Hardrada was almost a giant in size, being said to measure over seven feet, and to be strong in proportion. His armour was richly ornamented with gold and jewels. His gilded head-piece had no visor in front to hide his features, and his abundant, bright red hair, from which he took his name, flowed down his shoulders in a mass of ripples, instead of being worn in braids like those of numbers of his followers. At his saddle-bow was slung a huge battle-ax, which few arms but his could wield. From his belt hung a long, straight sword, in a jewelled sheath. His broad, round, gorgeously decorated shield was thrown overhis shoulder. In his hand was a long spear, not unlike the lances which were carried by the men-at-arms of France and Normandy.
"Isn't he magnificent!" exclaimed Ned. "Hurrah! I have seen the greatest of the Vikings, Lars! The Saxons will find him a hard man to meet. Who is that other man at his side? He is almost as splendid as the king."
"That must be Tostig the Earl," said Lars. "They said he was away with his ships, but he hath come to talk with Hardrada. He is a brother of Harold Godwinson, the King of the Saxons. Men say he is a good fighter, but not so good as his brother. What a match it would be between the two Harolds of Norway and England!"
"That's so!" said Ned. "Or between Tostig the Earl and Sikend the Berserker."
"No man on earth is a match for Sikend," said Lars. "He beareth a charmed life. There are witches and wizards among hispeople. They read the old runes on the tombstones. They boil snakes and lizards and evil roots, to make charms with, and salve ointments for hurts. Some of them can make a sword-cut close up and heal over, but I think I would not be smeared with any witch grease."
"Salve is a good thing for a cut," said Ned. "It's good for a burn, too. You can find out the right thing from the advertisements. I don't remember any liniment, though, that they said was made of snake-fat. They couldn't get snakes enough, I guess, unless they raised them themselves."
The reviewing party of great men, headed by the king and the earl, halted as it reached the head of the column, with which Vebba's men were posted. Its captain had not yet left it, and the king may have known him by sight, for he at once beckoned him forward.
With him rode out Lars, Father Brian, and, by their direction, Ned, the son of Webb.
"Speak," said Hardrada to the warrior. "What word hast thou for me?"
"It is not mine," he replied. "O king, Lars, the son of Vebba, will deliver unto thee the greeting from his father."
"Let it be brief," said the king. "Time passeth."
"O Harold the King," spoke Lars, freely and boldly, "my father bade me greet thee with this, that all swordsmen are ready. They march this day to join thee. The last of the provision ships lifteth her anchor at sunset. He himself cometh with the miners and the mountain men."
"It is well," said Hardrada. "I know the value of thy father. Who is the youth with thee? O priest, hold thou thy peace!"
"That will I not," responded Father Brian, sturdily. "I have first this word for thee that came by sea. Haste, thou and thine, or William the Norman will reach England before thee. This do I speak for thy good, ifthou art able to take friendly advice, like a man of sense."
"Thou art late with thy warning," grimly responded the king. "Well did I know that matter, already. Nevertheless, I will freely hear it from thee. Thou hast spoken loyally. And now I would know concerning the youth that is with the son of Vebba."
It had come to pass, by the way, as they rode hitherward, that Ned, the son of Webb, had given to the missionary the Latin charter name of the American city that he came from, and from it a somewhat crooked understanding had arisen, for Eboricum is nothing but York, whether new or old. Therefore his reverend friend at once replied for him:
"He is Ned, the son of Webb, the chief, or it might be he is somewhat of a jarl. He is an Angle, and he cometh from York. And a fine boy he is, if I say it myself."
The next remark came promptly from Tostig the Earl.
"O Harold the King, my friend, did I not tell thee of my many faithful adherents in my earldom of Northumberland and in mine own city of York? He is welcome. He shall sail with us, and we shall be joined by many more as soon as our standards are seen at the Humber. I pray thee, for the present, let him remain with Vebba, his friend."
"It is well," said the king. "What sayest thou, Ned, the son of Webb?"
"O king," said Ned, hoping that he was bowing correctly, although he nearly pitched out of the saddle in doing it, "I will do as Tostig the Earl hath said. Lars and I are chums. I would give much to see Sikend the Berserker in a battle. I would like to see thee fight also, O King Hardrada, or Tostig the Earl."
Loudly laughed the red-haired king, and as loudly roared Tostig and other of the great warriors.
"Well spoken!" shouted Hardrada. "Thou shalt have thy will in that matter."
"O Hardrada the King," interposed Vebba's captain, "I will say this for him, that he is the best sword, for his age, that I ever saw, and he catcheth a flying spear like an old fighter."
"I like him well," said Tostig. "So let him show the Northmen of what sort are my men of Northumberland. It is a good thing that he hath done, to even flee from York to join us as we sail."
No more was said, and the royal party rode slowly on along the lines.
"I'm out of that scrape, tip-top," said Ned to himself, as he and his friends wheeled back to their post at the head of the Viking column. "But what explanation can I give if we ever get to old York? It beats me all hollow."
At that moment the old Viking at his side said to him:
"I go, now, to the shore. Thou hast a strong friend in Tostig the Earl. I am glad to know this much more concerning thee and thine. We were questioning much in our minds as to how we might deal with thee, and some said it were well to take off thy head. It is ever wise to make sure of all comrades who march with us, for at times there have been false companions."
Ned was silent, for he was not pleased with the suggestion concerning his head, and the warrior rode away.
A few hours later, Vebba arrived with another force of his men, and he expressed great gratification upon learning that he would now be under no necessity for giving an account of his young friend.
"Aha!" he exclaimed. "The youth appertaineth to Tostig the Earl, and he biddeth him to remain with me. He is the son of a Saxon under-jarl. I am glad to be upon better terms with Tostig."
Therefore it was duly settled in the minds of all men, and Ned was acknowledged as being the right sort of youth to associate with Vikings of good degree. The review having been finished, the army had scattered to its camps. Vebba's men had been assigned an open space a little north of the town, and to this his first detachment had marched. Their first duty was to prepare all things for further arrivals, and this work began, of course, with the kindling of camp-fires. Fuel enough had been provided, and Ned at once discovered something that was new to him. The making of a fire was an affair of toil and trouble. He saw his comrades carefully splitting splinters and hunting for handfuls of dry grass.
"That's all right," he thought, "but just look at that fellow hammering out sparks with his flint and steel. It'll take him all night! Why doesn't he go for an old newspaper and some matches?"
The mailed stoker did nothing of the kind, and his sparks fell vainly upon his insufficient tinder.
"That's it!" exclaimed Ned. "What a stupid I am! There isn't a box of matches in all the world! I guess I'll show them a point they don't know. I've a whole box of lighters in my pocket.—Now! I won't let one of them see just what I am doing. It's a good joke."
The would-be fire maker was getting disgusted with his bad success, and he was standing erect at the moment when Ned stooped and put something into the little heap of pine splinters. Nobody had seen him scratch his match upon a stone, and, in a moment more, all eyes turned curiously to stare at the sudden blaze which sprang up so brightly as the resinous fuel kindled.
"It is the work of the young Saxon of Tostig the Earl!" one of them said.
"Ay!" remarked another. "He hath rareskill with a flint. Who ever saw such fire making? He hath been well taught."
He was thenceforth to be admired and valued, for one who could kindle camp-fires readily was a welcome comrade in a campaign. Ned also learned from their talk that in a Norway dwelling great care was always taken to keep fire from day to day, the whole year round. If the fire of one household should at any time be extinguished, it was better to send elsewhere and bring to it a torch, from even a considerable distance, than to toil over the creation of a brand new blaze with flint and steel.
"It only cost me one match," thought Ned. "I'll be stingy about burning the rest. They may last me clean through the conquest of England, if I'm careful. Old newspapers are the right thing to start fires with, though, and I can't even get an old school-book to tear up."
Tents there were none for Vebba's men, butthe night was clear and warm, and the supposed favourite of Tostig, the great Earl, slept like a top in his first bivouac as a soldier in the army of Hardrada the Sea King.
THE KEELS OF THE NORTHLAND.
"Howwe shall be crowded!" exclaimed Ned, the son of Webb. "Who ever supposed that the Vikings had ships that would carry so many passengers? Some of them, too, are loaded with horses."
It was about noon of the day after the great review of Hardrada's army, and Ned was standing upon the high prow of theSerpent, the two-masted war-ship which was to transport Vebba's men and others to the coast of England. He knew that Tostig the Earl had hurried away in a swift vessel, the previous evening, to rejoin his own squadron at Bruges, and he remarked:
"I'm glad he went. I couldn't guess what to say if he were to corner me and ask questions."
Everything here was going forward in good order, for Hardrada was an experienced seaman, and so were his officers. They knew thoroughly well how to manage an embarkation of troops, and therefore there was no confusion. The gathered warriors marched to the shore and were embarked rapidly, thousand after thousand. It might be an exaggeration, but Ned had obtained an idea that the three hundred ships of the king, sailing from this and other ports, when joined by those of Tostig, would be carrying over thirty thousand men. It was also expected that upon landing they would be reinforced by as many more of the disaffected Saxons who were ready to rebel against the hard rule of Harold, the son of Godwin, who was not descended from the English royal line.
"He is all the better for that," thoughtNed. "I like him. He was elected, like one of our presidents. They swore him in, too."
He had to confess, nevertheless, that the appearance of things was bad for the English king,—or president. Harold was to be, indeed, the last ruler of England chosen by regular election, like an American.
All of the ships were regarded as war-ships, and none of them had been constructed for ease, elegance, or the passenger business. Each of them had more or less cabin room for men of high degree and importance, but the rank and file, as Ned called them, would, obviously, have to camp out wherever they might find deck room to lie down on. It was quite a comfort to Ned to find that Lars and he were to have bunks under the after deck.
"It will be a good deal better," he said, "if there should come a rainy night."
The weather now was pleasant, and ship after ship was made ready and sailed away. All the while, the blowing of horns and theshouting were tremendous, and every harper in the fleet seemed to be twanging the best he knew how. There were many flags and streamers, and Ned saw several banners which bore the black picture of a raven. He was staring around him in all directions, and theSerpentwas swiftly gliding out of the harbour, when a hearty voice at his side declared:
"My boy, I am glad to be with thee on the same ship. I'll tell thee one thing. We are on a doubtful errand. Whichever side wins, I am intending to stay in England. There are plenty of heathen there to convert, and I'll not be in Norway another winter. It's a cold place in snow time. Even the sea freezes hard, and the wolves come howling into the towns at night, and a man's nose getteth frost-bitten if he weareth it out-of-doors. They have fine winters often in England."
"They are not so long, either," said Ned. "I'd rather be there, myself. How manydays dost thou give for this voyage of ours?"
"That dependeth upon the wind," said Father Brian, "and how much will come, I don't know. These heathen pirates have been praying for good blasts to all the old idols they can think of. They don't seem to know the name of one saint among them. It's not so in Ireland. I am glad I was born in a civilised land, among Christians. I am told that Duke William of Normandy can speak Latin. He is an exceedingly religious man. He is in favour of teaching, too, but not one man in a thousand of his own army can read the best parchment I can put before him."
Ned had already begun to find his Latin speech improving with the constant exercise of it forced upon him by Father Brian. Day by day, also, he could make better use of Erica's Norwegian, for he was continually picking up new words. Nevertheless, he wasall the while wondering what he was to do among Saxons to keep up the impression that he was one of them. It was almost a relief, therefore, when, shortly, the zealous missionary began to grumble concerning the babel of tongues and dialects in the British Islands.
"It is all sorts," he said. "Where we are to land, they are mostly Angles and Danes and one kind of Saxons. Besides them, there are Jutes, Frisians, West Saxons, South Saxons, East Saxons, Scot Saxons, and no man knoweth what else, not to speak of the Gaels and the Welsh and the Cornishmen. It is not at all the same in Ireland, my boy, where all speak the same tongue, except at the north of it and at the south and in the middle. I can do nothing with a Briton, or a Gael, or a Manxman, or with one of those long-legged Kernes from the West and the centre, that speak no tongue at all but a kind of jabber that everybody else hath forgotten, long ago."
From his further account it appeared that all the countries and islands of those regions were divided among many tribes, clans, and languages. Each leading language was split up into local dialects which differed much in the speaking.
"That's it!" thought Ned. "I can get along well enough, where it's an every-day matter for one fellow not to understand another of the same kind. They'll pay it no attention."
That night was a warm one, and the fleet sailed along comfortably before a fair wind. So it did during the next day, and the next. The swarm of keels kept pretty well together, and Ned, the son of Webb, of York in Northumberland, the young friend of Tostig the Earl, wondered more and more at the size, the swiftness, and the good handling of those strangely modelled war-ships. Sailing down the North Sea appeared, thus far, as a very agreeable summer excursion, except for thecrowded condition of theSerpent. That, however, was only a temporary inconvenience, which everybody had calculated upon beforehand, and the men endured it with general good humour.
Altogether different became the tone of public feeling, so to call it, when a gale swept down from the north, lashing the sea into foaming surges. The ships of the Vikings were constructed to stand against stormy weather, but all the sails had to be taken in. Then, for the first time, Ned, the son of Webb, began to appreciate the thole-pins and the great oars. To each of the latter, long-handled, broad-bladed, two, or even three, strong men were ordered. On the high deck at the stern stood an officer, shouting loudly in a hoarse cadence like a song, and stamping time with his feet, that all the rowers might pull together. At regular intervals the oarsmen were changed, so that all on board, except men of high rank, might take turns atthis hard and disagreeable work. Even such celebrated warriors as Sikend the Berserker were called upon to do their share. Ned, himself, was half afraid that he might be given an oar, and he may have escaped quite as much on account of his age and size as by reason of his supposed aristocracy.
Harder and harder blew the wind as the sun went down, and the most important consolation was that it was all the while driving them toward England. The night which followed was full of discomfort. In the morning the rain-drenched and weary Vikings were grumbling all over the ship. It was as if King Harold Hardrada and Tostig the Earl were to be held responsible for not having provided better weather and smoother water.
"A fine lot of men they are," scornfully remarked Father Brian. "Look at them! Who would have expected to see so many of them seasick at once? I was never like that, any time."
An hour or so later, Ned saw his reverence leaning dolefully over a bulwark between two dripping war-shields, with all the roses gone from his cheeks.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "What did I eat, to-day? It's not the motion of the ship I care for. She's a bad one to pitch and roll, anyhow. They build better ships than this in Ireland."
The great fleet had been increased from day to day, as it was joined by squadrons from other ports. It was necessarily scattered far and wide by this rough weather. When, at last, land was seen to the westward, word was passed rapidly around, by swift rowboats, that all should draw well together, and make for the wide bay, known as the Humber, for there the landing was to be made. All disaffection among the overcrowded Vikings instantly disappeared, as the good news spread among them, and there was an immediate cleaning of all weapons and armour.
Ned himself felt better, for several reasons.
"I've not been so very seasick," he said to himself, "but I'd like to eat something cooked. I'm tired of chewing dried fish and raw ham. The water is bad, too, and I won't drink any beer. There's one thing, though; there isn't any smoking or tobacco chewing among these fellows. There isn't a pipe, nor a cigar, nor a Virginia plug, in the whole fleet. No cigarettes. They can't get any, yet, but they will, some day."
The headlands at the mouth of the Humber were very near now. The King of England had no forts there, nor had he stationed any forces to oppose the landing of an enemy. The fact was, as Ned had learned from Father Brian, that the Saxons did very little stone-work building, whether of castles or churches.
"That's one thing they'll have to learn after they're conquered," said the good missionary. "The ignorant savages! But it'll be a queer lot of teaching that'll be going onamong them now, with Tostig and Hardrada for teachers."
Ned was all the more of that opinion after he heard Sikend the Berserker blessing Thor and Woden for getting him across the sea, and for the chances he was soon to have for murdering Saxons.
"I know what he means by the Valkyrias and the ravens," said Ned to Father Brian, "but what is it he was saying about being afraid of a cow's death?"
"These Norse heathen," replied the priest, "have a notion that it's a burning shame for any man to die decently in his bed. He'd rather be murdered, any day. May he have his own will in that matter, say I! Most likely he will not be disappointed, this trip, and there will be more than one funeral the day they put him under,—the wild beast!"
At that moment, truly, Sikend was hardly looking like a human being. He sat upon the low deck amidships, between the rows ofrowers, sharpening with a stone the edge of an enormous battle-ax. Now and then he would hold it up to the light, twirling its heavy weight as if it had been a feather, while his dark, hairy features twisted and gleamed with bloodthirsty ferocity, and his deeply sunken eyes flashed fire. From such a slayer as he, no foeman might look for mercy. It was said of all Berserkers that in their blind rage they spared neither old nor young, man or woman or child.
"All of them will have to be killed off," said Ned, decidedly. "The world can't be really civilised while they are in it."
"That is what will have to be done," replied Father Brian. "We had them as bad as he is, in the old days, in Ireland. Picts and Scots, they were, and Cornishmen that came over to harry the land. The worst of all were the giants, like Finn and his big brethren. What wouldst thou think of Sikend now, my boy, if he were twelve feethigh, and had four arms to kill with, instead of only twain, his mouth blowing fire, and his every stride more than the length of a tall man?"
"I should go for him with a rifle, at long range," said Ned. "Hullo! Father Brian! There's the king's own ship, ahead of us, going right into the Humber. We are all to follow him, they said. That land yonder is England!"
"Hurrah for that!" shouted the good missionary. "The next ship behind Hardrada's is Tostig's. Hark to the war-horns! All the Vikings will be going blood wild! Ah, my boy, there'll be hard fighting before long. It's not one battle that'll conquer England,—or Ireland either, for that matter."
All the ships in sight were obeying their orders to follow the king. The wind had gone down, and they could fall into line all the better for being propelled by oars. AsNed remarked, oars were as good as steam, for that business, so far as they went. The fleet made a splendid appearance, and it was a sight worth seeing to watch so many banks of long oars dipping and lifting together.
"It is a tremendous show," said Ned to Father Brian, "but theKentuckycould make it look as if there'd been a fire in half an hour."
"Speak Latin," said the missionary. "What is that thou wert saying? I don't know one word of Saxon. It's a tongue they'll all get rid of when they're conquered."
Ned made an effort to explain himself, but it was of no use, for his friend knew nothing about gunpowder.
"It's a kind of witchcraft, most likely," was the good man's pious conclusion. "All of them ought to be burned, and they will be. It's not a country like England that can be civilised in that way. It hath been on my mind, though, that if the Northmen and DukeWilliam kill off the Saxons, we could send over enough of the right kind of men from Ireland to make a fine land of it."
"You could do that," replied Ned. "Loads and loads of Irish have come over to our country, and after they get there they all turn into Americans."
"That's witchcraft," again grumbled Father Brian. "What's the good of them if they all become heathen themselves?"
Before Ned could decide exactly what to say to that point, a loud shout came to him from Lars.
"Mail and helmet, O Ned, the son of Webb! The command of the king is that every man shall land in full armour. There will be a battle right away."
"Hurrah!" shouted Ned, and up sprang the good missionary, exclaiming:
"I'll be there myself! I'll not have any heathen Saxon cut my throat for nothing, either. I'll have good mail under my cassock,and I can swing an ax with any of them. Get thyself ready, my boy. Thou art young for it, but thou canst show them what thou art made of."
Ned was already on his way to his bunk under the deck to put on his battle trappings, and he shortly discovered that the missionary had not left Norway, or it might be Ireland, unprovided for warlike emergencies.
The shields which had hung along the bulwarks of theSerpentduring the voyage were now transferred to the strong left arms of their owners. Even the rowers put on their mail. War-horn after war-horn rang out across the sea, chief answering chief with fierce, defiant music, while once more came twanging with the horn blasts the sound of many harps. It was an hour of intense excitement, for the armament of the Sea King had come to decide the fate and future of a great empire. It was well understood by all, moreover, that it was to be met by a Saxon kingand general, Harold, the son of Godwin, who was believed to be equal to Alfred the Great himself, in either battle-field or council-room. Ned had noticed that the Vikings did not often speak of him as king, but rather by the old title of Harold the Earl, under which he had earned his fame.
As Earl of Wessex and as prime minister of Edward the Confessor he had long been the actual ruler of England, dreaded by its enemies and greatly beloved by its people.
Ned also remembered that the West Saxons had been Alfred's own people, his original kingdom.
"It worked like a kind of hub," he said, "and the other kingdoms of the old Heptarchy were stuck on, one after another. Father Brian says that some of them are hitched on a little loosely, even now, and that Harold cannot make them obey him any too well. That may get him whipped in this fight."
The Humber is a bay, long and wide, which narrows gradually toward the place where the river Ouse runs into it. The invading fleet was, therefore, compelled to accommodate its order and movement to the shape and area of the water it was now rowing into. It soon began to string out, with a narrower front, and theSerpentwas not one of the foremost vessels.
"I should like to see the first of them get ashore," said Ned to Father Brian.
"Thou art all too late for that," replied the good missionary. "Our ship came right along, with nothing else to do, but Hardrada's men have been working havoc everywhere. There hath been hard fighting in the Scotch islands, that's the Orkneys and Shetland, and a good many Scots are with him now. Didst thou know he had ships and men from Iceland, where the fire mountain is?"
"No," said Ned. "That's a long way off."
"So it is," continued Father Brian, "andthey are a bit civilised up there. And while we have sailed along, part of Hardrada's army hath been harrying the coast of Yorkshire, they call it, to no good that I can see. Now he hath pulled them all together, and if he doth not get himself killed he will conquer the north of England first. It is on my mind that he hath been wasting his chances. We shall soon see about that."
How and where the landing was to be made, was, indeed, a matter of great importance. Narrower became the channel of the Humber, and still the long line of ships rowed steadily on. No man could say just where the Humber ended and the Ouse began. Before long the mouth of a river was reached on the left. That was the Don, and Ned did not see any ships go into it. Not a great deal farther up, on the same side, was another stream flowing into the Ouse, and that was the river Aire.
"It's of no use to Hardrada," said FatherBrian. "What he wanteth to do, now, is to get his grip on thy own city of York, and maybe he will."
A sort of gloomy doubt seemed to be growing in the mind of the good missionary, and he evidently had military ideas of his own.
"Thou mayest remember," he remarked to Ned, "that the women at Vebba's place made no wailing at all when their men marched away? I am told that it was not so elsewhere. The women wept as if they were mourning, and all the old ones, that are half witch-like, foretold bad luck. There hath many a bad luck sign been spoken of. Here we are, though."
So they were, and the now more swiftly rowed ships of the Vikings were crowding one another somewhat in the narrow Ouse.
Lars came in full armour to stand by Ned, and gaze at the woodlands, the cultivated fields, and the homesteads on either bank.He had been almost a talkative boy in Norway, among his hawks and hounds and the scenery he was accustomed to. Ever since coming on board theSerpent, however, he had seemed another fellow. He was tall and strong for his age, and his yellow hair was put up in a long braid, which the back rim of his steel cap appeared to rest on. His bright gray eyes were full of excitement, but his lips were tightly closed, as if it were impossible for him to express something or was resolutely keeping it in.
"What's the matter, Lars?" asked Ned.
"Father is angry with the king," said Lars. "The troops are to land all along shore. That will scatter them, he saith, and some of them will be cut to pieces by these Danes and Angles of Northumberland. Father doth not believe that thy Earl Tostig can do anything with them. All the news is bad."
That was the longest speech Ned had heardhim make since leaving Norway, and Father Brian at once replied to it:
"Thy father's a man of sense, my boy. I am thinking I will keep myself a good piece in the rear of this army rather than at the front. That's where men get killed, anyhow."
TheSerpenthad advanced steadily, and she was now passing the mouth of the river Derwent, on the right. Large numbers of vessels of all sizes, which had been ahead of her, were already making fast at convenient places along the banks. From each of these gang-planks were put out, and lines of warriors were marching forth upon the land. From other ships, at anchor out in the stream, boats were plying, but Father Brian was not looking at them. He was gazing very critically down the river.
"There they go," he muttered. "All those men that are landing away down yonder, below the mouth of the Derwent, will have that bit of water and swamp between themand us. They are cut off from doing any good if the rest of us get into a battle. Maybe it's good generalship and maybe it isn't. I wish Hardrada were an Irishman, and he'd never have split his army in two."
A very strong force of Northmen was getting ashore with Hardrada, above the mouth of the Derwent, nevertheless, and among them, before long, were all the passengers of theSerpent.
There was nobody there to oppose them. The Earls of Northumberland and Mercia, Edwin and Morcar, had expected Hardrada to come, but not so soon, and they had not dreamed that he would push right on up the river, to land so near them. They were not ready, therefore, and the King of Norway had now posted his army in strong positions, while the frightened people who had fled at his coming were telling the news in the city of York. The horses, what there were of them, were also coming ashore, but it was evidentthat the invading army would have no cavalry to speak of.
"That isn't the worst of it, by any means," remarked Ned, the son of Webb, as he marched along with Vebba's men. "England can never be conquered without artillery. If King Harold or the Saxon earls could bring out a few batteries of Maxim guns, or of field-pieces like those of the Fourth Artillery, they could tear up this invasion before Saturday night."
The landing of so great an army was a matter of time and toil, and it was well indeed for the Vikings that there were neither forts nor forces for them to encounter at the outset. Even when sunset came, and after that the darkness, ship after ship, as it arrived, was hastily unladen, every man stepping ashore with an idea that he might be marching into an immediate collision with the Saxons.
"It is pretty good luck we have had, thusfar," said Father Brian, "in spite of the old women of Norway, but no man ever knoweth exactly when the luck will turn, if it's against him and if he is careless about what he is doing. There is always bad luck in that."
THE SCOUTING PARTY.
Therewas no large town at or near the mouth of the Humber. There were villages along the coast, however, and the uplands on either shore were dotted with hamlets and cabins. There were also comfortable farmhouses and the half-fortified residences of the richer landholders. To all sorts of people, the fishermen had brought in early warning of the coming of the Norway fleet. Time had been given for getting away and for the removal of much property to places of comparative safety. Therefore, every house which the invaders had entered upon landing had been found nearly empty, to the great disgust of the brave Vikings.
"Didst thou see the carts that went ashore from the ships?" asked Father Brian of his young friend. "The horses were fetched along to pull them and not for riding. They will go out to gather all that's left, or there'll be a famine in the army."
"The king's orders are not to kill anybody that isn't fighting," said Ned. "Tostig lost his earldom by being cruel to the people. Now he is going to try and make himself popular."
"He will not do that," said Father Brian. "They know the hard hand he put on them. It's a pity, indeed, about the cattle and horses, my boy. I'm afraid we will get none. There is only one kind of cattle that the English couldn't take with them."
"What's that?" asked Ned.
"It's the pigs," replied the good missionary. "Not one of them could be driven easily, and there will be fresh pork in camp. All the big houses, too, have more or less bacon inthem and dried fish. I will talk no more, now. This is the place that Vebba hath chosen for our sleeping."
It was an open place among trees, well on in the advance but within the army outposts. No tents had been provided, and once more did Ned, the son of Webb, distinguish himself by the miraculous rapidity with which he kindled a camp-fire. He was likely to become a favourite with the men, if this was to go on, although Sikend the Berserker stared at him gloomily, and muttered something dangerous about killing wizards.
By that fire a great deal of cooking was done that evening, even Sikend broiling his fresh pork as if he had no prejudices.
"That didn't come from any of the ships," remarked Ned, as he saw the supplies of butcher meat, even of beef, brought in. "I suppose it is what army men call foraging, and it's another name for plundering. I hope they didn't have to kill anybody, but that'swhat they want to do more than anything else."
The night was pleasant, but it was long before Ned could shut his eyes. Not that he could see anything with them at more than a few yards from the fires. The dull glare of these shone upon polished shields and armour, here and there. He could see, too, the dim shapes of sentries and patrols, standing still or walking to and fro. They did not often have occasion to speak, and when they did so it was in the gruff and guarded tones of men on the watch for enemies.
The thing which, more than anything else, seemed to keep him awake, was a continual dull roar which filled his ears and worried him.
"It isn't the roar of waves on the shore," he thought. "That may be part of it, but I guess there is something more. I know now! It is the sound of the camp! It is the roar of the army. I remember, in New York, if afellow gets up before daylight and looks out of a window it is all pretty still until he listens. Then he will hear something like this, a good deal like the roar of a waterfall. Then, as the morning goes along, the racket grows, with the carts and everything, till he gets so used to it that he can't hear it any longer. There are so many thousands of men here, and I shouldn't wonder if a good many of 'em were snoring."
He could rest more quietly after he understood that mighty hum, but it was not yet sunrise when he was awakened by a jerk of his left elbow.
"Get up, my boy," said the voice of Father Brian. "I've roused Lars. I have something for both of you. We will eat our breakfast at once, and then we'll be off. I have permission from Vebba to go out scouting among the heathen Saxons. It's fine!"
"Scouting!" exclaimed Ned, springing upand reaching for his mail. "Of all things! I'm ready—I'm awfully hungry, too."
A breakfast of fresh pork broiled at the end of a stick, and nothing to go with it but water, may be prepared and eaten without much waste of time. Neither Lars nor Ned felt like making a long affair of it, but his Reverence was the first to throw away his broiling-stick.
"Come along now!" he exclaimed. "The beasts are tethered handy. I pulled them out of a drove that was gathered by the men. We have bridles but no saddles, and I've ridden that way many a time in Ireland, bless her! Not that these Mercia ponies are at all the equal of our Irish horses. The best in all the world can be found among the farms around Clontarf."
In a minute or so more they and a tall Viking who was to go with them were loosening the halters of four strong-looking but somewhat short-legged horses. They werenot properly to be called ponies, being larger and heavier than the shelties of Scotland or the small horses of Wales. They belonged to a peculiar breed which was at that time very numerous in England. Not one of them objected to being mounted, and the four scouts galloped away unchallenged by any sentinel.
"No man will hinder us," remarked Father Brian. "I think that Tostig the Earl is wise. He gave out that all spies might come and go freely. He willed that the English earls should be told what's coming to them."
"I don't believe they will be scared very badly," replied Ned. "Hardrada isn't going to win in that way. Everybody knows that the English will fight."
The sun was rising now, and all the camps behind them were astir. More ships were reaching landing-places and more troops were coming on shore, but not by any means the whole of Hardrada's army was as yet in shape for a great battle. It would be well for himto advance with great prudence until his full strength should be with him, and he was doing so. The same kind of caution might have been well for the Northumberland and Mercian earls, Edwin and Morcar, but they were even now preparing to strike without waiting to gather sufficient forces. They had been unready and now they were hasty.
The country was beautiful. It did not seem to be densely peopled. There were many farms, however, which seemed to Ned to be under pretty good cultivation. Empty, desolate, abandoned were all the dwellings past which the scouts rode onward. There were no cattle to be seen in the fields.
"There hath been no burning, as yet," remarked the tall Viking. "Tostig hath forbidden fire, to the great discontent of many. Of what good indeed is war if we are not to burn and slay? It is but little better than peace."
"O thou Leif, the son of Beo," broke inFather Brian, angrily, "if thou art in the advance on the morrow, or the next day, I think the heathen Saxons will show thee war enough."
"Woden be praised for that!" exclaimed the Viking. "I think they will. The Valkyrias will come for many. I shall die no cow's death. I would that Thor and his hammer and all the hero gods of the North might come and fight for King Harold of Norway."
"Hear him!" muttered the good missionary. "And men like him call themselves Christians! I would as soon be an Englishman!"
"The English are not heathens," said Ned, the son of Webb. "Alfred the Great was the best kind of man."
"No doubt," said Father Brian, "and a bad lot he had to deal with. He was helped much by the right sort of educated missionaries from Ireland,—men, like myself, that could read and write. I am glad, my boy, tobe here now and carry on the good work. Hark! What's that? Ride fast, all! There is evil ahead. Hear that shrieking of women!"
A little beyond them was a sharp turn in the narrow road they were following, and on either side were dense woods. Forward dashed the four horsemen, headed by the now excited missionary, and they all drew rein to reconnoitre the situation as soon as they had galloped around the turn.
Here was a sight to see, indeed! The land beyond, at the right, was under cultivation, cut up into enclosures of various sizes. There were many cabins, and out of the hamlet composed of them led other roads. Some distance back from the middle of the hamlet was an ancient-looking timber-built manse or large farmhouse, and around this was a pretty strong stockade, bordered by a deep ditch. This was the local fort, into which all the near neighbours were expected to runfor safety in case of sudden peril. That they had at the present time done so was evident, for it was from within the stockade that the shrieks and cries were arising.
"There are none of them hurt yet, I trust," said Father Brian. "Look at them, though! The wolves of Norway! They are putting fire to the stockade, to burn a hole in it. They are swearing to slay every soul for only shutting the gate against them."
"I am glad they were slow in their fire making," said Ned. "That was flint and steel work. It's a good thing they didn't have any parlour matches. One cartridge of dynamite, though, would blow that stockade every which way—or a can of powder."
"Ned, the son of Webb," shouted Father Brian, "thou art Tostig's man. The poor folk in the fort belong to his earldom. Ride in with me, now, and bid those Vikings that they must obey the earl and the king!"
"They may listen," growled Leif, the sonof Beo, "or they may slay us all for interfering. I have split a man's head, myself, for less than that. Ride on!"
Ned felt all his pulses tingling as he urged onward his horse, for the screams of terror were increasing, and well they might. Several of the angry marauders assailing the stockade were chopping at it furiously with their battle-axes, and there was no doubt but what they would shortly cut their way in.
He shouted loudly, but the Vikings did not seem to hear or heed him, and almost before he knew it he was at the little bridge across the moat in front of the great gate of the stockade. This bridge should have been removed long since by the garrison, but for some reason or other it had stuck fast, rendering the ditch of small account as a defence. Down to the ground sprang Father Brian, at that moment, pole-ax in hand, and down dropped Ned, while Lars and Leif, the son of Beo, bravely followed them. Here, therefore,stood the four scouts, like heroes, with their backs to the gate. This was massively made, of oaken planks, fastened with iron spikes, and was likely to withstand much chopping. As yet, it appeared that no blood had been shed on either side, but there could be no doubt but what the Saxons or Angles, or whatever they were, would sell their lives dearly.
"The Vikings don't seem to care a straw for anything I've said," groaned Ned. "I don't suppose they take scalps, but they'll kill women and children as if they were so many Sioux Indians. I suppose the English would be just as cruel, if they had a chance. I wish the world were civilised."
"Come on, ye wolves of Norway," roared the valiant priest, at his side. "But I bid ye hold your hands. By the order of Harold the King and Tostig the Earl! Ye will have to slay us four ere ye break in to murder the people of the earl."
One who seemed a chief among the Vikings paused only to blow a strong blast on his war-horn, and then he came angrily forward toward Brian.
"I know thee not," he said. "Thou art an outlander and a saga man, but I know thy companions. That youth is a son of my friend Vebba, of Nordensfiord. With him is Vebba's house-carle. The boy with a strange tongue I know to be a lithsman of Tostig the Earl. Were we to slay him, we were but lost men. The orders are hard, but I will obey them, only that we will make prize of all casks of ale and of whatever is fit to eat. Blood we will not shed."
"To that we all give assent," shouted a man's voice from within the stockade. "Upon that pledge we will open the gate. We belong to Tostig the Earl, and therefore we did not flee at his coming."
"We will keep faith with you," responded the Viking leader. "Ned, the son of Webb,hath the right in this matter. He doeth well to protect the people of his earl. I approve him. Open the gate!"
Open it swung, and those who were within waited fearlessly, for all the Northmen could be trusted to do no unnecessary murder after they had plighted faith with friend or foe.
"Go not in," whispered Father Brian to Ned. "The people are safer than thou art, and there are black looks sent at thee. Thou hast robbed wolves of their prey, and they will bite thee if they may."
There came a sound of galloping hoofs around the turn in the road, as Ned and his friends were getting upon their horses. In a minute more, all the open spaces of the hamlet swarmed with armed riders, and there arose a shout of "Tostig the Earl!"
Forward rode Father Brian, while Leif, the son of Beo, restrained the others.
"Let him report for us," he said. "I like not to have speech with that black-haired sonof Earl Godwin. He smiteth suddenly when his spear is in his hand, and none may account with him."
They saw the haughty and cruel earl draw his rein, face to face with the missionary, and all could hear the loud, clear tones of the questions and answers which followed. Brief enough were these, and Tostig seemed to be in a fairly good state of mind.
"It is well," he said. "Ned, the son of Webb, hath guarded his father's neighbours. I blame him not, but let him beware how he interfereth too much. I have many a head to strike off in this rebellious Northumberland. I will spare not one of those who drove me out."
Well was it understood that his proud heart was full of revenge, and that his return as a victor would bring woe to many. At this point, nevertheless, the squadron of horsemen halted, drawing away from the roadside as if waiting.
"We have done our duty," said Father Brian to Leif. "Had we not stayed that slaughter, there had been sharp vengeance taken."
"The men may thank the son of Webb and thee," said Leif. "So may the Angles, for else they were all dead ere this. There cometh the vanguard! There will be a battle this day."
"It cometh shortly," said the missionary. "It is but nine miles from the river to the city gates. The king will strike before Morcar and Edwin have time to gather more forces."
"We will go on with them," said Ned. "I would not miss seeing that battle for anything. That's what I came for."
"Keep well behind the foremost lines, then," said his reverend friend. "Serve Tostig, if thou wilt, but strike not any of thine own people. York is thy city, and thou wilt be back in it before many hours."
"Hurrah for that!" exclaimed Ned. "I want a good look at it as it is now."
Thousand after thousand, the host of Hardrada pressed forward. Other columns of the invaders were advancing by other roads and across the fields and through the woods. There would be enough of them to make a strong front at any place where the men of Northumberland might meet them. Not with the vanguard, but between two solid bodies of Northern spearmen, did Ned, the son of Webb, and his three friends push forward toward the first great battle that was to be fought in England by Hardrada, the Sea King, and his terrible army.
THE GREAT FULFORD FIGHT.
Thebattle was at hand, and all the men knew that they were marching into it.
"I'm in!" shouted Ned, the son of Webb. "But I haven't any horn to blow. Hear 'em! They are all going wild! Fighting is what they live for, and they're not good for much of anything else, to speak of."
No generalship whatever was exercised in the selection of the battle-field. The lay of the land, as Ned remarked of it, had provided all that beforehand, and it gave no especial advantage to either army. Nearly midway between the river Ouse, on the left of the Vikings, and the river Derwent, on their right, was the moderately elevated level of land along which they were marching. Thebanks of the rivers on either side of them were swampy.
It would have seemed good military policy for the English earls to abide behind the strong walls of York, after having missed the opportunity to meet their enemies at the landing. They may, however, have been aware that a large part of Hardrada's forces had landed below the mouth of the Derwent, and was still on the wrong side of that river. This, perhaps, induced them to strike a blow at the nearer division before it should be reinforced.
"Here we are!" shouted Ned, as he rode out from a patch of wood. "See how our lines are forming, all the way across, between the swamps. Look yonder! Standards and clouds of dust! The English are coming! A host of them!"
"The king hath ordered us to halt, and let them charge," replied Lars. "This is my first battle! Hurrah!"
"Hail to thee, O my son! Glad am I to find thee," called out a loud voice from a column of spearmen, catching up with them. "Come thou and join thy father's men. Thou shalt fight at my side this day. Let Ned, the son of Webb, ride on and be with Tostig the Earl, as is his duty."
"All right!" shouted Ned. "Go ahead, Lars!"
"God keep you all this day!" earnestly responded Father Brian. "I will keep the boy out of harm's way, if I can. By the side of Earl Tostig in this fight will be a place for strong men."
Leif, the son of Beo, wheeled away with Lars, and Ned shouted after them:
"Oh, Vebba! I am coming to join thee and Lars as soon as we have taken York."
"Maybe thou wilt and maybe thou wilt not," growled Father Brian. "A good many Vikings are to be killed before sunset. Lookhow the Saxons come on! I am willing to keep well away from their axes."
So was Ned himself, and, being on horseback, on pretty high ground, he was able to get a fair view of all that was going on.
Except for arrows and javelins, all the fighting would be hand to hand, so that personal skill and strength would count for all they were worth, while the small and weak were pretty sure to go down.
"There is the banner of King Hardrada," said Ned, "away at the left, toward the Ouse River. I guess Tostig is with him, and I won't go in that direction. Father Brian and I can see more if we stay in the middle. Whoop! Here comes the crash! It's awful!"
It was the tremendous onset of the English. It struck the Norwegian line first at the right, and all opposition seemed to be crushed before it. There could be no question of the courage or prowess of the Northumberland warriors, and their earls were leading them well.
"All the saints!" exclaimed Father Brian. "Are we to be beaten at once? Then I am thankful that thou and I will have a chance to ride away, for the English will spare no man."
"Wait a bit," replied Ned. "The king and the earl are charging in. All their best men are with them. See the rush of Hardrada, with his two-handed sword. He is like a man a-mowing! He is a giant!"
He had a sudden advantage given him, too, for the English followed the routed Vikings on the right, so that their own flank was exposed. They were necessarily in some disorder when the rush of the king's veterans struck them. Even numbers were at this point much in favour of the invaders, and there was soon a change in the aspect of the battle. Hard, terrible, desperate, was that long struggle of life and death. Theslaughter thinned the ranks on both sides fearfully.
More and more intense became the interest of Ned, the son of Webb, and his companion. Almost unconsciously they pushed forward to get a nearer view of the combat. The contending forces were in many places so mingled that it was hardly possible to distinguish one party from the other. The din was dreadful.
"Hullo!" suddenly exclaimed Ned. "I declare! Father Brian's horse has run away with him. I hope he won't be killed."
His own animal also grew restive, and the next minute he was charging forward as if to take his share in the battle.
"I can't hold him in!" groaned Ned, tugging at his rein. "He is worse than Nanny herself. There, though! The English are breaking everywhere. It's going to be a first-class victory for us. Oh, dear! This fellow is taking me right along to the very front!"
There was peril, indeed, in that. There was no telling how far or into what the now frantic beast might gallop on.
Bound after bound, neighing loudly with fear, he dashed forward into the very thickest of the awful carnage, while his rider stared wildly around him upon the slayers and the slain.
"Oh!" yelled Ned. "That spear struck him! I must get off! He is falling!"
One of the hundreds of flying javelins had smitten his horse in the chest, burying its long, sharp blade almost a foot deep. Down sank the dying victim, snorting, screaming, and Ned sprang off only just in time to escape from being rolled under him.
"I did it all the better," he remarked, "for having no saddle or stirrups."
Out came his sword, but before he could do anything with it the rush of the battle swept on beyond him. The English were now retreating in disorder, but the greater part ofthem were fighting as they went. Many of them, it was afterward said, were driven into the swamps and into the rivers, but the stories told were probably exaggerated. At all events, thousands of them were slain, and the defeat of Edwin and Morcar was decisive.
Ned was on foot, now, and he had marched forward, for he did not see that he was in any danger.
"They won't hold up till they get to York," he was saying. "Just see this!"
He was standing at a spot where the flying English had made a despairing rally, and all around him were scattered scores of slain or disabled warriors. At his very feet was a sort of half circle of them, and he was staring at their shattered armour when a loud cry arose from a mailed form which had lain at full length upon the bloody grass.
"One more!" it shouted. "I will strike one more good blow against the outlanders!Out! Out! Holy cross! Down with thee, O wolf of Norway!"
Ned, the son of Webb, had barely time to lift his shield before his enemy was upon him. He was nearly taken by surprise.
"Glad my sword was out," he said, "but what's the use of hacking at such an iron rig as his is? I can't hurt him. My suit is a good one, too. Let him chop away."
It was on his mind that more of the dead or wounded Saxons might get up and come at him, however, and he felt that he was in the worst kind of scrape. What would have been the result if his opponent had been fresh and unwounded was easy to calculate, for he was a large, strong man. As it was, Ned's greater agility and skill were enabling him to make a particularly good fighting appearance when something large and dark came springing to his side.
"Down!" roared a terrible voice, and a flash of steel fell cleavingly upon the helmetof the big Saxon. He dropped as if struck by lightning, and then Ned found himself looking up with astonishment into the fierce face of Tostig the Earl.
"Art thou here?" he exclaimed. "Verily, thou hast done well, but thou art no match for such as he. He was one of the strongest knaves that rebelled against me. O son of Webb, I will remember thee well for this!"
Ned hardly knew what to say in reply, and the earl's face grew thoughtful.
"Thou art of York," he said. "I bid thee take thy first opportunity to get inside of the walls. Learn all thou mayest, and be ready to answer when I question thee. I would know what is said in the city."
"I will get in as soon as I can," said Ned, "but just how, I don't know."
Away spurred the earl, and Ned looked after him, remarking:
"He is a tremendous fellow! I guess he saved my life, and I kind o' like him. Iwonder, though, if he thinks that I killed all of these Danes and Angles and Saxons that are lying around here. If he does, I must explain it to him some day. I wouldn't care to have it look as if I told him so."
It was too late for any explanations at the present time, and he was ruefully considering what it might be best for him to try next, when a cheerful but somewhat anxious voice came to him from a little distance.
"Ned, my boy!" it exclaimed. "Art thou there? I am glad, indeed, to find thee. Hold on till I get to thee."
"Come on, Father Brian," shouted back Ned. "Where is thy horse? Mine was killed by a spear."
"The evil beast pitched me into the grass," responded the missionary, rapidly striding nearer. "I will see if I can get me another before long. I will do no walking if there is a horse to be had. Mark thou this, though. Hardrada hath won this battle of Fulford,truly, but it hath cost him more men than he can spare. If the English are going to fight like this, the Vikings will all be killed before the land is conquered. It is about as I told thee it would be. They have Harold of England to deal with, yet."
The battle-field was a fearful place for any man to stroll around in. Nearly the entire space between the two marshes was littered with corpses. In many places the slain lay in heaps which told of especially severe encounters, or pitiless massacres. They were not all Saxons, by any means, and Ned could understand the forebodings of his intelligent companion. Whether or not it was because Father Brian was a highly educated man, and could both read and write, he seemed to be something of a general if not also of a statesman.
The distance from the field to the city of York was but a mile or so, and all that was left of the English army was already safebehind the walls. More had escaped, doubtless, than the Vikings were willing to believe or tell of, and they were in no condition for an immediate attack upon strong fortifications. No more of the invading forces were, as yet, crossing the Derwent River, and the weary victors marched on to make their camp for the night near the margin of that stream.
"I guess Tostig will have enough to do without thinking of me," said Ned to himself. "He won't send for me, anyhow, until he thinks I've made a trip to York and back. What on earth could I say if he were to ask me what street there I lived on? I was never there in my life, and I might have to own up. What I want most, just now, is to know where Vebba's men are, and if Lars did any fighting. I don't think they got to the front."
At this hour the King of Norway and his officers were hard at work finding out the state of their forces, and trying to get them into shape for whatever might be comingnext. They were in no fear of any immediate attack from the terribly shattered lines of the English earls, but it would be necessary to make short work of the subjugation of the northern counties of England. These, as to their boundaries and organisation, were in effect nothing more than old kingdoms of the Saxon Heptarchy, as changed, from time to time, by Danish and other conquests. There was no such thing, in those days, as a united, solid England. Several kings were yet to reign, and much blood was to be spilled, before such a result as that would be accomplished. Ned, the son of Webb, discovered, in his conversation with Father Brian, as they walked on among the camps, that his friend was possessed with a curious idea that Great Britain, for its good, must some day be annexed to Ireland.
"Then, my boy," said the enthusiastic missionary, "thou wilt see what can be done for all these heathen by conversion and civilisation and education. This will become almost as fine a land to live in as Ireland itself—but not quite."
They had little difficulty, after all, in discovering the camping-place of so well known a chief as Vebba. When it was reached there was an exceedingly noisy welcome, with an exchange of news items. The men liked Ned, the son of Webb. Even Sikend the Berserker shook hands with him, for he had heard that the young hero from York had been seen in the very front of the battle, doing wonders of valour, and afterward chasing the beaten Saxons and Danes and Angles into the swamps of the Ouse.
"What a dime novel it all is!" thought Ned. "And Vebba's men take their share of the victory and the glory, although they were not in it at all. Why, if it were in our army, old Vebba might be promoted to be a brigadier, and Sikend to be a colonel."
However that might be, he and Lars had atremendous time by themselves, exchanging yarns and experiences, and then they slept like a pair of warlike tops.
The next day was Thursday, for the battle had been fought on Wednesday. All the army knew, at an early hour, that messengers were coming and going between King Hardrada, on the one side, and the English earls, on the other. It was said that a treaty of peace was making, and that the King of Norway was at once to become king of all that part of England, with Tostig under him as Earl of Northumberland.
"Now, Father Brian," inquired Ned, "what do you think of that arrangement?"
"What do I think of it, indeed?" replied the subtle-minded priest. "It needeth no thinking. It is as plain as is thy nose upon thy face. Edwin and Morcar are doing the thing that I would do myself, if I were in their place. They are skirmishing to gain time, and to put Hardrada into as deep a trapas they can dig. Not either of them is really intending to give up anything. Neither thou nor I would be in a hurry to give up an earldom, and surrender to the vengeance of Tostig first, and then to the wrath of King Harold of England."
"Thou thinkest they are playing sharp?" said Ned. "If that is so, then all we have to do is to watch out for a bit and we'll hear something drop. According to your idea, there's the biggest kind of a mistake being made by Hardrada."
"Just so," said the missionary, quite thoughtfully, "and thou and I may not remain in the Viking camp any longer than we can help. The command given thee by Tostig the Earl upon the battle-field must be obeyed by thee speedily, and I will accompany thee into York."
"All right," said Ned. "We don't want to see Tostig again until we have done something worth while."
"Let us now walk around," said Father Brian. "Talk not so much in thy Saxon tongue. I wish to see the Stamford bridge over this swampy river Derwent. It is the only crossing for miles and miles, up and down. The river is not deep enough for ships. I think it is a part of the trap set for Hardrada."