CHAPTER XI.
THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE.
"Look thou yonder! Look, O Ned, the son of Webb!" exclaimed FatherBrian.
"Banners!" responded Ned, almost breathlessly. "Horsemen! Who can theybe? Is it the army of Harold, the King of England? Tostig and Hardradathink he is away at the southern shore, watching for Duke William ofNormandy. Why, he can march right on into the city!"
"He will do more than that," replied the Irishman, with a very knowinglook. "My boy, mark thou well now! Not a horn nor a trumpet soundethamong yonder horsemen, and they ride rapidly. Stand still here andkeep thine eyes open. We are safe at this place. Then will we go onwith them, and I think we shall see the springing of the great trap ofHarold, 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 ofthe King of England," half laughed the missionary, "thou mayst be sure,also, that thousands of swords are on guard along the walls, watchingwell that no man shall get out on the Derwent side to carry news ofthis thing."
"I'll get the news correctly, first, and then I'll see what I can dowith it," said Ned, stubbornly, but he instantly became absorbed by hisinspection of the arriving host of the Saxon king.
Right onward rode fast its vanguard of mounted men, and Ned quicklyperceived that these were unlike anything that he had seen before.Their arms and armour were so nearly of a pattern that it was as ifthey were in steel uniform. Their horses were large and strong, andthere was no disorder to be seen in their trained and disciplinedmovements. Minutes passed by, and then he heard a man who stood nearhim exclaim, loudly:
"Yea, my friend, these are the thingmen. They are the house-carles ofthe king. There are no other men like them. They are the picked ax-menof all England."
Already, Ned had heard a great deal about these fighters. First amongthe Kings of England, it was said, Harold had organised and maintaineda considerable standing army, selecting for it the best men he couldfind, and making them personally devoted to himself.
"None of Hardrada's troops march as these do," thought Ned, as a columnof house-carles on foot followed the foremost detachment of cavalry."Our best city regiments can't beat it. None of our militia would careto carry so much iron, though. Not in hot weather. What tremendouslybig fellows they are. Hullo! There comes the king! Hurrah! I alwayswanted to see Harold. Isn't he splendid! He isn't as tall as Hardradaof Norway. He's a giant."
His sudden explosion of enthusiasm was joined in by all around, and itwon for him many kindly looks and sayings, for the people of York weregoing wild with joy at their unexpected deliverance from the Vikingsand from the cruel revenges of Earl Tostig. They could hardly believetheir ears and eyes that this was, indeed, their hero monarch.
Splendid, indeed, was Harold, the son of Godwin, riding bareheadedinto the city, which might be called one of the two capitals of hiskingdom. London was the other capital, and in many respects it was themore important, but all the north of the kingdom was to be ruled, in amanner, from York.
The handsome, thoughtful face of Harold was somewhat pallid fromrecent illness, but he seemed to Ned, the son of Webb, one of the mostpowerfully built men that he had ever seen, even in Norway.
"They say," he was thinking, "that not many men living can stand beforehim in single fight. I shouldn't wonder if my conquest of England isgoing to be cracked to pieces, right away. If that's so, I'm going tobe one of Harold's men and fight Duke William. Harold is a better manthan 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 nochance for returning to them or to the earl, and a strange wave of newfeeling was sweeping through him. He did not now wish to fight theseEnglishmen who were defending their country, and a great admiration forHarold the hero was taking possession of him.
Great men often seem to have a magnetic power for drawing all other mento them, and the last of the Saxon kings was a very strong magnet. Athis side now rode his brother, Leofwine, not so tall, but reputed tobe almost as good a warrior. On behind them poured steadily the longcolumns of the Saxon army. Not by any means all of its forces, however,were as thoroughly disciplined and equipped as were the house-carles ofthe king.
"I think thou canst now understand this matter, my boy," remarkedFather Brian. "Thou seest with thine own eyes that all things wereready for their coming, and that they march through the city withouthalting for a moment. None will hinder their going out at the Derwentgate, and not a man beyond the wall on that side knoweth of theircoming. This will be a bad day for all of Hardrada's men that are onthis side of the Derwent. They will be surprised and outnumbered, andsmall 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 mountedmen, the two friends made their way across the city. When at last theyreached the Derwent gate, however, there was nothing to prevent theirmarching out at once with the foot-soldiers of King Harold.
"Father Brian," inquired Ned, "dost thou suppose that Edwin and Morcarknew of this all the while?"
"They did," he responded. "A swift messenger came to tell them how muchtime they must save in their bargainings. He was a Saxon priest, and noman suspected his errand. Push on, now. Some of Hardrada's troops wereexpecting to march in and garrison the city at this hour. Then the Kingof Norway and Earl Tostig were to hold a court here and give a greatfeast. Very little more good eating are they likely to do, this day."
The Saxon army pressed forward steadily, and its several divisions wereevidently under clear instructions; for, as they marched, they spreadout on the right and left into a compact battle-array, with a broadfront, the centre of which consisted of the house-carles.
Hardly had the foremost lines advanced half-way from the city walls tothe river Derwent when they were suddenly confronted by the strong bodyof Vikings which had been sent to take possession of York in accordancewith 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 tokeep with the advance, and they were now away at the right of the Saxonarmy front, for there was no possibility of getting through it.
"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Father Brian. "The trumpets of thehouse-carles! They are sounding the charge! Hearest thou not also thatbraying of Viking war-horns? Forward, over this ridge, my boy. Thou andI 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'sbeyond the river."
They were only just in time to see. The warriors of Norway had no timeat all given them to form in order of battle. The narrow front of theirastonished column was instantly shattered by the charge of the mountedhouse-carles. Behind these, closing around upon their flanks, clashedforward the Saxon footmen with ax and spear.
Hardrada's men were veterans, and they fell back, fighting furiouslyand struggling to keep their ranks.
All things were against them, however,--the surprise, the superiornumbers, and the flanking, encircling tactics of King Harold's men.
"Look!" said Father Brian. "All this part of them are in the trap. Allthat are behind are turning toward the bridge. Only such as reach itwhile these are fighting will ever get away. The rest must die."
"It's as awful as the Fulford fight," said Ned. "Hardrada lost menenough there, and now another large slice of his army is gone. He willhave to give up the idea of conquering England."
"He lost that at Fulford," said the missionary, "and he threw away allthat was left him when he let the earls cheat him into waiting forHarold."
The slaughter now going on was pitiless. Much the larger part ofHardrada's remaining strength, nevertheless, was still upon the otherside of the Derwent, and considerable n
umbers were escaping across thebridge to join it.
"It is our time to go ahead, my boy," said Father Brian. "We must getto the bank of the river, if we can. I want to see how the Saxons willmanage 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, wemust stay with the English army, whether we like it or not."
"Thou hast no errand, now, for Tostig the Earl," growled themissionary. "He hath no more need for anything that thou couldst tellhim. Ho! Boats! Two of them. One will do for us, and that is what I waslooking for. We need no bridge."
"There's a fellow getting into one of them," said Ned. "We'll take theother."
Down they went, and in a minute more they were pulling away over theDerwent, taking little notice of the occupant of the other boat, exceptto 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 therush of the fugitives across the bridge. For life, for life, they werecrowding along the narrow passage which was their only escape fromthe steel of the Saxons. It was beginning to look as if all who couldescape were already over, when Ned, the son of Webb, almost yelled out:
"Sikend! Sikend the Berserker! Look at him! He is holding the bridgeall alone. Row on! I want to get nearer!"
A few strokes of the oars carried them upstream to within fifty yardsof the spot where the Berserker stood. Clad still in full armour, histremendous form seeming broader and more powerful than ever, mad withall the battle fury of his race and nature, ax in hand and shield onarm, he defied the rush of his antagonists with a prowess that appearedto be more than human.
Loudly and mockingly laughed the fierce champion of Norway as he caughtspear after spear and arrow after arrow upon his broad, bright shield.Louder yet was his shout of vindictive triumph as his resistless axcleft helmet after helmet and shoulder after shoulder. There he mustdie, 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 thisawful shape. It had happened that the first of them to cross the bridgewere not of the thingmen of Harold.
These were still busily destroying the remainder of the Vikings on theYork side of the river. Again a rush was made, and again Sikend droveit back. It was afterward said that not less than forty warriors felldead under the terrible blows of the Berserker.
"Yonder is King Harold, on the bank," said Ned, the son of Webb, "butlook at that Saxon in the boat under the bridge! He is after Sikend!He is stabbing upward with his spear, through the cracks between theplanks!"
"They can't be wide enough," said Father Brian. "Ha! Sikend is hurt! Heis down upon one knee! He can stand and fight no longer!"
"I'll stop that man!" shouted Ned, pulling hard upon his oars. "Sikendis 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, andhis 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 hurledat Ned the long javelin with which he had smitten the Berserker.
"Thou hast it!" gasped the missionary.
"On my shield," said Ned. "It went through it as if it had beencardboard, but my mail stopped it. There! He is over! I need not spearhim!"
"Praise the saints!" muttered Father Brian. "He hath upset! But for methou wouldst have done the same."
That was not strictly correct. The Saxon's boat was floating well, butthe very energy of his furiously angry spear-throwing had tipped histiny punt and sent it out from under him, plunging him into the swiftlyeddying 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 nomore javelins. He is gone!"
Not even once did the overweighted house-carle come to the surface. Hemay indeed have been no swimmer. In the meantime, however, with wildhurrahs, the Saxons on the bridge had charged forward, and thrustafter thrust had been given to the prostrate body of the woundedBerserker. He had fallen as he had wished to fall, a hero defying awhole army.
"King Harold's men are pushing across the bridge," said Ned, as hisboat drifted out from under it. "Why on earth did the Vikings leave itto 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 maybe the biggest pirate in all the world and not know enough to handlean army. He hath done little more than to fight hard and to blunderall the while, ever since he landed. Seest thou now? The mountedhouse-carles gallop forward. Behind them the Saxon army will form onthe other bank, and then Hardrada's army is doomed. Thou and I willcross quickly, that we may obtain a good place from which to watch theshutting 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 bestruck by one of the best generals in the world, leading the bestfighters. 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 theywere standing upon a moderate elevation of rocky ground, at the rightof the level upon which the Saxon forces were rapidly forming in orderof battle, under the eyes of their king. They were doing so at thisprecise place, for the reason that immediately in front of them wereassembled all that was now left of the forces of King Hardrada.
"My boy," exclaimed the missionary, "both sides are lookingsplendidly. I am glad to be where I can see, but any man runningin between those two fronts would be like a corn of wheat betweenmillstones. See thou! All of the house-carles are dismounting. Theywill fight on foot. They do not mean to lose too many horses. I wouldnot, if I were they, with mayhap a long ride near to come."
"William of Normandy's horses wear armour," said Ned. "I have seenpictures 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 manycan, for armour costeth money. The man that made the pictures may havehad 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 belikely to stay down."
"Any man that goeth down to-day will stay down," responded themissionary. "The Northumberland levies that follow in the rear havecome to take revenge for the slaughter at Fulford. It is a cruel,heathenish business, from first to last. I will be glad when the wholeworld shall be civilised, as it is around Clontarf."
The great invasion of England by the sea king was already a completefailure. He and his brave but now dispirited Vikings had rallied tomake their last stand against the unexpected and now overwhelming hostof the hero King of England. Upon that very day, Hardrada of Norwayand Tostig the Earl were to have entered York as conquerors. Here theywere, instead, at a little after midday, confronting sure ruin andprobable death.
All the remaining fighting strength of York and its vicinity hadzealously joined King Harold, so that all the while the Stamfordbridge was still thronged with marching men. The marvel that Tostigor Hardrada had not ordered it to be burnt or chopped away was on thetongues of many. They may have vainly thought of again using it torecross the Derwent, and, if so, this was one more bad blunder, forthey had left it in the hands of King Harold, and he was a general.
The army front presented by the Northmen was exceedingly dangerouslooking, nevertheless. They had formed in close order with the ravenstandard, the Land Waster, near the centre. In front of this, atfirst, were the sea king, himself, and Tostig the Earl, but t
heirduty as leaders shortly called upon them to ride to and fro amongtheir half-disheartened followers, uttering loud sounding words ofencouragement and hope. Norwegians were very brave men, and theyresponded 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. Intothis rode out from that of the Northmen a herald sounding a parley.The agreement for one being made at once, from the same side rode outTostig the Earl, accompanied by Vikings of rank, and he was met abouthalf-way by a similar party of Saxons.
"What terms," asked Tostig, "will Harold of England offer, if HaroldHardrada 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 hesurrender 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 HaroldHardrada 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 twelveinches more."
"Then tell thou him," replied the earl, "that Tostig will not desertthe comrades who have trusted him, and that he will fight to the last."
Back rode both of the embassies to their own friends, and Hardrada, whohad heard all of the loudly uttered questions and answers, exclaimed toTostig:
"Good was thy speech, my friend; but who was the man who heard andanswered thee?"
"He was Harold, the son of Godwin," replied the earl.
"What?" shouted the angry king. "Then he should never have gotten backin safety to his own!"
"Not so," said Tostig, sadly. "I have erred much, but my royal brotherI might not betray to thee and thine."
Other things were said on both sides, but none of them was heard byNed, the son of Webb. It was indeed no time for any quarrel betweenTostig and Hardrada, for the war-horns were sounding and the Saxonswere advancing along their whole line. Firmly, steadily, with desperatecourage and magnificent prowess, they were met by the close array ofthe Northmen.
Although these were not so well disciplined, and were inferior innumbers, they were, individually, equally skilled in arms, and theywere fighting for their lives. They fought on with almost an appearanceof possible success until the resistless pressure of the trainedthingmen broke their front and disordered them. Even then they wouldnot yield, and all who afterward told stories of the battle hadwonderful things to relate concerning the feats of arms performed bythe sea king himself, and by Tostig the Earl, and by many of the heroesof the Vikings.
Under the Land Waster standard at last an arrow slew the King ofNorway. There, also, fighting valiantly, fell Tostig the Earl, and withtheir slaying the battle ended, for the remaining Northmen lost heartand fled.
Then, to the surprise of some, Harold the King forbade furtherfollowing, and commanded that his forces should once more come intoclose order. It may be that he was not quite assured as to how manyVikings might yet remain, at the shore or on the ships. At all events,there were excellent reasons why he should be willing to waste neithermen nor time at that place, and why he should offer generous terms tothe remnant of the invaders. That he intended doing this was to be madeknown somewhat later, and now he sat upon his horse, not far from theraven standard, giving directions concerning the bodies of his brotherTostig and of King Hardrada.
Ned, the son of Webb, was not a great many yards away, for he and themissionary had followed the charge of the Saxons and had been almostin the front of the battle. He was now staring around him at the goryevidences of how hard the fight had been. Almost at his feet laya heap of slain Norwegians, and from under one edge of it somebodyappeared to be struggling out.
"Lars, the son of Vebba!" shouted Ned. "Come here, Father Brian. Thouand I must save him! Get up, Lars!"
"No man will harm him now," shouted back the priest. "Is he badlywounded?"
"I have not a cut," responded Lars himself. "I was knocked down bya mace, that is all, and these others fell upon me. O Ned, the sonof Webb! We are ruined! Ruined! There will be sad mourning among thefiords of Norway!"
"Vebba!" exclaimed Ned. "Where is he?"
"I saw him escape to the ships among the first," replied Lars, almostweeping.
"Go thou after him, thyself," said Ned. "Harold the King hath commandedthat all like thee may go. Tell Vebba that I am to stay here. Run ifthou canst! Get on board a ship."
"Thou art right to stay," said Lars. "This is thine own country. Thouhast lost thine Earl Tostig, but mind not that too much. There arealways plenty of earls."
"Good-bye!" said Ned, and in a moment more Lars was walking awaybriskly.
He was safe from spear or blade, for the commands of Harold the Kingwould surely be obeyed by all his men.