture. Are youbadly hurt, Beorn?"
"I am dizzy and faint," Beorn, who had risen to his feet, repliedunsteadily, "but I think not badly wounded."
"Walk by me one on each side holding my stirrup-leathers. I would placeyou on my horse, but it were best that I myself should be seen."
He removed his helmet, and bareheaded moved off with the young thaneswalking beside him. Many Normans stopped as he made his way down the hill,but to their questions he replied, "The duke has himself guaranteed thesafety of these thanes," and as he was well known to stand high in theduke's favour his word was at once accepted.
In the meantime Harold's standard, whose emblem was a fighting man, and thegolden dragon, the national banner, had been carried off in triumph. Fourof the Normans whose names were long held in infamy by the Englishdiscovered the body of the dying king, for it is said that he stillbreathed. One of these was Eustace of Boulogne, the only man in the twoarmies who had during the engagement shown signs of craven fear. Anotherwas the son of that Count of Ponthieu, who had once held Harold prisoner.The others were Gifford and Montfort. One ran his spear through Harold'sbreast, another struck off his head with his sword, a third pierced thedead body, while the fourth further insulted the dead hero by cutting offone of his legs--an action, however, which William when he heard of itpronounced to be shameful, and expelled its perpetrator from the army.
But though the king was dead and the standard lost, the survivors of thehousecarls still fought on until darkness fell. The levies had fled justbefore, hotly pursued by the Norman horse. Knowing the ground well thelight-armed footmen fled across a bog, and in the fast-gathering darknesstheir pursuers did not notice the nature of the ground, but galloping onplunged into the morass, where great numbers of them perished miserably,either suffocated in the mud or slain by the English, who turned and fellupon them with axe and spear as soon as they saw their plight. So great wasthe slaughter, that those who had reined up their horses in time werestricken with horror even after all the carnage they had witnessed on thefield of battle.
With darkness the battle came to an end. Few indeed of the housecarls drewoff under cover of the darkness; their force being almost annihilated. Withthem had perished almost the whole of the thanes of the South of Englandand East Anglia. The Sheriff of London had been carried off desperatelywounded by a few of his friends, but with this exception none of Harold'scompanions and thanes left the field alive while daylight lasted. A fewonly the next morning were found breathing among the mass of dead, and someof these survived and returned at last to their homes: for William,satisfied with the complete victory he had gained, issued orders that allfound alive on the field were to be well treated. He felt that he was nowKing of England, and that clemency was his best policy. Permission wasgiven to the women who flocked in from the country round, to search for thebodies of their friends and to remove them for burial. He also commanded asearch to be made for the body of Harold, but during the night, while theexhausted soldiers slept heavily after their labours, the camp-followershad been busy with the work of plunder, busiest round the spot where thestandards had stood, for here were stores of gold bracelets and rings, theemblems of authority of the thanes, to be collected, and rich garments tobe carried off. Thus then, the heaps of corpses that marked the spot wherethe fighting had all day been heaviest, were unrecognizable, so terriblehad been the wounds dealt by sword, battle-axe, and mace.
De Burg had kept Wulf and Beorn with him all night, and they had lain downand slept together. In the morning he committed them to the charge of someof his personal followers, while he went to the duke to inform him of whathe had done.
"Thank you, De Burg," William said; "they are two brave young fellows. Imarked them in the fight more than once when I was near the standard, and Ishould have grieved if ill had befallen them, for they did me loyalservice. I had given my word that they should retain their estates in caseI ever came to the throne here. I know not what to do with them. Were I tolet them go now, they would assuredly take part in any further resistancethat the English may offer to me. I will not ask them now to swearallegiance to me, for fresh from the battle where they have lost so manyfriends and the earl they loved so loyally, they would assuredly refuse."
"If you will grant me a short leave I will take ship back to Normandy andplace them in the care of my wife, where they can remain until matters havesettled down here."
"It is a good idea, De Burg; do so without delay. Methinks that afteryesterday there will be no real resistance offered to me. Harold and hisbrothers and all the leading thanes lie dead. There is no one left to leadthe people or organize a resistance, therefore I can spare you for a time."
Thanking the duke, De Burg returned to his captives and told them what hadbeen arranged.
"We owe you our heartiest thanks, Lord de Burg, for your kindness," Beornsaid. "Assuredly so long as England resists we will not acknowledge Williamof Normandy as king, but when resistance ceases, we will of course take theoath to him if only for the sake of our people; partial risings could butbring down his vengeance and cause suffering and ruin to all concerned.Therefore, we gratefully accept your offer, but first of all we beg you tolet us go to the spot where our housecarls fought. You remember Wulf's man,Osgod?"
"That do I indeed," De Burg replied. "The great fellow who fought by hisside that night against the Bretons, and saved my son's life. Was hethere?"
"He was," Wulf said, "though greatly against my wishes; for he had lost anarm in the fight at Stamford Bridge, and though it is little more than afortnight since, he had himself carried down here, contrary to my orders,and insisted upon joining in the battle. I would fain search for his bodyand give him burial."
"I will come with you at once," the Norman said, "I too owe him a debt ofgratitude."
The housecarls of Steyning had fallen to a man where they stood, and amongthem after some searching they came upon the body of Osgod, distinguishedalike by its bulk and the loss of an arm. His axe lay with a broken shaftby his side. His helmet was cleft asunder, and his face covered withblood.
"His body is yet warm," Wulf said, as he lifted his arm. "I believe hestill lives."
De Burg called upon two Norman soldiers near to aid, and with theirassistance Wulf and Beorn carried Osgod down to the stream, where theywashed the blood from his face and ba
"He is certainly alive," Beorn said. "Doubtless he was stunned by the blow,and has remained unconscious from the loss of blood."
De Burg sent for a flask of wine, and a little of this was poured throughOsgod's lips. Presently there was a deep sigh and a slight motion of thefigure, and then Osgod opened his eyes.
At first he seemed bewildered, but as his eyes fell on Wulf a look ofpleasure came into them, and he smiled faintly.
"I am alive, Osgod, and glad indeed to find that you are also. Beorn hasalso escaped. Take a draught of wine; you have lost a lot of blood and hadnone to spare."
They lifted him into a sitting position, and held the cup to his lips whilehe drank a long draught.
"That is better," he murmured. "I can feel it going through my veins. Ishall be able to wield an axe yet again. This comes of fighting with aweapon you don't know. The shaft broke as I was guarding my head, and Idon't remember anything after."
"It saved your life though, Osgod, for it broke the force of the blow whichwould otherwise have cleft your skull. As it is, it has not gone very deep,and the blood you have lost has run chiefly from a wound on your leftshoulder."
"How is it that you are here?" Osgod asked, looking round at the Normans.
"We are prisoners, though we have not surrendered," Wulf replied. "We weresaved by our good friend Lord de Burg, who has joined us in our search foryou. We are to be taken to Normandy as prisoners, and to remain in chargeof Lady de Burg."
"You shall go too, Osgod," De Burg said. "You will find it hard to benursed here, and my wife will see that your wounds are well cared for. Yourmaster will stay with you for the present, for I have matters to see aboutbefore we start for the coast."
In half an hour he returned. "I have to ask you to perform a last serviceto your dead king," he said. "The bodies of Gurth and Leofwin have beenfound and borne away by your people for burial, but none can find the bodyof Harold. All the dead that were near the standard were removed lastnight by the soldiers, and among the great pile of dead none can recognizethat of your king."
Well as they knew him, Wulf and Beorn were unable to recognize the body ofHarold among the ghastly heap of mutilated corpses. After a time Wulf said:
"There is one who might recognize it when all others failed. It is Edith,whom he so long loved as his wife. She may recognize it by some mark orsign unknown to others. If you will give me leave I will ride to Lewes,where she is staying, and bring her hither."
"Certainly, Wulf; I will obtain a safe conduct for you from the duke."
Wulf had ridden, however, but a mile along the western road when he saw alitter approaching borne by four men. He reined in his horse by its side.An order was given from within, and as the bearers lowered it to the groundEdith stepped out. She was deadly pale. Her eyes were red with weeping, andshe seemed to Wulf to have aged years since he saw her a week before.
"My presentiments have come true, Wulf," she said. "It was no surprise tome when last night the news came that the battle was lost and Harold slain.I had looked and waited for it. You were coming to fetch me?"
"Yes, lady; Harold's body has not been found. Early this morning two monksof Waltham, who had followed the army and seen the fight afar off, cameinto camp, and with them Gytha, Harold's mother. She saw the duke, andbegged for Harold's body, offering its weight in gold if she might carry itfor burial to the Abbey of Waltham. The duke refused, saying that anexcommunicated man could not be buried in a holy place; she might removethe bodies of her other two sons, but Harold's, when found, should beburied by the seacoast. The monks searched in vain for the body. Beorn andI have done the same, but have failed to recognize it in so vast a heap ofslain."
"I shall know it," Edith said. "Among a thousand dead I should knowHarold."
"It is a terrible sight, lady, for a woman to look upon," Wulf said gently.
"I shall see nothing but him," she replied firmly.
He accompanied her back to the battle-ground, where the two monks joinedher. Wulf, who was greatly shaken by the sight of her set and white face,left her with them.
What the eye of friendship had failed to accomplish, that of love detectedunerringly. There were marks on Harold's body by which Edith recognized it.One of the monks bore the news to the duke, who charged Sir William Maletto superintend the burial, and to do it with all honour. The remains werecollected and reverently placed together. They were wrapped in a purplerobe, and laid on a litter. Beorn and Wulf and the two monks lifted it;Edith walked behind, followed by Lord de Burg and several other Normanknights and barons who had known Harold in Normandy, and could admire andappreciate the valour of the dead hero. The little procession went down tothe shore, where Norman soldiers had already dug a grave, and there by thecoast he had defended so well Harold was laid to rest, and over his body agreat cairn of stones was raised by order of the duke.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE LORD OF BRAMBER.
Edith stood by while the Norman soldiers piled the stones over the grave.No tear had fallen from her eyes from the time that she had reached thefield of battle. Her face was as pale as marble, and looked almost asrigid. When the last stone was placed on the top of the cairn she turned toWulf and Beorn:
"Farewell, Wulf! farewell, Beorn! I am glad you were here. I am glad thatbeside me stood two of his most trusted thanes, and two of the monks fromthe abbey he founded, and whose welfare was so dear to him. I go to Lewes,and when the doors of the convent close on me I shall be dead to the world.Would that I were lying beneath that cairn by the side of my dear lord. Icannot weep for him now, the springs of my heart seem frozen, but I havetime for that. Farewell, thanes! I shall remember you in my prayers." Sosaying she turned away, and walked back to the litter.
"Poor lady!" Beorn exclaimed as he watched the litter, escorted by the twomonks, carried along the road.
"Poor lady indeed!" Wulf repeated; "and yet there are thousands in Englandand Normandy who were widowed yesterday, and maybe she is better off thanmany. She lost Harold the day she resigned him to another, and it washarder perhaps to be parted from him in that fashion than to know that heis dead now. She can think of him as his true widow, for assuredly thequeen who never cared aught for him is a widow but in name. Before, Edithwas tortured by the desire to see him and to comfort him, and yet hismarriage stood as a gulf between them, a gulf that she would never havepassed. Now she can think of him as her very own, as the man who had lovedher even as she had loved him. It is a grief, a terrible grief, but onewithout bitterness. But see, Lord de Burg is coming this way, and as thereis a litter behind him I suppose all is ready for our departure."
"I am ready, young thanes," De Burg said as he came up. "We ride at oncefor Pevensey, whither an order was sent some hours ago for a ship to be inreadiness to sail for Normandy."
Three horses were led up and mounted. They rode away, followed by an armedparty and the litter on which Osgod was laid.
"You have done your last duty to your king," the Norman said. "It is a fitgrave for a hero, and assuredly Harold was one. Maybe that it is not hislast resting-place. The duke at present doubtless felt constrained at firstto refuse him Christian burial, for had he granted Gytha's request, itwould have been an acknowledgment that the charges brought against him wereunfounded, and the excommunication of no avail; but I doubt not that intime he will allow his body to be taken to his abbey at Waltham. Now," hesaid less gravely, in order to turn their thoughts from the sad scenes theyhad witnessed, "what think you of the future, will the Northern earls heada national movement against us?"
"They are foul traitors!" Beorn exclaimed passionately; "and I would thatWulf and I could meet them in fair lists and fight them."
"They will do nothing," Wulf said more quietly. "They will hasten to makethe best terms they can for themselves, and will ask to be permitted tohold their earldoms as his vassals. But they will not long enjoy theirtreachery; they are ever intriguers, and as soon as they see theiropportunity will conspire a
"You would take the oath of allegiance to William then, Wulf?"
"Not now, my lord, but when England accepts him as her king I should bewilling to hold my lands from him as I have held them before from ourkings, that is, if the lands remain mine."
"They will remain yours," Lord de Burg said confidently. "The duke'spromise was publicly made, and he will certainly adhere to it; even if hewished it, he could not, after charging Harold with perjury, break his ownpromise."
The sun was sinking when they reached Pevensey, for the search for Harold'sbody and the building of his cairn had occupied many hours. They went atonce on board one of the ships De Burg had himself furnished for theexpedition, and two days later landed at Rouen. They had brought horseswith them, and the two young thanes at once rode with the baron to hischateau, leaving Osgod to be brought after them in his litter. Lord de Burgwas received with the greatest joy by his wife, Guy, and Agnes. They hadbeen in a state of terrible anxiety for the last twenty-four hours, for aswift ship had been despatched by the duke with the news of the victory, atdaybreak after the battle, and it was known that the fight had been longand desperately contested, and that a great number of barons and knightshad fallen. As soon as the first outburst of delight was over the baroncalled in Wulf and Beorn, who had not followed him into the room, feelingthat he would prefer to greet his family alone. Guy gave an exclamation ofsurprise and pleasure as they came forward.
"These are my prisoners," the baron said with a smile, "if I can callprisoners those who have never surrendered. The duke has intrusted them tomy keeping, and has ordered that you shall hold them in safe custody."
"Lord de Burg does not tell you, lady, that he saved our lives, which butfor him were assuredly lost. We were well-nigh spent, and were surroundedby a ring of foes when he broke in and stood beside us proclaiming that theduke himself had given a pledge for our safety."
"I have paid part of the debt we owe," the baron said, "though I saved themat no cost to myself, while Wulf defended Guy at the risk of his life."
"How long do you stay with us, my lord?"
"As long as I can, wife. I went, as you know, unwillingly to the war, butwhen all the Norman barons followed the duke I could not hold back. But Itrust to have no more of it; so terrible a field no man living has seen,and in truth until twilight fell it seemed that we should be beaten, withsuch obstinacy and endurance did the English fight. We won, but it was avictory over the dead rather than the living. Of Harold's regular troops noman turned, no man asked for quarter, they fell where they stood; and eventhe irregulars, who had fought with equal bravery, when, as night fell andall was lost, they fled, inflicted well-nigh as heavy a blow upon us as hadbeen dealt during the day. I have no animosity against them, they arevaliant men, and were in their right in defending their country, and Iwould that I could stay peacefully here until the last blow has beenstruck. I am well content with my estates, and need no foot of Englishland, no share in English spoil I must fight for my liege lord as long asfighting goes on, but that over I hope to return here and live in peace.At any rate I can tarry quietly here for a week. Certainly no force can beraised in time to oppose the duke's advance on London, and my swordtherefore may well rest in its scabbard. I suppose, thanes, you will notobject to give me your parole to attempt no escape?"
"Willingly, my lord," Beorn said. "If, contrary to our opinion, Englandshould rise and fight one more battle for freedom, we will give you duenotice that we shall if possible escape and cross the sea to join ourcountrymen."
"That is fair enough," De Burg said with a smile, "and the moment you giveme notice I will clap you into so firm a cage that I warrant you will notescape from it; but I trust the necessity will not arise. Now, Guy, takeyour friends to their chambers and see to their comfort. I will not tellthe story of the battle until you return, for doubtless you are burning tohear it, and in truth it will be famous in all times, both as one of thesturdiest fights ever heard of, and because such great issues depended onits results."
When Guy returned with his friends and a meal had been eaten, De Burg toldthe story of the battle of Senlac.
"Such is the story as far as I know it," he added in conclusion, "but intruth beyond the beginning and the end, and the fact that we twice fellback and at one time were flying in headlong rout to our ships, I knownothing. All day I was striving to break through a living wall, andstriving in vain. I can see now the close line of shields, the helmetcovered faces above them, and the terrible axes rising and falling,cleaving through helmet and hauberk as if they had been pasteboard. It maywell-nigh be said that we have no wounded, for each man struck fell in histrack as if smitten by lightning. Can you add more, thanes?"
Beorn shook his head.
"It is like a dream," Wulf said. "We never moved through the long day. Attimes there was a short lull, and then each man was fighting as best hecould. I know that my arms grew tired and that my axe seemed to growheavier, that horse and foot swept up to us, and there was occasionallybreathing time; that the royal brothers' voices rose ever cheeringly andencouragingly until Gurth and Leofwin fell, and after that Harold's alonewas heard, though I think it came to my ears as from a distance, so greatwas the tumult, so great our exertions. When Harold died I knew that allwas lost, but even that did not seem to affect me. I had become a sort ofmachine, and fought almost mechanically, with a dim consciousness that theend was close at hand. It was only at the last, when Beorn and I stood backto back, that I seemed myself again, and was animated with new strengththat came, I suppose, from despair."
"It was an awful day," De Burg said. "I have fought in many battles underthe duke's banner, but the sternest of them were but paltry skirmishes incomparison to this. Half of the nobles of Normandy lie dead, half the armythat filled the mighty fleet that sailed from St. Valery have fallen.William is King of England, but whether that will in the end repay Normandyfor the loss she has suffered seems to me very doubtful. And now let us tobed. I sleep not well on shipboard, and in truth I had such dreams of deathand slaughter that I ever awoke bathed with sweat, and in such fear that Idared not go to sleep again."
At the end of a week the baron sailed again for England. To the two youngEnglishmen the following weeks passed pleasantly. Ships came frequentlyfrom England with news of what was doing there. William had tarried forsome time at his camp at Hastings, expecting to receive the submission ofall England. But not an Englishman came to bow before him. The Northernearls had hurried to London as soon as they heard of the defeat at Senlacand the death of the king and his brothers, and a Witan was instantlysummoned to choose his successor to the throne.
Edwin and Morcar thought that the choice of the nation would surely fallupon one or other of them, as
While the cause of England was thus being betrayed and ruined, William wasadvancing eastward along the coast ravaging and destroying. Romney waslevelled to the ground and its inhabitants slain. Dover opened its gates.It is probable that most of the male population had joined Harold, and hadfallen at Senlac; and that the terrible fate of Romney had struck suchterror into the hearts of the inhabitants, who knew there was no army thatcould advance to their assistance, that they surrendered at the Conqueror'sapproach. To them William behaved with lenity and kindness. His severity atRomney and his lenity at Dover had their effect. There being no centralauthority, no army in the field, each town and district was left to shiftfor itself; and assuredly none of them unaided could hope to offerprolonged resistance to the Normans. As, after eight days' stay at Dover,William advanced towards Canterbury, he was met by a deputation of thecitizens offering their submission, and soon from all parts of Kent similarmessages came in.
Kent had done its full share in the national defence on the hill nearHastings, and was not to be blamed if, when all England remained supine andinactive, its villagers refused to throw away their lives uselessly. Theduke was detained by sickness for a month near Canterbury, and therereceived the submission of Kent and Sussex, and also that of the greatecclesiastical city of Winchester; but the spirit of resistance in Londonstill burned brightly, and William was indisposed to risk the loss thatwould be incurred by an assault upon its walls. He, therefore, moved roundin a wide circle, wasting the land, plundering and destroying, till thecitizens, convinced that resistance could only bring destruction uponthemselves and their city, and in spite of the efforts of their woundedsheriff, sent an embassy to the duke at Berkhampstead to submit and dohomage to him.
Not London alone was represented by this embassy. The young king, electedbut uncrowned, was with it; two archbishops, two bishops, and many of thechief men in England accompanied it, and although they were not thespokesmen of any Witan, they might be said fairly to represent London andSouthern England.
Deserted by the North, without a leader, and seeing their land exposed towholesale ravages, the South and West Saxons were scarcely to be blamed forpreferring submission to destruction. They doubtless thought that William,the wise ruler of Normandy, would make a far better king than the boy theyhad chosen, who was himself almost as much a foreigner as William, savethat there was a strain of English royal blood in his veins. So had Englandaccepted Canute the Dane as her king, and he had ruled as an Englishmonarch wisely and well.
The embassy offered William the crown. The Norman prelates and priests, whoheld so many of the dignities in the English Church, had worked hard toincline men's minds to this end. Silent while England stood united underits king to oppose the invader, their tongues were loosed as soon as thestrength of England was broken and its king dead, and they pointed out thatGod had clearly designated William as their king by giving him victory andby destroying alike Harold and his brothers.
William went through the farce of hesitating to accept the offer of thecrown, and held a consultation with his officers as to the answer he shouldgive. They of course replied that he should accept the offer. William,therefore, marched with his army to London, where on Christmas-day the sameprelate who had anointed Harold King of England crowned William as hissuccessor.
A few days later Beorn and Wulf with Osgod, who had now completelyrecovered from his wounds, set sail for England. There was no longer anyreason why they should not take their oaths to serve William. He was thecrowned king of England, the accepted of the people, as Harold had been,and when all Southern England had submitted it was not for them, who hadreceived special favours at William's hand, to hold back. With them wentLady de Burg, Guy, and Agnes, with many other Norman ladies on their way torejoin their lords in London. Baron de Burg, on the day after theirarrival at Westminster, led the two young thanes to the private apartmentof the king. He received them graciously.
"There are none of your nation," he said, "whose homage I more gladlyaccept. You fought valiantly before under my banner, and will, I am sure,be ready to do so again should occasion arise. I am thankful to my Lord deBurg that he interposed in my name and saved your lives. I have notforgotten the other part of my promise, and have this morning ordered myjusticiar to add to your estates forfeited lands adjoining."
Beorn and Wulf had previously talked the matter over. Their owninclinations would have led them to refuse the offer, but as it was certainthat all the land forfeited to the crown by the death of its holders inbattle would be apportioned among William's Norman followers, they thoughtthat it would be wholly for the benefit both of the families of the latethanes and for their tenants and people that they should accept any estateWilliam might bestow on them. They, therefore, thanked the duke insuitable terms, and at once took the oaths for the lands he might bepleased to bestow on them. A week later they received the formal deeds,which in both cases more than doubled the estates they before possessed.
The same evening Lord de Burg said to Wulf, who had tarried in London,while Beorn had at once set out for Fareham: "I think the time has come,Wulf, when I can speak of a subject that has been in my thoughts for a longtime, and which, although you have not spoken, has, as my wife and I haveboth seen, been dear to you. Normandy and England are now one, and we arevassals of the same king. As long as there was a probability thatEnglishmen and Normans might again be ranged in battle against each other,it was not expedient that aught should be done in the matter, but, now thisobstacle is removed, I can offer you the alliance on which I am sure yourheart is set, and give you the hand of my daughter in marriage."
"It is the greatest wish of my life," Wulf replied gratefully. "I shouldhave asked you for her hand before had it not been for the position ofpublic affairs. I love her dearly, though I have until now abstained fromspeaking; and yet I would not wed her unless her heart went freely with herhand."
"I think not that she will be disobedient to my wishes," De Burg saidsmiling. "She has proved deaf to all her Norman suitors, and although amongthem were some whom few maidens would have said no to, her mother and I hadno wish to force her inclinations, especially as we both shrewdly suspectedwhere her heart had been bestowed. This alliance, too, has long been thedearest wish of Guy. On the bed of sickness where he lay so long, and fromwhich it seemed at one time that he would never rise, he often spoke to meof it. He was fondly attached to his sister, and again and again said thathe wished of all things that you should some day become her husband, as hewas sure her happiness would be safe with you, and that you would worthilyfill his place to us, and would, when the time came, rule nobly over thelands of De Burg."
"God forbid that that should ever be the case," Wulf said earnestly. "Itrust that Guy will live long, and that he will marry and
The baron shook his head sadly. "Guy is better," he said, "but he is stillweak and fragile, and the leeches tell me that a rough winter or an illnessthat would be nought to others might carry him off. I have small hopes thathe will ever marry. I am sure that no such thought is in his mind. He is aseager now as he was four years ago that you should be a son to us, and ahusband to Agnes. He has also earnestly expressed the wish, in which I alsojoin, that you should take our name. You English have no family names, butthat will come with other Norman customs, and marrying a De Burg it wouldseem natural that you should yourself become Wulf de Burg."
"I should feel it a high honour. There is no more noble name in Normandy,and I trust I may prove worthy of bearing it."
"That I have no fear of, Wulf, else I should not have offered you the handof my daughter. I will bring my wife and Guy in. I have offered you thehand of Agnes, but it is right that you should ask her mother's consent,although beforehand assured of it."
He left the room, and soon returned with Lady de Burg and Guy.
"My lord has told me," she said, before Wulf could speak, "that you wouldask my consent to your marriage with Agnes. I give it you unasked, freelyand gladly. I have but one regret--that the seas will divide us."
"Not so," the baron said; "William's court will be held in London, and foryears he will reside here far more than in Normandy, and will expect hisnobles to be frequently with him. I certainly shall not come alone, and youwill therefore have as many opportunities of seeing Agnes as if she weremarried to a Norman whose estates did not lie near our own."
"I thank you most deeply, Lady de Burg, for the confidence which you showin intrusting your daughter's happiness to me. I swear that with all mymight and power I will strive to make her happy, and will spare her tovisit you in Normandy whensoever you may wish it."
Guy came forward now and grasped Wulf's hand.
"How I have longed for this time, my brother," he said. "How I have hopedthat I might at least live long enough to know that the dearest wish of myheart would be gratified. I can go hence now right willingly when God callsme, knowing that my father and mother have another son to fill my place,and that the happiness of my sister is secured."
"And now, wife, will you fetch Agnes from her chamber," the baron said.
In two or three minutes the baroness returned, leading Agnes, to whom shehad told the reason of her summons. The baron stepped forward and took herhand.
"My daughter," he said, "the Thane of Steyning has asked for your hand inmarriage, and your mother and I have given our free and full consent, buthe would fain know from your own lips that you will come to him willingly."
"I have loved you, Agnes, since while still but a boy I first saw you, andmy love has grown ever since. The happiness of my life depends upon youranswer, but unless your heart goes with your hand I would rather remainunmarried to my dying day."
The girl had stood with downcast eyes and with flushed face until now. WhenWulf ceased speaking she looked up into his face:
"I love you, Wulf; I have always loved you. It is for your sake that I havesaid no to the suitors of my own race who have sought my hand. I will be atrue wife and loving to you."
"Then take her, Wulf," the baron said, placing her hand in his. "You arenow her betrothed husband and our adopted son."
Wulf stooped and kissed the girl's lips, and the betrothal was completed.After some talk it was arranged that Wulf should at once journey down toSteyning, assume possession of his new estates, set the house in order, andprepare for their coming. Guy was to accompany him, and as soon as all wasin readiness Wulf would come up to London and return with Lord and Lady deBurg and Agnes, who would pay a short visit and all would then cross toNormandy, for the marriage was to take place at their chateau there.
"I was sure how it would be," Osgod said when Wulf told him the news thatnight. "I should have been blind indeed if I had not seen it long ago. Ilove not the Normans, but I make exception in the case of Lord de Burg andhis family. And truly it will in all respects be a good thing for yourtenants. Although the duke, or I suppose I ought to say the king, promisesgreatly at present, there is no saying what he may do later on; and he hasall these locusts to provide for. 'Tis well indeed, then, that there shouldbe a Norman lady as well as an English thane at Steyning."
Wulf's return home gave rise to demonstrations of the greatest joy amonghis tenants. They had heard nothing of him since the battle, and had deemedhim to have fallen with the rest of the defenders of the standard, and hadbeen living in fear of the arrival of some Norman baron to be their lord.Wulf was greatly pleased to find that, although not one of his housecarlshad returned from Hastings, the greater portion of his irregular levies hadescaped at nightfall with the party who had inflicted so heavy a blow upontheir pursuers. For the next few days Wulf was thoroughly occupied. Thetenants of his new estates received him almost as joyfully as his own haddone, for, like them, they had expected the advent of a Norman master. Inone of the two estates that had fallen to him the thane he had succeededhad left no heirs; while the other thane had left a widow and a youngfamily. Wulf arranged that these should remain in their home, receiving fortheir maintenance half the rents of the estate.
Guy was greatly pleased with the fair country in which his sister's lot wasto be cast, but he owned frankly that the house seemed unworthy now of thelarge estate, and was indeed but a poor place in comparison with the noblechateau in which she had been brought up.
"That shall be remedied, Guy, as soon as matters settle down. I have laidby none of my revenues, for the keeping up of a hundred housecarls hastaxed them to the utmost, but now that my income is more than doubled, andthis expense has altogether ceased, I shall have funds with which I cansoon begin to build. When I was young, Steyning seemed to me a fine house,but after your Norman castles it is indeed but a poor place."
When, a fortnight later, the De Burgs arrived with Wulf, while Agnesexpressed herself delighted with the quaintness of the old Saxon home, herfather and mother were decidedly of Guy's opinion.
"The house is a good house in its way," the Baron said, "but there will begreat changes in the land. Much of it will be transferred to Norman hands,and ere long castles and chateaux like ours at home will rise everywhere,and as an English noble with broad lands it is but fit that your residenceshould vie with others. But this shall be my care, and shall be mydaughter's special dowry. I foresee that it will be long ere matters whollysettle down. Moreover, though William's hand is strong that of hissuccessor may be weak, and in time there will be the same troubles hereamong the barons that there were in Normandy before William put them downwith a strong hand. Therefore, I should say we will build a castle ratherthan a chateau, for such I am sure will be the style of all the Normanbuildings here, until England settles down to peace and quiet. I would notdisturb this house, Wulf; it is doubtless dear to you, and will, moreover,serve as a dowager-house or as an abode for a younger son. We will fix on anew site altogether, and there we will rear a castle worthy of the estate.By the way, I have spoken to the king of your betrothal to my daughter, andhe is highly pleased. He says that it is his earnest wish that his Normannobles shall marry English heiresses, both because they will thus come intopossession of lands without disturbing the owners, and because such mixtureof blood will the more speedily weld the two peoples into one; and that,similarly, he is glad to see a Norman maiden united to an English noble ofwhom he has so high an opinion."
Fond as Wulf was of his old home he saw that it would be best to abandon itfor a new residence more suited to the times and more in accordance withhis own increased possessions and the home from which he was taking hiswife. After riding round the estates Lord de Burg and he fixed upon a knollof rising ground near the village of Bramber, and not far from thereligious house where Wulf had spent so many evenings, and whose prior hadbeen one of the first to welcome his return.
"I will charter a ship at Rouen," Lord de Burg said, "and send over
A week later Wulf sailed for Rouen with the De Burgs. Beorn accompanied him,as well as Osgod, to be present at the wedding, which took place at RouenCathedral. A month later Wulf returned with his wife to Steyning. Alreadyan army of men were at work at Bramber. The tenants all gave theirassistance readily, and far beyond the amount their feudal tenure required,for they saw the advantage it would be to them to have a strong castle intheir midst to which they could retire in case of danger. Labourers hadbeen engaged in large numbers from the country round by the mastercraftsmen. The outlines of the castle had been traced, and the ground dugfor its foundations, while already the broad deep fosse which was tosurround it had been dug to a depth of several feet. The stones had to bebrought from a considerable distance, but as at this time of year there waslittle work for the carts, those belonging not only to the tenants of theestate, but to the cultivators for miles round were engaged in the service.
In six months a stately pile had risen in the midst of the tranquil glade.When it was ready for occupation Lord and Lady de Burg and their son cameover, and great festivities were held when Wulf de Burg (now Lord ofBramber) moved into the castle.
Soon after the birth of their first son Wulf and his wife received a hastysummons to cross the sea, and arrived in time to stand by the death-bed ofGuy. Wulf had been greatly moved by the storm of war that had swept overthe North of England, and the terrible vengeance taken by William there.He had no pity for the traitor earls, but he grieved for the men who, butfor their treachery, would have fought at Hastings. He regretted deeplythe isolated risings in various parts of the country, whose only effect wasto bring ruin upon whole districts and to increase the sternness and rigourof William's rule.
Wulf's after-life was divided between England and Normandy, as he became abaron of the latter country at the death of Lord de Burg. He fought no morein England, but more than once followed William's banner in his struggleswith his rebellious sons and turbulent nobles. He lived to see theanimosities between Englishmen and Normans beginning to die out, and tofind our kings relying upon sturdy English men-at-arms and bow-men in theirstruggles with French kings and with the Norman barons who held so large aportion of English soil. Osgod became the seneschal of the castle, and heldit for his lord during his absences in Normandy. Wulf took an interest inthe fortunes of Ulf, who in the course of time succeeded to the business ofUlred, and became one of the most skilled and famous armourers in London.Beorn married the former heiress of one of the estates William had grantedhim, and his firm friendship with the Lord of Bramber remained unbroken tothe end of their lives.