THE HOST OF THE NORMANS.
"London! London! London!" exclaimed Ned, the son of Webb, slowly and thoughtfully. "After all I had heard and read about this place, I hadn't the ghost of an idea of what it would really be. I went through all the London guide-books, too, that Uncle Jack brought home with him. I guess it changed a good deal before they were printed."
He had other remarks to make, and some of them were uncomplimentary. It appeared that he had been going through all quarters of the English capital city, ever since he rode into it with the house-carles of the king. He knew something of its history, oldBritish, Roman, Saxon, and he could add to that wonderful ideas of what it would be in the years to come. He had taken careful notes of its larger buildings, its walls, and fortifications.
"I think that Duke William was wise," he remarked, "in not coming here until he was entirely ready. It's a strong place. He could not have taken it right away. King Harold knew it could stand a siege or he would not have gone to fight the Vikings."
Nevertheless, until the return of their king and his army, the people of London had been in a panic of fear lest their town should be taken and sacked by the invaders.
"Now," said Ned, at last, "I have seen enough of these dirty streets. They are as bad as those of York, or worse. I'll go and get my horse and see if Father Brian has come."
His learned Irish friend had been full of affairs of his own ever since their arrival.He too, moreover, had been exploring London, and he had formed a very low opinion of its civilisation. Ned found him waiting, shortly, in the queer old hostelry which had been assigned them by the army authorities as their quarters.
"My boy!" exclaimed Father Brian. "I am glad to see thee. Oh, the heathen town that this is! It is full of thieves. It is exceedingly disorderly and dirty. I may say that the army being here doth not make it any better. Ah, me! I shall be glad when the battle is over and we know which of the twain is to be king of this place. Whichever it may be, he hath a long, hard bit of work before him to make this country what it ought to be."
There could be no doubt of that, but Ned, the son of Webb, was not just now much interested in questions of reform and education. His head was full of army affairs, and Father Brian was his best newspaper.
"What?" exclaimed the missionary, in reply to Ned's questioning. "Will the Saxons fight? Indeed they will, and King Harold himself is to lead his army. I am told that his brother Gyrth—the brave man that he is!—asked permission to lead this battle himself, and urged the king to stay out of it. He said that then Harold would have time to gather more troops. Gyrth might be defeated and killed, but the kingdom would not be lost all at once. What is more, Harold might lay waste all the lands nearest the Normans and starve them out, fighting them inch by inch. He is an unselfish patriot, to offer his life in that way."
"What did the king say?" asked Ned.
"As thou mightest expect, I think," replied Father Brian. "He declared that he would waste no English land nor burn an English house. He would allow no other man to fight and die in his place. He would lead his own army, he said, and he is right about that."
"No, he isn't," said Ned. "He had better take Gyrth's advice. He is risking too much upon one battle. He hath not men enough here to beat the Normans."
"King Harold knoweth best," said Father Brian. "His men would not fight as well under anybody else. His absence might dishearten them. Now, I tell thee: they say that the Norman duke hath sixty thousand men, but that the most of them are of all sorts, taken as they came. Harold of England hath only a quarter as many, indeed, but the main body of them consists of picked and chosen warriors, well-disciplined veterans. There is a great strength in that."
"Thou meanest," said Ned, "that no common men are fit to face the house-carles? The duke should have seen them at Stamford."
"He knoweth them, I suppose," said Father Brian. "It maketh him slow and cautious. The thingmen will all die where they stand, and I think that many other men will diewhen they do. It is a pity that they were at the north and not here when the fleet of William came to Pevensey. Had they been at hand, the Normans would not have gotten ashore at all. Harold would have slaughtered them at the water's edge."
"All of that is Tostig's work," said Ned, angrily. "He stirred up Hardrada to come with his Vikings, just at the worst time."
"He hath paid for it with his life," replied Father Brian, "and it is a heavy load for any man to put upon his soul. One bad, ambitious, selfish plotter may sometimes do a vast amount of bloody mischief."
All that was of the past, and there was no help for it. Everybody was well aware, moreover, that there had been an exchange of embassies, day after day, between the king and Duke William. Terms of settlement had been offered and rejected, for neither of them would give up the main point of dispute, the right to the crown of England. Thereforethere could be no compromise, and the sword must decide.
While the two friends had been talking, their horses had been brought out. They mounted now, and rode out together through one of the southerly gates.
"These walls and the forts are quite strong," remarked Father Brian. "The best work on them was done long ago by the Romans. I have thought that if I were Harold I would wait for the Normans at this place."
"One of the house-carles told me," said Ned, "that the king had chosen a better. He had seen it himself. He hadn't the least idea that the king will be beaten."
"He would not be," replied the missionary, "if all of his men were like them. Man for man, the Normans have nothing like them. They will cleave through shield or mail or helmet with a blow of their long-handled axes. They fear nothing."
The guards posted at the city gates were not questioning any who came or went, and people from all directions were seeking safety within the walls. None of these had yet been harmed, but before Ned and his companion had ridden many miles they found the roads crowded with men, women, and children, fleeing inland from the cruelty of the invaders. Terrible tales were told by these poor fugitives of the atrocities already inflicted upon the shore-folk by the savage rabble of which a large part of William's army consisted. This was to have been expected, whether the duke willed it or not, and Saxon England was receiving a sad warning of the methods by which, from that time onward, its conquest was to be completed.
Both Ned, the son of Webb, and the missionary were now getting excited, and they rode faster. The whole affair was becoming more real to them. It was a tremendous thing to think of. The entire future historyof England was about to be decided by one great fight, and everything relating to that was to be studied with almost feverish interest.
It was late in the day when Father Brian drew his rein, exclaiming:
"There, my boy, look yonder! That is the ridge and hill of Senlac. That is where Harold hath chosen to wait for William. He is wise. It is a very strong military position."
"Then why on earth," asked Ned, "did not the duke send a force ahead and seize it? It was right in his way, if he intended to march for London."
"Perhaps he knew it not," said Father Brian. "He is in a strange country. I believe that he would prefer to have the Saxon army come on and meet him, at almost any place. What he needeth most of all is this very battle to be fought without delay, for his host is eating up its provisions. This ridge of Senlac, if thou wiltmark it, will prove a death-trap for him or for Harold, as the fight may turn either way."
"Can the king be caught in it?" asked Ned.
"I know not, yet," grimly responded the missionary. "I heard once, though, of a man who trapped a bear. The trap was a good one, and the bear was in it."
"How did it work, then?" asked Ned.
"I heard that soon there was very little left of either the trap or the hunter," growled Father Brian. "It was a large bear. Come on, now, and we will see what all these men are doing. They are as busy as bees."
The long, low hill toward which they were riding was somewhat steep upon its southerly side. From end to end, it now swarmed with toilers. It had been generally understood that the Saxon army had not yet left London, and who, then, were these?
Father Brian gazed at them in silence for a minute or so before he turned in his saddle to say, with energy:
"The trap is well set for catching the duke. King Harold knew what might be done with this reach of land. He hath sent on his two brothers and a sufficient force to fortify the ridge. Seest thou? They are making a strong breastwork of timber and in some places more than that. I think it might stop any charge of Duke William's best horsemen. They will fare but badly, with Harold's axmen behind the barrier. Let us ride on."
There was an elevation high enough to be described by Ned as a hill, at a little distance behind the ridge, toward the right, and here, too, the men were fortifying. The timber-work defences at the front were sufficiently extensive to bar the entire way by which the Normans must come in their march northward from their camps. These were not now at their Pevensey landing-place, but near the coast village of Hastings, several miles nearer to Senlac.
"That means Bloody Pond, or the Lake of Blood," remarked Ned. "There is a pond in New York State that is named so from an old fight with the Indians. I don't see any kind of pond around here."
"There may have been one, once," replied Father Brian. "Maybe they let the water out of it, or it dried up somehow and left the name of it sticking to the hill. There will be blood enough spilled here to fill a pond, I am afraid."
They rode nearer the hill, now, and on the crest of it they saw two mailed men on horseback.
"Hear them!" whispered Father Brian. "Hark to the two great earls!"
"Oh, Gyrth, my brother," said one of them, loudly and cheerfully, "here will we set up the standards. I think the axmen of England can hold yonder lines against all the motley pirates under Duke William."
"Or else," calmly responded Gyrth, "here will the sons of Godwin die. Our brotherSveyn is gone, long since. Tostig is slain. Harold and thou and I remain. Oh, Leofwine, thou art ever light-hearted, but yonder is a mighty host, between us and the sea."
"So be it," responded Leofwine, as recklessly as ever. "Let them come on. I care not at all to live under the yoke of William the Norman. It were far better to die in battle."
"I would that all England were of one mind with thee in that matter," replied Gyrth. "Then were we not so few, this day. The levies of the midland counties are all so laggard in coming. Moreover, Edwin and Morcar have been but half-hearted, from the beginning. I think they wait to hear the ending of this very battle."
"They made a good fight at Fulford," said Leofwine. "Many of the Northumberland spearmen were at Stamford bridge. If we may but baffle the first assault of the Normans and hold them in check a few days, weshall soon thereafter be strong enough to send the Duke of Normandy back to his ships."
"Such is the war policy of Harold," responded Gyrth. "There is a deep wisdom in it if we may hold our lines through but one day only. I will say no more, now, my brother. I have a strange foreboding upon me, and I like not the name of this place."
"The Lake of Blood?" said Leofwine. "Ay! All England will be made red enough if we hold not the hill against Duke William. Who knoweth the spot that waiteth for thine and mine?"
"God only!" responded Gyrth. "I had thought, too, that he would fight on our side for the freedom of England."
They turned their horses' heads and rode away from the hill to pass along the lines, inspecting the defences. Both of the listeners were silent a moment, for they had heard enough to make them thoughtful.
"Those two are brave men," said Father Brian, then. "I fear they have spoken a hard truth. The people have not come to the king's help loyally. They may pay for their lack, sorely, after their king is gone from them. Didst thou hear them speak of their older brother, Sveyn? He was like them for fighting well, but he had a wild spirit in him. It is rare that there are five in one family that are like the sons of old Earl Godwin."
Both of them wished for a closer look at the defences, and they rode onward. It was surprising how much had been done already, and the force which the king had sent forward to protect the workmen was more than half of his army. Nothing less than a rush made with all the power of the invaders could have carried the ridge that evening.
"What I'd like to do, now," said Ned, "is to ride out and try for a look at some of the Norman camps. What sayest thou?"
"I am with thee," replied Father Brian."We may well ride sword in hand, my boy, lest we chance to run against some stray party of Normans. I will unsling my pole-ax. Where didst thou get that long spear?"
"It was given me by one of the house-carles," said Ned. "It is not too heavy for me, in spite of the long shaft. It is a kind of lance."
"I will get me one like it, then, as soon as I can," said the missionary, combatively. "I may yet have to push some Norman from his saddle. I can throw a spear fairly well, too. That is one thing that I learned at Clontarf."
It was not a bad idea, certainly, that the missionaries who were sent out in such times as these were should be sufficiently well trained in the use of weapons to defend themselves if they should ever be attacked, for instance, by bears or wolves.
At several places the Senlac ridge was cut by ravines, which added to its defensive character. At others, the Saxon workmen haddug deep ditches. At the weaker points, where the slope below was less steep, strong palisades had been set instead of mere breastworks. In these lines of palisades were gateways, and through one of these, which was as yet left open, Ned rode out with Father Brian.
"It's a strong fort!" exclaimed Ned, as he looked behind him at the defences.
"Ay," said Father Brian, "for such men as will hold it. I think better of King Harold's prospects. Unless I am in error, all the men from the London camps were to march this day. They will be here before sunrise to-morrow."
They were indeed arriving at that very hour, but both the king and the duke were willing that there should be no battle until all things were ready on both sides. There were to be further negotiations, and the fort builders were to have more time for the completion of their work.
There were several miles of broken countrybetween Hastings and Senlac. Some of the advanced encampments of the Normans were very nearly midway between the Saxon lines and the seashore.
It was toward one of these outermost camps, containing, it might be, a large force of the invaders, that Ned and the missionary were now riding. So far as they could discern, nothing in the nature of fortification had been done here, for no attack was to be expected. They were aware, nevertheless, that Norman patrols would surely be out on duty, and that loose parties from such an army would probably be going hither and thither, for plunder or even for mere adventure.
"Hearest thou the sound of Duke William's army?" said Ned. "It is like the early morning roar of a great city."
"It is the sound of a cataract!" exclaimed Father Brian. "I hear it, but I was thinking of quite another thing, my boy. A swift dashof the thingmen might make wild work of yonder camp this night."
"King Harold could do a great deal better than that," replied Ned. "If he had a few batteries of heavy artillery on the ridge at Senlac they would be within easy range of all these camps. He could pitch percussion shells among them all night long. Duke William would find it very interesting, I can tell him."
"Speak it in Latin," said the good man, and then Ned found himself compelled to say something which did not include shells and long-range cannon.
"Hither cometh a Norman squad!" suddenly interrupted the missionary, getting ready his pole-ax. "Thy spear, my boy! Be on guard! They are taking us for enemies without question."
"I guess we will have to take them, then," said Ned. "There are only four of them. Here goes!"
He spurred his horse forward as he spoke, but it was not to meet genuine Norman men-at-arms. These fellows were only Breton marauders, armoured imperfectly and mounted on ponies. They came dashing forward irregularly instead of charging together.
"I hate to kill a man," muttered Ned, and he did not do so, for the foremost Breton fell from his pony with no worse harm than a spear-wound in the arm.
Ned's shield caught a sword-cut from the second assailant, and it was not repeated, for Father Brian's ax came down upon that man's helmet, and one more saddle was empty.
"Down with them!" roared the valiant missionary. "Thou hast laid one more upon the sand!"
"The spear didn't go through his corselet half an inch," said Ned, "but there he is."
The fourth Breton exchanged a few blows with some skill, but Father Brian was toomuch for him, and his pony, also, was quickly riderless.
"FOR FATHER BRIAN'S AX CAME DOWN UPON THAT MAN'S HELMET."
"FOR FATHER BRIAN'S AX CAME DOWN UPON THAT MAN'S HELMET."
"Father Brian hit him on his shoulder, finely!" exclaimed Ned. "Come on, now! We had better cut stick for Harold's camp."
"Thou art right about that," replied his comrade; "there are more of them coming. It did me much good to upset those heathen. His reverence the Abbot of Clontarf knoweth well what to do with a pole-ax. He drove off twenty wild knaves, one day, when he was all alone. We buried full half of them, that evening, and the others knew better than to come again. I tell thee, my boy, the peace can be well kept in Ireland, especially anywhere near the schools and civilisation."
It was well for them to ride rapidly now, however, for they were pursued almost to a gate of the Saxon army palisades. The one they succeeded in reaching was closed and guarded.
Even when Father Brian shouted out hisname and character and what he had been doing, the officer in command of it let them in only to conduct them at once into the presence of Gyrth, Earl of the East Angles.
Near a blazing camp-fire, the light of which glittered and sparkled upon his splendid armour, stood the hero brother of King Harold. Only the king, himself, could be more loftily majestic in form and manner. Not a word did he utter while Father Brian made his very full report, and then he said:
"Our other scouts have erred somewhat, it appeareth. The Normans have advanced their camps nearer than we were aware, but it is of no consequence. O priest, I know thee and thy pupil to be true men. He slew the Norway champion for us at Stamford bridge, and thou wert with him. Go ye to your camp!"
"Speak not a word!" whispered Father Brian to Ned. "Thou mayest explain that matter only to the king himself. Let wellenough alone, this night. That is our safeguard now, for we had broken orders and knew it not. Ride on!"
Low, indeed, did Ned, the son of Webb, bow to the Saxon hero, and he went on in silence, but he was thinking, remorsefully:
"What would father and mother say? It isn't honest! I am cheating them about Sikend."
There seemed to be no help for it at present, however, and he was glad to reach his camp and dismount from his over-weary horse.
After supper, not even the roar which arose from the army and the very busy fort-builders could keep him awake, and he slept soundly until morning.
THE BATTLE OF SENLAC.
Botharmies remained within their lines, that Friday morning, and both were busily preparing for battle. The commanders as well as the warriors were making ready.
The instructions given by King Harold to his men were to act altogether upon the defensive, and to content themselves with their strong position along Senlac ridge.
If his orders had been rigidly obeyed by all, there would have been no victory won by William of Normandy. The generalship of the king and the valour of his warriors were made of no avail by the headlong folly of the less disciplined part of the Saxon army.
During this day, ambassadors went backand forth, more than once, as if the last possibility of peace had not already for ever passed away. Harold could not consent to any terms which did not include the immediate departure of the invaders, and William could not at this hour abandon his great military enterprise without fighting a battle.
Both armies were in good spirits. The Normans might well feel confidence in their greatly superior numbers and in the established reputation of Duke William as a successful general. The Saxons, on the other hand, appreciated the strength of their position, and they were able to say to one another that Harold, the son of Godwin, had never lost a battle. They believed him to be at least the equal of any living army leader.
Ned, the son of Webb, and Father Brian were busy all along the lines, from hour to hour, but there was nothing warlike for them to do. When, however, they returned to their camp at evening, both of them appeared tohave become exceedingly English, or at least Saxon, in feeling.
"I believe I know what's coming," said Ned. "The Normans can't break in! We can cut them all to pieces if they try it on."
"The fight will be long and hard," replied the missionary, very seriously. "It will be well for thee and me to obtain places of observation upon as high ground as we may."
"All right," said Ned. "I want to see it all. It will be something for me to tell about when I get home. I shall never forget it as long as I live!"
"Ah, my boy!" said the good man, "a great many thousands of these Saxons and Normans will not live to remember it."
They slept again, and arose with the sun of Saturday, October 14,A. D.1066, the day of the great change which came to England.
It was yet early in the forenoon when Harold the King rode slowly along his lines and spoke good words to all his soldiers. Everywherethey responded to him with loud, enthusiastic acclamations of love and loyalty, and fearlessness.
Duke William of Normandy also, attended by a brilliant escort of celebrated warriors and men of high rank, rode from one to another of the serried masses of his mighty host. He addressed them with fiery eloquence, assuring them of complete and speedy victory over the inferior forces opposed to them.
They, as well as he, however, were able to see how strong were the Senlac works, and how warlike and firm was the Saxon array behind the barriers.
Ned, the son of Webb, and his companion found that, from their post on the hill, they had a good view of both armies. They had been watching all movements and indications with almost breathless interest. It was not yet noon when Ned suddenly exclaimed:
"Oh, isn't this magnificent! I don't believethere was ever anything more splendid in all the world!"
"It will be a great battle, my boy," said the missionary, "one of the greatest in all history. There! Seest thou?"
"I see!" shouted Ned. "The Normans are advancing! William's whole army is moving! Oh, how I wish our men were armed with breech-loaders! I wish we had Maxim guns and cannon looking out through the palisades. The Normans would never get near enough to do any chopping on them, then."
"Chopping?" echoed the good man. "In a very little, I think thou wilt see good chopping done by the Saxons. The best of our ax-men are at the front. Mark thou the slingers behind them, and note King Harold's bowmen. I would there were more of them. The archers and slingers of Duke William come on in advance of his horsemen."
"They are beginning, too," said Ned. "Astone from a sling will break a shield. They say the Norman arrows will go through armour."
"If they hit!" said the priest. "Mark, now! This is the advantage of the king's position."
Ned could understand it in a moment. The duke's archers had a high reputation, but in this beginning of the battle they laboured under a serious disadvantage. All their skill and strength were of small value, while they were shooting from low ground at enemies who were not only above them, but were protected by walls of wood. It was evident that until these defences were broken through stones and arrows would make no important impression upon Harold's men.
"Ha, ha!" exclaimed Father Brian. "They sling well, but they are in need of more stones to throw. A man may not carry a quarry in a quiver. Small harm have they done, and the sharp arrows are wasted on the palisades. Ithink Duke William must do better than this, or he will get no nearer London."
"How lead would tell just now!" responded Ned. "The range is getting short enough for heavy revolvers. Hurrah! Here come the Norman spearmen and the mounted knights in full armour. What can lances do against palisades? This is grand!"
The duke's archers and slingers had suffered heavy losses, and they now fell back discomfited, leaving the Senlac slope littered thickly with the victims of the shafts and stones of the Saxons. All was clear, however, for the desperate assault which was to test the strength of King Harold's lines. If it were successful, it would be proved that his judgment as a general had been wrong, and that he ought not to have faced the invaders at Senlac.
The attack was made in excellent order, and with desperate courage, by masses which seemed to be overwhelming. As they pressedonward up the slope, the arrows and javelins of the Saxons came among them in a death-dealing storm, slaying or disabling both horses and men by the hundred. They did not waver, however, and now their foremost ranks had reached the palisades to be met by the long spears, the missiles, and the terrible pole-axes.
"How they go down, the Normans!" gasped Ned. "They have not broken through at any place. They are falling back! They are beaten! What will the duke do, now?"
Up to this moment, the King of England and his two brothers had remained on the hill, together, that they might better observe the operations of both armies, and it must have seemed to them that their plan of battle promised complete success. On the duke's left, indeed, his host of Bretons, horse and foot, had suffered such severe losses that they were retreating in much disorder. In their panicrout they were confusing also his left centre, and at the same time his entire right wing had staggered back down the slope in dismay.
Terrible was the disappointment and wild was the wrath of the Norman leader as he witnessed this first result of the stubborn valour of the Saxons. They had suffered small loss, comparatively, and their confidence in themselves and in their king was stronger than ever. It was only too strong, for it became a great danger.
Sometimes the power of a really great leader of men shows at its best under adverse circumstances. Dark as seemed the prospect before him, Duke William had lost neither heart nor hope. He was among his troops, now, galloping from point to point, commanding, directing, encouraging, even threatening. It was by his own personal exertions and address that his beaten forces were rallying at the very moment when the Saxon right wing, contrary to the strict orders of KingHarold, broke forth from the security of its defences to pursue the fleeing Bretons.
Ned, the son of Webb, heard, or thought he heard, a terrible exclamation from the king, and then both of the earls, his brothers, Gyrth and Leofwine, spurred away. They went to recall the mistaken sally of their overconfident men, but they were too late.
The quick eyes of Duke William had instantly perceived his opportunity. He was already reinforcing with fresh troops his rallying fugitives, and at once, in the open field, their superior numbers became available. In vain did their rash Saxon pursuers rally around the two royal brothers. In vain did they cut down hundreds of their foemen while they strove to fight their way back to the shelter of their Senlac defences.
"Swarms!" groaned Ned. "Oh, what swarms of Normans are pouring around those men! William himself is there! More of his men-at-arms are charging in! His very bestknights! What? There! He and Earl Gyrth are fighting, hand to hand! William's horse is killed! He has fallen! He is up again! Gyrth's horse, too, is killed! They are fighting again on foot! Is it Gyrth? No, I can see William! Yes! Oh, dear! Gyrth is dead!"
It was terribly exciting to watch such a struggle as this had become. Near him sat King Harold, himself, upon his horse, as motionless as a bronze image.
"Father Brian," whispered Ned, hoarsely, "Leofwine, too, is down. King Harold hath no brothers, now. He must fight the rest of this battle alone. Oh, this is dreadful!"
Dark, indeed, had now become the prospect before the central body of the Saxon army. Although the defences in front of it were unbroken, those at its right as well as at its left were very soon passed by the Normans. It was afterward said that Duke William had cunningly ordered his troops on the Saxonright also to pretend flight, that their enemies might be tempted to follow as those on the left had followed the Bretons.
"NEAR HIM SAT KING HAROLD HIMSELF, UPON HIS HORSE, AS MOTIONLESS AS A BRONZE IMAGE."
"NEAR HIM SAT KING HAROLD HIMSELF, UPON HIS HORSE, AS MOTIONLESS AS A BRONZE IMAGE."
However that may be, the sun was now sinking, and the centre of King Harold's army was all that was left of it in good fighting order. Of its assailants, the number which had fallen was believed to equal, man for man, that of all the Saxons who had been present at Senlac that morning. Nearly a fourth part of Duke William's army, therefore, lay upon the field. The remainder of it, however, still outnumbered, five to one, the remnant of King's Harold's heroes.
Firm as a rock stood these, and against them the furious tide of the invaders, horsemen and footmen, broke in vain. Still they held their strong position upon the hill of the standards, the Golden Dragon of England and the Fighting Man that was Harold's own personal banner. The king, himself, was now fighting on foot in the front rank of his house-carles,and he had performed mighty deeds of valour.
In this hour, however, the subtle war cunning of the duke came to his aid. The shields and the armour of the closely serried Saxons behind these remaining works prevented the shafts of his bowmen from injuring greatly the solid wedge of warriors into which the thingmen and their comrades had formed themselves around and on the hill. The battle could not be altogether lost so long as this living wall should remain unbroken. All the Saxons were on foot, and the Normans, who were mounted, gained little thereby, since their unarmoured horses were so often killed by javelins as they pressed forward.
"Shoot up! Shoot up!" shouted the duke to his archers. "Let the shafts fall upon them from above. They have no shields over their heads."
Thousands of strong-armed bowmen at once obeyed him. In a moment more, it was as ifa thick hail of sharp arrows was falling among the Saxons behind, while those who were in front were still compelled to hold their shields before them. The cunning device of the duke might yet have been baffled, perhaps, but for one of its first fatal consequences. Man after man was going down, and the king himself looked up to see what this might be. Even as he raised his head, the battle was lost, and the crown of England passed to William of Normandy, for from the sky above, as it seemed, a hissing shaft came down and pierced through his right eye to the brain.
"The king hath fallen!" screamed Ned, the son of Webb. "Harold is dead! He is dead! We are beaten! England is conquered!"
"Come thou on with me, then," said Father Brian. "There are plenty of horses. We must speed away from this place. The house-carles are wearied with long fighting, but they will all die where they stand. Thouand I have no need to die with them. Quickly, now, my boy!"
Fierce, frenzied, desperate, was the last stand of the Saxons around the royal standards and the dying king. Terrible was the carnage which they made among the Normans, but it was as Father Brian had said: the warriors of Harold were worn out with long fighting, and they were now continually assailed by arrivals of fresh troops, men who had hitherto done little or nothing. Flesh and blood could endure no more, and the work of destruction was slowly completed. One strong body of Saxons, it was afterward related, was actually getting away when the darkness came. It was closely followed by the duke himself and his men-at-arms. Then the Saxons turned again upon their pursuers, and William not only lost many horsemen, but came very near losing his own life also in the hour of victory.
"Where shall we go now?" asked Ned, ashe and his friend clambered into the saddles of two horses which had been tethered in the rear of the lost position on the hill.
"I will guide thee, my boy," replied the missionary. "Thou and I may make good our escape, if we are prudent."
"How on earth can we get away from the Normans?" groaned Ned. "Some of them are between us, already, and all the rest of England. I don't see how we are to get through William's army."
"We must get out of the battle, first," said Father Brian. "Then we'll ride away around into the Norman camps at the seashore. We would do well to obtain speech with him in the morning. Now that he hath slain King Harold and considereth himself the ruler of England, he will gladly welcome any from among the Saxons who cometh to him with a peaceful tongue. Be thou mindful of that, my boy. I am glad that thou art able to speak French to him."
"So am I," said Ned, with some energy. "I'd really like to have a good talk with William the Conqueror. But, oh, Father Brian! this hath been an awful affair. They will not need so many surgeons or ambulances or hospitals as civilised armies would. As soon as any man is down, somebody killeth him. They do not seem to know what mercy is."
"That they do not," said Father Brian. "Thou wilt bear in mind, however, that the killing of King Harold and all of his best men giveth to William of Normandy all the good title he hath to the crown of England. If Harold had escaped all alone from this battle-field he would be king still."
"The English elected him fairly," replied Ned. "Not one voter among them put in a ballot for the duke. I suppose they won't try to do any more against him after this, though. Let him have it, then. All I can say is thatI hope there will never be another invasion of England by anybody."
"No man may foretell concerning that matter," said the missionary. "There hath been much fighting on this island. Even Ireland herself hath been attacked many a time, and she might be again. It is my opinion, though, my boy, that England will for ever continue to be English, whoever is king, even as Ireland continueth Irish."
"Most likely thou art right," replied Ned. "The duke may bring in droves on droves of Normans and all sorts. He won't think of killing off the Angles, and Saxons, and Danes, and Welsh, and Scotch. We don't, when they come to America. Every kind that lands among us becometh American, and I shouldn't wonder if even the Normans became Englishmen."
"Better for them to become civilised," said the missionary, thoughtfully. "The duke will kill none unless it may be a few earlsand other high men who may stand in his way, or such commoners as resist him. I think he will speak all others fairly and make peace with them. Were he not to do so, there are axes enough left in England to make away with all that the Senlac battle hath left of his army."
"That's so!" exclaimed Ned. "I've seen some of them. Anyhow, I don't want to be an English earl just now. It wouldn't be safe."
"Come!" said Father Brian. "Faster! The farther we get away from Senlac the safer we will be from sword and spear. It is getting very dark. I am glad of it."
After that he did not again draw his rein until they had almost reached a line of tents a little distance inland from the town of Hastings.
"Now do I wish I knew," he declared, emphatically, "which of these may happen to belong to some man who was killed in thebattle. Oh, Ned, the son of Webb, let us make trial of this large one that is nearest at hand. Speak thou to yonder gaily apparelled youth in thy best French."
"Ho! whose tent is this?" Ned asked at once, as he rode nearer.
He shouted his question at a young man who appeared to be a sort of esquire, stepping hastily forward from the canvas doorway to meet them.
"This is the marquee of the Sieur Raoul de Berri," replied its custodian. "Whether he be now alive or dead we know not. What news, if any, have ye from the battle?"
"Of thy master I know nothing," said Ned, "but of the battle I can tell thee that the Saxon army is beaten and that Harold the King is dead. Hard hath been the fighting, all day, and the slain are many."
There had been hurrying feet from all directions toward the spot where the two newcomers had halted, and so there hadbeen other hearers besides the gay esquire of Sieur Raoul de Berri. Loud and prolonged were the shouts with which the announcement made by Ned was received, for before this there had arrived doubtful news from the hard contested field.
"Dismount ye and come in," said the esquire. "Well may we feast the bringers of joyful tidings. Whoever ye may be, ye are most welcome. Even while ye are eating and drinking, moreover, we pray you to talk on. We would gladly hear all that we may concerning the great battle. How was it fought? Can ye tell us the names of any that were slain? How fareth it with our liege lord the duke, that shall henceforth be King of England?"
It was truly a good thing that Ned, the son of Webb, was so well practised in his French, albeit the kind he spoke varied much from that which was now being uttered so volubly around him. For once, indeed, FatherBrian was left to something which to him painfully resembled silence.
Before long, however, there arrived a swarm of French and Norman clergymen, all of whom could understand the kind of Latin taught in the great school at Clontarf. Speedily, then, the good missionary went out with them, and Ned was left alone to entertain his tent-full of eager and excited listeners. All the while, moreover, the good news spread rapidly through all that camp and was carried on to others.
"Sir," said Ned to the esquire, at last, "I am tired out! I think there is nothing else that will use up a man so completely as a great battle."
"Ay!" exclaimed his new friend, hospitably. "Thy couch is prepared for thee. Thou hast fought well this day. Well am I assured that our liege lord, the Duke of the Normans, and the Sieur de Berri himself would have us take all care of thee."
"I shall be glad to get to bed," said Ned.
"Sleep thou well," replied the esquire, "and on the morrow thou shalt surely be brought into the presence of the duke, as thou desirest."
The appointments of that marquee and the comfort of its arrangements for sleeping were more in accordance with Norman luxury than with Saxon plainness. Ned, the son of Webb, took note of them, weary as he was. Nevertheless, before his eyes closed he was thinking:
"If here isn't another of these frauds! I didn't do any real fighting, for either side. I'm afraid it's as bad, almost, as the Stamford bridge humbug, and what to do about it I don't know. Oh, how sorry I am that I had no opportunity for telling King Harold that I did not kill Sikend the Berserker. I shall always have the credit of it, without any fault of mine. They may put it into books of history, just like other great exploits."
His slumbers were long and heavy, andthey were broken at last by a friendly shaking at the hands of Father Brian.
"Up! Up!" he shouted. "O Ned, the son of Webb, hasten and eat thy breakfast. The Duke of Normandy cometh. Not yet, I think, are we to call him the King of England. That may not be until he hath been duly crowned as king. My boy, I trust that now thou art shortly to have speech with him."
Ned became very wide awake while he heard what the missionary had to say, and his mind grew very busy.
"I thought likely," he said, "that the duke would come back to his camp. He won't march for London till he knoweth what the other Saxons are doing. His army was badly mauled, yesterday, anyhow, and he must get it into shape again."
The army of Norman invaders had indeed been seriously damaged. If a second English army could have attacked them on the day after Senlac, it would have found them unfitfor another such struggle. There was no such army in existence, however, and William went on with his plans without armed interruption. He went first to inspect his fleet, and he sent the greater part of it back to Normandy and other places.
At about the middle of the forenoon of that day, the duke was at a camp a little south of Hastings, attended by a number of his great men. Among them were his brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and Lanfranc, the famous scholar.
Here it was that Ned, the son of Webb, and Father Brian were brought before him, and they had already been named to the stern and haughty Conquerors as the persons who had brought the first tidings of the victory.
"They are guests of mine, my liege," said the Sieur Raoul de Berri, as he saw them approaching. "The youth is a young thane from Northumberland, and the priest is his tutor. They have prayed for an audience."
"This day will I hear but few words from any," replied the duke, "but if it will please thee, the boy may speak. Let the priest keep silence. What wilt thou, O Ned, the son of Webb?"
Ned had recently become somewhat hardened to meetings with remarkable men, but he was now gazing at the Conqueror with manifest admiration. Harold, the son of Godwin, himself, had not appeared more royally majestic or carried in his face such an expression of conscious power, combined with indomitable strength of will. Ned kept his courage up, however, and boldly responded:
"O Duke of Normandy and Conqueror of England, all I wanted to say to thee is this: The best thing thou canst do for this country, now it is thine, is to run in railroads and telegraph lines and newspapers as fast as thou art able. Also, thou hadst better have Mr. Lanfranc appointed Superintendent of Public Schools. He can set up primary andgrammar schools and academies and universities, all over the island. I can tell him what books to get and where to get them. I will give him, now, a complete list of all I went through at Grammar School Number Sixty-eight. He couldn't beat it if he should try—"
"Halt thou then!" interrupted the duke. "Lanfranc, this youth's matter appertaineth to thee. I know naught of such affairs. Let his tutor lead him away now. He is but malapert to urge me at such a time as this. Forward, all! Odo, my brother, we have much to do ere sunset. England is yet but half won and we sheathe not our swords yet."
Father Brian's hand had been upon the bridle of Ned's horse, and he hurried him away.
"O Ned, the son of Webb!" he exclaimed, "what is in thee? Thou art overdaring. The duke was all but wroth with thee!"
"I guess that is so," said Ned. "His eyesflashed as if he had half a mind to hit me, and I don't see why. I gave him the best kind of advice. Didst thou not say that thou hast some of thy clergymen friends to consult with?"
"That have I," replied Father Brian, "and I must go quickly to meet them. Thou mayest amuse thyself by riding around for awhile. Then get thee back to the tent of the good Sieur de Berri. There or elsewhere I hope to meet thee again, for our companionship hath been exceedingly pleasant and profitable. Fare thee well, for the hour. I must go."
"Good-bye, then, Father Brian," said Ned. "Come back to the tent, if thou canst. I hope thou wilt soon have a mission school of thine own. There will be scholars enough, but where thou wilt get books and things, I can't guess."
Away rode the good missionary, and Ned, the son of Webb, was left to himself. He didnot feel like exploring the camps of the Normans, and his horse galloped on with him until he was pulled in at the shore of the sea. It was at a place where a narrow wooden pier jutted out from a sandy beach between high rocks on either hand.
Here Ned dismounted and walked down to the water's edge, like a boy in a dream. A small scow-built punt, with a mast and sail in it, lay rocking on the waves by the pier.
"I will take off my armour before I get in," he remarked. "I'm glad I kept on my outing shirt and my trousers under my mail, all the while. This is a very curious business. I saved my hat, too. Oh, don't I feel easier and lighter? I never want to be an ironclad again."
His helmet and mail and shield and weapons were pitched from him across the sand in a hurry, and he stepped eagerly into the boat. A good wind was blowing offshore and he put up the sail to catch it.
"I don't feel like rowing," he remarked, "after such a time as I have had. This breeze ought to take me to the other side before sunset. It is a good thing for me that this is Green Lake and not the Atlantic Ocean or the North Sea. Oh, what a tremendous book that is. It's safe in the cubby under the stern seat, too."
On he sailed, after that, swiftly and silently, over the sparkling billows of the little lake. Almost before he was aware of it, the punt ran ashore at the place where Nanny had so skilfully pitched him over her head. He saw the two-wheeled barrow among the weeds a few yards away and he went and brought it to the margin. Into it he carried, with great care and an appearance of something like respect, the great folio History of the Normans.
"I'll go home now," he thought, "but I wish I had Lars with me, and Father Brian. I'd like to show father and mother and all of them my armour."
He found it tiresome work to trundle the barrow, and he was both warm and weary when he reached his grandfather's gate.
"There they are!" he exclaimed. "There's a whole crowd of them, waiting for me."
"Hullo, Ned!" came loudly from within the gate. "Where have you been all day?"
"Why, Uncle Jack—"
"My dear child!" interrupted Grandmother Webb. "I was almost beginning to be worried about you. Why did you stay so?"
"Did you catch anything?" asked his grandfather. "Did you get any bites?"
"Well!" responded Ned, hardly knowing exactly what to say. "I'll tell you how it is. It was this book."
"My folio!" exclaimed Grandfather Webb. "I had no idea that you really would take it along. I'd have said no!"
"I did," said Ned. "I've been invading England with Harold Hardrada of Norway and the Vikings. Then I went all the wayfrom York and the battle of Stamford bridge to the battle of Senlac, with King Harold of England and Duke William the Conqueror."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" exclaimed Uncle Jack. "I know how that is, myself. A man can sit in his own room, nowadays, and travel all around the world. All he needs is plenty of guide-books and maps and histories. You've been doing it, have you? I think you had better keep it up and learn something. Travel everywhere. See all there is to be seen, and know all you can."
"That's what I think I'll do," replied Ned, "but it's hard work, if there's as much fighting as I've been having."
He had the folio in his arms now, as if he were hugging it, but his grandfather took it away as if he were pleased to get it back unwetted by a bath in Green Lake, and carried it back to its place in the library.
THE END.