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Danes, Saxons and Normans; or, Stories of our ancestors

by John G. Edgar · English · Gutenberg #40513 · 474,588 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Danes, Saxons and Normans; or, Stories of our ancestors

Author: John G. Edgar


        
Release date: August 16, 2012 [eBook #40513]
                Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANES, SAXONS AND NORMANS; OR, STORIES OF OUR ANCESTORS ***

    DANES, SAXONS, AND NORMANS;

    OR,

    Stories of our Ancestors.

    BY
    J. G. EDGAR,
    AUTHOR OF "BOYHOOD OF GREAT MEN," "CAVALIERS AND ROUNDHEADS," ETC.


    LONDON:
    S. O. BEETON, 248, STRAND.
    1863.




PREFACE.


In the following pages I have endeavoured to tell in a popular way the
story of the Norman Conquest, and to give an idea of the principal
personages who figured in England at the period when that memorable
event took place; and I have endeavoured, I hope not without some
degree of success, to treat the subject in a popular and picturesque
style, without any sacrifice of historic truth.

With a view of rendering the important event which I have attempted to
illustrate, more intelligible to the reader, I have commenced by
showing how the Normans under Rolfganger forced a settlement in the
dominions of Charles the Simple, whilst Alfred the Great was
struggling with the Danes in England, and have recounted the events
which led to a connexion between the courts of Rouen and Westminster,
and to the invasion of England by William the Norman.

It has been truly observed that the history of the Conquest is at once
so familiar at first sight, that it appears superfluous to multiply
details, so difficult to realize on examination, that a writer feels
himself under the necessity of investing with importance many
particulars previously regarded as uninteresting, and that the defeat
at Hastings was not the catastrophe over which the curtain drops to
close the Saxon tragedy, but "the first scene in a new act of the
continuous drama." I have therefore continued my narrative for many
years after the fall of Harold and the building of Battle Abbey, and
have traced the Conqueror's career from the coast of Sussex to the
banks of the Humber and the borders of the Tweed.

For the same reason I have narrated the quarrels which convulsed the
Conqueror's own family--have related how son fought against father,
and brother against brother--and have indicated the circumstances
which, after a fierce war of succession in England, resulted in the
peaceful coronation of Henry Plantagenet, and the establishment of
that great house whose chiefs were so long the pride of England and
the terror of her foes.

                                                     J. G. E.




ANALYSIS OF CONTENTS.


    CHAPTER I.


    ROLFGANGER AND HIS COMRADES:--Rolfganger's banishment--Settles
    in France--Ludicrous incident during the ceremony of
    Rolfganger's taking the oath of fealty to Charles the Simple


    CHAPTER II.

    WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR:--His birth and parentage--Duke Robert's
    pride in him--Is declared successor to Robert the Devil--Duke
    Robert's death--Opposition to William's succession--Conspiracy
    headed by Bessi and Cotentin--William flees from them--Defeat of
    the conspirators, and accession of William to the ducal throne
    of Normandy--His cruelty--Good qualities of William


    CHAPTER III.

    THE DANES IN ENGLAND:--The Saxons come to the assistance of the
    Britons--Seize on Britain--Formation of the Kingdom of
    England--The first inroad of the Danes--Death of Ethelred, and
    accession of Alfred the Great to the throne of England--Alfred
    in the swineherd's cottage--Visits the Danish camp--Drives the
    Danes from England--Sweyn, King of Denmark, invades England--Is
    bribed to retire--Massacre of St. Brice--Sweyn again invades
    England--His sudden death--Canute succeeds him--Treachery and
    punishment of Edric Streone--Canute's marriage--Death of
    Canute--Accession of Harold Harefoot--His death--Accession of
    Hardicanute--His death


    CHAPTER IV.

    EARL GODWIN:--Ulf and Godwin--Canute's partiality to
    Godwin--Godwin becomes Earl of Wessex--Marries the daughter of
    Sweyn, King of Denmark--Godwin espouses the cause of
    Hardicanute--Godwin procures the crown of England for Edward the
    Confessor


    CHAPTER V.

    EDWARD THE CONFESSOR:--His parentage--Death of his brother
    Alfred--Edward demands justice of Hardicanute--Ascends the
    English throne--Edward and the leper--Edward marries Edith,
    daughter of Godwin


    CHAPTER VI.

    THE KING AND THE KING-MAKER:--Edward's Norman friends--Dislike
    of the Normans by the English--Quarrel between Eustace of
    Boulogne and the townsmen of Dover--Godwin's quarrel with
    Edward--Godwin is outlawed--William of Normandy visits
    England--His reception--Godwin returns to England--Is restored
    to power--Godwin's awful death


    CHAPTER VII.

    MATILDA OF FLANDERS:--William of Normandy determines to marry
    Matilda of Flanders--Matilda's pedigree--Her father's
    acquiescence in William's proposal--Her refusal to the
    espousal--William's love-making--Matilda's consent is
    obtained--The Pope's opposition to the marriage--William
    overcomes the Pope's scruples--Obtains a dispensation--Marries
    Matilda of Flanders


    CHAPTER VIII.

    SIWARD THE DANE:--His appearance--The mystic banner--Siward's
    reception by Hardicanute--Tostig's raillery and its
    punishment--Battle between Eadulph, Earl of Northumberland, and
    Siward--Siward is sent by Edward the Confessor to defend the
    Northumbrian coast--Death of Siward


    CHAPTER IX.

    HAROLD, THE SAXON KING:--Harold's personal appearance--Harold's
    first appearance in national affairs--His great military
    reputation--Harold proposes to visit Normandy--King Edward tries
    to dissuade him--He sets out--His cordial reception by Duke
    William--Harold accompanies William in a war against the
    Bretons--William extorts a promise from Harold to aid him in
    obtaining the English crown--Death of Edward the Confessor


    CHAPTER X.

    DUKE WILLIAM AND HIS DIFFICULTIES:--William has news of Harold's
    accession to the English throne--Harold is summoned by the Court
    of Rome to defend himself on the charges of perjury and
    sacrilege--He refuses to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the See
    of Rome--William is ordered by the Pope to invade England--He
    prepares to set out--William Fitzosborne overrules the
    objections of the Norman nobles.


    CHAPTER XI.

    TOSTIG, SON OF GODWIN:--Tostig is made Earl of
    Northumberland--His cruelty--The Northumbrians force him to
    flee--Harold is sent against the insurgents--Tostig is
    deposed--His anger is turned against Harold--The massacre of
    Hereford--Tostig repairs to Flanders--Obtains aid from William
    of Normandy--Tostig's unfavourable reception by Sweyn, King of
    Denmark


    CHAPTER XII.

    HAROLD HARDRADA:--His personal appearance--Harold at the battle
    of Stiklestad is wounded--Harold with his companions goes to
    Constantinople and takes service as a varing--The varings--Goes
    to Africa and Sicily, and makes an armed pilgrimage to
    Jerusalem--Drives out the Moslems--Returns to Constantinople--Is
    enamoured of Maria, niece of the Empress Zoe--The Empress in
    love with Harold--Magnus, the illegitimate son of Olaf, usurps
    the throne of Norway--Harold, wishing to assert his superior
    claim, is detained in Constantinople by the Empress--Is
    delivered by a Greek lady--Rouses his companions, carries off
    Maria, and sets sail for Denmark--Hardrada shares the throne
    with Magnus--Death of Magnus--Tostig applies to Hardrada for
    assistance against Harold, King of England--Tostig makes a
    descent on England--Hardrada sails for England--The
    apprehensions of the Norwegians


    CHAPTER XIII.

    THE ALARM IN ENGLAND:--Harold's indefatigable exertions for the
    welfare of England--Duke William claims fulfilment of Harold's
    promise--Harold's refusal--Duke William sends again to
    Harold--His offers again refused--William's threat--The
    alarm--Tostig lands in the North--Harold goes against him


    CHAPTER XIV.

    THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE:--Tostig and Hardrada burn
    Scarborough, take York, and encamp on the river Derwent at
    Stamford Bridge--The approach of the English--Harold's
    proposition to Tostig--Tostig's refusal--The battle--Hardrada is
    slain--Harold a second time offers peace--Is refused--Tostig is
    slain--The defence of the bridge--Termination of the
    conflict--The Norwegians leave England--Harold claims the booty
    as his own--Discontent in the army--Harold receives news of
    William's landing


    CHAPTER XV.

    PHILIP OF FRANCE:--William of Normandy seeks the assistance of
    Philip, King of France--The French barons refuse to aid him in
    his invasion


    CHAPTER XVI.

    THE NORMAN ARMAMENT:--William decides to invade England in
    August, 1066--William's treatment of the Saxon spy--The weather
    not being favourable, the Normans are filled with superstitious
    fears--William's strategy to calm their apprehensions--The
    Normans set sail--William's ship sails away from the rest--The
    landing--William burns his fleet--Overruns the county of
    Sussex--Receives intelligence of the Saxons' approach


    CHAPTER XVII.

    HAROLD'S HOST:--Harold arrives in London--His ill-timed
    rashness--Not being able to attack William unawares, Harold
    halts at Epiton, and fortifies his position--The Saxon chiefs
    advise a retreat--Harold refuses to listen to them--William
    denounces Harold as a perjurer and liar--The effect of William's
    message on the Saxons--Gurth advises Harold to quit the
    army--The night before the battle


    CHAPTER XVIII.

    THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS:--Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, blesses the
    Norman army--Arrangement of the Norman army--William in
    1066--Superstitious fears of the Normans--William's address to
    his soldiers--Taillefer, the Norman minstrel--The attack--The
    Norman first division is repulsed--They renew the
    charge--Obstinate resistance of the Saxons--William's
    strategy--Its success--Harold and Leofwine are slain--Gurth's
    courageous resistance--Gurth is slain--Rout of the
    Saxons--William pitches his camp for the night


    CHAPTER XIX.

    THE BODY OF HAROLD:--William returns thanks for his
    victory--Calls over the muster-roll--The Saxons seek to bury
    their dead--William refuses to allow the body of Harold to be
    buried--At the intercession of the monks of Waltham he
    relents--The search for the body--Harold's burial


    CHAPTER XX.

    THE CONQUEROR AND THE KENTISHMEN:--William finding no allegiance
    paid him, takes Dover and marches towards London--Is opposed by
    a large body of Kentishmen--The advancing wood--Parley with the
    Kentishmen--William turns towards the west, and crosses the
    Thames at Wallingford--The Saxon Wigod's
    treachery--Berkhampstead is taken


    CHAPTER XXI.

    EDGAR ATHELING:--The Londoners determine upon crowning Edgar
    Atheling--Edgar's birth and parentage--His popularity with the
    people--Harold, afraid of Edgar's popularity, treats him with
    great respect and honour--Edgar is proclaimed king--Ansgar, the
    standard-bearer of the City of London, excites the people to
    deliver the keys of London to the Conqueror--Edgar Atheling, the
    archbishops, and chief citizens pay homage to William


    CHAPTER XXII.

    CORONATION OF THE CONQUEROR:--William marches towards
    London--The Abbot and inhabitants of St. Albans oppose
    him--William, doubting the propriety of accepting the crown,
    holds a council of war--The speech of Aimery de Thouars decides
    the council--Christmas day, 1066, is fixed for the
    coronation--The ceremony is performed by Aldred, Archbishop of
    York; Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury declining to crown
    him--Tumult during the coronation--The lion banner of Normandy
    is planted on the Tower of London, and the south and east of
    England given to William's followers--He embarks for
    Normandy--His enthusiastic reception--He refuses to take the
    oath of fealty to the Pope


    CHAPTER XXIII.

    THE SIEGE OF EXETER:--During William's absence in Normandy, the
    Norman barons treat the Saxons with great cruelty--Saxon leagues
    are formed--William, receiving notice of the state of affairs in
    England, returns home--He ingratiates himself with the chiefs
    and the populace--William proceeds westward--Is opposed at
    Exeter--He attacks the town--Desperate resistance of the
    besieged--Exeter is taken--Somerset and Gloucester
    subjugated--Escape of Githa, Harold's mother--Bad treatment of
    the Saxon women


    CHAPTER XXIV.

    MATILDA AND BRIHTRIK:--Matilda's arrival and enthusiastic
    reception in England--Origin of Matilda's popularity--Her
    vindictive spirit--In her early years becomes enamoured of
    Brihtrik--Brihtrik does not reciprocate her affection--Brihtrik
    leaves Bruges--Matilda's indignation at his
    coolness--Probability of Brihtrik's speaking too freely about
    the Duchess Matilda--Matilda, after the siege of Exeter keeps
    Brihtrik's possessions as her share of the spoil--Brihtrik is
    imprisoned--His death


    CHAPTER XXV.

    THE NORMANS IN NORTHUMBERLAND:--State of the county of
    Northumberland in 1068--The Conqueror marches northward--York is
    taken--Robert Comine is deputed to extend the conquest as far as
    Durham--Eghelwin, Bishop of Durham's advice to Comine--The
    vengeance of the Northumbrians--The King of Denmark sends a
    fleet to the assistance of the English--The Saxons and Danes
    march upon York--The Normans are driven into the citadel--The
    citadel is taken--William's wrath at the death of Comine and the
    destruction of York--He bribes the Danes to depart--William
    again marches upon York--York is once more taken by the
    Normans--After ravaging Northumberland, the Normans reach
    Durham--The bishop and clergy of Durham set out for Holy
    Island--William enters Durham, and surprises the
    Saxons--William's guides, marching to Hexham, lose the way, and
    are separated from the rest of the army--The army is
    regained--William halts at Hexham--The subjugated territory is
    divided amongst William's nobles--The Normans erect castles for
    the better governance of the Northumbrians


    CHAPTER XXVI.

    COSPATRICK AND THE CONQUEROR:--William determines to conciliate
    the Northumbrians--Cospatrick--His birth and parentage--The
    crimes of the house of Godwin--Cospatrick's enmity to
    Harold--Cospatrick claims the earldom of
    Northumberland--William's bargain with Cospatrick


    CHAPTER XXVII.

    SAXON SAINTS AND NORMAN SOLDIERS:--The saving of the church of
    St. John of Beverley--The inhabitants of Beverley take refuge in
    the church of St. John--The Normans hear reports of the riches
    lodged within the walls of the church--Toustain heads the
    Normans in the pillage of the church--Toustain's
    misadventure--Superstitious terror of the Normans


    CHAPTER XXVIII.

    THE REDUCTION OF CHESTER:--William determines to take
    Chester--The soldiers murmur--William marches into
    Chester--Gherbaud, a Fleming, made Earl of Chester--Gherbaud,
    finding the earldom too much trouble, resigns--Hugh le Loup is
    appointed in his stead--His parentage--Nigel joins Hugh le Loup
    at Chester--Gilbert de Lacy is granted the domain of
    Pontefract--Blackburn and Rochdale succumb to him


    CHAPTER XXIX.

    LANFRANC OF PAVIA:--The Pope's legates arrive in
    London--Deposition of the Saxon bishops--Lanfranc is appointed
    to the Archbishopric of Canterbury--Lanfranc's birth-place--His
    fame at Bec-Hellouin--Lanfranc gains the friendship of William
    the Norman--Lanfranc opposes William's marriage--He gains a
    dispensation for William--Is restored to favour--Is made Abbot
    of Caen--William's delight at Lanfranc's appointment to the
    province of Canterbury--The Pope's letter to
    Lanfranc--Lanfranc's entry into Canterbury--The church in
    ruins--Lanfranc gains the primacy of England for
    Canterbury--Undertakes a revision of the Scriptures--The Saxons
    averse to the revision--Lanfranc the people's champion


    CHAPTER XXX.

    EDWIN AND MORKAR:--Their personal appearance--Edwin the
    handsomest man of his age--They took no part in the battle of
    Hastings--Aspire to the throne--Edgar Atheling's adherents too
    strong--Go to York--Their plans--William attempts to conciliate
    them--William promises his daughter in marriage to Edwin--Edwin
    and Morkar accompany William to the Continent--William refuses
    to give his daughter to Edwin--Edwin and Morkar escape from
    Court--Their enterprise fails--Reconciliation to William--A
    mighty conspiracy formed--The camp of refuge--Morkar is deluded
    by William's promises and imprisoned--Edwin resolves to leave
    Ely--Is betrayed by three of his officers--Is attacked by the
    Normans--Attempts to escape--Edwin's death--William's grief


    CHAPTER XXXI.

    IVO TAILLE-BOIS:--His unpopularity--His marriage to Lucy, sister
    of Edwin and Morkar--His tyranny--His various modes of
    annoyance--His oppression of the monks of Spalding--The monks
    leave Spalding--Some Angevin monks are substituted in their
    place


    CHAPTER XXXII.

    HEREWARD THE SAXON:--Hereward, living in Flanders, is told by
    some exiles of the spoliation of his home--He sets out for
    England--Assembles his friends and retakes his paternal
    home--His popularity--Is made captain of the camp at Ely--Is
    admitted a member of the high Saxon militia--Is sneered at by
    the Norman knights--Turauld, the fighting churchman--Turauld is
    appointed Abbot of Peterborough--Hereward makes a descent on the
    abbey and carries off the crosses, sacred vestments,
    &c.--Turauld arrives at Peterborough--Ivo Taille-Bois proposes
    to Turauld to attack the camp of Ely--Hereward attacks Turauld's
    soldiers at the abbey, seizes upon the abbot and his attendants,
    and detains them prisoners--Sweyn, King of Denmark, fits out a
    fleet for the assistance of the Saxons--Sweyn joins Hereward at
    Ely--William bribes him to return--Departure and sacrilege of
    the Danes--The Normans commence siege operations--Hereward
    attacks the workmen--Hereward is suspected of being in league
    with the Evil One--Ivo Taille-Bois procures the services of a
    witch to disenchant Hereward's operations--Hereward's
    bonfire--Blockade of the Isle of Ely--Treachery of the monks of
    Ely--Rout of the Saxons--Hereward's escape--His daring attack on
    the Norman station--Exploits of Hereward and his
    followers--Hereward's marriage--Hereward accepts the king's
    peace--His treacherous assassination--Valorous defence--Asselm's
    remark


    CHAPTER XXXIII.

    BUILDING OF BATTLE ABBEY:--William begins to build Battle
    Abbey--Deficiency of water--William's promise--The abbey
    built--Endowment of the abbey


    CHAPTER XXXIV.

    MALCOLM CANMORE:--William determines to invade
    Scotland--Malcolm's parentage--Siward, upon Malcolm's flight
    from Scotland, protects him--Edward the Confessor's court--The
    Scots request the restoration of Malcolm--Malcolm prepares to
    attack Macbeth--Defeat of Macbeth--His death--Lulach attempts to
    usurp the throne--His death--Malcolm is crowned at Scone--A
    conspiracy is formed to dethrone Malcolm--The conspirators
    defeated--Malcolm's ingratitude to the English--Northumberland
    devastated by the Scots--Malcolm shelters Edgar and Margaret
    Atheling--Malcolm marries Margaret Atheling--Malcolm raises an
    army to vindicate Edgar Atheling's right to the English
    throne--Treaty with William


    CHAPTER XXXV.

    THE DEATH OF COSPATRICK:--Cospatrick attempts to draw Malcolm
    from Northumberland--Durham cathedral in disorder--Deposition of
    the Bishop of Durham--Cospatrick is deprived of the earldom of
    Northumberland--He goes to Flanders--The clergy enemies to
    Cospatrick--Cospatrick's pilgrimage to the Holy Land--His
    illness--Sends to Melrose for the hermits Aldwin and
    Turgot--Cospatrick's gifts--His death--His son--Burial in Norham
    church--Norham a memorial of his greatness


    CHAPTER XXXVI.

    ATHELING AND HIS ALLIES:--Malcolm Canmore promises to aid Edgar
    Atheling--Malcolm's inability to do so--Atheling seeks a
    reconciliation with William--Obtains it--Atheling being
    suspected, again flies to Scotland--Personal appearance of Edgar
    Atheling--Atheling seeks allies in Flanders--Is
    disappointed--Philip of France offers his assistance--Offers
    Atheling the fortress of Montreuil--Atheling's misfortunes--His
    fleet lost at sea--Determines to seek peace with William--Joins
    William at Rouen--His amusements


    CHAPTER XXXVII.

    FITZOSBORNE AND DE GAEL:--The marriage at Norwich--William's
    disapproval thereof--The marriage feast--Signs of a coming
    storm--The conspiracy--The conspirators apply to Sweyn, king of
    Denmark, for aid--Roger Fitzosborne raises an army at
    Hereford--Is stopped at Worcester--Fitzosborne
    excommunicated--The battle at Worcester--Defeat of
    Fitzosborne--De Gael raises his standard at Cambridge--Is
    defeated at Fagadon--De Gael escapes--Flies to Norwich--Goes to
    Brittany for aid--The Bretons expelled from England--Sweyn's
    descent on the eastern coast--Fitzosborne refuses William's
    present at Easter--William's anger


    CHAPTER XXXVIII.

    WALTHEOF, SON OF SIWARD:--Tostig usurps the earldom of
    Northumberland--Waltheof figures as Earl of Huntingdon--Waltheof
    submits to the Conqueror--He joins the Northumbrians in their
    insurrection--His share in the death of Comine--Prodigies of
    valour--Reconciliation with William--Marriage to
    Judith--Friendship with Vaulcher--Fitzosborne and De Gael try to
    persuade him to join their conspiracy--Promises secrecy--Is
    betrayed by his wife--Is confined in Winchester
    Castle--Sentenced to death--Fearing a riot, Waltheof is
    privately executed--Judith, Waltheof's wife, is destined for
    Simon de Senlis--Her dislike to the match--Judith repairs to
    Croyland--Her death in poverty


    CHAPTER XXXIX.

    WULSTAN, BISHOP OF WORCESTER:--Wulstan accompanies Edgar
    Atheling to make his submission to William--Wulstan a simple
    weak-minded man--Wulstan is confirmed in his diocese--His
    services to the Norman king--Lanfranc reports Wulstan
    incapacitated--Is summoned to the great council in Westminster
    church--Is commanded to give up his robes and staff--Resigns his
    staff at the tomb of the Confessor--Wulstan is entreated to
    resume his episcopal robes--Wulstan beloved by the Saxons


    CHAPTER XL.

    ROBERT CURTHOSE:--William's dismal forebodings--Robert, his
    eldest son--Robert recognised as heir of Normandy--Badly
    trained--His good qualities--His nickname--Robert claims
    Maine--William refuses to cede it to him--Robert's
    indignation--William Rufus' and Henry Beauclerc's practical
    joke--Its evil consequences--Robert attempts to seize Rouen--His
    failure--Robert's bad counsellors--Robert asks Normandy, or part
    of England, of his father--Being refused, he leaves Normandy and
    goes to Flanders--Is everywhere well received--His waste of
    money


    CHAPTER XLI.

    THE CONQUEROR AND HIS HEIR:--Curthose craves support from Philip
    of France--Repairs to Gerberoy--Curthose's reception at
    Gerberoy--Matilda sends money to Curthose--William's
    displeasure--Matilda still sends to Curthose--William upbraids
    her--Matilda's maternal affection--William orders Samson the
    Breton to have his eyes put out--Samson escapes--Curthose raises
    an army--William besieges Curthose in Archembrage--Curthose's
    sally--His success--Hand to hand with his father--William
    unhorsed--His rescue--William refuses to be reconciled with
    Curthose--Forgives Curthose--Malcolm Canmore invades
    England--Curthose is sent to repulse him--Malcolm retreats into
    Scotland--Curthose founds Newcastle--Matilda of Flanders
    dies--William's quarrel with Curthose again breaks out


    CHAPTER XLII.

    ODO, BISHOP OF BAYEUX:--Odo, regent of England--William enriches
    his relations on his mother's side--Odo, no shaveling--The
    warrior-monk--Odo celebrates mass at Hastings--Leads the cavalry
    at that battle--Odo is created Grand Justiciary of England--Earl
    of Hereford--Odo, during William's absence, behaves badly--The
    murder of Liulf--Vaulcher attempts to mediate between Leofwin
    and Gislebert, and the relations of Liulf--Meets the Saxons at
    Gateshead--Eadulf, the Saxon spokesman--Eadulf incites the
    Northumbrians to slay the bishop--Odo marches northward to
    punish the murderers--The Saxons, unable to take Durham,
    disperse--Odo's cruelty--Odo prepares to leave England for
    Italy--Reasons for doing so--William much displeased at Odo's
    intention--Odo intercepted off the Isle of Wight--Arraigned
    before the council of barons--William's impeachment of
    Odo--William sentences Odo--Odo defies his authority--Odo is
    carried to Normandy and imprisoned


    CHAPTER XLIII.

    DOOMSDAY BOOK:--William begins to think about casting up his
    subjects' accounts--His commissioners--Bad understanding between
    the king and the barons--The manner of carrying out the
    undertaking--The council for the discussion of the Doomsday
    Book--The Goddess of Discord in the council--William asserts
    himself proprietor of all the land that belonged to Edward the
    Confessor, Harold, and the house of Godwin--Several barons
    renounce their allegiance--Their descendants


    CHAPTER XLIV.

    THE CONQUEROR'S DEATH:--Louis le Gros--Curthose and Beauclerc at
    Conflans--The quarrel between Louis and Beauclerc--Philip
    ravages Normandy--William goes against him--Christina Atheling
    is persuaded to take the veil--Edgar is sent on a
    pilgrimage--The bone of contention--William's lying-in--Curthose
    joins Philip--William reaches Mantes--The town on fire--The
    accident--William is removed to the priory of St.
    Gervase--Conscience-stricken--William's bequests--Death of
    William


    CHAPTER XLV.

    THE BURIAL AT CAEN:--Consternation in Rouen--Inside the priory
    of St. Gervase--The conqueror's body deserted--The Archbishop of
    Rouen attends to the funereal honours--Interruption of the
    ceremony--Fitzarthur is recompensed--The Anglo-Norman barons
    decide for Robert as King of England


    CHAPTER XLVI.

    THE RED KING:--William Rufus--Personal appearance--Gains the
    support of Lanfranc--Wulnoth and Morkar committed to
    prison--Odo, bishop of Bayeux, at the head of a conspiracy to
    dethrone William--Lanfranc as prime minister--Rufus conciliates
    the Saxon Thanes--The insurgents repulsed at Rochester--Curthose
    is bribed to let William remain on the throne--William forgets
    his promises to the Anglo-Saxons--Lanfranc's disgust at his
    perfidy--Death of Lanfranc--Rufus a bachelor--His dissolute
    morals--Ravages committed by William's followers--London Bridge
    built--Westminster Hall founded--Discontent in the land


    CHAPTER XLVII.

    RUFUS AND THE JEWS:--The Jews in England--Favour with Rufus--The
    disputation--Conversion of the young Jew--William's avarice


    CHAPTER XLVIII.

    RUFUS AND THE SCOTS:--William's longings for Normandy--Atheling
    being expelled from Normandy, once more takes refuge with
    Malcolm Canmore--Canmore invades England--William patches up a
    peace with Curthose, and prepares to march against the
    Scots--Malcolm falls back--Everything wrong with the
    English--Malcolm's defiance--Peace--Rufus being sick, sends for
    Malcolm to settle disputes--Rufus treats him badly--Malcolm
    ravages Northumberland as far as Alnwick--The castle of Ivo de
    Vesci besieged--Hammond Morael--His deliverance of the
    garrison--Malcolm's death--Morael's escape--The sally--Rout of
    the Scots--Malcolm's burial--Donald Bane usurps the Scottish
    throne--Atheling returns to England


    CHAPTER XLIX.

    ROBERT DE MOUBRAY:--Possessions of Moubray--The
    conspiracy--Moubray suspected--The King marches
    northward--Tynemouth taken--Bamburgh impregnable--Erection of
    Malvoisin--Moubray captured--Moubray's wife defends the Castle
    of Bamburgh--Surrender of Bamburgh--Moubray imprisoned at
    Windsor--His death


    CHAPTER L.

    HENRY BEAUCLERC:--Personal appearance of Beauclerc--A native of
    England--His manners--His learning--Military education--Addicted
    to gaming--Beauclerc's avarice--Beauclerc lends money to
    Curthose--Lord of Cotentin--Selection of a chaplain--Takes part
    with Curthose in the defence of Normandy--Firm dealing at
    Rouen--Curthose comes to terms with Rufus--They besiege Henry in
    the Castle of Mont St. Michael--The Red King in danger--Defence
    of the saddle--Want of water in the fortress--Curthose grants
    permission to Beauclerc to get water--Beauclerc
    defeated--Departs to Brittany--Beauclerc feels assured he will
    ascend the throne of England--Is elected governor of
    Damfront--Rufus, jealous of Beauclerc, invites him to
    England--Joins his brother--Fondness for the
    chase--"Deersfoot"--Presentiments


    CHAPTER LI.

    THE DEATH OF RUFUS:--Rufus at Malwood--His vision--The Abbot of
    Gloucester's despatch--The breakfast--The six arrows--Departure
    for the chase--Tyrel and Rufus hunt together--The King's
    bow-string breaks--Commands Tyrel to shoot--The King's
    death--Tyrel escapes to France--The King's last ride


    CHAPTER LII.

    A CHANGE OF FORTUNE:--Beauclerc goes to Winchester--William de
    Breteuil protests against Henry having the keys--Beauclerc
    secures the public money and regal ornaments--Is crowned at
    Westminster--Curthose's adherents--Beauclerc marries Edith,
    daughter of Margaret Atheling--Edith changes her name to
    Maude--Godrick and Godiva--Where is Curthose?


    CHAPTER LIII.

    CURTHOSE AT THE CRUSADE:--Peter the Hermit--Success of his
    preaching--Curthose and Atheling resolve to take part in the
    Crusade--Rufus supplies them with money--Curthose's
    popularity--Edgar Atheling does not go with Curthose--Atheling
    sets out for Scotland, to dethrone Donald Bane--Curthose meets
    the other princes at Constantinople--Curthose's valour--At
    Antioch--Edgar Atheling joins Curthose--Atheling and Curthose
    the terror of the Saracens--Election of the King of
    Jerusalem--Curthose declines the honour--Death of Odo, Bishop of
    Bayeux--Curthose at Conversano--The territory of
    Conversano--Curthose marries Sybil, daughter of the Count of
    Conversano--Waste of time


    CHAPTER LIV.

    BEAUCLERC AND CURTHOSE:--Ralph Flambard, "the fighting bishop,"
    is imprisoned--Flambard incites Curthose to invade
    England--Curthose embarks for England--Curthose sells his
    birthright--Resigns his pension in favour of the queen--His
    indignation at finding himself duped--The castle of
    Rouen--Beauclerc proposes to purchase Normandy--Being refused,
    he prepares to take it by force--Tinchebray--The battle--Fortune
    against the English--Treason!--Nigel de Albini--Curthose and
    Atheling captured--Curthose imprisoned in Cardiff--Attempts to
    escape--Is subjected to a rigorous durance--Edgar Atheling's old
    age


    CHAPTER LV.

    AFTER TINCHEBRAY:--William Clito--Louis of France attempts to
    place Clito on the throne of Normandy--Death of
    Clito--Beauclerc's reputation not so good--The Queen Maude's
    popularity--Death of Henry's son--Geoffrey of Anjou--His
    marriage to the daughter of Henry--Stephen of Bouillon seizes
    the crown of England--The treaty of Wallingford--Henry
    II.--Conclusion




    INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS.


    ALTAR
    ANDIRON
    APPEAL TO HAROLD HARFAGHER, HILDA'S
    ARCHERS, ENGLISH
    ARMS
    BARBACAN
    BATTLE ABBEY, HASTINGS
    BATTLE-FIELD, THE
    BAYEUX TAPESTRY, FROM THE
    BODY OF RUFUS, BRINGING HOME THE
    BONDMAN, SAXON (FROM STRUTT)
    BOOKS, THE DOOM'S-DAY
    BOSS
    BOSTON, FEN COUNTRY NEAR
    BOUILLON, GODFREY DE, ELECTED KING OF JERUSALEM
    BOWS
    BRACKET
    BRINGING HOME THE BODY OF RUFUS
    BROTHER HAROLD, TOSTIG'S PARTING SPEECH TO HIS
    BRUGES, BELFRY AT
    BUTTRESS
    CHARLES THE SIMPLE, ROLFGANGER PAYING HOMAGE TO, 6
    CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE, JERUSALEM
    CHURCH PORCH
    CLOISTERS
    COMMOTION DURING THE CROWNING OF WILLIAM
    CONQUEROR, EDWIN, EARL OF MERCIA, AND THE DAUGHTERS
    OF THE
    COOKS--FROM BAYEUX TAPESTRY
    CROSSBOW
    CROZIER
    CRUSADE, PETER THE HERMIT PREACHING THE
    CURTHOSE AND THE SARACEN
    DEATH OF MALCOLM CANMORE
    DEATH OF SIWARD WITH HARNESS ON HIS BACK
    DEATH, SWEYN STRUCK BY THE HAND OF
    DELIVERANCE FROM HIS EASTERN DUNGEON, HARDRADA'S
    DISTAFF, WOMAN WITH
    DOOM'S-DAY BOOKS, THE
    DOOR OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY
    DOVER, SHAKESPEARE'S CLIFF
    EDWIN, EARL OF MERCIA, AND THE DAUGHTERS OF THE CONQUEROR
    ENGLISH ARCHERS
    FEN COUNTRY NEAR BOSTON
    FERN ISLANDS, OFF THE COAST OF NORTHUMBERLAND
    FLINT CASTLE, ON THE ESTUARY OF THE DEE
    FOREST LAWS, OLD
    FOREST, THE
    FORUM AT ROME, RUINS OF THE
    GIRDLE AND PURSE
    GODFREY DE BOUILLON ELECTED KING OF JERUSALEM
    GODWIN, THE JUDGMENT OF GOD ON
    GOOD SHIP MOIRA, THE, WILLIAM OF NORMANDY, OWNER
    HAND OF DEATH, SWEYN STRUCK BY THE
    HARDRADA'S DELIVERANCE FROM HIS EASTERN DUNGEON
    HARFAGHER, HILDA'S APPEAL TO HAROLD
    HAROLD HAS NEWS OF WILLIAM'S LANDING
    HAROLD, TOSTIG'S PARTING SPEECH TO HIS BROTHER
    HAROLD, WILLIAM EXTORTING A PROMISE FROM
    HART, THE
    HASTINGS, BATTLE ABBEY
    HAWK
    HAWKING
    HAWK STRIKING THE QUARRY
    HENRY BEAUCLERC AND LOUIS LE GROS, THE QUARREL OF
    HERALDIC VANE
    HERDSMAN (FROM STRUTT)
    HERMIT, PETER THE, PREACHING THE FIRST CRUSADE
    HEXHAM, WILLIAM'S MARCH ON
    HILDA'S APPEAL TO HAROLD HARFAGHER
    HOLY SEPULCHRE, JERUSALEM, CHURCH OF THE
    HOMAGE TO CHARLES THE SIMPLE, ROLFGANGER PAYING
    HUNTING
    INITIAL LETTER A
    INITIAL LETTER I
    INITIAL LETTER O
    ISLANDS, FERN, OFF THE COAST OF NORTHUMBERLAND
    JERUSALEM, CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE
    JERUSALEM, GODFREY DE BOUILLON ELECTED KING OF
    JERUSALEM, PILGRIMS IN SIGHT OF
    JUDGMENT OF GOD ON GODWIN, THE
    KNIGHTS JOUSTING (FROM STRUTT)
    LAWS, OLD FOREST
    LINCOLNSHIRE, TATTERSHALL CASTLE
    LOCH LOMOND
    LONG BOW
    LOUIS LE GROS, THE QUARREL OF HENRY BEAUCLERC AND
    LOVE-MAKING, WILLIAM'S
    MALCOLM CANMORE, DEATH OF
    MINERVA
    MOIRA, THE GOOD SHIP, WILLIAM OF NORMANDY, OWNER
    MUNDANE TREE OF THE SCANDINAVIANS, YGGDRASILL
    NORMAN PRELATES BLESSING THE TROOPS
    NORMAN RUSTIC (FROM STRUTT)
    NORMAN RUSTIC, ELEVENTH CENTURY
    NORWEGIAN CHAMPION AT THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE,
    THE
    OLD FOREST LAWS
    PARTING SPEECH TO HIS BROTHER HAROLD, TOSTIG'S
    PEASANT, WILLIAM AND THE
    PETER THE HERMIT PREACHING THE FIRST CRUSADE
    PILGRIMS IN SIGHT OF JERUSALEM
    PROMISE, WILLIAM EXHORTING A, FROM HAROLD
    PURSE AND GIRDLE
    QUARREL OF HENRY BEAUCLERC AND LOUIS LE GROS, THE
    QUARRY, HAWK STRIKING THE
    "RAVEN OF EARTHLY TERROR," THE
    ROCHESTER
    ROLFGANGER PAYING HOMAGE TO CHARLES THE SIMPLE
    RUINS OF THE FORUM AT ROME
    RUFUS, BRINGING HOME THE BODY OF
    RUSTIC, NORMAN (FROM STRUTT)
    RUSTIC, NORMAN, ELEVENTH CENTURY
    SARACEN, CURTHOSE AND THE
    SAXON BONDMAN (FROM STRUTT)
    SCANDINAVIANS, YGGDRASILL, THE MUNDANE TREE OF THE
    SEPULCHRE, CHURCH OF THE HOLY, JERUSALEM
    SHAKESPEARE'S CLIFF, DOVER
    SHIELDS
    SIWARD, DEATH OF, WITH HARNESS ON HIS BACK
    STAMFORD BRIDGE, THE NORWEGIAN CHAMPION AT THE BATTLE
    OF
    SWEYN STRUCK BY THE HAND OF DEATH
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER I.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER V.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER VIII.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XV.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XXXV.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XLI.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XLIV.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER LI.
    TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER LIV.
    TAPESTRY, FROM THE BAYEUX
    TATTERSHALL CASTLE, LINCOLNSHIRE
    THOR
    TOSTIG'S PARTING SPEECH TO HIS BROTHER HAROLD
    TRIESTE
    TROOPS, THE NORMAN PRELATES BLESSING THE
    TYNEMOUTH
    VANE, HERALDIC
    WESTMINSTER ABBEY, DOOR OF
    WILLIAM AND THE PEASANT
    WILLIAM, COMMOTION DURING THE CROWNING OF
    WILLIAM EXTORTING A PROMISE FROM HAROLD
    WILLIAM'S LANDING, HAROLD HAS NEWS OF
    WILLIAM'S LOVE-MAKING
    WILLIAM'S MARCH ON HEXHAM
    WOMAN WITH DISTAFF
    YGGDRASILL, THE MUNDANE TREE OF THE SCANDINAVIANS




DANES, SAXONS, AND NORMANS;

OR,

Stories of our Ancestors.




I.

[Illustration: Hilda's appeal to Harold Harfagher.]

ROLFGANGER AND HIS COMRADES.


One day towards the close of the ninth century, Harold, King of
Norway, exasperated at the insubordination and contumacy of the chiefs
among whom that land of mountain, and forest, and fiord was divided,
vowed not to cut his fair hair till he had reduced the whole country
to his sovereign authority. The process proved, as he doubtless
foresaw, somewhat difficult and slow. Indeed, the chiefs of Norway,
who were, in fact, petty kings, disputed the ground inch by inch, and
Harold was occupied for so many years ere consummating his victories,
that his hair, growing ridiculously long and thick, led to his
receiving the surname of "Hirsute."

Even after having sustained numerous defeats on the land, the fierce
chiefs--all Vikings, and, like their adversaries, worshippers of
Odin--taking to the sea, ravaged the coasts and islands, and excited
the Norwegians to rebellion. Harold, however, resolved to do his work
thoroughly, went on board his war-fleet, sailed in pursuit of his
foes, and, having sunk several of their vessels, forced the others to
seek refuge in the Hebrides, where the exiled war-chiefs--many of them
ancestors of the Anglo-Norman nobles--consoled themselves with horns
of potent drink, with schemes for conquering kingdoms, and with the
hope of better fortune and brighter days.

It appears that in the long and arduous struggle which gave him the
sole and undisputed sovereignty of Norway, Harold had been faithfully
served by a Jarl named Rognvald; and it was to this Jarl's
timber-palace, in Möre, that the victorious King repaired to celebrate
the performance of his vow. Elate with triumphs, perhaps more signal
than he had anticipated, Harold made himself quite at home; and
having, before indulging in the Jarl's good cheer, refreshed himself
with a bath and combed his hair, he requested Rognvald to cut off his
superfluous locks.

"Now, Jarl," exclaimed Harold, when this operation was over, "methinks
I should no longer be called 'Hirsute.'"

"No, King," replied Rognvald, struck with surprise and pleasure at the
improvement in Harold's appearance; "your hair is now so beautiful
that, instead of being surnamed 'Hirsute,' you must be surnamed
'Harfagher.'"

It happened that Rognvald, by his spouse Hilda, had a son named Rolf,
or Roll, who was regarded as the foremost among the noble men of
Norway. He was as remarkable for his sagacity in peace, and for his
courage in war as for his bulk and stature, which were such that his
feet touched the ground when he bestrode the horses of the country.
From this peculiarity the son of Rognvald found himself under the
necessity of walking when engaged in any enterprise on the land; and
this circumstance led to his becoming generally known among his
countrymen as Rolfganger.

But the sea appears to have been Rolfganger's favourite element. From
his youth he had delighted in maritime adventures, and in such
exploits as made the men of the north celebrated as sea-kings; and one
day, when returning from a cruise in the Baltic, he, while off the
coast of Wighen, shortened sail, and ventured on the exercise of a
privilege of impressing provisions, long enjoyed by sea-kings, and
known as "strandhug." But he found that, with Harold Harfagher on the
throne, and stringent laws against piracy in force, the rights of
property were not thus to be set at defiance. In fact, the peasants
whose flocks had been carried away complained to the King; and the
King, without regard to the offender's rank, ordered him to be tried
by a Council of Justice.

Notwithstanding Rognvald's services to the King and his personal
influence with Harold Harfagher, Rolfganger's chance of escaping
sentence of banishment appeared slight. Moved, however, by maternal
tenderness, Hilda, the spouse of Rognvald, made an effort to save her
son. Presenting herself at the rude court of Norway, she endeavoured
to soften the King's heart.

"King," said she, "I ask you, for my husband's sake, to pardon my
son."

"Hilda," replied Harold, "it is impossible."

"What!" exclaimed Hilda, rearing herself to her full height; "am I to
understand that the very name of our race has become hateful to you?
Beware," continued she, speaking in accents of menace, "how you expel
from the country and treat as an enemy a man of noble race. Listen,
King, to what I tell you. It is dangerous to attack the wolf. When
once he is angered, let the herd in the forest beware!"

But Harold Harfagher was determined to make the laws respected, and,
notwithstanding Hilda's vague threats, a sentence of perpetual exile
was passed against her tall son. Rolfganger, however, was not a man
to give way to despair. Fitting out his ships in some rocky coves,
still pointed out, he embarked at an island off the mouth of
Stor-fiord, took a last look at his native country, with its rugged
scenery, its rapids, cataracts, and fiords, forests of dark pine and
mountains of white snow, herds of reindeer and clouds of birds, and,
sailing for the Hebrides, placed himself at the head of the banished
Norwegians, who speedily, under his auspices, resolved on a grand
piratical enterprise, which they did not doubt would result in
conquest and plunder.

Having cut their cable and given the reins to the great
sea-horses--such was their expression--the Normans made an attempt to
land in England, where Alfred the Great then reigned. Defeated in this
attempt by the war-ships with which the Saxon King guarded the coast,
they turned their prows towards France, and, entering the mouth of the
Seine, sailed up the river, pillaging the banks as they proceeded,
and, with little delay, found themselves admitted into Rouen, on which
they fixed as their future capital.

It was the year 876 when Rolfganger and his comrades sailed up the
Seine; and on becoming aware of their presence in France, Charles the
Simple, who then, as heir of Charlemagne, wielded the French sceptre
with feeble hand, summoned the warriors of his kingdom to stop the
progress of the Normans. An army, accordingly, was mustered and sent,
under the command of the Duke of France, to encounter the grim
invaders. Before fighting, however, the French deemed it prudent to
tempt the Normans with offers of lands and honours, on condition of
their submitting to King Charles, and sent messengers to hold a
parley. But the Normans treated the proposals with lofty disdain.

"Go back to your King," cried they, "and say that we will submit to no
man, and that we will assert dominion over all we acquire by force of
arms."

With this answer the ambassadors returned to the French camp, and ere
long the Normans were attacked in their entrenchments. But Rolfganger
and his comrades rushed to arms, and fought with such courage that the
French suffered a complete defeat, and the Duke of France fell by the
hand of a fisherman of Rouen.

The Normans, after vanquishing the host of King Charles, found
themselves at liberty to pursue their voyage; and Rolfganger, availing
himself of the advantage, sailed up the Seine, and laid siege to
Paris. Baffled in his attempt to enter the city, the Norman hero
consoled himself by taking Bayeux, Evreux, and other places, and
gradually found himself ruling as a conqueror over the greater part of
Neustria. At Evreux, he seized as his prey a lady named Popa, the
daughter of Count Beranger, whom he espoused; and, becoming gradually
more civilized, he rendered himself wonderfully popular with the
inhabitants of the district subject to his sway.

Meanwhile the French suffered so severely from the hostility of the
Normans, that Charles the Simple recognised the expediency of securing
the friendship of warriors so formidable. With this object he sent the
Archbishop of Rouen to negotiate with Rolfganger, and the result was
that the Sea-King consented to become a Christian, to wed Gisla, the
daughter of Charles, and to live at peace with France, on condition
that the French monarch ceded to him the province of Neustria.

Matters having reached this stage, preparations were made to ratify
the treaty in a solemn manner, and for that purpose Charles the Simple
and Rolfganger agreed to hold a conference at the village at St.
Clair, on the green-margined Epte. Each was accompanied by a numerous
train, and, while the French pitched their tents on one side of the
river, the Normans pitched theirs on the other. At the appointed hour,
however, Rolfganger crossed the Epte, approached the chair of state,
placed his hand between those of the King, took, without kneeling, the
oath of fealty, and then, supposing the ceremony was over, turned to
depart.

"But," said the Frenchmen, "it is fitting that he who receives such a
gift of territory should kneel before the King and kiss his foot."

"Nay," exclaimed Rolfganger; "never will I kneel before a mortal;
never will I kiss the foot of any man."

The French counts, however, insisted on this ceremony, and Rolfganger,
with an affectation of simplicity, made a sign to one of his comrades.
The Norman, obeying his chief's gesture, immediately stepped forward
and seized upon Charles's foot. Neglecting, however, to bend his own
knee, he lifted the King's foot so high in the effort to bring it to
his lips, that the chair of state was overturned, and the heir of
Charlemagne lay sprawling on his back.

[Illustration: Rolfganger paying homage to Charles the Simple.]

At this ludicrous incident the Normans raised shouts of derisive
laughter, and the French held up their hands in horror. For a few
moments all was confusion, but fortunately no serious quarrel
resulted; and soon after, Rolfganger was received into the Christian
Church, and married to Gisla, the King's daughter, at Rouen.

Rolfganger, having begun life anew as a Christian and a Count, divided
the territory of Neustria among his comrades, and changed its name to
Normandy. Maintaining internal order by severe laws, and administering
affairs with vigour, he soon became famous as the most successful
justiciary of the age. Such was the security felt under his
government, that mechanics and labourers flocked to establish
themselves in the newly-founded state, and the Normans applied
themselves to the arts of peace with as much ardour as they had
previously exhibited in their predatory enterprises.

Gradually adopting the French tongue, and refining their manners,
Rolfganger's comrades and their heirs were metamorphosed from a band
of pagan sea-kings and pirates into the most refined, the most
chivalrous, and the most religious race in Christendom--orators from
their cradle; warriors charging in chain mail, with resistless
courage, at the head of fighting men; and munificent benefactors to
religious houses, where holy monks kept alive the flame of ancient
learning, and dispensed befitting charities to the indigent and poor.

[Illustration]




II.

WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.


One glorious afternoon in the autumn of the year 1023, some damsels of
humble rank were making merry and dancing joyously under the shade of
trees in the neighbourhood of Falaise, when, homeward from the chase,
accompanied by knights, squires, and grooms, with his bugle at his
girdle, his hawk on his wrist, and his hounds running at his horse's
feet, came, riding with feudal pride, that Duke of Normandy whom some,
in consideration, perhaps, of substantial favours, called Robert the
Magnificent, and whom others, in allusion to his violent temper,
characterized as Robert the Devil.

Not being quite indifferent to female charms, Duke Robert reined up,
and, as he did so, with an eye wandering from face to form and from
form to face, the grace and beauty of one of the dancers arrested his
attention and touched his heart. After expressing his admiration, and
learning that she was the daughter of a tanner, the duke pursued his
way. But he was more silent and meditative than usual; and, soon
after reaching the Castle of Falaise, he deputed the most discreet of
his knights to go to the father of the damsel to reveal his passion
and to plead his cause.

It appears that the negotiation was attended with considerable
difficulty. At first, the tanner, who had to be consulted, treated the
duke's proposals with scorn; but, after a pause, he agreed to take the
advice of his brother, who, as a hermit in the neighbouring forest,
enjoyed a high reputation for sanctity. The oracle's response was not
quite consistent with his religious pretensions. Though dead,
according to his own account, to the vanities of the world, the hermit
would seem to have cherished a lingering sympathy with human frailty.
At all events, he declared that subjects ought, in all things, to
conform to the will of their prince; and the tanner, without further
scruple, allowed his daughter to be conducted to the castle of Robert
the Devil. In due time Arlette gave birth to a son, destined, as
"William the Conqueror," to enrol his name in the annals of fame.

It was the 14th of October, 1024, when William the Norman drew his
first breath in the Castle of Falaise. Arlette had previously been
startled with a dream, portending that her son should reign over
Normandy and England; and no sooner did William see the light than he
gave a pledge of that energy which he was in after years to exhibit.
Being laid upon the floor, he seized the rushes in his hands, and
grasped them with such determination, that the matrons who were
present expressed their astonishment, and congratulated Arlette on
being the mother of such a boy.

"Be of good cheer," cried one of them, with prophetic enthusiasm; "for
verily your son will prove a king!"

At first Robert the Devil did not deign to notice the existence of the
boy who was so soon to wear the chaplet of golden roses that formed
the ducal diadem of Normandy; but William, when a year old, was
presented to the duke, and immediately won the feudal magnate's heart.

"Verily," said he, "this is a boy to be proud of. He is wonderfully
like my ancestors, the old dukes of the Normans, and he must be
nurtured with care."

From that time the mother and the child were dear to Duke Robert.
Arlette was treated with as much state as if a nuptial benediction had
been pronounced by the Archbishop of Rouen: and William was educated
with more than the care generally bestowed, at that time, on the
princes of Christendom. At eight he could read the "Commentaries of
Cæsar;" and in after life he was in the habit of repeating a saying of
one of the old counts of Anjou, "that a king without letters is a
crowned ass."

It happened that, about the year 1033, Robert the Devil, reflecting on
his manifold transgressions, and eager to make atonement, resolved on
a penitential pilgrimage to Jerusalem. A serious obstacle, however,
presented itself. The Norman nobles, with whom the descendant of
Rolfganger was in high favour, on being convened, protested loudly
against his departure.

"The state," they with one voice exclaimed, "will be in great peril if
we are left without a chief."

"By my faith!" said Robert, "I will not leave you without a chief. I
have a little bastard--I know he is my son; and he will grow a gallant
man, if it please God. Take him, then, as your liege lord; for I
declare him my heir, and bestow upon him the whole Duchy of Normandy."

No objections were raised to the Duke's proposal. In fact, everything
seems to have gone more smoothly than could have been anticipated.
William was formally presented to the assembly, and each feudal lord,
placing his hand within those of the boy, took the oath of allegiance
with such formalities as were customary.

Having arranged matters to his satisfaction, and placed his son under
the protection of the court of France, Duke Robert took the pilgrim's
scrip and staff, and, attended by a band of knights, set out for the
Holy Sepulchre. On reaching Asia Minor he fell sick, and, dispensing
with the company of his knights, hired four Saracens to carry him in a
litter onward to Jerusalem. When approaching the Holy City, he was met
by a palmer from Normandy, and waved his hand in token of recognition.

"Palmer," cried the duke, "tell my valiant lords that you have seen me
carried towards Paradise on the backs of fiends."

The fate of Duke Robert was never clearly ascertained; but from his
pilgrimage to Jerusalem it is certain that he did not return to
Normandy. Within a year of his departure, indeed, news reached Rouen
that the pilgrim-duke had breathed his last at Nice; and the Normans,
though without implicitly believing the report, gradually came to
think of him as one who had gone to his long home.

With news of the death of Robert the Magnificent came the crisis of
the fate of "William the Bastard." Notwithstanding the oath taken with
so much ceremony, the Norman barons were in no humour to submit to a
boy--and to a boy, especially, who was illegitimate.

It was in vain that the guardians of young William exerted all their
energies to establish his power. One pretender after another was put
down by the strong hand. But the old Norman seigneurs, who had
submitted with reluctance to the rule of legitimate princes, steeled
their hearts against the humiliation of bending their knees to a
bastard.

Among the nobles of Normandy, by far the haughtiest and most turbulent
were the seigneurs of Bessi and Cotentin. These men were proud to
excess of their Norwegian descent, and very tenacious of their
Scandinavian traditions and customs. Indeed, they treated with
something like contempt the conversion of the Normans to Christianity,
carried pagan devices on their shields, and rode into battle with the
old Scandinavian war-cry of "Thor aide!" Rejoicing, above all things,
in the purity of their blood, these ancient seigneurs not only talked
with ridicule of the idea of submitting to the son of Arlette, but
formed a strong league, marshalled their fighting men, and prepared to
display their banners and seize William's person.

When this conspiracy was formed, William had attained his seventeenth
year, and, utterly unconscious of his danger, was residing in a castle
unprepared for defence. The Counts of Bessi and Cotentin were making
ready to mount their war-steeds and secure their prey, when one of
their household fools stole away during the night, reached the castle
where William was, clamoured for admittance in a loud voice, and would
not be silenced till led to the young duke's presence. On getting
audience of William, the fool hastily told him of his peril, and
warned him to fly instantly.

"What say you?" asked William in surprise.

"I tell you," answered the fool, "that your enemies are coming, and,
if you don't fly without delay, you'll be slain."

After some further questioning, William resolved to take the fool's
advice, and mounting, spurred rapidly towards the Castle of Falaise.
But he was imperfectly acquainted with the country; and he had not
ridden far when he missed his way. William reined up his steed, and
halted in perplexity and dismay; and his alarm was increased by
hearing sounds as of enemies following at no great distance.
Fortunately, at that moment, however, he met a peasant, who, by
pointing out the way to the fugitive, and setting the pursuers off in
a wrong direction, enabled the duke to reach Falaise in safety.

At that time, Henry, grandson of Hugh Capet, figured as King of
France, and wore the diadem which his grandsire had torn from the head
of the heirs of Charlemagne. In other days, Henry had been protected
against the enmity of an imperious mother and a turbulent brother by
Robert the Magnificent; and when William hastened to the French court,
Henry, moved by the young duke's tale of distress, and remembering
Robert's services, promised to give all the aid in his power. Ere long
he redeemed his pledge by leading a French army against the
insurgents. The result was the defeat of the rebel lords in a pitched
battle at the "Val des Dunes," near Caen, and a victory which, for a
time, gave security to Arlette's son on the ducal throne of Rollo.

William's youth was so far fortunate. His friends regarded him with
idolatry; and his enemies, forced to admit that he seemed not unworthy
of his position, became quiescent. The day on which he mounted his
horse without placing foot in stirrup was hailed with joy; and the day
on which he received knighthood was kept as a holiday throughout
Normandy.

As time passed on, William showed himself very ambitious, and somewhat
vindictive. He made war on his neighbours in Maine and Britanny on
slender provocations, and resented without mercy any offensive
allusion to his maternal parentage. One day, when he was besieging the
town of Alençon, the inhabitants, to annoy him, beat leather skins on
the walls, in allusion to the occupation of his grandfather, and
shouted, "Hides, hides!" William, in bitter rage, revenged himself by
causing the hands and feet of all his prisoners to be cut off, and
thrown by the slingers over the walls into the town.

But, whatever William's faults, he was loved and respected by his
friends. Nor could the duke's worst enemy deny that he looked a prince
of whom any people might well have been proud. In person he was scarce
above the ordinary height; but so grand was his air, and so majestic
his bearing, that he seemed to tower above ordinary mortals. His
strength of arm was prodigious; and few were the warriors in that age
who could even bend his bow. His face was sufficiently handsome to
command the admiration of women, and his aspect sufficiently stern to
awe men into submission to his will. No prince in Europe was more
capable of producing an impression on a beholder than, at the age of
twenty-five, was the warrior destined to attempt and accomplish that
mighty exploit since celebrated as the Norman Conquest of England.

[Illustration]




III.

[Illustration: Sweyn struck by the hand of death.]

THE DANES IN ENGLAND.


At the time when William the Norman was making good his claim to the
Dukedom won by Rolfganger, the Saxons had been settled in England for
nearly six centuries. During that long period, however, the country
had frequently been exposed to the horrors of civil war and to the
inroads of those ruthless Northmen, who "replunged into barbarism the
nations over which they swept."

It was about the year 451 that the Saxons, with huge axes on their
shoulders, set foot on the shores of Britain. At that period--when the
ancient Britons, left by the Roman conquerors at the mercy of the
Picts and Scots, were complaining that the barbarians drove them to
the sea, and that the sea drove them back to the barbarians--there
anchored off the coast of Kent three bulky ships, commanded by Hengist
and Horsa, two Saxon chiefs, who claimed descent from Woden, their god
of war, and boasted of some military skill acquired when fighting in
the ranks of Rome. From Hengist and Horsa, still worshippers of Thor
and Woden, the Britons implored aid against the Picts and Scots; and
the Saxon chiefs, calling over a band of their countrymen, speedily
drove the painted Caledonians to their mountains and fastnesses.

After having rescued the Britons from their northern neighbours, the
Saxons did not exhibit any haste to leave the country which they had
delivered. Indeed, these mighty sons of Woden rather seemed ambitious
of making Britain their own; and Hengist, having settled in
Lincolnshire, gave a great feast. Among other guests who on this
occasion came to the Saxon's stronghold was Vortigern, a King among
the Britons, and, his eye being arrested and his heart inflamed by the
grace and beauty of Rowena, the daughter of Hengist, while she
presented the wassail-cup on bended knee, he became so desperately
enamoured that he never rested till the fair and fascinating Saxon was
his wife. After the marriage of Vortigern and Rowena, the Saxons
plainly intimated their intention of being masters of Britain, and,
the sword having been drawn, the two races--the Saxons and the
Celts--commenced that struggle which lasted for more than a hundred
and fifty years, during which King Arthur and the Knights of his Round
Table are said to have wrought those marvellous exploits which have
been celebrated by chroniclers and bards.

At length, however, the Saxons, in spite of prolonged resistance,
established their supremacy, and, during the existence of the Saxon
Heptarchy, which included the whole country, subject to seven
Princes, the conquerors of Britain became converts to Christianity,
and members of the Catholic Church; and, abandoning the worship of
Thor and Woden, they endeavoured to show their zeal by erecting
churches and monasteries.

As time passed on, Egbert, King of Wessex, in 827 prevailed over all
rivals, formed the separate provinces into a single state, and reigned
as King of England. But while the Saxons were still engaged in putting
down the Celts and cutting each other to pieces, a band of grim
adventurers one morning sailed into the port of Teignmouth. In the
discharge of his duty, a Saxon magistrate proceeded to the shore to
learn whence they came and what they wanted. Without deigning an
answer, the strangers slew the magistrate and his attendants,
plundered the town, carried the booty to their ships, and then,
hoisting their sails, took their departure. This was the first
appearance in England of those Danes who were, ere long, to rend the
Anglo-Saxon empire in pieces, and place their King on the English
throne.

In fact, from the time of this their first visit to the English coast,
the Danes were constantly finding their way to England, and
signalising their inroads by every kind of barbarity. They were the
most reckless of pirates and pagans, calling the ocean their home and
the tempest their servant, and delighting to shed the blood of
Christian priests, to desecrate churches, and to stable their steeds
in chapels. In their cruel inroads, they tossed infants on the points
of their spears, and mocked the idea of tears and mourning. For them,
indeed, death had no terrors, for they believed themselves secure,
especially if they fell in battle, of being conveyed to Valhalla; and
gloried in the prospect of feasting in the halls of Odin, waited on by
lovely damsels, and quaffing beer out of huge cups of horn. Settling
gradually in Northumberland, East Anglia, and Mercia, the Danes
occupied the whole country north of the Thames. Only one province
remained to the Saxons, that of Wessex, which then extended from the
mouth of the Thames to the Bristol Channel.

Such was the state of affairs when, in 871, a Saxon King, named
Ethelred, was slain in a conflict with the Danes, and was succeeded by
his son, Alfred, afterwards Alfred the Great, but then a youth of
twenty-two. At first, the courage and ability of the young King
inspired the Saxons with high hopes. But Alfred, puffed up with
conceit of his superior knowledge, despised those whom he governed,
and his contemptuous indifference to their opinions and wishes
rendered him ere long so very unpopular that when, after having
reigned seven years, he was under the necessity of preparing against
an inroad of the Danes, he found himself, to his mortification, almost
unsupported. In vain the King, after the fashion of his ancestors,
sent messengers of war to town and hamlet, bearing the arrow and naked
sword, and proclaiming, "Let each man that is not a nothing leave his
house and come!" So few obeyed the summons that Alfred, deeply
mortified, abandoned his throne, and sought refuge in Cornwall.

It was at this dismal period that Alfred found shelter in the hut of a
swineherd, and, while examining his arrows, allowed the cakes to burn.
"Stupid man!" cried the swineherd's wife, unaware of his quality, "you
will not take the trouble to prevent my bread from burning, though
you're always so glad to eat it."

But, ere long, Alfred emerged from his obscure lurking-place, visited
the Danish camp disguised as a harper, and, while entertaining the
rude Northmen with music and song, became so well acquainted with the
situation of affairs that he took immediate steps to restore the old
Saxon nationality. Summoning fighting men of the Saxon race from every
quarter, Alfred met the Danes in the field, vanquished them in eight
battles, and finally reduced them to submission and obedience.

After the death of Alfred the Great, who had, after his restoration,
reigned with lustre and glory, Ethelstane, pursuing Alfred's
conquests, recovered York, crossed the Tweed, defeated the Danes and
Cambrians at Bamborough, and brought the whole island under his
dominion. For some time after Ethelstane's triumphs, the Saxons were
allowed unmolestedly to sow and reap, to buy and sell, to marry and
give in marriage.

In 994, however, Sweyn, King of Denmark, turned his eyes covetously
towards England, where Ethelred the Unready then reigned; and
forthwith, in company with Olaf, King of Norway, undertook an
expedition. Despairing of opposing the invaders with success,
Ethelred bribed them with a large sum of money to retire, and both of
them withdrew, after having sworn not again to trouble England.
Nevertheless, in 1001, Sweyn, in whom the spirit of the pirate was
strong, reappeared; and the Saxon King, seeing no way of getting rid
of such a foe except by bribery, agreed to pay an annual tribute, to
be levied throughout England under the name of "Dane-gold."

Sweyn, to whom an arrangement that was every year to replenish his
treasury seemed satisfactory, returned to Denmark. Many Danes,
however, remained in England, and conducted themselves with such
intolerable insolence that the Saxons projected a general massacre of
their unwelcome guests, and fixed on St. Brice's Day, 1002, for the
execution of their hoarded vengeance. Ethelred, who, having lost his
first wife, Elgira, the mother of Edmund Ironsides, had espoused Emma,
sister of the Duke of Normandy, and who deemed himself secure in the
alliance of the heir of Rolfganger, unhappily consented to the
massacre, and, on the appointed day, the Saxons applied themselves to
the work of extermination, little dreaming what would be the
consequences.

No sooner did Sweyn hear of the massacre of St. Brice, than he vowed
revenge, and, embarking with a mighty force, landed in England, and
commenced a work of bloodshed, carnage, sacrilege, destruction, and
every kind of enormity. Ethelred, after a vain attempt at resistance,
fled to Normandy, with Emma his wife, and their two sons, Alfred and
Edward; while Sweyn, left a victor, caused himself to be proclaimed
King of England. But he did not live long to enjoy his conquests. One
day, while feasting at Thetford, drinking to excess, and threatening
to spoil the monastery of St. Edmund, he suddenly felt as if he had
been violently struck, and the chiefs, who sat around in a circle,
observed that his face underwent a rapid change.

"Oh!" exclaimed Sweyn, gasping for breath, "I have been struck by this
St. Edmund with a sword!"

"Nay," said the Danish chiefs, who did not share their King's
superstitious feeling, "there is no St. Edmund here."

Death, however, seemed written on Sweyn's face, and horror took
possession of his soul. After suffering terrible tortures for three
days, he breathed his last, and left his claims and pretensions to his
son Canute, who, coming victoriously out of that struggle with Edmund
Ironsides, in which the royal Saxon, after repeatedly defeating the
Danes, perished by the hand of an assassin, succeeded to the English
throne, where he was destined to render his name memorable and his
memory illustrious as Canute the Great.

It appears that, during these unfortunate struggles with the Danes,
Ethelred and his son Edmund Ironsides relied much on the services of a
man whom the Saxon King delighted to honour, and whom English
historians have since branded as one of the most infamous traitors
that ever breathed English air. This was Edric Streone, who had
obtained from Ethelred the Earldom of Mercia, and who evinced his
gratitude for that and countless favours by betraying his benefactor
and suborning a ruffian to stab his benefactor's son.

After Ironsides' murder, Edric hastened to Canute and claimed a
reward. Not unwilling, perhaps, to profit by the treachery, but
abhorring the traitor, the Danish conqueror had recourse to
dissimulation, and spoke to Edric in language which raised the
villain's hopes.

"Depend upon it," said Canute, "I will set your head higher than any
man's in the realm;" and, by way of redeeming his promise, he soon
after ordered the traitor to be beheaded.

"King," cried Edric, in amazement, "remember you not your promise?"

"I do," answered Canute, with grim humour. "I promised to set your
head higher than other men's, and I will keep my word." And having
ordered Edric to be executed, he caused the body to be flung into the
Thames, and the head to be placed high over the highest of the gates
of London.

After having won considerable popularity among the Saxons by the
execution of Edric Streone, Canute, who figured as King of Denmark and
Norway, as well as England, endeavoured to strengthen his position by
a matrimonial alliance. With this view the royal Dane wedded Emma of
Normandy, the widow of Ethelred; and it was supposed that, at his
death, Hardicanute, the son whom he had by this fair descendant of
Rolfganger, was to succeed to the English throne.

In 1035, however, when Canute the Great went the way of all flesh, and
when his remains were laid in the Cathedral of Winchester, there was
living in London one of his illegitimate sons, named Harold, who, from
his swiftness in running, was surnamed Harefoot. Immediately, Harold
Harefoot claimed the crown, and a contest took place between his
adherents and those of Hardicanute, who was then in Denmark. Harold
Harefoot, however, being favoured by the Danes of London, carried the
day; and finding that the Archbishop refused to perform the ceremony
of coronation, he placed the crown on his head with his own hand,
became an avowed enemy of the Church, lived as one "who had abjured
Christianity," and displayed his contempt for religious rites by
having his table served and sending out his dogs to hunt at the hour
when people were assembling for worship.

After reigning four years, however, he breathed his last, and was
buried at Westminster.

When Harold Harefoot died, Hardicanute was at Bruges with his mother,
the Norman Emma, and he immediately sailed for England. No attempt
seems to have been made to restore the Saxon line. Indeed, Hardicanute
found himself received with general joy, and commenced his career as
King of England by causing the body of his half-brother to be dug out
of his tomb at Westminster and thrown into the Thames. Hardicanute
then abandoned himself to gluttony and drunkenness, and scandalously
oppressed the nation over which he swayed the sceptre. His career,
however, was brief, and his end was so sudden, that some have ascribed
it to foul play.

It was the 8th of June, 1041, and Hardicanute was celebrating the
wedding of a Danish chief at Lambeth. Nobody expected a catastrophe,
for he was still little more than twenty, and his constitution was
remarkably strong. While revelling and carousing, however, he suddenly
tossed up his arms and dropped on the floor a corpse. Some ascribed
the death of Hardicanute to poison, but none lamented his fate; and,
by the Saxons, the event was rather hailed as a sign for the
restoration of the Saxon line and the heirs of Alfred.




IV.

EARL GODWIN.


One morning, at the time when Edmund Ironside and Canute were
struggling desperately for the kingdom of England, and when the son of
Ethelred had just defeated the son of Sweyn in a great battle in
Warwickshire, a Danish captain--Ulf by name--separated from his men,
and, flying to save his life, entered a wood with the paths of which
he was quite unacquainted. Halting in one of the glades, and looking
round in extreme perplexity, he felt relieved by the approach of a
young Saxon, in the garb of a herdsman, driving his father's oxen to
the pastures.

"Thy name, youth," said Ulf to the herdsman, saluting him after the
fashion of his country.

"I," answered the herdsman, "am Godwin, son of Wolwoth; and thou, if I
mistake not, art one of the Danes."

"It is true," said Ulf. "I have wandered about all night, and now I
beg you tell me how far I am from the Danish camp, or from the ships
stationed in the Severn, and by what road I can reach them."

"Mad," exclaimed Godwin, "must be the Dane who looks for safety at the
hands of a Saxon."

"Nevertheless," said Ulf, "I entreat thee to leave thy herd and guide
me to the camp, and I promise that thou shalt be richly rewarded."

"The way is long," said Godwin, shaking his head, "and perilous would
be the attempt. The peasants, emboldened by victory, are everywhere up
in arms, and little mercy would they show either to thee or thy
guide."

"Accept this, youth," said the Dane, coaxingly, as he drew a gold ring
from his finger.

"No," answered Godwin, after examining the jewel with curiosity, "I
will not take the ring, but I will give you what aid I can."

Having thus promised his assistance to Ulf, Godwin took the Danish
captain under his guidance, and led him to Wolwoth's cottage hard by,
and, when night came, prepared to conduct him, by bye-paths, to the
camp. They were about to depart when Wolwoth, with a tear in his eye,
laid his hand in that of the Dane.

"Stranger," said the old man, "know that it is my only son who trusts
to your good faith. For him there will be no safety among his
countrymen from the moment he has served you as a guide. Present him,
therefore, to Canute, that he may be taken into your king's service."

"Fear not, Saxon," said Ulf, "I will do more than you ask for your
son. I will treat him as my own."

The Dane and Godwin then left Wolwoth's cottage, and, under the
guidance of the young herdsman, the Dane reached the camp in safety.
Nor was his promise forgotten. On entering his tent, Ulf seated Godwin
on a seat as highly-raised as his own, and, from that hour, treated
him with paternal kindness.

It was under such romantic circumstances, if we may credit ancient
chroniclers and modern historians, that Godwin entered on that
marvellous career which was destined to conduct him to more than regal
power in England. Presented by Ulf to Canute, the son of Wolwoth soon
won the favour of the Danish king; nor was he of a family whose
members ever allowed any scrupulous adherence to honour to stand in
the way of ambitious aspirations. Indeed, he was nephew of that Edric
Streone who had betrayed Ethelred the Unready, and whom Canute had
found it necessary to sacrifice to the national indignation; and it
has been observed that, "even as kinsman to Edric, who, whatever his
crimes, must have retained a party it was wise to conciliate, Godwin's
favour with Canute, whose policy would lead him to show marked
distinction to any able Saxon follower, ceases to be surprising."

But, however that may have been, Godwin, protected by the king and
inspired by ambition, rose rapidly to fame and fortune. Having
accompanied Canute to Denmark, and afterwards signalized his military
skill by a great victory over the Norwegians, he returned to England
with the reputation of being, of all others, the man whom the Danish
King delighted to honour. No distinction now appeared too high to be
conferred on the son of Wolwoth. Ere long he began to figure as Earl
of Wessex, and husband of Thyra, one of Canute's daughters.

Godwin's marriage with the daughter of Canute did not increase the
Saxon Earl's popularity. Indeed, Thyra was accused of sending young
Saxons as slaves to Denmark, and regarded with much antipathy. One
day, however, Thyra was killed by lightning; soon after, her only son
was drowned in the Thames; and Godwin lost no time in supplying the
places of his lady and his heir.

Again at liberty to gratify his ambition by a royal alliance, he
wedded Githa, daughter of Sweyne, Canute's successor on the throne of
Denmark; and the Danish princess, as time passed on, made her husband
father of six sons--Sweyne, Harold, Tostig, Gurth, Leofwine, and
Wolwoth--besides two daughters--Edith and Thyra--all destined to have
their names associated in history with that memorable event known as
the Norman Conquest.

Meanwhile, Godwin was taking that part in national events which he
hoped would raise him to still higher power among his countrymen, when
Canute the Great breathed his last, and was laid at rest in the
cathedral at Winchester. Then there arose a dispute about the
sovereignty of England between Hardicanute and Harold Harefoot. The
South declared for Hardicanute, the North for Harefoot. Both had their
chances; but Harold Harefoot being in England at the time, as we have
seen, while Hardicanute was in Denmark, had decidedly the advantage
over his rival.

Godwin, however, favouring Hardicanute, invited Queen Emma to England.
He assumed the office of Protector, and received the oaths of the men
of the South. But for once the son of Wolwoth found fortune adverse to
his policy; and, having waited till Emma made peace with Harold
Harefoot, the potent Earl also swore obedience, and allowed the claims
of Hardicanute to rest.

But when time passed over, and affairs took a turn, when Harold
Harefoot died, and Hardicanute, having come to England, ascended the
throne, excited the national discontent by imposing excessive taxes,
and was perpetually alarmed, in the midst of his debaucheries, with
intelligence of tax-gatherers murdered and cities in insurrection, it
became pretty clear that the Danish domination must, ere long, come to
an end. Then Godwin, who had ever a keen eye to his interest,
doubtless watched the signs of the times with all the vigilance
demanded by the occasion, and marked well the course of events which
were occurring to place the game in his hands. Accordingly, when, in
the summer of 1041, Hardicanute expired so suddenly at Lambeth, while
taking part in the wedding festivities of one of his Danish chiefs,
Godwin perceived that the time had arrived for the restoration of
Saxon royalty. With his characteristic energy, he raised his standard,
and applied himself to the business. His success was even more signal
than he anticipated. Indeed, if he had chosen, he might have ascended
the throne of Alfred and of Canute. But his policy was to increase his
own power without exciting the envy of others. With this view he
assembled a great council at Gillingham. Acting by his advice, the
assembled chiefs resolved on calling to the throne, not the true heir
of England--the son of Edmund Ironsides, who resided in Hungary, and
probably had a will of his own--but an Anglo-Saxon prince who had been
long absent from England--an exile known to be inoffensive in
character as well as interesting from misfortune, and with whom Godwin
doubtless believed he could do whatever he pleased. At all events, it
was as King-maker, and not as King, that the ennobled son of Wolwoth
aspired, at this crisis, to influence the destinies of England.




V.

EDWARD THE CONFESSOR.


While Duke William was overcoming his enemies in Normandy, and Earl
Godwin was putting an end to the domination of the Danes in England,
there might have been observed about the Court of Rouen a man of mild
aspect and saintly habits, who had reached the age of forty. He was an
exile, a Saxon prince, and one of the heirs of Alfred.

It was about the opening of the eleventh century that King Ethelred,
then a widower, and father of Edmund Ironsides, espoused Emma, sister
of Richard, Duke of Normandy. From this marriage sprung two sons and a
daughter. The sons were named Edward and Alfred; the name of the
daughter was Goda.

Edward was a native of England, and drew his first breath, in the year
1002, at Islip, near Oxford. At an early age, however, when the
massacre of the Danes on the day of St. Brice resulted in the exile of
Ethelred, Edward, with the other children of Ethelred and Emma, found
refuge at the Court of Normandy. It was there that the youth of Edward
was passed; it was there that his tastes were formed; and it was there
that, brooding over the misfortunes of his country and his race, he
sought consolation in those saintly theories and romantic practices
which distinguished him so widely from the princes of that fierce and
adventurous period which preceded the first Crusade.

When Ethelred the Unready breathed his last, in 1016, and Canute the
Great demanded the widowed queen in marriage, and Emma, delighted at
the prospect of still sharing the throne of England, threw herself
into the arms of the royal Dane, her two sons, Edward and Alfred,
remained for a time securely in Normandy. Indeed, they do not appear
to have been by any means pleased at the idea of their mother uniting
her fate with a man whom they had regarded as their father's mortal
foe. However, as years passed over, the sons of Ethelred received an
invitation from Harold Harefoot to visit their native country, and
they did not think fit to decline. At all events, it appears that
Alfred proceeded to England, and that he went attended by a train of
six hundred Normans.

On arriving in England, Alfred was immediately invited by Harold
Harefoot to come to London, and, not suspecting any snare, he hastened
to present himself at court. No sooner, however, had the Saxon prince
reached Guildford than he was met by Earl Godwin, conducted under some
pretence into the Castle, separated from his attendants--who were
massacred by hundreds--and then put in chains, to be conveyed to the
Isle of Ely, where he was deprived of his sight, and so severely
treated that he died of misery and pain.

Edward, who had remained in Normandy, soon learned with horror that
his brother had been murdered; and when Hardicanute succeeded Harold
Harefoot, he hastened to England to demand justice on Godwin.
Hardicanute received his half-brother with kindness, promised that he
should have satisfaction, and summoned the Earl of Wessex to answer
for the murder of Prince Alfred. But Godwin's experience was great,
and his craft was equal to his experience. Without scruple, he offered
to swear that he was entirely guiltless of young Alfred's death, and
at the same time presented Hardicanute with a magnificent galley,
ornamented with gilded metal, and manned by eighty warriors, every one
of whom had a gilded axe on his left shoulder, a javelin in his right
hand, and bracelets on each arm. The young Danish king looked upon
this gift as a most conclusive argument in favour of Godwin's
innocence--and the son of Wolwoth was saved.

Edward returned to Normandy, and passed the next five years of his
life in monkish austerities. But when the Danish domination came to an
end, and the Grand Council was held at Gillingham, Godwin, as if to
atone for consigning one of the sons of Ethelred to a tomb, hastened
to place the other on a throne. Edward, then in his fortieth year, was
accordingly elected king, and, on reaching England, was crowned at
Winchester, in that sacred edifice where his illustrious ancestors
and their Danish foes reposed in peace together.

It is related by the chroniclers of this period, that when Edward,
arrayed in royal robes, and accompanied by bishops and nobles, was on
the point of entering the church to be crowned, a man afflicted with
leprosy sat by the gate.

"What do you there?" cried the king's friends. "Move out of the way."

"Nay," said Edward, meekly, "suffer him to remain."

"King!" cried the leper, in a loud voice, "I conjure you, by the
living God, to have me carried into the church, that I may pray to be
made whole!"

"Unworthy should I be of heaven if I did not," Edward replied; and,
stooping forward, he raised the leprous man on his back, bore him into
the church, and prayed earnestly, and not in vain, for his
restoration. Roger Hoveden even asserts that the king's prayers were
heard, and that the leper was made whole from that hour. But, in any
case, there can be no doubt that on the fierce nobles and people of
his realm such a scene as this must have produced a strange
impression. It was believed that Edward's sanctity gave him the power
to heal; and belief in the influence which his hand was in this way
supposed to have, led to the custom of English sovereigns touching for
the king's evil.

In fact, however, people soon discovered that Edward was more of a
monk than a monarch; and far happier would he have been if he had
remained in Normandy, and sought refuge from the rude and wicked world
in the quiet of a cloister. It soon appeared, moreover, that the son
of Ethelred was intended to be king but in name; and that the son of
Wolwoth was to be virtually sovereign of England. The plan was not
unlikely to succeed. Indeed, Edward was so saintly and so simple, that
Godwin might, to the hour of his death, have exercised all real power,
had he not, with the vulgar ambition natural to such a man, risked
everything for the chance of his posterity occupying the English
throne.

It appears that Godwin, by his marriage with Githa, the Danish
princess, had, besides six sons, two daughters, Edith and Thyra.
Edith, at the time of the restoration of the Saxon monarchy, is
described as having been young, beautiful, and remarkable for her
learning. It can hardly be doubted that her character and disposition
contrasted favourably with the other members of the family that then
domineered in England; and she was praised for not resembling them.
"As the thorn produces the rose," people said, "so Godwin produced
Edith."

The idea of making his daughter the wife of a king, and perhaps living
to see his grandson wear a crown, fired Godwin's imagination; and it
is even said that Edward, before leaving Normandy, was forced to
swear, in the most solemn manner, that, if elected, he would marry
Edith. But however that may have been, the imperious Earl insisted on
the meek king becoming his son-in-law; and a man who, even in the days
of his youth, had been much too saintly to think of matrimony, was
compelled, when turned of forty, to espouse a woman on the hands of
whose father was his brother's blood, and to whose family he had,
naturally enough, a thorough aversion.

[Illustration]




VI.

[Illustration: The judgment of God on Godwin.]

THE KING AND THE KING-MAKER.


It was 1042 when Edward--afterwards celebrated as the Confessor--found
himself placed by the hand of Godwin on the throne of his ancestors,
and provided with a wife and queen in the person of Edith, Godwin's
daughter. At first, matters went pleasantly enough, and, indeed,
appeared promising. But no real friendship could exist between the
Anglo-Saxon king and the man whom he regarded as his brother's
murderer. Ere six years passed, Godwin and the king were foes, and
England was the scene of discord and disorder.

At that time the prejudice of the Anglo-Saxons against foreigners was
peculiarly strong. Before returning to the land of his birth,
therefore, Edward was under the necessity of promising that he should
bring with him no considerable number of Normans. The condition was
observed in so far that few Normans did accompany Edward to England.
But no sooner was he seated on the throne, and in a position to grant
favours, than his palace was open to all comers; and guests from the
court of Rouen flocked to the court of Westminster.

When Edward's Norman friends presented themselves, they met with the
most cordial welcome; and being, for the most part, men of adventurous
talents, they soon began to look upon the country as their property,
and grasped at every office which the king had to bestow. Ere long,
Norman priests found themselves bishops in England; Norman warriors
figured as governors of English castles; and the court became so
thoroughly Normanized, that the national dress, language, and manners,
went wholly out of fashion.

The Anglo-Saxon nobles do not appear to have manifested any jealousy
of the king's friends. In fact, their inclination was quite the
reverse. The polish and refinement of their new associates excited
their admiration, and they hastened to adopt the Norman fashions.
Throwing aside their long cloaks, they assumed the short Norman
mantle, with its wide sleeves; they neglected their native tongue to
imitate, as well as they could, the language spoken by Norman prelates
and warriors; and, instead of signing their names, as of old, they
began to affix seals to their deeds. The Anglo-Saxon dress, manners,
and language were no longer accounted worthy of men who pretended to
rank and breeding.

Meanwhile, Godwin not only steadily abstained from adopting the Norman
fashions, but looked upon the king's foreign friends as mortal foes,
and regarded everything about them with hatred. He felt, with pain,
that they kept alive the memory of Prince Alfred and their murdered
countrymen, and he perceived with uneasiness that each new arrival had
the effect of weakening his influence with the king. It was under such
circumstances that he set his face against foreigners, and found means
of exciting the popular prejudices against the man whom, for selfish
purposes, he had, to the exclusion of the true heir, placed on the
English throne. The multitude, ever ready to be deluded, took
precisely the view Godwin wished, and began to speak of the pampered
and overgrown adventurer as a neglected and long-suffering patriot.

"Is it astonishing," said one, "that the author and support of
Edward's reign should be indignant at seeing new men from a foreign
nation raised above him?"

"And yet," observed another, "never does he utter a harsh word to the
man whom he himself created king."

"Curse all Norman favourites!" exclaimed a third.

"And," cried a fourth, "long life to the great chief--to the chief
magnanimous by sea and land!"

While such was the situation of affairs, Eustace, Count of Boulogne,
happened, in the year 1048, to come as a guest to England. Eustace was
husband of Edward's sister, Goda; and the king naturally strove to
make the visit of his brother-in-law as pleasant as possible. After
remaining for some time at the English court, however, Eustace
prepared to return home; but on reaching Dover, where he intended to
embark, an awkward quarrel took place between his attendants and the
townsmen. A fray was the consequence; and in a conflict which took
place, twenty of the count's men were unfortunately slain. Angry and
indignant at the slaughter of his followers, Eustace, instead of
embarking, turned back to demand redress, and hastened to lay his
complaint before the king, who was then keeping his court in the
castle of Gloucester.

Edward, ashamed of the riot, and horrified at the bloodshed, promised
that condign punishment should be inflicted on the perpetrators of the
outrage, and deputed the duty to Godwin, in whose earldom the town of
Dover was included.

"Go without delay," said Edward, "and chastise by a military
execution, those who have attacked my relative with arms in their
hands, and who have disturbed the peace of the country."

"Nay," said Godwin, "it is not right to condemn, without hearing, men
whom it is your duty to protect."

Nettled by the tone of Godwin's refusal, and aware of the refractory
spirit by which the earl was animated, Edward gave way to anger, and
convoked a great council at Gloucester. Before this assembly Godwin
was summoned to answer for his conduct. Instead of appearing, the Earl
of Wessex mustered an army with the object of setting Edward at
defiance. England seemed on the verge of a civil war, but a peace was
patched up by the mediation of Siward, Earl of Northumberland, and
Leofric, Earl of Mercia, husband of that Godiva whose equestrian feat
at Coventry the grateful citizens have since so often commemorated.
But the efforts of Siward and Leofric proved vain. The king and Godwin
indeed pretended to be reconciled. But neither was sincere. Ere long,
the quarrel broke out afresh with great bitterness; and the earl,
finding the king much more resolute than could have been expected,
consulted his safety by escaping with his wife and family to Flanders.

Freed from the presence of his imperious father-in-law, and feeling
himself at length a king in reality, Edward passed sentence of
outlawry on Godwin and his sons, seized on their earldoms, and
confiscated their property. Even Edith, the queen, did not escape her
share of the adversity of her house. After being deprived of her lands
and money she was sent to a convent in Hampshire, and condemned in a
cloister to sigh with regret over the ambition that had united her
fate with that of a man who had regarded her with a sentiment akin to
horror.

"It is not meet," said Edward's Norman friends, ironically, "that
while this woman's family undergo all the evils of exile, she herself
should sleep upon down."

"But the King's wife!" remonstrated the Anglo-Saxon nobles.

"Tush!" answered the Normans, significantly; "she is his wife only in
name."

While Godwin was an exile in Flanders, William, Duke of Normandy, paid
a visit to the King of England. Edward received his kinsman with
great affection, entertained him magnificently, and treated him with
such distinction as encouraged the Norman Duke's most ambitious hopes.
Indeed, it has been said that "William appeared in England more a king
than Edward himself, and that his ambitious mind was not slow in
conceiving the hope of becoming such in reality." Nor did William
return to Normandy without tokens of Edward's good will. Magnificent
presents of armour, horses, dogs, and falcons were the substantial
pledges with which the monk-king accompanied his assurances of
friendship for the warrior-duke.

But, meantime, Godwin grew weary of exile and eager for revenge.
Impatient to return to England, and to wreak his fury on the Norman
favourites, the banished earl resolved, at all hazards, on leaving
Flanders. Having obtained ships from Count Baldwin, he sailed from
Bruges; and, soon after Edward had witnessed the departure of his
martial kinsman for Normandy, the fleet of his outlawed father-in-law
sailed up the Thames and anchored at Southwark.

Edward was in London when Godwin's fleet appeared in this menacing
attitude; and, assembling his council, the king, with a flash of
ancestral spirit, evinced a strong desire to oppose force to force.
But, though the Norman courtiers were anxious to come to blows with
their mortal foe, the king was the only Englishman who participated in
their sentiments. Not only were the citizens of London all ready to
take up arms for the outlawed earl; but even Siward and Leofric, the
chiefs who had ever stood in opposition to Godwin, were in favour of
his restoration; and the soldiers who formed the royal army were
animated by such an antipathy to the foreign favourites, that it was
felt they could not be depended on in the event of matters being
pushed to extremity. In these circumstances, the king reluctantly
consented to refer the question to a council of nobles; and this
council, presided over by Robert Stigand, Bishop of East Anglia,
decided that the whole case should be submitted for judgment to the
Witenagemote, the National Council of the Anglo-Saxons.

On learning what had occurred, the Norman courtiers perceived that
there was no hope for them but in escape. Without hesitation,
therefore, they mounted their horses, and spurred from the palace of
Westminster. Headed by Robert, Archbishop of Canterbury, and William,
Bishop of London, a troop of Norman knights and gentlemen dashed
eastward, fought their way through the city, and, making for the
coast, embarked in fishing-boats; others fled to northern castles,
held by Hugh the Norman, and Osbert, surnamed Pentecost; and thence,
with Hugh and Osbert, made for the north, crossed the Tweed, and
sought security on Scottish soil. No mercy, they well knew, could be
expected at the hands of Godwin, and quite as little at the hands of a
multitude believing in his patriotism and exasperated against his
foes.

Meanwhile, the Witenagemote having been convoked, and all the best men
in the country having assembled to take part in the deliberations,
Godwin spoke in his own defence. The proceedings, as had been foreseen
from the beginning, resulted in the revocation of the sentence of
outlawry against the earl and his sons, and restoration to their lands
and honours. An exception was, indeed, made in the case of Godwin's
eldest son, Sweyn, who, having debauched the abbess of Leominster, and
murdered his kinsman, Earl Beorn, was deemed unworthy of the company
of Christians and warriors. But Sweyn relieved his family from all
awkwardness on this point by voluntarily undertaking a penitential
pilgrimage on foot to the Holy Sepulchre.

Matters having been thus arranged, the king accepted from Godwin the
oath of peace; and Godwin, as hostages for his good faith, placed his
youngest son, Wolnoth, and Haco, the son of Sweyn, in the hands of the
king, who sent them to the court of Rouen. At the same time, William,
the Norman Bishop of London, was, by the king's wish, recalled to
England; but Robert, the Norman Archbishop of Canterbury, was not so
fortunate. Stigand, instituted as Robert's successor, took possession
of the pallium which the Norman prelate had left behind in his sudden
flight.

When her kinsmen were restored to England, Edith, the queen, brought
from her convent in Hampshire, once more appeared at the palace of
Westminster; and the house of Godwin seemed more firmly established
than ever. The king, ceasing to struggle against the earl's influence,
occupied his attention with completing the abbey which he had been
building at Westminster, and Leofric and Siward seemed to bow to their
great rival's power and popularity. But the days of Godwin were
numbered.

It was the spring of 1054; Edward was holding his court in the castle
of Winchester; and Godwin and his sons were among the guests. One day,
when the feast was spread, and the king and the earl were seated at
the board, an attendant, who was stepping forward to pour wine into a
cup, happened to stumble with one foot, and quickly recovered himself
with the other. Edward smiled; and Godwin, willing to give a hint to
his sons, who were perpetually brawling with each other, turned
towards them.

"Well," remarked the earl, "you see how the brother has come to the
support of the brother."

"Ay," said the king, in a significant tone; "brother needs the aid of
brother; and would to God my brother Alfred yet lived to aid me!"

"Oh, king!" exclaimed Godwin, startled and irritated, "why is it that,
on the slightest recollection of your brother, you ever look so
angrily on me?"

Edward deigned no reply; but his pale brow grew stern, and his
withered cheek flushed with resentment.

"If," continued the earl, taking a piece of bread in his hand--"if I
contributed, even indirectly, to your brother's death, may the God of
Heaven grant this may choke me!"

With these words Godwin put the bread into his mouth; and, as he did
so, and as the eyes of the king were bent intently on his countenance,
the earl fell from his seat.

"It is the judgment of God!" muttered the courtiers with a shudder.

Tostig and Gurth, two of Godwin's sons, rushed forward, raised him in
their arms, and bore him from the hall; and, five days later, the Earl
of Wessex was a corpse.




VII.

[Illustration: William's love-making]

MATILDA OF FLANDERS.


On the memorable day on which William the Norman, during the exile of
Earl Godwin, appeared as an honoured guest in the halls of
Westminster, and speculated on the probability of figuring, at no
distant period, as King of England, the crown worn by Edward the
Confessor was not the only prize on which the young duke had set his
mind. In fact, love was blended with ambition in William's heart. He
had determined, somewhat in defiance of canon and precedent, to
espouse Matilda of Flanders; and no one who visited Bruges and looked
upon the fair and intelligent face of that graceful Flemish princess
could have wondered that a warrior-duke, not yet thirty, should
meditate the indiscretion of defying popes and prelates to enjoy the
privilege of calling her his own.

Matilda's pedigree was such as to make her a desirable bride for the
struggling son of Duke Robert. She was one of the daughters of
Baldwin, Count of Flanders, by Adele, daughter of Robert, King of
France; and, through an Anglo-Saxon ancestress, she had in her veins
the blood of Alfred the Great. But even with a much less illustrious
descent, Matilda would have been highly distinguished among the
princesses of the eleventh century. Nature had gifted the daughter of
Count Baldwin with beauty and talent, and careful education had
rendered her one of the most attractive and captivating among the
high-born maidens of whom Christendom could boast. William's ambition
and his heart were naturally enough fascinated with the idea of
wedding a princess of such rank and beauty; and while yet he found the
coronal of Normandy sitting somewhat uneasily on his brow, he sent
ambassadors to the Court of Flanders to demand Matilda's hand.

Notwithstanding William's illegitimate birth and disputed title, Count
Baldwin expressed no objection to accept him as a son-in-law. Indeed,
the count, feeling that William could prove a valuable friend or a
formidable foe, hailed the proposal with gratification. But two
obstacles immediately presented themselves--one difficulty was the
repugnance of Matilda, the other was the laws of the Church.

Matilda had no stronger objections to being led to the altar than
other ladies of her age. In fact, she is understood to have already
dreamed of the bridal veil and the marriage vow, and to have been
eager to become the spouse of a Saxon nobleman named Brihtrik, who had
appeared at her father's court. Perhaps Matilda's thoughts had dwelt
on Brihtrik longer than prudence warranted. In any case, when the
ambassadors from Rouen presented themselves at Bruges, she set
herself decidedly against the proposal of which they were the bearers.

"Why," said Baldwin, "do you object to the Count of the Normans?"

"Mention him not!" exclaimed Matilda, with a disdainful toss of her
finely-shaped head. "I will not have a bastard for my husband!"

But William, who feared not man's wrath, was not to be daunted by
woman's scorn. Every day he became more convinced of the necessity of
uniting himself with some princess capable, by her rank and lineage,
of giving dignity to his position. It appears, moreover, that the
warrior-duke really entertained a strong affection for Matilda; and he
seized an opportunity of manifesting the excess of his attachment by a
violent kind of love-making, which has long been out of fashion.

It is related that one day, when Matilda had been at mass, and was
quietly walking with her ladies of honour along the streets of Bruges
on her way to the palace, to employ her hands with the embroidery work
for which she was destined to become famous, and perhaps to occupy her
thoughts with the fair Saxon noble who had won her young heart without
giving his in return, William, arrayed as if for battle and mounted on
horseback, suddenly and unexpectedly made his appearance. Alighting
with a bound, he seized the princess in his strong arms, shook her,
beat her, rolled her on the ground, and fearfully damaged her rich
garments. After this extraordinary exhibition, he sprang into his
saddle, set spurs to his horse, and rode away at full speed.

It might have been supposed that William's violent conduct would have
increased Matilda's aversion to the match. The reverse, however, was
the case. The princess, in fact, appears to have been overwhelmed by
such a proof of affection.

"I am now convinced of the sincerity of his love," she said, "and I
will offer no further objections to taking him as a husband."

Ere Matilda began to conquer the repugnance she had expressed to a
union with the son of Duke Robert, William found, to his annoyance,
that the Church opposed his marriage with the fair Flemish princess,
on the ground of their being within the prohibited degrees of
relationship. It would seem, in fact, that Adele, Countess of
Flanders, had, in early youth, been betrothed to William's uncle,
Richard, Duke of Normandy; so that the mother of Matilda stood in the
relationship of aunt to the Norman duke, "an affinity," as has been
observed, "quite near enough to account for, if not to justify the
interference of the Church."

Nevertheless, William did not despair. Indeed, he had thoroughly made
up his mind to be Matilda's husband and Baldwin's son-in-law, and to
permit no priest to baffle him in a matrimonial scheme which ambition
and love alike rendered dear to his heart. It was in vain that Pope
Nicholas set himself in opposition to the marriage, and that the
legitimate heirs of Rolfganger prepared to take advantage of a rupture
between the son of Arlette and the See of Rome. William's perseverance
and policy overcame all obstacles, and at length, with a dispensation
in his hand, he claimed and received the bride he had so long wooed.

It was after his visit to the Court of Westminster, in 1052, and after
the restoration of Godwin and his sons to their country, that William
the Norman led Matilda of Flanders to the altar, and flattered himself
that, by espousing a descendant of Alfred, he had smoothed his way to
the throne from which Alfred had ruled England.

[Illustration]




VIII.

[Illustration: Death of Siward with harness on his back.]

SIWARD THE DANE.


At the time when Godwin and Edward were at feud, and when the earl was
browbeating the saintly prince whom he had placed on the English
throne--among the Saxons and Normans who assembled around the king to
discuss a grave question, or strike a great blow, might have been
observed an aged warrior of gigantic stature, leaning on a two-handed
sword, and regarding Saxon thane and Norman count with an expression
indicative of some degree of calm contempt. His dress recalled the
days of Canute and Hardicanute; his hair was white with years; his
frame was bowed with time; but his spirit was such as time could
neither bend nor break; and his eye still glanced at the sight of
battle-axe and shield. "Gray and vast, as some image of a gone and
mightier age, towered over all Siward, the son of Beorn, the great
Earl of Northumberland."

Siward was one of the most remarkable men who figured in the reign of
Edward the Confessor, and he had a history still more remarkable than
himself. A Dane, and of noble birth, he had, at an early age, left his
native shores, with an idea, perhaps, of emulating the feats of
Hasting or Haveloke. Landing in the Orcades, he engaged in single
combat, and put to the rout a large dragon, which had long been the
terror of the rude islanders. After performing this exploit, Siward
put to sea, left the Orcades behind, and, guiding his ship as a
horseman does a steed, reached the northern coast of England. Having
sprung ashore, and wandered into the forest in quest of adventures, he
met a venerable old man, with a long white beard, who entered into
conversation with him, presented him with a mystic banner, and gave
him some sage advice.

"This banner," said the venerable man, "is called 'the raven of
earthly terror;' take it as thy standard; direct thy voyage southward
to the mouth of a river called the Thames, which will lead thee to a
city called London, where reigns the son of Canute, who will bid thee
welcome, and aid thee to become great in this land."

Siward does not appear to have disdained the idea of exchanging the
pine plank for the rush-strewed hall. At all events, he took the
mystic banner and the advice of the venerable man, steered his course
towards the Thames, and, reaching London, presented himself to the
king. It was an age when men of huge proportions and fearless hearts
were in great request; and Siward's reception was all that could have
been wished.

The favour shown by the Danish king to Siward naturally made him the
object of envy. Many absurd stories were consequently circulated
about his origin and parentage. He was described as the grandson of a
bear; and Tostig, Earl of Huntingdon, took occasion to affront him
before the whole court. But the adventurous Dane gave his enemies a
lesson which they never forgot. Defying Tostig to mortal combat, he
signalized his prowess beyond all dispute, and terminated the duel by
cutting off his antagonist's head. More convinced than ever of
Siward's value as an adherent, Hardicanute bestowed on him the earldom
which Tostig had enjoyed.

After being installed as Earl of Huntingdon, Siward played his part
with energy and wisdom. The ability he displayed seemed fully to
justify his sudden rise to importance, and a circumstance ere long
occurred which gave him an opportunity of still further advancing his
fortunes.

It happened that Uchtred, the great Saxon Earl of Northumberland,
having been gathered to his fathers, Eadulph, the son of Uchtred,
ruled from the Humber to the Tweed. Not content, however, with this
territory, Eadulph undertook an expedition against the Welsh, and
committed fearful depredations. Enraged at the northern earl making
war without his consent, Hardicanute resolved on a severe
chastisement, and entrusted Siward with the duty of inflicting it.
Aware of his danger, Eadulph mounted, and hastened towards London to
implore the king's clemency. But it was too late. While Eadulph was on
his way south, Siward, going north, met him face to face. A conflict
ensued. Eadulph fell, and Siward carried his head to Hardicanute.

It was shortly after the encounter which terminated in the death of
Eadulph, that Edward the Confessor ascended the throne of his
ancestors. At that time the fortunes of Siward, as foreigner and Dane,
were probably in great peril. The event, however, proved to his
advantage. There was some dread of a Danish fleet appearing on the
Northumbrian coast; and the new king, in considerable alarm, took
counsel with his great men.

"What is to be done?" asked the king.

"It is best," answered the thanes, "that the little devil should be
first opposed to the great devil. Let Siward the Dane be sent to rule
that part of your realm likely to be invaded by the Danes."

The king listened, and, as he was advised, nominated Siward Earl of
Northumberland. Siward, repairing to York, the capital of the North,
won the favour of the province by espousing Alfleda, granddaughter of
Uchtred, and then governed the inhabitants with an ability and a
vigour that excited the admiration of Leofric, and roused the jealousy
of Godwin. The Danes, considering, perhaps, that their gigantic
countryman would be a formidable antagonist to encounter, refrained
from any attempt at invasion, and, moreover, sent messages of peace
and friendship to Edward. "We will," said they, "allow you to reign
unmolested over your country, and content ourselves with the lands
which God has given us."

Years passed over, and Siward was keeping his court at York, and
ruling Northumberland with complete success, when the unfortunate
conflict between the townsmen of Dover and the train of Eustace of
Boulogne brought the quarrel of Edward and Godwin to a crisis. Siward
and Leofric were then summoned to the king's aid, and commanded to
lead their fighting men against the forces of the refractory earl.
Both obeyed, and, at their call, the inhabitants of Northumberland and
Mercia took up arms. Hostile, however, as Siward and Leofric were to
Godwin, they could not help perceiving that the country was wholly on
his side. Indeed, the murmurs of their own soldiers convinced the
Earls of Northumberland and Mercia of the utter impolicy of pushing
matters to extremity. Generously sacrificing resentment to patriotism,
they raised their voices in favour of Godwin's restoration and against
Godwin's foes.

Scarcely had Godwin gone to his account, when Siward became aware that
his own end was drawing nigh. The Danish earl had just returned from
that expedition into Scotland which resulted in the overthrow of
Macbeth, when he was prostrated with sickness at York. Feeling that
the great destroyer was upon him, Siward became horrified at the
prospect of dying in bed, and in night-gear.

"Raise me," he said to those who watched his uneasy couch. "Let me die
like a warrior, and not huddled up together like a cow!"

"What wouldest thou, great earl?" asked the attendants.

"Put my coat of mail on my back," said Siward; "place my helmet on my
head, my shield on my left arm, and my gilt axe in my right hand, that
I may expire as a warrior should."

The command of the dying earl was obeyed. Clad, by his own desire, in
all the habiliments of war, and sitting up in his bed, Siward, with
calm courage, awaited the last enemy, and died with the same martial
dignity which had characterized his life. His remains were laid in the
monastery of Galmanho, which he had founded at York; and, as a
memorial of his prodigious prowess, there was long afterwards shown a
rock of granite which he was said to have split with one blow of his
mighty battle-axe.

[Illustration: Yggdrasill, the Mundane Tree of the Scandinavians]




IX.

[Illustration: William extorting a promise from Harold.]

HAROLD, THE SAXON KING.


When Earl Godwin breathed his last, under circumstances so memorable,
his second son, Harold, succeeded to his earldom, and inherited his
influence. A robust and active man, of tall, though not gigantic
stature, with long fair hair, a pleasing countenance, dignified
manners, and popular address--such appears to have been Harold, the
son of Godwin.

It was when Hardicanute died so suddenly, at the marriage feast at
Lambeth, that Harold began to figure in public, and to take a
prominent part in national affairs. At that crisis, Harold was one of
the first to raise a standard against the Danes, and he is even said
to have contributed to the triumph of the Saxon cause, by inviting
many of the Danish chiefs to a banquet, and causing them to be put to
the sword while over their cups. But, whatever truth there may be in
such a story, it seems that Harold shared in the prosperity of the
house of Godwin at the opening of Edward's reign, and that when
Godwin, outlawed and exiled, in 1048 escaped to Bruges, Harold, with
his brother Leofwin, fled to Bristol, and there took shipping for the
Irish coast. When Godwin returned from Bruges, Harold and Leofwin,
coming from Ireland, joined their father at the Isle of Wight, and
took part in that formidable demonstration which startled King Edward
and his Norman courtiers in the halls of Westminster.

After the restoration of Godwin, and the banishment of the Normans,
Harold would seem to have been higher in Edward's favour than any of
his kinsmen; and after the death of Godwin, Harold was quietly put in
possession of the vast earldom south of the Thames which his sire had
so long enjoyed. Both as regarded military reputation and territorial
power he was now foremost among the Anglo-Saxons, and he immensely
increased his fame by the skill he displayed in a war with the
refractory Welsh.

The originator of this war was Algar, son of the great Leofric, who,
becoming discontented, gave his daughter Aldith in marriage to a Welsh
prince named Griffith, and encouraged that crowned Celt to make an
incursion into the English territories. During this inroad the city of
Hereford was sacked and much mischief done; but Harold, on being sent
with an army, speedily put the Welsh to the rout, and forced Griffith
to submit. Untaught, however, by his severe experience of the
superiority of the English, Griffith once more rebelled; and Harold,
marching back to the borders of Wales, caused such terror, that, to
pacify him, the Welsh sacrificed Griffith to save themselves, and
sent the head of the murdered prince to the English camp, on the point
of a spear.

After his victories over the Welsh, Harold returned to London, and
found himself hailed by the multitude as a conqueror. His popularity
was now immense, and wherever he appeared his name was shouted with
enthusiasm.

"Harold! Harold the Earl!" was the cry.

"Since Edward the king has no heirs," was the saying, "no man is so
worthy to succeed to the crown."

While such was the popularity of the son of Godwin, and while all
rivalry with him was so completely out of the question that Algar died
of despair and regret, Harold, with a view of recovering his brother
Wolnoth and his nephew Haco, who had been sent as hostages to Duke
William, and who were still retained at the court of Rouen, proposed
to visit Normandy. On intimating his intention to Edward, however, the
king hesitated to grant permission.

"Your journey," said the king, "will certainly bring some evil on
yourself, and on your country."

"In what way, O king?" asked Harold in amazement.

"I know Duke William and his crafty mind," replied Edward; "he hates
you, and will grant you nothing unless he gain greatly by it. The only
way to obtain the hostages from him were to send some one else."

"I fear it is otherwise," said Harold.

"Well," said Edward, "I will not prevent your going; but, if you do
go, it will be without my consent."

Not much influenced by Edward's warnings, Harold departed for
Normandy. As if going on an excursion for pleasure, he set out,
surrounded by his gay comrades, with his hawks and his hounds.

But a circumstance soon occurred to make him serious. Having sailed
from one of the ports of Sussex, Harold's vessels were driven by
contrary winds towards the mouth of the Somme; and the earl, forced to
land on the territories of Guy, Count of Ponthieu, was seized by that
feudal personage as a captive, despoiled of all his property, and
placed securely under lock and key, in the castle of Beaurain.

One day, when William the Norman was at Rouen, a messenger from Harold
arrived hurriedly and in haste, with intelligence of his captivity.
William expressed high indignation, and demanded extradition of the
Saxon earl with a menace, which was meant to serve for ransom. Guy of
Ponthieu, however, demanded a fine estate and a large sum of money,
and would listen to no proposal less advantageous to himself. William
was, in consequence, obliged to grant what the count demanded; and,
the matter having been arranged, Harold was set free and conducted to
Rouen.

On reaching the Norman capital, Harold met with a reception which soon
effaced the remembrance of his captivity in the stronghold of Count
Guy. At the same time William intimated that the hostages were at
Harold's disposal; but he pressed the earl to remain for a time as his
guest, and see something of the land. Harold, who was bold and
confident, accepted the invitation; and having, with his companions,
been admitted into the Norman order of knighthood, he began to figure
prominently in the festivals and pageants of the Norman court.

While Harold the Saxon was in this position, William the Norman
undertook an expedition against the Bretons. Before setting out, the
martial duke requested Harold's company; and Harold, consenting
without hesitation, went with his Saxon comrades to take part in the
war. During this campaign, William treated Harold with the utmost
consideration; and the Norman duke and the Saxon earl slept in one
tent, ate at the same table, and conducted themselves towards each
other like men on terms of the most intimate friendship.

In this expedition against the Bretons, Harold and his Saxon
companions bore themselves with a courage which excited high
admiration; and, in spite of Edward's prophecy, everything seemed to
go smoothly; when one day, as the duke and the earl rode along, side
by side, enlivening the way with friendly colloquy, William artfully
turned the conversation to his early acquaintance with the King of
England, and suddenly revealed the ambitious project which was
occupying his mind.

"In the days of my youth," said William, turning on his saddle,
playing with his bridle-rein, and looking Harold in the face, "your
king and I lived under the same roof like brothers; and he then
promised that, if ever he came to be King of England, I should be
nominated heir to his crown."

Harold, in perplexed surprise, muttered some words.

"Wherefore, Harold," continued William, "if thou wouldst aid me in
realizing this promise, be sure that, if I obtain the kingdom,
whatever thou askest thou shalt have. What is thine answer?"

"Be it as thou sayest," murmured Harold, taken by surprise, and
finding it impossible to answer otherwise than with some vague words
of compliance.

"Then," added William, growing bolder in his proposals, "since thou
consentest to serve me, thou must engage to fortify the castle of
Dover, to dig there a well of fresh water, and when the time comes, to
deliver up the place to my people. Moreover, to make the bond between
us the stronger, thou must give thy sister Thyra in marriage to one of
my barons; and thou must take to wife my daughter Adeliza. On thy
departure, thou must leave me, as guarantee for thy promise, one of
the two hostages thou hast come to reclaim, and I will restore him to
thee in England when I come there as king."

"I acquiesce in your demands," said Harold, eager to get rid of a
subject which every moment became more embarrassing, and, without
pursuing the conversation further, the duke and the earl rode on side
by side towards Bayeux.

But it soon became apparent that William the Norman was by no means
satisfied with the promise he had wrung from his Saxon guest. No
sooner had the duke reached Bayeux than he prepared to exact a more
solemn and ceremonious pledge; and, having caused such sacred relics
as bones of saints to be brought from the churches, placed in a vessel
in the council hall of the castle, and covered with a rich cloth of
gold, so as to have the appearance of a table, he convoked his barons
and prelates on a certain day, and intimated to Harold that his
presence would be required.

At the hour appointed, baron and bishop crowded to the council hall;
and William, with a sword in his hand and the coronal of Normandy on
his brow, took his seat on the throne, caused two small reliquaries
to be placed on the cloth of gold, and intimated, by a gesture, his
desire that Harold should approach.

"Harold," said the Duke, "I require thee, before this noble assembly,
to confirm, by oath, the promises thou hast made to me--namely, to aid
me to obtain the kingdom of England after the death of King Edward, to
marry my daughter, and to send thy sister, that I may give her to one
of my lords."

"I swear," said Harold, extending his hand over the two reliquaries,
"to execute my promise as far as lies in my power, if I live, and if
God aid me."

"God aid him!" repeated the barons and bishops who stood around.

The ceremony being thus complete, William made a sign; the cloth of
gold was raised; and before Harold's eyes lay bones and entire
skeletons of saints, upon which he had, without suspecting their
presence, so solemnly sworn. With a shudder and a change of
countenance, which did not escape notice, he turned away from the
sight. But the oath which he had sworn appeared to the Normans far too
sacred ever to be broken; and he was allowed to depart for England
with his nephew, the son of Sweyn. William accompanied them to the
seaside, made them valuable presents, and repaired to Rouen, rejoicing
in the thought, that the man most likely to have baffled his
aspirations after the crown of England, was bound, by the most solemn
oath, to aid him to the utmost.

Meanwhile, Harold's ships went tilting over the waters; and, on
reaching England in a mood the reverse of serene, he hastened to
London, presented himself to Edward, and related what had passed
between the duke and himself. The saintly king heard the tidings with
sadness, and expressed himself in words of woe.

"Did I not warn you," he said, after a painful silence, "warn you over
and over again, that I knew Duke William, and that thy journey would
bring evil on thyself and on thy country?"

"It is true," said Harold.

"Heaven grant," continued Edward, "that these evils happen not in my
time!"

And, in truth, there was little danger of Edward living to witness
the troubles in store for the land of his fathers. The king's days
were now "dwindling to the shortest span." Aware that he was hourly
sinking, Edward occupied himself more and more with religious
devotions, and manifested much anxiety for the completion of the Abbey
of Westminster, which, under his auspices, had risen on Thorney Island
in the form of a cross, with a high tower in the centre. Intending to
consecrate this edifice with great splendour at the Christmas of 1065,
Edward summoned all the nobles and clergy to be present. But before
the appointed day he became too weak to leave his chamber.

Edith, the queen, consequently presided at the consecration; and
scarcely was the ceremony over, when Harold became aware that his
royal brother-in-law could not survive many days. In fact, Edward,
stretched on a bed of sickness, and haunted by terrible visions of
fiends wandering over England, was looking, almost with impatience,
for the hour that was to deliver him from the evils to come. Nor was
the patience of the royal saint put to any long or severe trial.

It was Thursday, the 5th of January, 1066, and the king lay in that
chamber of the palace of Westminster long afterwards, when known as
"The Painted Chamber," associated with his memory. Robert Stigand,
Archbishop of Canterbury, with many nobles and prelates, stood by his
couch; for Edward was on the eve of going where the weary are at rest;
and nobles and prelates were, doubtless, anxious to hear his last
will. He was, however, entirely absorbed in melancholy forebodings;
and, as passages of Scripture denouncing woe to nations occurred
involuntarily to his memory, he repeated them with a wild energy which
horrified those who surrounded his couch.

"The Lord has bent his bow," exclaimed the dying king, "the Lord has
prepared his sword; he brandishes it like unto a warrior; his wrath is
manifested in steel and flame."

"The saints defend us!" muttered those present, terrified at the
king's ejaculations.

"Tush!" exclaimed Archbishop Stigand, with a sneer of contempt; "why
tremble ye at the dreams of a sick old man?"

In such a frame of mind, Edward the king breathed his last; and it is
said that, having been asked whom he wished to succeed to his throne,
he named Harold, son of Godwin. But whether or not such was the case,
Harold was elected on the day after Edward's funeral, and allowed
himself to be crowned at once, in violation of his oath to William the
Norman, and in defiance of the claims of Edgar Atheling, grandson of
Edmund Ironsides, and heir of the Saxon kings. In order to bind the
chiefs of the House of Leofric to his interest, and to render his
throne more secure, Harold espoused Aldith, daughter of Earl Algar,
and widow of that Griffith whose head the Welsh had sent to him on the
point of a spear.

Nevertheless, the position of Harold was encompassed with danger, and
the minds of his subjects were filled with gloom and apprehension. As
men reflected on the dying words of Edward the king, they recalled to
mind old prophecies which increased their alarm. One of these
predicted such calamities as the Saxons had never experienced since
they left the Elbe; and another, which was more to the point,
predicted the conquest of England by a people from France. While vague
terrors preyed upon England, the appearance of a comet daunted all
hearts, and was regarded, as it seemed to come, as a herald of woe.

"Thou hast then returned," said a monk of the period; "thou hast
returned at length, thou who wilt cause so many mothers to weep! Many
times have I seen thee shine; but thou lookest to me more terrible now
that thou announcest the ruin of my country."

[Illustration]




X.

DUKE WILLIAM AND HIS DIFFICULTIES.


It was early one day, about the opening of the year 1066, and the
ground was hard with frost, when William the Norman left the palace of
Rouen, and crossed the Seine to test some new arrows in the park of
Rouvray. While the duke was occupied in stringing that mighty bow
which, save himself, no man then living could bend, a messenger from
England reached him with tidings of such import, that his colour
changed, and his lip quivered with emotion. It was to the effect that
Edward the Confessor was dead, and that Harold, son of Godwin, had
seized the English crown.

Giving his bow to an attendant, William walked to the margin of the
Seine, stepped into his barge, and, without speaking, indicated by a
gesture his wish to return to Rouen. On reaching the castle, he
entered the great hall, and paced up and down with a restless and
excited step, "often," say the chronicles, "changing posture and
attitude, and oft loosening and tightening the strings of his mantle."
Such, indeed, seemed his agitation, that no member of his household
ventured for some time to ask the cause.

Meantime, rumours of the intelligence brought by the messenger from
England began to creep about, and a Norman noble, probably William
Fitzosborne, the duke's seneschal, and the proudest of Norman
magnates, presented himself to learn the actual state of affairs.
Fitzosborne, who was Count of Breteuil, and destined one day to higher
rank, had such a reputation for _hauteur_ that he was surnamed "The
Proud Spirit." Without any of that hesitation exhibited by others, he
approached William the Norman, and inquired the cause of his emotion.

"My lord," said he, "pray communicate your news. It is bruited about
that the King of England is dead, and that Harold, breaking faith with
you, has usurped the crown."

"They say truly who so report," answered the duke; "and my grief is
touching the death of Edward, and my anger is touching the wrong done
me by Harold."

"Sir," said Fitzosborne, "chafe not at what may be amended. For
Edward's death, it is true, there is no remedy; but there is a remedy
for the injury done you by Harold. Yours is the right, and you have
stout warriors. Strike with courage: the work is already half done."

Genius, however, is generally patient; and William was too crafty to
spoil his game by indiscreet haste. He went cautiously and gradually
to work; and not till he had twice, in courteous phrase, required
Harold to fulfil the treaty so solemnly concluded, did he threaten the
Saxon with invasion and punishment. Then, however, he cast hesitation
to the winds, and resolved on inflicting a signal chastisement. "I
doubt not," he said, "of finding that man a feeble foe, who has proved
so faithless a friend."

In the meantime negotiations were vigorously commenced at Rome, and
Harold was charged before the pontifical court with perjury and
sacrilege. The Saxon king was summoned to defend himself, and
endeavoured to escape by refusing to acknowledge the jurisdiction of
the court. But this did not serve his purpose. The conclave assembled
at the Lateran, under the inspiration of the famous Hildebrand,
decided that William should enter England, and bring that kingdom back
to the Holy See; and a papal bull, directed against Harold and his
adherents, was presented to William, along with a consecrated banner,
an agnus of gold, and a ring which contained a hair of St. Peter, set
in a diamond of great price.

A council of high Norman nobles was now convened at Rouen; and
William, addressing his friends, demanded counsel and aid. There was
no difference of opinion. All were ready to take part with their duke
in the invasion of England, and each man present delighted his soul
with visions of rich manors on the Thames or the Mersey. However, they
advised him to consult the general feeling of the community; and,
accordingly, the merchants and traders of Normandy, as well as the
lords and knights, were summoned to confer with the duke.

Lillebonne was the place appointed for this memorable assembly, and
thither came all the wealthiest and most important subjects of
Normandy. William, after opening his heart to them, explained his
views and craved pecuniary aid, and they then withdrew to deliberate
in freedom. The result was not quite satisfactory. The Normans were
greatly divided in opinion. Some were anxious to aid the duke with men
and money; but others positively objected, declaring that they had
already more debts than they could pay.

It was now that William Fitzosborne did better service than a hundred
knights could have rendered to his liege lord. Raising his voice above
the tumult, he exerted that eloquence for which the Norman nobles were
so remarkable.

"Why this confusion and discord?" asked Fitzosborne. "Why dispute thus
among ourselves? The duke hath need of us, and he is our lord----"

"William is our lord; but we owe him no aid beyond the seas,"
interrupted the assembly.

"It is our duty to make offers of aid, rather than to wait his
requests," continued Fitzosborne. "He hath need of us now; and if we
fail him, and he gains his end, he will remember it to our
disadvantage. Let us, then, prove by our acts that we love him, and
let us entitle ourselves to his gratitude."

"Doubtless, William is our lord," cried the Normans; "but is it not
enough for us to pay him his dues? We owe him no aid beyond the seas.
He hath already oppressed us enough with his wars; let him fail in
this new enterprise, and our country is undone."

"Well," said Fitzosborne, changing his plan, "let us return to the
duke; and I, as knowing the position of each man present, will take
upon me to excuse the limited offers of the assembly."

"So be it," was the answer; and the Normans, with Fitzosborne at their
head, returned to Duke William's presence.

"Sire," said Fitzosborne, addressing William, "I do not believe that
there are in the whole world people more zealous than yours. You know
the aids they have given you--the onerous services they have rendered.
Well, sire, they will do more. They offer to serve you beyond the seas
as they have done here."

"No, no!" cried the Normans, "we did not charge you with such an
answer."

"For my own part," continued Fitzosborne, "I will, out of love to you,
give sixty well-appointed ships, each charged with fifty fighting men.
Forward, then, and spare us in nothing! He who hath hitherto only
supplied you with two good mounted soldiers will now supply four."

"We did not say that," cried the Normans, "and it shall not be so. In
things within his own country, we will serve the duke, as is due; but
we are not bound to assist him to conquer another man's country.
Besides, if once we rendered double service, and followed him across
the sea, he would make it a right and a custom for the future; he
would burden our children with it."

"It shall not be--it cannot be!" shouted the assembled Normans
vociferously; and, after forming themselves into groups of ten,
twenty, and thirty, they declaimed tumultuously, and then separated.

William was enraged beyond measure--the blood of Rolfganger boiled in
his veins--and the spirit of Robert the Devil flashed from his eyes.
Nevertheless, by such an effort as only such a man is capable of, he
exercised sufficient command over himself to control his temper, bow
his pride, and resort to artifice. Summoning separately the men with
whom in a body he had failed, he requested the support of each as a
personal favour. This plan of proceeding proved completely successful.
No Norman, when alone with the duke, and under the influence of his
eloquence and his eye, had the courage to refuse; and every one of
those who had shouted "It cannot be!" consented to give to the full
extent of his means.

With the papal bull in his hands, and promises of aid from his
subjects, carefully registered when they had been made, William
summoned the Normans to the consecrated banner, and published his ban
in the neighbouring countries, with promises of pay and pillage. Both
Normans and foreigners answered his call. From all directions martial
adventurers crowded to his standard. The papal bull and the promises
of plunder did their work. From France and Flanders; from Maine, and
Aquitaine, and Brittany, and from Anjou, ruled by the ancestors of
the Plantagenets--from the Alps, and from the banks of the
Rhine--multitudes crowded, with sword and cross-bow, to range
themselves under the consecrated banner, and to aid in the conquest
and share in the plunder of England.

[Illustration]




XI.

[Illustration: Tostig's parting speech to his brother Harold.]

TOSTIG, SON OF GODWIN.


In the spring of 1066, when the crown of Edward the Confessor was
placed on the head of Harold the Saxon; and when the news of the
coronation, carried to Rouen, kindled the ire of William the Norman,
there was living in Flanders, musing over the past, watching events
with a keen eye, an English exile, who was Harold's brother and his
sworn foe. This exile was Tostig, the third son of Godwin and Githa.

When the riot between the townsmen of Dover and the train of Eustace
of Boulogne resulted in the dispersion of the family of Godwin,
Tostig, then in the pride of early manhood, accompanying his father to
Flanders, wedded Judith, daughter of Count Baldwin, and sister of
Matilda, whom William the Norman, after vanquishing so many obstacles,
received as his bride. This high alliance would seem to have rendered
Tostig's pride intolerable; and he returned to England with ridiculous
notions of his hereditary claims, and absurd ideas of his personal
importance. It was a period, however, when the members of Godwin's
house were encouraged to conduct themselves as if England had existed
solely for their advantage; and when Siward died, leaving one son too
young to succeed to his authority, Tostig claimed and received the
earldom of Northumberland.

Accustomed to the sway of such chiefs as Uchtred and Siward, the men
of the north were not perhaps particularly pleased with their new
earl. But whether or not, Tostig soon gave them cause to be
discontented. Cruel and tyrannical in his notions, he appeared at York
with the tax-gatherer on one hand, and the executioner on the other,
and treated the Northumbrians as if he had been a conqueror, and they
had been the inhabitants of a conquered province. Brooking no
restraint, he violated old customs and laws, levied enormous imposts,
and violently put to death those who refused to submit to his
exactions. Gamel, the son of Orm, and Ulf, the son of Dolphin, are
mentioned as among the thanes of high rank whom, with fell treachery,
he allured to the castle of York, and caused to be put to death, under
his own roof, and in his own chamber.

Of all people, the Northumbrians were the least likely to tolerate
such tyranny. Meeting at Gamelburn, Dunstan, son of Agelnoth, and
Gloricern, son of Eadulf, with two hundred soldiers, raised the
standard of insurrection; and, under the command of their native
chiefs, the men of the north sprang to arms to avenge their
slaughtered countrymen and fight for their ancient liberties. Marching
to York, Dunstan and Gloricern prepared to seize the tyrant in his
castle.

Tostig was in the capital of the north, when he suddenly became aware
that armed men were approaching with hostile intent. Unprepared for
resistance, and shrinking from the peril he had defied, the son of
Godwin resolved to fly; and, escaping with some of the chief ministers
of his violence and injustice, he left his officers and servants to
contend with the men whom he had exasperated. The Northumbrians,
taking possession of York, seized the arsenal and treasury, and,
assembling a council, formally deposed Tostig, and elected Morkar,
one of the sons of Algar, and one of the grandsons of Leofric and
Godiva, in his stead.

When news of the tumult in Northumberland, and of the expulsion of
Tostig, reached the Confessor's court, Harold mustered an army and
marched northward to deal with the insurgents. This, however, he soon
found would be no easy operation. The Northumbrians met him at Oxford,
and in such a way as convinced him of the expediency of listening to
their complaints. A conference was consequently held, and Harold
endeavoured to exculpate his brother and to soften the Northumbrians.

"If," said Harold, "you will receive Tostig again as your earl, I
promise that he will govern with equity, and according to law."

"No!" cried the Northumbrians with one voice, and with that Danish
burr which their descendants have inherited; "we were born free; we
were brought up free; and a haughty ruler we cannot abide. We have
been taught by our ancestors to live free or to die. We have said.
Bear thou our answer to Edward the king."

Harold could not dispute the justice of the complaints of the
Northumbrians. Without delay he went to explain their grievances to
the king; and Edward sent him back to give the royal sanction to
Tostig's deposition, and to the election of Morkar, the grandson of
Leofric.

Henceforth, it was not so much against the Northumbrians as against
Harold that Tostig's wrath burned fiercely; and when the brothers soon
after met at Windsor, at Edward's board, a scene was enacted which
made the blood of the saintly king run cold. Harold, it appears,
pledged Edward in a cup of wine; and Tostig, exclaiming that such
familiarity with the king was unseemly, pulled Harold by the hair of
his head. A scuffle immediately ensued, and but for the presence of
the king would have ended in bloodshed.

"It is notorious," said Edward, raising his hands in holy horror,
"that all the sons of Godwin are so transcendently wicked, that if
they see any house which they covet, they will murder the owner in the
night-time, and destroy his children, to get possession. Verily, they
will one day destroy each other."

After this outrageous scene at Windsor, Harold and Tostig were at
deadly feud; and when Harold, somewhat later, was on his way to
Hereford with the king, Tostig, going thither and entering his
brother's house, attacked the servants, who were preparing a great
feast. Killing the unoffending men, and severing the heads and hewing
the limbs from the bodies, he put the corpses into the winecasks, and
then, riding forth as if to meet the king and his party, he hinted at
the brutal enormity he had perpetrated.

"Harold," he said, as he turned away, "you will find the meat for your
feast well powdered."

And, as Tostig spoke these words, the brothers parted, not to meet
again till that day when they met face to face as foes, each with a
weapon in his hand and an army at his back.

After the massacre at Hereford, Tostig, with revenge gnawing at his
heart, and threats on his lips, sailed from England and repaired to
the court of Flanders. For a time he remained brooding in silence over
his wrongs, and watching his opportunity. No sooner, however, did he
receive intelligence of Edward's death and Harold's coronation, than
he sprang to action, and cried that the time for vengeance had
arrived. Mounting in haste, he made his way without delay to Normandy,
and urged Duke William, his brother-in-law, to lose no time in hurling
Harold from the throne.

"Be not so impatient, brave Tostig," said William.

"Why," asked Tostig, excitedly, "should a perjurer be allowed to reign
in peace? Have not I more credit and power in England? Yea, and I can
assure possession of the country to any one who will unite with me to
make the conquest."

But William was not the man to be imposed upon by vain boasts; and
Tostig was somewhat mortified at the reception with which his
proposals were met. Willing, however, to test the banished Saxon's
influence, the duke furnished him with some ships to make a descent.
But Tostig, instead of sailing for England, sailed to the Baltic
trusting to secure the aid of his uncle, Sweyn, King of Denmark. This
attempt, however, failed. Sweyn gave Tostig a harsh refusal; and the
nephew, leaving his uncle in discontent, but still breathing threats
of revenge against his brother, made for Norway, where a king reigned
more likely than Sweyn to take part in a bold adventure, and better
qualified to conduct a bold adventure to a triumphant conclusion.




XII.

[Illustration: Hardrada's deliverance from his eastern dungeon.]

HAROLD HARDRADA.


When Tostig's ships came to anchor, and when Tostig, landing at
Drontheim, presented himself at the rude palace of the old kings of
Norway, the crown of that northern realm was worn by the last of those
heroes who called the ocean their home and the tempest their servant.
This was Harold Hardrada, a warrior of high renown, who had fought
countless battles on the sea as well as on the land, who had probably
seen more of the world than any man then living, and who, in every
respect, looked worthy of the fame he had won. His height exceeded
seven feet; and, though the hands and feet appeared somewhat large,
the whole person was fairly proportioned. He had a short beard, a long
moustache, and fair hair falling over his shoulders. His aspect was,
on the whole, pleasing, and would always have been so but for the
circumstance of one eyebrow being somewhat higher than the other, and
giving a sinister expression to his face when he frowned.

Hardrada was son of Sigurd and brother of Olaf--that King of Norway
who established Christianity in his kingdom by the strong hand.
Hardrada, however, appears to have been more of a sea-king than a
saint.

At an early age, Hardrada fought by the side of Olaf in the sanguinary
battle of Stiklestad. The elder brother fell, but the younger escaped,
after his body had been covered with wounds, and his blood freely
poured out. Taking to the forest, he was received into the cottage of
a woodman, and there lay concealed till his wounds were healed and his
spirits revived.

Restored to health and hope, Hardrada left his lurking-place, and
turned his face eastward. Faring forth with a brave band of comrades
on a career of adventure, he set foot, after many romantic wanderings,
on the banks of the Bosphorus, and, halting with his comrades at
Constantinople, took service, as a varing, in the bodyguard then
maintained by the Emperor of the East.

The varings were of high account at the Imperial Court. Generally
Danes, Swedes, or Germans, they exhibited the courage characteristic
of Northmen, and wore their hair long, after the fashion of their
native countries. Armed with huge axes, which they were in the habit
of carrying on their shoulders, they stood as guards at the door of
the emperor's chamber, and paraded his capital, imposing respect and
awe.

Among the varings, Hardrada, though the brother of a king, did not
disdain to enrol himself and his comrades. But his wild and free
spirit could ill brook the necessary subordination, and, after some
quarrel with a Greek commander, he repaired to Africa. Fighting there
with the Saracens, and despoiling them of gold and jewels, he became
celebrated and rich. Turning to Sicily, he increased his fame and his
wealth; and then, as if to consecrate his deeds of violence, he made
an armed pilgrimage to Jerusalem, not yet visited by Peter the Hermit;
and, sweeping Moslem and marauder from his path, ascended Mount
Calvary, and knelt at the Holy Sepulchre.

From Jerusalem Hardrada returned to Constantinople, and there became
enamoured of Maria, a niece of the Empress Zoe, while he himself
became dear to the heart of the empress. The predicament was
perplexing, and might have baffled the ingenuity of another man. But
Hardrada was equal to the occasion, and freed himself by a romantic
elopement from the snares by which he was surrounded.

It appears that Olaf, the brother of Hardrada, though deemed worthy of
canonization, had been somewhat general in his attentions to the fair
sex; and, among other consequences of his amours, was an illegitimate
son, named Magnus. In the absence of Hardrada, Magnus contrived to win
the sovereignty of Norway from the heir of Canute; and no sooner did
Hardrada hear of his nephew's elevation than he determined to assert
his own superior claim.

But Hardrada had scarcely intimated his intention of returning to
Norway, when he found there was a lioness in the way. Eager to detain
the varing who had won her heart, the empress caused him to be charged
with some irregularity, and imprisoned. Hardrada was accordingly
incarcerated. But a Greek lady, incited by a dream, resolved to
attempt his deliverance, and lowered ropes from the roof of a tower to
the dungeon in which he lay. Escaping in this way, Hardrada hastily
roused his varings, proceeded to the palace of Maria, niece of the
empress, bore off the princess in his strong arms to the quay,
embarked with her in his galley, and gave his sails to the wind.

At length, Hardrada, with the bride and the wealth he had won, set his
foot on the shores of Norway, and, raising an army, made an effort to
grasp the crown. Magnus, however, proved a formidable adversary; and
Hardrada, perceiving the difficulty of a complete triumph, made a
compromise, and agreed to share the kingdom with his nephew.

On the death of Magnus, however, Hardrada became king of all Norway.
Such he was, and highly considered among European sovereigns on
account of his experience, his prowess, and his wealth, when Tostig,
with the proposals which had been coldly treated in Normandy and
scornfully repelled in Denmark, reached Drontheim, appeared at the log
palace, and approached him with honeyed words. "The world knows well,"
said the banished son of Godwin, "that there lives no warrior worthy
to be compared to thee. Thou hast only to will it, and England will be
thine."

Hardrada was neither insensible to such flattery, nor proof against
such a temptation. Allowing himself to be persuaded, he promised to
put to sea whenever the ice should melt and the ocean become
navigable, and commenced preparations for the grand expedition.

Tostig, however, was much too impatient to await the convenience of
his Norwegian ally. With his own fleet he set out to prepare the way,
and, with a band of men recruited in Flanders, Holland, and Friesland,
he made a descent on the northern coast of England. But the
inhabitants, roused at the news of villages pillaged, and granges
burned, rose in such numbers that he was compelled to make for
Scotland, and, anchoring off the Orkney Islands, he waited till the
winds should blow the Norwegian ships to his aid.

Hardrada, meanwhile, fitted out several hundred ships of war; and the
Norwegians, encamped on their coast, waited the signal to embark.
Their enthusiasm was not excessive. Vague presentiments of evil
pervaded their ranks, and the sleep of many of the warriors was broken
by ill-omened visions. One dreamed that, the fleet having put to sea,
flocks of vultures perched on the masts and sails; and that a woman,
sword in hand, sitting on a rock, cried to the birds with a loud
voice, "Go without fear; you shall have enough to eat and to choose
from, for I go with them." Another dreamed that he saw his comrades
land in England, and encounter an English army, in front of which was
a woman of gigantic stature, riding on a wolf, and giving it human
bodies to devour.

The imaginations of the Norwegian warriors were disagreeably
influenced by these presages; and more threatening than either of the
dreams appeared an incident that occurred as the Norwegian king, with
his son Olaf, and his war-steed black as a raven, and his banner, "The
Ravager of the World," embarked. As Hardrada set foot in the royal
barge, the weight of his body pressed the boat so much down in the
water, as to cause general apprehension. But, undismayed, Hardrada set
sail, touched at the Orcades, and joined his fleet with that of
Tostig, who was all impatience for carnage and revenge.




XIII.

[Illustration: Door of Westminster Abbey.]

THE ALARM IN ENGLAND.


It was the summer of 1066, and William the Norman was gathering
continental warriors to his standard, and Harold Hardrada was manning
his lofty war-ships with grim Norwegians, and Harold the Saxon king
was applying his energies with diligence and care to the difficulties
of his position, when the people of England were seized with alarm at
the prospect of an invasion.

From the day of Harold's coronation at Westminster, he devoted himself
ably and vigorously to his regal duties. Never, indeed, had English
monarch shown himself more considerate for the people's feelings, or
more ardent for their welfare. The new reign was marked by a complete
return to the national customs, by a diminution of the taxes
previously levied, and by a more decided impartiality in the
administration of justice. By all means in his power Harold
endeavoured to render his reign popular. "Ever active for the good of
his country," says the chronicler, "he spared himself no fatigue by
land or by sea."

Notwithstanding his vigour and energy, clouds soon began to gather
around the Saxon king. In the midst of his efforts to keep together a
decaying empire, Harold was disagreeably interrupted by the arrival of
a messenger from Duke William to claim fulfilment of the promise made
at Bayeux.

"William Duke of Normandy," said the messenger, "reminds thee of the
oath which thou didst swear to him upon good and holy relics."

"It is true that I swore such an oath to Duke William," replied
Harold, "but I swore it under compulsion. I promised that which did
not belong to me, and which I could not perform. My royalty is not
mine, nor can I divest myself of it without consent of the country. As
for my sister Thyra, whom the duke claims, to marry her to one of the
chiefs, she died this year. Would he have me send her body?"

The Norman with this answer departed, and hastened to Duke William.
But, with as little delay as possible, he was sent back, and appeared
at Westminster with a new message, couched in terms of gentle
remonstrance.

"Duke William," said the messenger, "entreats you, if you will not
abide by all the conditions, at least to execute one of them, and
take, as wife, his daughter Adeliza, whom you promised to marry."

"I could not marry," said Harold, "without the country's consent; and
besides," he added, "it is now impossible for me to wed the daughter
of Duke William, since I have already wedded another woman."

"Is this thine answer?" asked the Norman.

"It is," replied Harold.

"Then," said the Norman, "Duke William swears that, within the year,
he will come and demand the whole of his debt, and pursue you, as
perjurer, to the very places where you think you have the surest and
firmest footing."

Rumours of William's projects crept about England, and the country was
soon in serious apprehension. The appearance of the comet, coming, it
was believed, as a harbinger of woe, added to the general alarm; and
while thousands nightly went out to gaze at "the blazing star,"
merchant and pilgrim carried to castle and cottage intelligence of the
formidable preparations making by Duke William for the subjugation of
England.

In the midst of the alarm which prevailed, Harold at first displayed a
vigilance worthy of the crisis. All summer, and far into autumn, he
remained steadily at his post, guarding the southern coast. Even when
news of Tostig's ravages came, he did not leave London, but left the
chastisement of his brother to the Northumbrians and their earl.

But events baffled Harold's plans. When summer passed and autumn came
without an invasion, men, wise in their own conceit, began to ridicule
the idea of the peril being imminent; and Harold, not uninfluenced by
the general impression that William would not attempt to land before
winter, allowed his army to disband, and the fleet to run short of
provisions.

Such was the position of affairs, when news reached London that
Hardrada, in company with Tostig, had landed in the North, defeated
the Northumbrians in a sharp battle, and taken measures for forcing
York to yield.

No sooner did Harold become aware of the new danger than he roused
himself to action. Convincing himself, perhaps reluctantly, that the
peril which he left behind was not extreme, the Saxon king hastily
drew his men together, and prepared to crush the host of grim
Norwegians. Turning his face northward, Harold pushed on, by forced
marches, to York, and succeeded in reaching the capital of the North
on the very evening before Hardrada and Tostig anticipated placing on
its walls "The Ravager of the World."




XIV.

[Illustration: The Norwegian Champion at Stamford Bridge.]

THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE.


The month of September, 1066, was drawing towards its close, and so
far all had prospered with Tostig and his Norwegian ally. After
burning Scarborough, they had sailed up the Humber, advanced towards
York, fought a tough battle, and placed themselves in such a position
before the capital of the North, that the citizens recognised the
necessity of yielding. Indeed, they had agreed to open the gates on
the morning of the 25th, and on that morning Tostig and Hardrada--who
had broken up their lines, and encamped on the river Derwent, at
Stamford Bridge, seven miles from York--were to march in triumph into
the city, and hold a grand council to regulate the affairs of the
province.

It was a Monday; and early in the morning, Hardrada and Tostig,
leaving part of their army encamped on the other side of the Derwent,
rode side by side towards York, accompanied by some thousands of their
soldiers. The weather being warm--for it was "one of those autumnal
days in which the sun is still in all its vigour"--and no resistance
being anticipated, the Norwegians laid aside their coats of mail, and
dispensed with all defensive armour except helmets and bucklers. When
approaching York, however, they suddenly perceived clouds of dust,
and, through the clouds, steel glittering in the sun.

"Who are these men?" asked Hardrada, in surprise.

"They must be Northumbrians," answered Tostig, "coming either to crave
friendship or to ask pardon."

The Norwegians, however, had not advanced many paces, when Tostig was
disagreeably undeceived. The approaching mass grew more distinct, and
the sun revealed an army in battle order.

"It is King Harold," said Tostig, scarce mustering voice sufficient to
speak the words.

"Ride!" said Hardrada, turning to three of his horsemen--"ride! and,
with all haste, bring our warriors from the camp."

The horsemen darted off with the speed of the wind; and Hardrada,
unfurling "The Ravager of the World," on the folds of which a vast
raven was depicted, ranged his men round the banner in a long, narrow
line, curved at the extremities. Pressing against each other, with
their spears planted in the ground, and the points turned against the
foe, the Norwegians stood ready for conflict; and their king, mounted
on his coal-black steed, his helmet glittering with gold, rode along
the line, singing, as was his wont on such occasions, extempore
verses, to excite the valour of his men.

"Let us fight," he sang, "though without our cuirasses; let us forward
to the edge of blue steel. Our helmets shine in the sun. For brave men
that is enough."

While Hardrada thus sang, about twenty mounted warriors--horses and
riders clad in steel--dashed out from the Saxon ranks. Approaching the
Norwegian lines, they suddenly halted, and intimated their wish to
hold a parley.

"Where," cried one of them, "is Tostig, the son of Godwin?"

"Here," answered Tostig, spurring forward his steed.

"If thou art Tostig," said the Saxon, "thy brother greets thee by me,
and offers thee peace, with his friendship, and thine ancient
honours."

"These are fine words," said Tostig, bitterly; "but if I accept your
offers, what shall be given to the noble King Hardrada, son of Sigurd,
my faithful ally?"

"He," replied the Saxon, "shall have seven feet of English land, or a
little more, for his height exceeds that of other men."

"Then," said Tostig, "go back and say to my brother that he may
prepare to fight; for none but liars will ever say that the son of
Godwin deserted the son of Sigurd."

The parley ended; and the Saxon warriors rode back to their host. The
Norwegians and Saxons then closed in the shock of war, and the
conflict immediately became fierce and sanguinary. But, from the
first, the invaders had the worst of the encounter. With their huge
battle-axes, wielded with both hands, the Saxons rushed furiously on
their foes, cleaving down all opposition, and breaking the first rank
of the Norwegians. Hardrada, pierced with an arrow, fell in the heat
of the strife; and, as his gigantic form disappeared from the black
steed, the banner he had brought from Norway was trampled in the dust
and captured by the foe.

No sooner did Hardrada fall than Tostig took command of the
Norwegians, and prepared to continue the strife. Harold, however,
paused in his assault, and sent once more to offer peace. But the
Norwegians would not listen to terms.

"We will rather die," said they, "than owe our lives to those who have
killed our king."

On receiving this answer, the Saxon king led on his men to the attack,
and fearful was the carnage that ensued. In vain did bands of the
Norwegians, roused in their camp by Hardrada's riders, hurry up to the
aid of their fast-falling comrades. Fatigued with their hasty march
under a burning sun, they fell in heaps before the axes of their foes.
Ere long, the struggle ceased: Tostig lay dead on the ground, and
around him the Norwegian chiefs who had followed their king to
minister to his vengeance.

But, meanwhile, the Norwegians who had not passed the Derwent drew
together to make a desperate defence; and the Saxons advanced to
consummate their victory. This, however, proved no easy achievement.
In fact, the strength and resolution of one man long kept the Saxons
at bay.

At that time the Derwent was crossed by a wooden bridge. Long and
furiously was this bridge contested; and when the Norwegians, yielding
to overwhelming press of numbers, retreated, one warrior, of tall
stature and mighty strength, remained to defy, single-handed, the
might of his foes. Armed with a battle-axe, which few men could have
wielded, he struck down every one who ventured within his reach; and,
when forty men had fallen by his hand, the boldest Saxons recoiled in
dismay from a foe who appeared armed with supernatural power.

But at length the Norwegian was taken unawares. Perceiving the
certainty of death in attempting an encounter hand to hand, one of the
Saxons seized a long spear, leaped into a boat, and floated quietly
under the bridge. Availing himself of a favourable opportunity, the
Saxon dexterously thrust his spear through the planks right into the
Norwegian's body; and the huge champion, without even seeing his new
adversary, fell mortally wounded. Harold then became master of the
bridge, and led his soldiers to the Norwegian camp.

Nothing that could be called resistance was now attempted. The
Norwegians had given way to despair; and when Harold, for the third
time, sent to offer peace, the proposal was gladly accepted.
Accordingly, a treaty was hastily concluded; and after Olaf, son of
Hardrada, had sworn friendship to the Saxon king, the Norwegians took
to their ships, and, with sad hearts, set sail for their northern
homes.

The victory at Stamford Bridge placed much booty, and a considerable
quantity of gold, in the hands of the Saxons. All this Harold, as
king, claimed as his own; and deep was the discontent which the
avarice, or economy, of the son of Godwin, on this occasion, created
in the ranks of the victorious army. Many of the Anglo-Saxon chiefs
took mortal offence, and ridiculed the idea of serving a king who had
not sufficient generosity to share the spoil of a vanquished enemy
with those by whom the enemy had been vanquished.

The discontent of the Anglo-Saxons was at its height, when Harold
suddenly became aware that he was in no position to lose friends and
adherents. The breezes in which his banners waved at Stamford Bridge
had filled the sails, and impelled to the English shores, the fleet of
an invader more formidable than the adventurous Hardrada. While Harold
the Saxon was wrangling with his earls and thanes in the city of York,
William the Norman had landed with his counts and vavasors, on the
coast of Sussex.

Alarm now appeared on the face of every Saxon, and confusion added to
the discontent that pervaded Harold's ranks. But no time was to be
lost. Without even taking time to bury the slain, the Saxon king
turned his face southward. For many years after, the bones of the
slaughtered Norwegians whitened the scene of the battle of Stamford
Bridge; and, so late as the nineteenth century, swords, heads of
halberds, and horseshoes, have often been turned up, and excited
interest, as memorials of the day on which the great Hardrada was
overthrown, and the "Ravager of the World" trampled in the dust.

[Illustration]




XV.

PHILIP OF FRANCE.


While Duke William was preparing for the invasion of England, and the
nobles of Normandy were mustering their fighting men, and adventurous
warriors were flocking from all quarters, with eager anticipation, to
take part in the daring enterprise, he bethought him of repairing to
the court of France, with the object of enlisting the sympathies, and
securing the support, of the French king.

Philip, the son of Henry, and great-grandson of Hugh Capet, was then a
boy of fourteen, and reigning under the guardianship of Baldwin, Count
of Flanders. He was residing at St. Germain when William appeared to
ask his aid and salute him with a degree of feudal deference seldom
shown by the Dukes of Normandy to the Capetian kings.

"You are my seigneur," said William, addressing the young king; "and
if it please you to aid me, and I, by God's grace, obtain my rights
over England, I promise to do you homage for it, as though I held it
from you."

"Well," answered Philip, "I will assemble my council of barons; for,
without their advice, I cannot decide an affair so important."

A council was accordingly called, and the expediency of assisting
William was discussed; but the French barons, one and all, pronounced
strongly against rendering any aid.

"You know," said they to the king, "how ill the Normans obey you now."

"True," said Philip.

"It will be worse if they possess England," said the barons. "Besides,
it would cost us a great deal to assist Duke William; and, if he fail
in his enterprise, the English will be our enemies for ever."

The council, having determined on giving William no aid, rose; and
Philip, repairing to the Norman duke, communicated the decision.

"My barons," said he, "are of opinion that they ought not, in any way,
to aid you in the conquest of England."

"Are they?" exclaimed William, much disappointed. "Then, by the
splendour of God! I will show them that I can conquer England without
their help."

"But," asked the boy-king, with a sneer, "who will take care of your
duchy while you are grasping at a crown?"

"My duchy," answered William, fiercely, "shall not trouble my
neighbours. I have a spouse of prudence, who can take charge of my
duchy, and could take charge of much more, if it were necessary."

And King Philip parted with his great subject, whom he was never
henceforth to think of but as a formidable foe.

[Illustration]




XVI.

[Illustration: The good ship Moira, William of Normandy, owner]

THE NORMAN ARMAMENT.


All through the summer of 1066, while England was ringing with alarm,
Normandy was resounding with preparations; armourers were busy forging
weapons and coats of mail; shipwrights were occupied with the
construction of vessels; and men were continually employed carrying
arms from workshop to port. Everything, meantime, seemed to favour
William's project of conquest; and he fixed on a day about the middle
of August as the time for his departure.

The mouth of the Dive was appointed as the rendezvous; and there, in
good time, William's mighty armament was ready for the enterprise.
Sixty thousand men came to the Norman standard; and the fleet
consisted of four hundred ships and a thousand other vessels, great
and small. For a month, however, the winds, proving adverse, detained
the fleet in port. An Anglo-Saxon was caught making observations,
taken into custody, and carried before William.

"You are a spy," said the duke.

The man, with William's terrible eye upon him, could not muster
courage to deny the charge.

"Nevertheless," said the duke, "you shall see everything; though
Harold need not trouble himself to ascertain my force; for he shall
both see and feel it, ere the year has run its course."

At length a southern breeze sprang up, and the Normans set sail. But
they soon found the impossibility of proceeding on their voyage.
Carried as far as the roadstead of St. Valery, at the mouth of the
Somme, they were under the necessity of landing and submitting to a
further delay.

William's patience was now severely tried. The weather was stormy;
rain fell in torrents; some ships, shattered by the tempest, sank with
their crews; and the men began to lose heart. The fearful difficulties
that beset the enterprise forced themselves on every mind; and while
conversing with each other under their tents, dripping with water,
they talked of the ships that had been lost, and exaggerated the
number of the bodies cast ashore.

"The man is mad who thus seeks to seize the land of another," said
some of the soldiers.

"And, doubtless," suggested others, "God is offended with such
designs, and proves it by refusing us a favourable wind."

Not unaware that such conversations were held, William became uneasy
and restless. He plied the men with strong drink to stimulate their
courage, and was frequently observed to enter the church of St.
Valery, to remain long in prayer, and to gaze anxiously, as he left
the building, at the weathercock that ornamented the belfry.

On Tuesday, the 26th of September, while William was occupied with
somewhat sad thoughts, a brilliant idea crossed his brain, and filled
his heart with hope. Either prompted by sincere faith, or by a desire
to dissipate the gloom that hung over his mighty host, he caused a
coffer containing the bones of St. Valery to be taken from the church
and solemnly carried through the camp. The duke made rich offerings;
every soldier gave his mite; and the adventurers in a body joined in
prayer. This ceremony had the effect of calming superstitious fears;
and when next morning dawned, it seemed as if their prayers had been
answered and a miracle wrought; for the weather was fine, and the wind
was favourable.

No time was now lost. At daybreak the sleepers were roused from their
repose; orders for immediate embarcation were given; the soldiers,
cheered by the change of weather, joyfully hastened on board; and the
mariners made ready to haul up their anchors and spread their sails.

William's own ship--a gift of Matilda the duchess--was named the
Moira, commanded by a skipper of skill, known as Stephen, the son of
Gerard, and ornamented by a figure-head representing William Rufus,
then a little boy, with a bent bow in his hands. On the sails of
divers colours were painted the arms of Normandy, and at the masthead
flew the consecrated banner sent to William by the pope. Large
lanterns, fixed on poles, were intended to serve as a rallying-point
for the whole fleet.

After much bustle and exertion, everything was in readiness for
sailing; and, William having embarked, the Moira, followed by fourteen
hundred vessels, great and small, made for the open sea, while a cheer
rose from sixty thousand tongues. The voyage was, on the whole,
prosperous. But the Moira, sailing much more swiftly than the other
ships, outstripped them during the day, and at night left them far
behind. In the morning William found to his dismay that his friends
were not to be seen.

"Go to the masthead," said the duke, addressing Stephen; and the
skipper obeyed.

"I see only sky and sea," said the skipper.

"Never mind," said William, affecting a gay countenance; "cast anchor
till they come in sight."

At the same time, to keep away fear and anxiety, he ordered a copious
repast, with spiced wines; and, this having been disposed of, he
caused the skipper again to go aloft.

"What do you see now?" asked William.

"Four vessels," answered the skipper.

"Look again," said William.

"Ah!" cried the skipper, "I see a forest of masts and sails."

"Our fleet!" exclaimed William, joyfully; and ere long, the fourteen
hundred vessels having come up, the Moira was once more at their head,
and gallantly leading the way to the coast of Sussex.

On that September day, the Norman fleet, without encountering the
slightest opposition, sailed into the Bay of Pevensey, and cast anchor
hard by that ancient castle, whose foundations were then washed by the
waves, though the sea is now a mile distant from its stately ruins.
The process of disembarking the troops was immediately commenced.
First landed the archers, clad in short coats, with their bows in
their hands; then the horsemen, in steel helmets and coats of mail,
with long lances and double-edged swords; and then the armourers,
smiths, carpenters, and pioneers. Everything was done in perfect
order, and with a degree of precision which must have pleased
William's eye.

The duke was the last to land; and, as he did so, a slight accident
occurred, which some were inclined to regard as a presage of evil, but
to which, with his wonted tact, he contrived to give an interpretation
highly favourable to the fortunes of their enterprise. When his foot
touched the shore, he slipped and fell on his face, and a murmur
instantly arose.

"God preserve us!" exclaimed some in horror.

"This is a bad sign," cried others.

"Lords, what is it you say?" exclaimed William, rising with a spring.
"Why are you amazed? See you not that I have taken seizin of this land
with my hands, and all that it contains is our own?"

It is said that after landing, William ordered the ships forming his
fleet to be burned, that the Normans, seeing all hope of retreat cut
off, might be induced to fight the more desperately; and then he
marched towards Hastings.

On a broad plain, between Pevensey and Hastings, the Normans pitched
their camp. Having erected two wooden castles, brought with them to
serve as receptacles for provisions during the campaign, or as places
of refuge in case of disaster, they sent out bodies of troops to
overrun the neighbourhood. The inhabitants, terrified at the approach
of foes whom they were utterly unprepared to meet, fled from their
dwellings to the churches; and the country seemed to lie so open,
that many of the invaders indulged in the anticipation of taking
possession without resistance.

Far otherwise, however, was it ordered. In fact, the Anglo-Saxons were
rising from the Thames to the Tweed; and William soon received warning
from one of the Normans settled in England not to trust to
appearances.

"Be upon your guard," was the message, "for in four days the son of
Godwin will be at the head of a hundred thousand men."

The warning was well meant, but somewhat unnecessary. William was not
the man to be taken by surprise, as Hardrada had been. His camp was
carefully guarded; and his outposts, extending to a great distance,
kept watch night and day with unceasing vigilance. At length, on the
morning of Friday, the 13th of October, horsemen galloped into the
camp in such haste, that they had scarcely breath sufficient to
communicate their intelligence.

"With what tidings come you?" asked the Normans eagerly.

"With tidings," answered the horsemen, "that the Saxon king is
advancing furiously."

[Illustration: Harold has news of William's landing.]




XVII.

HAROLD'S HOST.


As Harold, after his victory over the Norwegians, left York to hasten
to London, he summoned the men of the provinces through which he
passed to arm in defence of their country. The Anglo-Saxons obeyed the
summons with the utmost possible celerity, and bands of armed men were
soon on their way to the capital. But Harold's conduct ruined all.
With a rashness of which even Tostig would hardly, under such
circumstances, have been guilty, he resolved to venture on a battle
before the great Anglo-Saxon nobles and their fighting-men came up;
and, accompanied by his brothers, Gurth and Leofwine, he left the
capital at the head of an army composed mainly of Kentishmen and
Londoners, utterly inferior both in numbers and discipline to the
force arrayed under the banner of his potent foe.

Elate with the success of his arms at Stamford Bridge, and probably
deluding himself with the idea that he could conquer William as he had
conquered Hardrada, Harold marched with fierce rapidity till he was
within seven miles of the Norman camp. But convinced, at that stage,
of the impossibility of coming on William unawares, he changed his
tactics, halted near the village then known as Epiton, took possession
of some hilly ground, and fortified his position with ditches,
palisades, ramparts of slates, and willow hurdles. Thus strongly
intrenched, he resolved to stand on the defensive.

Meanwhile, some spies, sent to make observations on the hostile army,
and bring intelligence of the disposition and force of the Normans,
returned to the camp, and gave their report.

"There are more priests," said the spies, "in Duke William's camp,
than there are fighting men on the English side."

"Ah," said Harold, with a smile, "you have mistaken warriors for
priests, because the Normans shave their beards, and wear their hair
short. Those whom you saw in such numbers are not priests, but brave
soldiers, who will soon show us what they are worth."

"It seems to us," said some of the Saxon chiefs, on whom the report of
the spies, doubtless, was not without effect, "that we should act
prudently in avoiding a battle for the present, and retreating towards
London, ravaging the country as we go, and thus starving out the
foreigners."

"I cannot ravage the country which has been committed to my care,"
answered Harold. "By my faith, that were indeed treason; and I prefer
taking the chances of battle with my courage, my good cause, and the
few men I have."

But ere long the Saxon chiefs had reason to doubt the goodness of
Harold's cause. While this conversation as to the expediency of a
retreat was taking place, a monk from William arrived with a message
for Harold, and found his way to the presence of the Saxon king.

"William, Duke of Normandy," said the monk, addressing Harold,
"requires thee to do one of three things: either to surrender to him,
the crown of England; or to submit your quarrel to the arbitration of
the pope; or to refer its decision to the chances of a single combat."

"And my answer," said Harold, briefly, "is, that I will not resign the
crown; I will not refer the matter to the pope; and a single combat I
will not fight."

"Then," said the monk, solemnly, "Duke William denounces thee as
perjurer and liar; and all who support thee are excommunicated. The
papal bull is in the Norman tent."

The mention of excommunication produced an instantaneous effect on the
Saxon chiefs, and they looked at each other like men suddenly seized
with superstitious terror.

"This is a business of great danger," they murmured.

"Whatever the danger may be, we ought to fight," said a thane; "for
here is not a question of receiving a new lord as if our king were
dead; the matter in hand is very different. William of Normandy has
given our lands to his barons and his people, most of whom have
already rendered him homage for them. They come not only to ruin us,
but to ruin our descendants also, and to take from us the country of
our ancestors."

"It is true," cried the Saxons, recovering their courage. "Let us
neither make peace, truce, nor treaty with the invader."

"Let us swear," cried all, "to drive out the Normans, or die in the
attempt."

An oath was accordingly taken by the Saxon chiefs. But when their
enthusiasm evaporated, the thought of fighting for national existence
under the auspices of a man branded as "perjurer and liar" troubled
every conscience. Even Harold's brothers could not conceal their
uneasiness, and Gurth frankly and honestly expressed his sentiments.

"Harold," said Gurth, "let me persuade you not to be present in the
battle, but to return to London and seek fresh reinforcements, while
we sustain the Norman's attack."

"And why?" asked Harold.

"Thou canst not deny," replied Gurth, "that, whether on compulsion or
willingly, thou hast sworn an oath to Duke William upon the relics of
saints. Why risk a combat with a perjury against thee? For us, who
have taken no oath, the war is just: we defend our country. Leave us,
then, to fight the battle. If we retreat, thou canst aid us; if we
fall, thou canst avenge us."

"My duty," said Harold, "forbids me to remain apart while others risk
their lives."

The night of Friday, the 13th of October, had now come, and by the
Saxons little doubt was entertained that the Norman duke would attack
them on the morrow. Nor was their anticipation incorrect. Indeed,
William had intimated to his army that next day would be a day of
battle; and, while the Norman warriors prepared their arms, Norman
monks and priests prayed, and chanted litanies, and confessed the
soldiers, and administered the sacrament.

The Saxons passed the night in a far different and much less devout
manner. It seems that the 14th of October was the day of Harold's
nativity, and that the Saxons, eager to celebrate such an occasion, or
hailing it as a fair excuse for carousing, dedicated the night to
joviality. Around their fires wine and ale flowed in abundance, and
men, grouped in large circles, sang national ballads, and filled and
emptied horns and flagons with a reckless indifference to the
probability that next morning their ideas would be confused and their
nerves disordered.

And thus, almost face to face with the Normans, and soon to be hand to
hand, the Saxons, under King Harold's standard, beheld the break of
that day on which, against fearful odds, they were to fight a battle
for the sovereignty of England.

[Illustration: Battle Abbey, Hastings.]




XVIII.

[Illustration: The Norman prelates blessing the troops.]

THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.


On the morning of Saturday, the 14th of October, 1066, the day of St.
Calixtus, William the Norman rose from his couch, and prepared to tear
the crown of Edward the Confessor from the head of Harold, son of
Godwin.

Before forming into battle order, the Normans went through an
impressive religious ceremony. Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and Geoffrey,
Bishop of Coutance, celebrated mass, and solemnly blessed the troops;
and then Odo, who was warrior as well as prelate, and wore a hauberk
under his rochet, mounted his tall white charger, and, with a baton of
command in his hand, aided to marshal the cavalry.

The Norman army was ranged in three divisions. In the first were the
men of Boulogne, Ponthieu, and most of the continental adventurers,
whom the prospect of pay and plunder had brought to the invading
standard; in the second appeared the auxiliaries from Brittany, Maine,
and Poitou; while the third was composed of the high Norman chivalry,
and comprised hundreds of knights and nobles, whose names were
afterwards registered in the roll of Battle Abbey, and whose
descendants ranked among the mediæval magnates of England. Gallantly
they mounted--Fitzosborne and Warren, Gourney and Grantmesnil, Percy
and Peverill, Montgomery and Mortimer, Merley and Montfichet, Bruce,
Bigod, and Bohun, De Vere, De Vesci, De Clare, De La Val, and De
Roos--completely covered with linked mail, armed with lances and
swords, and with crosses or dragons and wolves painted on their
shields.

But, while warriors were mounting, the proudest and grandest of these
barons attracted little attention. It was on the chief of that mighty
host that all eyes were turned--on the martial duke, under whose
auspices was now to be fought one of the greatest battles of the
world--a battle the result of which has ever since exercised no
unimportant influence on the destinies of the human race.

William was now in his forty-third year, and time had left its traces
behind. But, bald as he was, and worn with the cares of four decades,
the Norman duke had all the vigour, energy, and martial enthusiasm of
youth. Never, perhaps, had he appeared more worthy of his high
fortunes than when, with some of the relics on which Harold had sworn,
around his neck, he stood in view of the great army of which he was
the soul.

This display having served its purpose, William hastened to complete
the process of arming; and his squires, while handing him his hauberk,
in their haste presented him with the backpiece first.

"This is an evil omen," said the lords around.

"Tush!" exclaimed William, laughing their fears to scorn. "Methinks it
is rather a good omen: it betokens that the last shall be first--that
the duke will be a king."

Having completely armed himself, with the exception of his helmet,
William intrusted his standard to Tonstain le Blanc, a young warrior,
and sprang upon his magnificent Spanish charger, which the King of
Castile had sent him as a gift. Thus armed, and thus mounted, with the
consecrated standard waving over his head, he raised his voice to
address his soldiers ere they marched upon the foe.

"Normans and warriors," said the duke, "you are now about to encounter
your enemies. Fight your best, and spare not. What I gain, you gain;
if I conquer, you conquer; if I take the land, you will share it. We
shall all be rich. Know, however, that I came here not merely to take
that which is my due, but to revenge our whole nation for the felon
acts, perjuries, and treasons of these Saxons. In the night of St.
Brice they put to death the Danes, both men and women. Afterwards they
decimated the companions of my kinsman, Alfred, and put him to death.
On then, in God's name, and chastise them for all their misdeeds!"

As William concluded his address, the Norman priests and monks retired
to a neighbouring hill to pray for victory; and the Norman warriors,
with a shout of "Dieu aide!" began their march to the Saxon camp. In a
short time they came in sight of the place where Harold and his men,
all on foot around their standard, and strongly posted, stood ready,
with their huge axes, to fight to the death.

While such was the position of the hostile armies, a Norman minstrel,
named Taillefer, rendered himself prominently conspicuous. Giving the
spur to his horse, he rode out in front of the Norman array, and, in a
loud voice, raised the song of Charlemagne and Roland, then so famous
throughout Christendom. As he proceeded, he played with his sword,
tossing the weapon far into the air, and then catching it in his right
hand with wondrous dexterity; while the warriors behind vociferously
repeated the burthen of his song, and loudly shouted, "Dieu aide!"

When the Normans approached the Saxon intrenchments, their archers
began the conflict by letting fly a shower of arrows, and the
crossbowmen discharged their bolts. But neither arrows nor bolts did
much execution. In fact, most of the shots were rendered useless by
the high parapets of the Saxon redoubts, and the archers and bowmen
found, with dismay, that their efforts were in vain.

But the infantry, armed with spears, and the cavalry, with their long
lances, now advanced, and charging the gates of the redoubts,
endeavoured to force an entrance. The Saxons, however, forming a solid
mass, encountered their assailants with courage, and swinging with
both hands their heavy axes, broke lances into shivers, and cut
through coats of mail.

It was in vain that the Normans forming the first division of
William's army perseveringly endeavoured to tear up the stakes and
penetrate the redoubts. Foiled and dispirited, archers and bowmen,
infantry and cavalry, fell back on that column where the duke, in
person, commanded.

But William was not to be baffled. Spurring his Spanish charger in
among the archers, he ordered them to shoot, not straightforward, but
into the air, so that their arrows might fall into the enemy's camp.

"See you not," said the duke, "that your shafts fall harmless against
the parapets? Shoot in the air. Let your arrows fall as if from the
heavens."

The archers then, advancing in a body, profited by William's
suggestion; and so successful proved the manoeuvre, that many of the
Saxons, and, among others, King Harold, were wounded in the face.

In the meantime, the Norman horse and foot renewed the attack with
shouts of "Notre Dame!" "Dieu aide!" and an impetuosity which seemed
to promise success. But if the attack was fierce, the resistance was
stubborn. Notwithstanding the execution done by arrows and bolts, and
their frightful wounds, Harold and his men fought with mighty courage.
Driven back from one of the gates to a deep ravine, which was
concealed by brushwood and long grass, the Normans found their
situation deplorable. Horses and men rolled over each other into the
ravine, perishing miserably; and, when William's Spanish charger was
killed under him, and the great war-chief for a moment disappeared,
alarm seized the invaders.

"The duke is slain!" was the cry; and the Normans, giving way to
panic, commenced a retreat.

"No!" exclaimed William, in a voice of thunder, as he disentangled
himself from his fallen steed; "I am here. Look at me. I still live,
and, with God's help, I will conquer."

And taking off his helmet that he might be the more readily
recognised, William threw himself before the fugitives, and
threatening some, striking others with his lance, he barred their
passage, and ordered the cavalry to return to the attack. But every
effort to force the redoubts proved fruitless; still the charge of the
Normans was broken on the wall of shields; and, in spite of the
fearful odds against them, the Saxons still held gallantly out.

It was now that William determined on a stratagem to lure the Saxons
from their intrenchments, and ordered a thousand horse to advance to
the redoubts and then retire. His command was skilfully obeyed; and
when the Saxons saw their enemies fly as if beaten, they lost the
coolness they had hitherto exhibited, and, with their axes hanging
from their necks, rushed furiously forth in pursuit.

But brief indeed was their imaginary triumph. Suddenly the Normans
halted, faced about, and being joined by another body of cavalry, that
had watched the manoeuvre, turned fiercely upon the pursuers with
sword and lance, and quickly put them to the rout.

Evening was now approaching; and William, availing himself of the
confusion and disorder which the success of his stratagem had created
among the Saxons, once more assailed the redoubts, and this time with
success. In rushed horse and foot, hewing down all who opposed them.
In vain the Saxons struggled desperately, overthrowing cavalry and
infantry, and continued the combat hand to hand and foot to foot.
Their numbers rapidly diminished; and at length the king and his two
brothers were left almost without aid to defend the standard.

No hope now remained for the Saxons, and soon all was over. Harold,
previously wounded in the eye, fell to rise no more. Leofwine shared
his brother's fate and died by his side; and Gurth, courageously
facing the foe, maintained a contest single-handed against a host of
knightly adversaries. But William, pushing forward, mace in hand,
struck the Saxon hero a blow of irresistible violence, and Gurth fell
on the mangled corpses of his kinsmen and countrymen.

Ere this the sun had set, and still the conflict was continued; and
the Saxons, vain as were their efforts, maintained an irregular
struggle till darkness rendered it impossible to know friend from foe,
except by the difference of language. The vanquished islanders then
fled in the direction of London. But when the moon rose, the victors
fiercely urged the pursuit. The Norman cavalry, flushed with triumph,
granted no quarter. Thousands of Saxons, dispersed and despairing,
fell by the weapons of pursuers, and thousands more died on the roads
of wounds and fatigue.

Meanwhile, William ordered the consecrated standard to be set up where
that of the Saxons had fallen, and, pitching his tent on the field of
battle, passed that October night almost within hearing of the groans
of the dying.

[Illustration]




XIX.

THE BODY OF HAROLD.


No sooner did Sunday morning dawn than William, having first evinced
his gratitude to Heaven for the victory gained, applied himself to
ascertain the extent of his loss. Having vowed to erect on the field
of battle an abbey, to be dedicated to St. Martin, the patron saint of
the warriors of Gaul, the Conqueror drew up his troops, and called
over the names of all who had crossed the sea, from a list made at St.
Valery.

While this roll was being called over, many of the wives and mothers
of the Saxons who had armed in the neighbourhood of Hastings to fight
for King Harold appeared on the field to search for and bury the
bodies of their husbands and sons. William immediately caused the
corpses of the men who had fallen on his side to be buried, and gave
the Saxons leave to do the same for their countrymen.

[Illustration]

For some time, however, no one had the courage to mention the
propriety of giving Christian burial to the Saxon king; and the body
of Harold lay on the field without being claimed or sought for. At
length Githa, the widow of Godwin, sent to ask the Conqueror's
permission to render the last honours to her son, but William sternly
refused.

"The mother," said the messengers, "would even give the weight of the
body in gold."

"Nevertheless," said William, "the man, false to his word and to his
religion, shall have no other sepulchre than the sands of the shore."

William, however, relented. It happened that Harold had founded and
enriched the abbey of Waltham, and that the abbot felt himself in duty
bound to obtain Christian burial for such a benefactor. Accordingly he
deputed Osgod and Ailrik, two Saxon monks, to demand permission to
transfer the body of Harold to their church; and the Conqueror granted
the permission they asked.

But Osgod and Ailrik found their mission somewhat difficult to fulfil.
So disfigured, in fact, were most of the dead with wounds and bruises,
that one could hardly be known from another. In vain the monks sought
among the mass of slain, stripped as they were of armour and clothing.
The monks of Waltham could not recognise the corpse of him whom they
sought, and, in their difficulty, they resolved to invoke female aid.

At that time there was living, probably in retirement, a Saxon woman
known as Edith the Fair. This woman, who was remarkable for her
beauty, and especially for the gracefulness of her neck, which
chroniclers have compared to the swan's, had, before Harold's
coronation and his marriage with Aldith, been entertained by him as a
mistress; and, on being applied to, she consented to assist the monks
in their search. Better acquainted than they were with the features of
the man she had loved, Edith was successful in discovering the corpse.

The body of Harold having thus--thanks to the zeal and exertions of
the monks--been found, was, with those of his brothers, Gurth and
Leofwine, placed at the disposal of their mother, the widowed Githa.
With her consent they were buried in the abbey of Waltham. The
Conqueror sent William Mallet, one of his knights, to see the corpse
honourably interred; and at the east end of the choir, in a tomb long
pointed out as that containing the remains of the Saxon king, were
inscribed the words--

                          "HAROLD INFELIX."

"But here," says Sir Richard Baker, "Giraldus Cambrensis tells a
strange story, that Harold was not slain in the battle, but only
wounded and lost his left eye, and then escaped by flight to Chester,
where he afterwards led a holy anchorite's life in the cell of St.
James, fast by St. John's Church."




XX.

[Illustration]

THE CONQUEROR AND THE KENTISHMEN.


After his victory at Hastings, William remained for some time on the
field, waiting for the men of the country to appear at his camp and
make their submission. Finding, however, that nobody came, he marched
along the sea coast, took Dover, and then advanced by the great Roman
road towards London.

While passing through Kent, the conquerors, for a time, pursued their
way without interruption. Suddenly, however, at a place where the
road, approaching the Thames, ran through a forest, they found their
passage disputed by a large body of Kentishmen. Each man carried in
his hand a green bough, and at a distance they presented the
appearance of a wood in motion.

"This," said the Normans, crossing themselves, "is magic--the work of
Satan."

On drawing near, however, the Kentishmen threw the green boughs to the
ground, raised their banner, and drew their swords; and William, aware
that the men of Kent were not foes to be despised, asked with what
intent they came against him in such a fashion.

"We come," cried the men of Kent, "to fight for our liberty, and for
the laws we have enjoyed under King Edward."

"Well," answered William, whose object it now was, if possible, to
conciliate, "ye shall have your ancient customs and your laws which ye
demand, so that ye acknowledge me king of England."

The Kentishmen, on hearing this, consented to lay down their arms,
having concluded a treaty by which they agreed to offer no further
resistance, on condition that they should be as free as they had
before been. William sent forward five hundred horsemen towards
London; and learning that the citizens wer

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