"What he needs," remarked Ned, "is a lot of East River and North River steam ferry-boats. They would take over a whole army before bank hours. They do it, now, every day in the year."
All of the invading army that was on the York side of the Derwent was now lying near the head of the bridge the missionary spoke of. On the other side of the river was encamped very much the larger part of the remaining strength of King Hardrada. To this larger division additions were all the while coming from the ships in the Humber.
"Here we are, my boy," said Father Brian,as he and Ned came to the bridge. "It is a good one, what there is of it, but it's narrow and there is no fort at either end of it."
"I should say it is about wide enough for one two-horse wagon," said Ned. "Two of them couldn't pass each other on it. For its length, it's about the meanest bridge I ever saw. It would take our army a long while to foot it across that thing."
"It is my opinion," said the missionary, sombrely, "that every last man of King Hardrada's army would do well to walk over it this day, one way or the other, and join forces. I have had my look at it and I will go. It is thy duty and mine to get into the city of York as soon as possible, and stay there."
"I must get in, anyhow," said Ned. "I wouldn't like, even now, to have the earl come riding along and find me here. He's rough. I think any man would want to get behind good walls, just now, though—unless he had his life insured pretty heavily in good companies."
Father Brian stared at him for a moment, but that was one of many of the sayings of Ned, the son of Webb, to which the good man did not attempt to make any reply.
THE COMING OF HAROLD THE SAXON.
"Speakthou in the Norway tongue, for thou canst, that these who stand by may understand thee. O Ned, the son of Webb, thou wilt now find thy way into the city of York?"
"That is what I am going to do, O Tostig the Earl," responded Ned. "I can get in somehow or other."
"Go thou, then, and return and tell me if Edwin and Morcar are gathering more armed men within the walls. Bring me what tidings thou shalt hear concerning my brother Harold, the King. Go, and see that thou have a care for thy tongue, that thou bring no news except to Harold Hardrada or myself."
"I can keep my mouth shut," said Ned, and away rode the stern earl, accompanied by several Vikings of high rank, who had entered the camp of Vebba with him.
Ned had been summoned to meet the earl at a little distance from his own Norse friends, and not even Vebba himself nor Father Brian dared question him afterward too closely concerning his orders from the very dangerous tempered Tostig. As Vebba said to the missionary, "It were a spear thrust, quickly, for thee or me, if we foolishly meddled with the private matters of the son of Godwin. See that thou let the youth obey his earl."
"That will I do," said Father Brian, but it evidently went hard with him.
Before the evening of Thursday, some results of the peace negotiations had been made public, and they appeared to be all that the army ought to ask for. The city of York was to be surrendered upon the following Monday. There was to be no more fighting,although there were yet a number of minor points remaining to be settled.
Fair as this seemed, there were loud murmurs, here and there, for many of the Vikings were sorely disappointed. They declared that in this manner they were being unjustly robbed of all the pleasure upon which they had counted in the taking and sacking of so large and fine a town.
"They are as mad as wet hens," remarked Ned, "because they are not to have the fun of killing the people. I guess, though, that York wouldn't be of much more use to Hardrada and Tostig after all these pirates had gone through it. They'd leave it worth a last year's bird's nest."
Something like that was also said by Father Brian, and all the while the prudent priest was watching his opportunities. On Friday morning a number of distinguished English clergymen came out from the city in company with the ambassadors who were to confer with Hardrada and Earl Tostig. When these learned and excellent men returned to York, the Irish missionary and Ned, the son of Webb, went through the gate with them.
"My boy," exclaimed Father Brian as they did so, "here we are, safe and sound. I'm sorry thy own family is not within the walls, but thou canst do the bidding of thy earl easily. We will find a good lodging, and I have money enough for us both. I found it in the pouches of some of the unfortunate heathen that lay dead on the Fulford field. They will not need it any more, and it is a very timely supply for thee and me. I will divide fairly."
The coins which had been gathered from the slain at Fulford were mostly of copper and silver, and were not very well shaped. With these were several pieces of gold, none of them as large as a five-dollar piece.
"Not any greenbacks," remarked Ned, as he pocketed his share. "Money goes far here,though, and a fellow earning a dollar a day is a mogul in England in these times. Father Brian says you can buy a horse for five dollars and a farm for fifty. These coppers are as big as saucepans, and one of 'em will pay for a night's lodging at the best York hotel."
If he might otherwise have had some conscientious scruples concerning the source of this supply of money, he was willing to leave all that to so good a man as the missionary, and to consider the cash as the ordinary spoils of war.
"I couldn't give it back to its old owners, if I wanted to," he thought. "War is war, anyhow, and this invasion is a great piece of piracy from beginning to end. I am a kind of Norse Viking pirate, myself."
Now that he was really inside the walls of the city of York, he considered that he was under a necessity for beginning to seem, if not also to feel, exceedingly English, or rather Danish-Saxon. Thousands of angry fugitives from the Fulford fight and thousands more of fresh arrivals from the interior were likely to be roaming around the streets. Every man of them would have a weapon with him, and was sure to have revengeful feelings toward either a favourite of Tostig or a young Viking.
"The fact is," thought Ned, "I'm a kind of spy, and they shoot spies as soon as they catch them. I won't do them any harm, anyhow."
There was nothing in his dress or appearance to distinguish him, for his helmet and his mail and shield were as like as two peas to such as were worn or carried by the English soldiery.
"All the hotels will be crowded," he said to Father Brian. "I shouldn't wonder if we had to sleep in one of the streets."
"No, we will not," replied his friend. "I have a direction to a hostelry. It is a place of entertainment for man and beast that isattached to one of the churches. It is likely to be quiet and is good enough if a man can get nothing better."
"Any kind of coop will do for me," said Ned. "I'm not half so particular about that as I am about getting under cover. I want to see all there is of this town, too."
"That is thy duty," said the missionary, "and thou wilt see but little of me before Sunday. I have to pay my respects to the bishop, as thou knowest."
Ned, the son of Webb, did not really know anything whatever about the manner in which things were managed in the Northumberland churches, but he was quite willing to do his sightseeing or his business for Tostig by himself. His friend led the way to the hostelry and left him there, and as yet neither of them had been spoken to by anybody.
"Well!" remarked Ned to himself, shortly afterward, sitting by a small table with very good mutton chops before him. "So this isa tavern in York! I declare! When I came through the front door of it, I thought it looked more like a jail. Quiet kind of place where ministers come, like Father Brian and his friends? Those fellows at the other table are awfully quiet—only I don't understand a word of their jangle. There come their swords! It's a fight!"
The dining-room was large, with a wooden floor and tolerably good plain furniture. The plates and cups were clean, and most of them were of heavy pewter ware. Even napkins of linen were supplied; but he had not yet seen a yard of cotton goods. Of course there were several tables, and around one of these had been sitting half a dozen rough-looking men. None was in mail, but two wore steel corselets. The others had large round shields or targets, and all were provided with swords. They had talked loudly, rudely, from the moment that they sat down, and it seemed that they were angrily discussing the battle and thetreaty with the King of Norway. Louder, fiercer grew their hot dispute, until one of them struck another a blow with his fist, and all sprang to their feet, every man drawing his sword as he did so. The two who had quarrelled were target men, and in a moment more there was a ringing of steel upon blades and bucklers. Nobody made any attempt at interference, even the tavern waiters looking on almost unexcitedly, as if at a common, every-day incident. Several persons lounged in from other rooms, and the faces of women peered through open doorways.
"Why don't they call for the police?" exclaimed Ned, without getting up. "They ought to be sent to the station-house. I'll finish my chops, anyhow, for I guess I'm safe away in this corner of the room."
His keen hunger helped his wisdom, and he ate very fast, becoming conscious as he did so that there were inquiring eyes aimed at him.
Both of the combatants were evidently experienced swordsmen, and as yet all the fight had been mere rattle, when a third target bearer swaggered over toward Ned, saying something to him in a tongue which might be almost any kind of old English.
"He means mischief," thought Ned. "I'd better be ready for him. I won't let him stick me for nothing."
He did not say a word aloud, but in an instant he was on his feet, shield on arm, blade in hand. He was really but just in time, for his sudden movement had been taken for a challenge, and the ruffian struck at once. The first pair paused in their sword-play, as if they had had brawl enough, or rather as if they were more deeply interested in this unexpected skirmish with an entire stranger.
"Hullo!" said Ned, loudly, as they came closer around him, "the fellow can't fence!I punched him through the sword arm as if he had been made of putty."
"HE WAS REALLY BUT JUST IN TIME, FOR THE RUFFIAN STRUCK AT ONCE."
"HE WAS REALLY BUT JUST IN TIME, FOR THE RUFFIAN STRUCK AT ONCE."
His burly antagonist had indeed been disabled at the third pass, for he had been accustomed to parry almost altogether with his buckler, and modern science was against him. He dropped his heavy broadsword and stared at Ned in astonishment, while all the lookers-on clapped their hands.
"It won't do to talk Norway here," thought Ned. "I'll just bother them with New York English instead of anything there is in old York."
So he did, as man after man, even his assailant, came forward to compliment him on his prowess. He might have felt better, perhaps, if he had understood an explanation made by one of them to the others.
"The youth cometh from Cornwall," he told them. "I have often heard their speech, which none may understand. He belongeth to Harold the Earl, the king. All the Cornishmen have those tricks with a blade. He hath earned his peace. Do ye all let him alone, for the king's sake."
Ned followed with some severe remarks about good manners to strangers, the police court, and the state prison, and they all swaggered out of the tavern, declaring that they had had good sport for the day, and that they thought well of King Harold's Cornish fighters.
The keeper of the inn came to have a look at Ned, and was easily made to understand that the next thing required by the Cornish gladiator was another mutton chop, somewhat less rare if possible. Ned's added request for a cup of coffee and some custard pie was not so perfectly comprehended, for none came. He felt a great deal better after dinner, although he did not so much as imagine what new country he had now been born in or how very much improved was his social position so far as that hotel was concerned.
He was duly conducted to the room assigned him, and it was in some respects the best he had had since leaving the United States of America. It was, indeed, as he declared of it, a narrow bit of crib, with slits in the wall for windows, but he was pleased to find that it contained a bowl and pitcher of water, and a couple of good towels. Even the bed was not a bunk, but stood upon legs and had a straw mattress, sheets, and a hair pillow. This was luxury.
"It's more than I ever saw in Norway," he remarked. "There isn't any elevator in this building, though, and I don't believe there is a box of blacking in England. I sha'n't hear any fellow calling after me to let him shine 'em up."
The remainder of that day and all of Saturday went by like a dream, so busy was Ned with his spying into the affairs of York. He knew that he was in one of the old historic cities of England. Here had been atown of the ancient Britons, and the Romans, when they conquered them, had made a prosperous place of it. There were Roman walls and houses yet, and all the wider streets, as Ned said of them, "kind o' talked Latin."
The Saxons, when they came, had slaughtered the Roman-British population in accordance with the existing laws of war. All the streets of their making, with some that were older, were narrow as well as dirty.
"They are dusty enough, too, just now," remarked Ned. "I guess there isn't much of a street-cleaning department in the city government. No street sprinkling. Not a sidewalk anywhere, nor any street lamps nor telegraph poles. Every fellow plays policeman for himself. If he isn't of the kind they allow to wear a sword, he carries a big club and has a long sheath-knife in his belt. About these days all the women seem to be keeping indoors—without any pianos or stationary washtubs or sewing-machines."
He saw several fine churches and palaces, but the latter and all of the larger dwellings were like so many private forts, expecting to be besieged and defended sometime or other.
"This is a queer way to live," he thought, "with a half-grown-up war around you all the while. I've looked at the walls, too. They'd stand anything but artillery. I guess a few of our heavy shells would send all that stonework flying."
On Sunday morning Father Brian appeared again at the tavern as he had promised to do. He seemed in good spirits, but he wore a mysterious air, as if he were prudently concealing something. He inquired with friendly interest concerning all of Ned's explorations around York.
"My boy," he then remarked, "thou wilt be able to make a good report to Tostig the Earl when he cometh into the city, but I will not permit thee to make it until then. I will tell thee one thing more, if it will keep theequiet. The Saxon guards at the Derwent side gates would split thy head for thee if thou shouldst attempt to go out of the trap that hath been set for Hardrada."
"I don't mean to be split," replied Ned, "but what is the trap? Hardrada's army is to march in before sunset to-morrow. I can see the earl then."
"If he getteth in, my boy," laughed the knowing missionary. "That is the trap. Keep thy mouth shut and save thy head from a pole-ax. They would cleave thee to the jaws for a word. Edwin and Morcar have saved all the time that was needed for their plan to work. They were to give King Hardrada a hundred and fifty important men for hostages, and not a soul of them will ever need to leave his house. The Norway army will begin Monday with eating and drinking and getting ready to put a garrison into York, but when they come to try that they will find out what the trap is."
"Dost thou know it?" asked Ned.
"I am not a blind one," replied the twinkling-eyed man from Ireland. "When I saw Edwin and Morcar skirmishing for every hour of time, I hardly needed to be told the rest of it. Mark thou this, my boy, for thy life! Thou and I belong to Harold the Earl, the King of England, unless thou shalt see the raven flags of Hardrada inside the walls of York. It will be long before thou doest that, I think."
The King of Norway was apparently in no doubt whatever concerning the entire good faith of the two English earls. He considered them already his own subjects. Many of the great men of Northumberland had held a mass convention, and had voted to accept him as their ruler. Everything was working well, therefore, and he felt sure that his new kingdom had been at least half won for him by his great victory at Fulford.
Nevertheless, according to agreement, Saxonwarriors were as yet keeping stern guard at all the gates of York.
"I saw them," said Ned to himself. "I won't run against their spears, either. One of 'em would go right through me. I'll find just a little more, though, and then I'll get out, if I have to climb over the walls. I don't see any trap, if Father Brian does, but if there is one, I'm going to warn Tostig. I wonder if he suspects anything? Maybe that's the reason why he sent me in."
Without ever having been sworn in, as he called it, for a regular soldier of the King of Norway, he considered himself a part of the invading army, and he meant to do his duty by his general so far as he could. This was, therefore, a time of intense excitement for him as well as for others, and when Monday morning came he and his reverend friend were up and out early.
"Come on, my boy," said Father Brian. "If thou wilt go with me to the other side ofthe city, where the bridge over the Ouse letteth in the southern highway through the wall gate, I may be able to show thee that which it would be worth the while of Tostig thine earl to know."
"That's what I want," exclaimed Ned. "I'll get it to him, somehow. We'll take the trolley-cars—" There he stopped short, for his friend was striding away.
Ned followed him, and he was beginning to be aware of a new and strange idea which made him tingle all over. He felt desperate, warlike, and he changed his shield from over his shoulder to its fighting-place upon his left arm, while he gripped his spear tightly as if he expected to use it.
Perhaps it was his appearance of angry excitement which got him into his next bad scrape, for other men also were in a dangerous state of mind. The Ouse gate had been almost reached, and Father Brian was several paces in advance. Just here, however, at asharp turn of the winding, alley-like street, they came unexpectedly upon a furious mob of the lowest kind of Danes and Angles. They were club and knife men, of course, wearing no armour. They were nothing more than so many fierce, wild, ignorant, and cruel savages.
"Upon him! Upon him!" they yelled, at once, in their own dialect. "He looketh like a Norwegian! Down with him! Club him to the death!"
That they might have done quickly, but for Ned's helmet and shield and the lively use he made of his spear. They were many, however, and it was well for him that he could back against a house wall so that they could not get behind him.
"This is awful!" he exclaimed. "I guess I'm done for. I prodded that fellow. I wish I had Lars here and a dozen Vikings, or Sikend the Berserker."
They were far away, indeed, but at thatmoment he heard a ringing Irish war-cry. Then, as he desperately plied his spear and shielded his head from clubs as best he might, he saw the long-handled pole-ax of Father Brian flashing swiftly, murderously, upon the shaggy crowns and shoulders of his brutal, barbarous assailants.
Down they were going, like so many human ninepins, when a great, tumultuous shouting arose in the direction of the gate. Ned did not get its meaning, but all the ruffians who were still upon their feet shouted as if in reply to it and sprang away.
"Thou hast fought well, my boy," said the missionary. "Art thou hurt?"
"I'm banged pretty well," said Ned, "but what is all that shouting?"
"Come thou along in haste," said his friend, "I will show thee what it is. The city of York will close no gate against the man that is coming now. He bringeth woe to all the host of Hardrada, and I think thou wilt deliver no report to Tostig the Earl this day. On! On to the gate!"
"If it is anything worth while I'll see that the earl gets it," replied Ned, "but my shield hath had all the style clubbed out of it. Oh, how my arm aches—and my head!"
THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE.
"Lookthou yonder! Look, O Ned, the son of Webb!" exclaimed Father Brian.
"Banners!" responded Ned, almost breathlessly. "Horsemen! Who can they be? Is it the army of Harold, the King of England? Tostig and Hardrada think he is away at the southern shore, watching for Duke William of Normandy. Why, he can march right on into the city!"
"He will do more than that," replied the Irishman, with a very knowing look. "My boy, mark thou well now! Not a horn nor a trumpet soundeth among yonder horsemen, and they ride rapidly. Stand still here and keep thine eyes open. We are safe at thisplace. Then will we go on with them, and I think we shall see the springing of the great trap of Harold, with which he hath caught the Vikings."
"I ought to go ahead at once and warn Tostig the Earl!" said Ned.
"If thou in thy armour art able to go faster than will the horsemen of the King of England," half laughed the missionary, "thou mayst be sure, also, that thousands of swords are on guard along the walls, watching well that no man shall get out on the Derwent side to carry news of this thing."
"I'll get the news correctly, first, and then I'll see what I can do with it," said Ned, stubbornly, but he instantly became absorbed by his inspection of the arriving host of the Saxon king.
Right onward rode fast its vanguard of mounted men, and Ned quickly perceived that these were unlike anything that he had seen before. Their arms and armour were sonearly of a pattern that it was as if they were in steel uniform. Their horses were large and strong, and there was no disorder to be seen in their trained and disciplined movements. Minutes passed by, and then he heard a man who stood near him exclaim, loudly:
"Yea, my friend, these are the thingmen. They are the house-carles of the king. There are no other men like them. They are the picked ax-men of all England."
Already, Ned had heard a great deal about these fighters. First among the Kings of England, it was said, Harold had organised and maintained a considerable standing army, selecting for it the best men he could find, and making them personally devoted to himself.
"None of Hardrada's troops march as these do," thought Ned, as a column of house-carles on foot followed the foremost detachment of cavalry. "Our best city regiments can't beat it. None of our militia would care to carryso much iron, though. Not in hot weather. What tremendously big fellows they are. Hullo! There comes the king! Hurrah! I always wanted to see Harold. Isn't he splendid! He isn't as tall as Hardrada of Norway. He's a giant."
His sudden explosion of enthusiasm was joined in by all around, and it won for him many kindly looks and sayings, for the people of York were going wild with joy at their unexpected deliverance from the Vikings and from the cruel revenges of Earl Tostig. They could hardly believe their ears and eyes that this was, indeed, their hero monarch.
Splendid, indeed, was Harold, the son of Godwin, riding bareheaded into the city, which might be called one of the two capitals of his kingdom. London was the other capital, and in many respects it was the more important, but all the north of the kingdom was to be ruled, in a manner, from York.
The handsome, thoughtful face of Harold was somewhat pallid from recent illness, but he seemed to Ned, the son of Webb, one of the most powerfully built men that he had ever seen, even in Norway.
"They say," he was thinking, "that not many men living can stand before him in single fight. I shouldn't wonder if my conquest of England is going to be cracked to pieces, right away. If that's so, I'm going to be one of Harold's men and fight Duke William. Harold is a better man than Tostig. But what on earth am I going to do about Lars and Vebba?"
He was afraid that Father Brian was right, and that he had now no chance for returning to them or to the earl, and a strange wave of new feeling was sweeping through him. He did not now wish to fight these Englishmen who were defending their country, and a great admiration for Harold the hero was taking possession of him.
Great men often seem to have a magnetic power for drawing all other men to them, and the last of the Saxon kings was a very strong magnet. At his side now rode his brother, Leofwine, not so tall, but reputed to be almost as good a warrior. On behind them poured steadily the long columns of the Saxon army. Not by any means all of its forces, however, were as thoroughly disciplined and equipped as were the house-carles of the king.
"I think thou canst now understand this matter, my boy," remarked Father Brian. "Thou seest with thine own eyes that all things were ready for their coming, and that they march through the city without halting for a moment. None will hinder their going out at the Derwent gate, and not a man beyond the wall on that side knoweth of their coming. This will be a bad day for all of Hardrada's men that are on this side of the Derwent. They will be surprised and outnumbered, and small mercy will be shown to them."
"Come on!" exclaimed Ned. "I want to get there. I may do something yet."
Around by other streets, necessarily much more slowly than the mounted men, the two friends made their way across the city. When at last they reached the Derwent gate, however, there was nothing to prevent their marching out at once with the foot-soldiers of King Harold.
"Father Brian," inquired Ned, "dost thou suppose that Edwin and Morcar knew of this all the while?"
"They did," he responded. "A swift messenger came to tell them how much time they must save in their bargainings. He was a Saxon priest, and no man suspected his errand. Push on, now. Some of Hardrada's troops were expecting to march in and garrison the city at this hour. Then the King of Norway and Earl Tostig were to hold a courthere and give a great feast. Very little more good eating are they likely to do, this day."
The Saxon army pressed forward steadily, and its several divisions were evidently under clear instructions; for, as they marched, they spread out on the right and left into a compact battle-array, with a broad front, the centre of which consisted of the house-carles.
Hardly had the foremost lines advanced half-way from the city walls to the river Derwent when they were suddenly confronted by the strong body of Vikings which had been sent to take possession of York in accordance with the terms of surrender. It was swinging along fearlessly, joyously, without any thought of meeting a hostile force.
Ned, the son of Webb, and his companion had walked their very best to keep with the advance, and they were now away at the right of the Saxon army front, for there was no possibility of getting through it.
"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Father Brian."The trumpets of the house-carles! They are sounding the charge! Hearest thou not also that braying of Viking war-horns? Forward, over this ridge, my boy. Thou and I are to see something now."
"There they go!" shouted Ned. "The whole line is making a rush. Quick! I want to see that charge. I wish I knew where Lars is. I hope he's beyond the river."
They were only just in time to see. The warriors of Norway had no time at all given them to form in order of battle. The narrow front of their astonished column was instantly shattered by the charge of the mounted house-carles. Behind these, closing around upon their flanks, clashed forward the Saxon footmen with ax and spear.
Hardrada's men were veterans, and they fell back, fighting furiously and struggling to keep their ranks.
All things were against them, however,—the surprise, the superior numbers, and theflanking, encircling tactics of King Harold's men.
"Look!" said Father Brian. "All this part of them are in the trap. All that are behind are turning toward the bridge. Only such as reach it while these are fighting will ever get away. The rest must die."
"It's as awful as the Fulford fight," said Ned. "Hardrada lost men enough there, and now another large slice of his army is gone. He will have to give up the idea of conquering England."
"He lost that at Fulford," said the missionary, "and he threw away all that was left him when he let the earls cheat him into waiting for Harold."
The slaughter now going on was pitiless. Much the larger part of Hardrada's remaining strength, nevertheless, was still upon the other side of the Derwent, and considerable numbers were escaping across the bridge to join it.
"It is our time to go ahead, my boy," said Father Brian. "We must get to the bank of the river, if we can. I want to see how the Saxons will manage to cross the bridge. Hardrada can easily hold it against them."
"We can't cross it ourselves," replied Ned. "So far as I can see, we must stay with the English army, whether we like it or not."
"Thou hast no errand, now, for Tostig the Earl," growled the missionary. "He hath no more need for anything that thou couldst tell him. Ho! Boats! Two of them. One will do for us, and that is what I was looking for. We need no bridge."
"There's a fellow getting into one of them," said Ned. "We'll take the other."
Down they went, and in a minute more they were pulling away over the Derwent, taking little notice of the occupant of the other boat, except to see that he was a heavily armoured spearman of the house-carles.
Their eyes were too busy to care for him,for they were watching the rush of the fugitives across the bridge. For life, for life, they were crowding along the narrow passage which was their only escape from the steel of the Saxons. It was beginning to look as if all who could escape were already over, when Ned, the son of Webb, almost yelled out:
"Sikend! Sikend the Berserker! Look at him! He is holding the bridge all alone. Row on! I want to get nearer!"
A few strokes of the oars carried them upstream to within fifty yards of the spot where the Berserker stood. Clad still in full armour, his tremendous form seeming broader and more powerful than ever, mad with all the battle fury of his race and nature, ax in hand and shield on arm, he defied the rush of his antagonists with a prowess that appeared to be more than human.
Loudly and mockingly laughed the fierce champion of Norway as he caught spear after spear and arrow after arrow upon his broad,bright shield. Louder yet was his shout of vindictive triumph as his resistless ax cleft helmet after helmet and shoulder after shoulder. There he must die, and this he knew right well, but his was to be no cow's death. Little did he care for its coming, so that he might slay many foemen, and fall surrounded by their dead bodies.
Brave as they were, the Saxons fell back for a moment from before this awful shape. It had happened that the first of them to cross the bridge were not of the thingmen of Harold.
These were still busily destroying the remainder of the Vikings on the York side of the river. Again a rush was made, and again Sikend drove it back. It was afterward said that not less than forty warriors fell dead under the terrible blows of the Berserker.
"Yonder is King Harold, on the bank," said Ned, the son of Webb, "but look at thatSaxon in the boat under the bridge! He is after Sikend! He is stabbing upward with his spear, through the cracks between the planks!"
"They can't be wide enough," said Father Brian. "Ha! Sikend is hurt! He is down upon one knee! He can stand and fight no longer!"
"I'll stop that man!" shouted Ned, pulling hard upon his oars. "Sikend is a friend of mine—"
"Let thou alone!" exclaimed Father Brian. "It is no affair of thine!"
He was too late, for Ned had now arisen, in his sudden excitement, and his angry yell had drawn upon him the attention of the house-carle. Louder was the response of the tall Saxon, and as he shouted he hurled at Ned the long javelin with which he had smitten the Berserker.
"Thou hast it!" gasped the missionary.
"On my shield," said Ned. "It wentthrough it as if it had been cardboard, but my mail stopped it. There! He is over! I need not spear him!"
"Praise the saints!" muttered Father Brian. "He hath upset! But for me thou wouldst have done the same."
That was not strictly correct. The Saxon's boat was floating well, but the very energy of his furiously angry spear-throwing had tipped his tiny punt and sent it out from under him, plunging him into the swiftly eddying current of the Derwent.
"Can he swim," whispered Ned, "with all his armour on?"
"That is the last of him!" remarked Father Brian. "He will throw no more javelins. He is gone!"
Not even once did the overweighted house-carle come to the surface. He may indeed have been no swimmer. In the meantime, however, with wild hurrahs, the Saxons on the bridge had charged forward, and thrustafter thrust had been given to the prostrate body of the wounded Berserker. He had fallen as he had wished to fall, a hero defying a whole army.
"King Harold's men are pushing across the bridge," said Ned, as his boat drifted out from under it. "Why on earth did the Vikings leave it to be defended by one man?"
"It is only one more of Hardrada's blunders," replied the missionary. "He is only a sea king, and not a good general on the land. A man may be the biggest pirate in all the world and not know enough to handle an army. He hath done little more than to fight hard and to blunder all the while, ever since he landed. Seest thou now? The mounted house-carles gallop forward. Behind them the Saxon army will form on the other bank, and then Hardrada's army is doomed. Thou and I will cross quickly, that we may obtain a good place from which to watch the shutting of this death-trap."
"The Vikings that are left will be awfully outnumbered," said Ned. "Oh, how I wish I could do something for Lars and Vebba and our men!"
"The invading host hath no hope," said his friend. "They are to be struck by one of the best generals in the world, leading the best fighters. Thou canst do nothing at all for thy friends."
"It's too bad!" groaned Ned. "I like Lars."
The boat was soon left behind them. Not a great while afterward they were standing upon a moderate elevation of rocky ground, at the right of the level upon which the Saxon forces were rapidly forming in order of battle, under the eyes of their king. They were doing so at this precise place, for the reason that immediately in front of them were assembled all that was now left of the forces of King Hardrada.
"My boy," exclaimed the missionary,"both sides are looking splendidly. I am glad to be where I can see, but any man running in between those two fronts would be like a corn of wheat between millstones. See thou! All of the house-carles are dismounting. They will fight on foot. They do not mean to lose too many horses. I would not, if I were they, with mayhap a long ride near to come."
"William of Normandy's horses wear armour," said Ned. "I have seen pictures of them,—as much armour as a man weareth."
"Not many of them," replied Father Brian. "Here and there one, perhaps, if the owner of the horse can afford that kind of harness. Not many can, for armour costeth money. The man that made the pictures may have had some of that armour in his head."
"Thou meanest in his eye," said Ned. "There were loads of it, anyhow, and if a horse loaded like that were to stumble and fall, he'd be likely to stay down."
"Any man that goeth down to-day will stay down," responded the missionary. "The Northumberland levies that follow in the rear have come to take revenge for the slaughter at Fulford. It is a cruel, heathenish business, from first to last. I will be glad when the whole world shall be civilised, as it is around Clontarf."
The great invasion of England by the sea king was already a complete failure. He and his brave but now dispirited Vikings had rallied to make their last stand against the unexpected and now overwhelming host of the hero King of England. Upon that very day, Hardrada of Norway and Tostig the Earl were to have entered York as conquerors. Here they were, instead, at a little after midday, confronting sure ruin and probable death.
All the remaining fighting strength of York and its vicinity had zealously joined King Harold, so that all the while the Stamford bridge was still thronged with marching men.The marvel that Tostig or Hardrada had not ordered it to be burnt or chopped away was on the tongues of many. They may have vainly thought of again using it to recross the Derwent, and, if so, this was one more bad blunder, for they had left it in the hands of King Harold, and he was a general.
The army front presented by the Northmen was exceedingly dangerous looking, nevertheless. They had formed in close order with the raven standard, the Land Waster, near the centre. In front of this, at first, were the sea king, himself, and Tostig the Earl, but their duty as leaders shortly called upon them to ride to and fro among their half-disheartened followers, uttering loud sounding words of encouragement and hope. Norwegians were very brave men, and they responded with loud shouts and the braying of thousands of war-horns, while every harp among them sounded.
There was yet a wide open space between the two army fronts. Into this rode out fromthat of the Northmen a herald sounding a parley. The agreement for one being made at once, from the same side rode out Tostig the Earl, accompanied by Vikings of rank, and he was met about half-way by a similar party of Saxons.
"What terms," asked Tostig, "will Harold of England offer, if Harold Hardrada and Tostig, the son of Godwin, will now make peace with him? What will he offer to the earl, and what part of England will he surrender to the King of Norway?"
A loud, ringing voice from among the Saxon horsemen at once responded:
"To Tostig, the son of Godwin, full pardon and an earldom. To Harold Hardrada of Norway, seven feet of English ground for his burial. Or, since he is said to be taller than other men, he will be allowed twelve inches more."
"Then tell thou him," replied the earl, "that Tostig will not desert the comradeswho have trusted him, and that he will fight to the last."
Back rode both of the embassies to their own friends, and Hardrada, who had heard all of the loudly uttered questions and answers, exclaimed to Tostig:
"Good was thy speech, my friend; but who was the man who heard and answered thee?"
"He was Harold, the son of Godwin," replied the earl.
"What?" shouted the angry king. "Then he should never have gotten back in safety to his own!"
"Not so," said Tostig, sadly. "I have erred much, but my royal brother I might not betray to thee and thine."
Other things were said on both sides, but none of them was heard by Ned, the son of Webb. It was indeed no time for any quarrel between Tostig and Hardrada, for the war-horns were sounding and the Saxonswere advancing along their whole line. Firmly, steadily, with desperate courage and magnificent prowess, they were met by the close array of the Northmen.
Although these were not so well disciplined, and were inferior in numbers, they were, individually, equally skilled in arms, and they were fighting for their lives. They fought on with almost an appearance of possible success until the resistless pressure of the trained thingmen broke their front and disordered them. Even then they would not yield, and all who afterward told stories of the battle had wonderful things to relate concerning the feats of arms performed by the sea king himself, and by Tostig the Earl, and by many of the heroes of the Vikings.
Under the Land Waster standard at last an arrow slew the King of Norway. There, also, fighting valiantly, fell Tostig the Earl, and with their slaying the battle ended, for the remaining Northmen lost heart and fled.
Then, to the surprise of some, Harold the King forbade further following, and commanded that his forces should once more come into close order. It may be that he was not quite assured as to how many Vikings might yet remain, at the shore or on the ships. At all events, there were excellent reasons why he should be willing to waste neither men nor time at that place, and why he should offer generous terms to the remnant of the invaders. That he intended doing this was to be made known somewhat later, and now he sat upon his horse, not far from the raven standard, giving directions concerning the bodies of his brother Tostig and of King Hardrada.
Ned, the son of Webb, was not a great many yards away, for he and the missionary had followed the charge of the Saxons and had been almost in the front of the battle. He was now staring around him at the gory evidences of how hard the fight had been.Almost at his feet lay a heap of slain Norwegians, and from under one edge of it somebody appeared to be struggling out.
"Lars, the son of Vebba!" shouted Ned. "Come here, Father Brian. Thou and I must save him! Get up, Lars!"
"No man will harm him now," shouted back the priest. "Is he badly wounded?"
"I have not a cut," responded Lars himself. "I was knocked down by a mace, that is all, and these others fell upon me. O Ned, the son of Webb! We are ruined! Ruined! There will be sad mourning among the fiords of Norway!"
"Vebba!" exclaimed Ned. "Where is he?"
"I saw him escape to the ships among the first," replied Lars, almost weeping.
"Go thou after him, thyself," said Ned. "Harold the King hath commanded that all like thee may go. Tell Vebba that I am to stay here. Run if thou canst! Get on board a ship."
"Thou art right to stay," said Lars. "This is thine own country. Thou hast lost thine Earl Tostig, but mind not that too much. There are always plenty of earls."
"Good-bye!" said Ned, and in a moment more Lars was walking away briskly.
He was safe from spear or blade, for the commands of Harold the King would surely be obeyed by all his men.
A RIDE IN OLD ENGLAND.
Ned, the son of Webb, stood still, gazing very earnestly at the King of England.
"I suppose he feels badly about his brother," Ned was thinking. "I would, no matter what he'd been up to. I'm sorry Tostig was killed, anyhow. He was a friend of mine. I didn't see King Harold do any hand to hand fighting, either. I guess he kept back on purpose."
"My boy!" sharply whispered Father Brian. "The king wheeleth his horse toward thee. Stand thou still, for he hath his eye upon thee."
In a moment more the hot blood was flushing Ned's cheeks to redness, for the king drew rein in front of him and spoke in Saxon. IfNed could have understood him he might have been astonished, for he was saying:
"I saw thee row under the bridge, O boy with a battered shield. Thou art the cunning spearman that slew for me the Berserker and opened the way for the advance. I thank thee, whoever thou art. Thou art but young, too, for such a doing. What is thy name?"
Ned more than half guessed that such a question was asked him, and he promptly responded in Latin:
"I am Ned, the son of Webb, O king!"
"Aha! Thou speakest Latin?" exclaimed the king. "Thou seemest to be well born, and thou art a scholar. What can I do for thee? Speak quickly!"
"O Harold the King," said Ned. "I would that I might ride with the army when it marcheth away from York. William the Norman is coming. I wish to be with thy house-carles and fight the Normans for thee and for England."
He felt that he had made a tremendously long speech, and he had, but a bright smile shot across the face of the king.
"That thou shalt have," he said, and he added, to a horseman near him, "Wolfram of Hythe, get good horses for this youth and for his teacher that attendeth him. O priest, remain thou with thy pupil. Go both of you now to York. Ned, the son of Webb, I will see thee again."
"I will be with him, O king," replied Father Brian, loudly. "He is a youth of much promise, and he needeth my continual instruction."
King Harold spurred away, followed by his chiefs and thanes and earls, while the good missionary turned almost indignantly upon Ned.
"This is wrong!" he exclaimed. "Thou art deceiving the king. I did not understand at first, but I heard others of them repeat his words. He believeth thee the slayer of Sikendthe Berserker from under the bridge. Thou art not!"
"Was that it?" almost gasped Ned. "I never said I was. I think it was a mean thing to do, anyhow, to stab Sikend in the legs, in that way, so he couldn't stand up and fight. I'm sorry the king should think I would do anything so unfair as that."
"So am I," said Father Brian, "for a lie is a bad thing, any day. Thou must yet find an opportunity to tell him the truth of that matter. But I am glad, nevertheless, that we are to have horses and get away from York in good company. I have a great desire to get speedily to London, whatever may happen afterward."
Wolfram of Hythe did not have far to go for his horses, and those which he was now bringing forward were big enough for war-horses. They had a somewhat jaded appearance, for they had travelled far that day. They had lost their riders in the battle, itwas explained, and in a moment more Ned and the missionary were as well mounted as if they both were house-carles of the king.
"It is well for us, indeed," said Father Brian. "We shall have good quarters, and rations, too, while we are on the march. Thou wilt set the king right concerning Sikend in due season, for truth's sake. Thou didst not harm thy fellow soldier, and yet I tell thee that the world cannot be civilised until there are no more Berserkers. Small matter it is how they are killed."
"I didn't even hurt the Saxon that did kill him," said Ned. "He was drowned."
"I am glad of that, almost," replied Father Brian. "It will be better for thee to make thine own explanation than for that house-carle to come and tell the king thou art a false witness."
"It's awful!" said Ned. "I'm a fraud! It isn't any fault of mine, though, and I can straighten it, as soon as I've a chance."
The shadows of evening were deepening when the two friends rode over Stamford bridge and galloped on toward York. When they reached the city it was almost dark, and in all directions hundreds of men were going about with torches and rude lanterns.
"The panes of glass in those lanterns," said Ned to himself, "are all made of cow's horn, scraped thin. I guess they don't break easily. They are better than nothing, though, and we can find our way to the tavern."
So they did, and once more Ned had something to say about lights.
"There's an awful difference," he remarked, "between these rush-light smokers and electric bulbs or gas, or even kerosene or candles. Hollow rushes with fat poured into them! They stand up pretty well in the sticks, but they don't last long, and how they do smoke!"
He did not allow his own rush-light to burn down, however. As soon as the horses werecared for and supper was eaten, he was glad enough to get into bed.
"I do believe there is nothing else in all the world," he said, "that will tire a fellow out like a great battle. Father Brian was right, though, about the trap that was set for King Hardrada. Those two English earls, Edwin and Morcar, knew well enough that Harold was coming, and they had everything ready when he got here. Hardrada ought to have watched. He knew he was dealing with his enemies. So did Tostig, and I believe he suspected something."
Sleep stopped him there, and he arose the next morning with a feeling that he was going to walk out into something entirely new. He was now no longer a Norway Viking, invading England with Harold Hardrada the Sea King. Nor was he any longer under the special protection of Tostig the Earl. All of his previous experiences, as he said of them, were so many back numbers, and he was nowKing Harold of England's devoted follower. He winced a little, also, when he remembered that he was regarded as one of the heroes of the great battle of Stamford bridge.
During this day and several more which followed, he was left almost altogether by himself, for Father Brian had affairs of his own to attend to.
"It is just the way I'd like to have it," said Ned. "Now I've a good horse that won't pitch me over his head, as Nanny did, I'm going to ride all around and see the country. I'll see the city better, too. I'd like to tell father and mother what I'm doing, too."
The city gates were open now, and all men came and went at their will. There were throngs of them, for all the country people were eager to get a glimpse of their victorious king and his wonderful army. Ned found nothing to hinder him, therefore, and he made his horseback excursions industriously. The very first of them carried him once more overStamford bridge and across the battle-field. He had thought he would wish to look at it and remember the fighting, but he did not linger there for a moment.
"It is too dreadful!" he exclaimed, urging his horse forward. "I never want to see a battle-field again, that is, not after all the battle is over. I'll ride on and see if I can visit Lars and Vebba."
It was not so very long a gallop to the bank of the Humber. Large numbers of Norway war-ships were still there, anchored or moored to the shore, but Ned searched among them in vain for a glimpse of his old friend, theSerpent. The fact was that these ships which remained were such as had been surrendered after the defeat of Hardrada's army. Quite a number, which had been ready for sea, had sailed away at once, carrying such Vikings as had not marched to the Derwent at all, and with them a great many of the first arriving fugitives.
"I guess she got away," said Ned. "She belonged to Vebba. I hope he and Lars are on board of her. Some day I mean to visit Norway again and go and see them, but they'd do better if they'd emigrate to America."
King Harold of England was dealing very mercifully with the beaten invaders. It was said that he had given two dozen of the captured vessels for his prisoners to go home in.
"It wouldn't do for him to kill them," remarked Ned, as he rode homeward. "I guess he was glad to be rid of them."
Other days went by, and Ned spent most of the in on horseback, so that he saw a great deal of that part of Northumberland. He returned to the tavern pretty well tired out, one evening, and, just as he was carrying a sputtering rush-light up-stairs, he heard heavy footsteps behind him and a cheery voice that shouted:
"My boy! Our luck hath come! A messenger came from London to the king,to-day, to tell him that the fleet of Duke William of Normandy hath been seen off the southern coast. Before Harold and his army can get there, the Normans will all be landed. They will have before them, soon, a greater battle than the one that was fought with the Norwegians, putting Fulford and Stamford bridge together."
"That's bad news for England," said Ned. "A host of men will be killed. I'm ready, anyhow. I want to see King Harold win another victory."
"Thou knowest very little about that," replied the missionary, going on up the stairs with him. "No man may say how a battle will turn out until after the fighting is over. I will ask thee one thing, however. Canst thou speak at all in French?"
"Of course I can," said Ned. "I learned it at home, when I was a little chap."
"It may yet be a good thing for thee," said Father Brian. "I have it upon mymind, however, that the greater part of Duke William's motley army speak tongues of their own, and not a word of French. It is a speech I have not yet heard. It may be that thou and I will listen to it before long."
"I guess so," said Ned. "I'll have a talk with King Harold's French prisoners, after he whips the duke."
Ned's admiration for the Saxon king had been strengthening rapidly from day to day, as he heard men talk about him. He did not now entertain any idea that his hero could really be beaten by Duke William. At the same time, he had begun to pick up rapidly a number of words of several kinds of Saxon. This had helped him very much in a number of conversations with the king's house-carles. It had also proved convenient at the tavern, among the citizens of York, and among the country people.
The Saxon army had been resting well during all these days, and it had been preparing for the long, severe march which its royal commander had known it must soon perform. He, statesman as well as general, had been setting in order the tangled affairs of the great northern earldoms. The two Earls of Mercia and Northumberland, Edwin and Morcar, had professed utter loyalty to him. They had promised to bring all the forces they could muster to join the army which was to oppose Duke William of Normandy.
This, nevertheless, would require time, and the king could not now wait for any new levies. He was needed to defend the southern counties of England, and, especially, to prevent the speedy capture of London by the Normans.
The mounted house-carles, the thingmen, were ready to march on the day following the arrival of the messenger who brought the tidings concerning Duke William's fleet. It may be that even then King Harold wasaware of the terrible truth, that the landing of the Normans had already begun at Pevensey, on the southern coast, only three days after the battle of Stamford bridge. He was also aware, nevertheless, that the transfer from ship to shore of such a host as that of William, with its supplies, and with a vast number of horses for its cavalry, was a task which would surely require a number of days. More time would necessarily be consumed, after that, in getting the invading army into shape for any considerable forward movement. It was still possible, therefore, for Harold and his army to get to London in season. If he could save his capital city, then would follow the awful struggle that was sure to come for England's throne and freedom.
Out of the Ouse gate of the old city of York rode the mailed horsemen, in close array. Behind them, in endless columns, strode the footmen, thousand after thousand. Perhapsnot a man who saw them march away could have believed what a fate was waiting for them on the southern shore of the land they were going to defend.
"My boy," said Father Brian, "thou and I will keep close along toward the front. The king himself rideth far ahead of all. He intendeth to stir up, as he goeth along, all the fighting strength of the middle counties."
"I'm afraid I won't have a chance to get at him," replied Ned. "I want to let him know the truth about that affair of Sikend the Berserker."
"Thou mayest let that rest," said the good missionary. "He hath quite enough to busy him just now. I think he may be caring very little who it was that speared one Viking. Only I bid thee keep good care of thy tongue and speak only the truth. It is always bad for a man to win upon false pretences. See that thou maintain thy honesty, my boy."
"I guess I will," said Ned. "There isn't anything crooked about me. If a man will tell a falsehood, the next thing he will be caught passing counterfeit money."
"Thou hast a great many of thy York Saxon sayings," remarked Father Brian, "that thou art not able to turn into good Latin. I have found it so with all the heathen I have ever been among. It sometimes maketh me wish that I were back at Clontarf, to hear men talking good sense once more. I give that up, however, for my duty biddeth me to remain, that I may do somewhat for the civilisation and instruction of these ignorant English people."
This was an undertaking concerning which the good man was becoming more and more enthusiastic. It was plain that he cared for it much more than he did for any victories or defeats of either Norman William or Saxon Harold.
Ned had heard him saying to himself:
"Little odds is it which of the two shall wear the crown, provided that these millions of human beings shall be made over into something better than so many two-legged cattle. They are little more than that now."
At first, even after exploring York, Ned had hardly agreed with him, but he learned a great deal as they rode along and as he saw the actual state of things in England.
Day followed day, and the mounted house-carles rode steadily onward. Town after town, camp after camp, was reached and left behind. Everywhere the king was welcomed with noisy acclamations. He appeared, indeed, to be exceedingly well beloved by his subjects of every rank and kind.
"They are all sorts, though," was a remark that Ned was forced to make concerning them, and he added: "What they want is about forty thousand Father Brians."
Large numbers, he discovered, were no better than slaves, the property of the landholders. They had no hope whatever of improving their condition. Even the freemen were only a shade better off. Not many, even of the rich and titled, were able to read and write. There were a great many other faults to find.
"Sometimes," said Ned, "I almost think England ought to be conquered. Harold or somebody else ought to stir up things with a long pole."
He was hardly able to say what he would try to do first, if he were king, and he determined to have a talk about it with Harold some day after he should have beaten the Normans.
The country they rode through was very beautiful, after all. Some of the towns were fairly well built. Some of the castles and palaces were picturesque and attractive. There were numberless green fields and fruitful orchards. The flocks of sheep and the herds of cattle looked like prosperity.
Then, too, there were grand old forests of oaks and other trees, and Ned saw herd after herd of beautiful red deer.
"No poor man dares to hunt them, they tell me," he said of the deer. "They'd hang him as if he'd killed a man. Not even if he were starving. It is a good deal as Father Brian says, the lower kinds of people in England are treated as if they were beasts."
Above these, nevertheless, were the hundreds of thousands of strong-armed yeomanry,—the farmers, the squires, the thanes, great and small, and from among these King Harold was now trying to strengthen his army. No doubt his success in doing so would have been better if more time had been given him, but as he pushed onward messenger after messenger came riding swiftly to tell him of the vast numbers and warlike appearance of the host of William of Normandy. This was now all landed, they reported, and it was almost ready for a march upon London, where therewas nothing to oppose it but a moderate force under Gyrth, Earl of the East Angles and younger brother of the king.
"I want to see Gyrth," said Ned to the missionary. "They say he is another hero like Harold."