XIII The Alarm in England
It was the summer of 1066, and William the Norman was gathering continental warriors to his standard, and Harold Hardrada was manning his lofty war-ships with grim Norwegians, and Harold the Saxon king was applying his energies with diligence and care to the difficulties of his position, when the people of England were seized with alarm at the prospect of an invasion.
From the day of Harold’s coronation at Westminster, he devoted himself ably and vigorously to his regal duties. Never, indeed, had English monarch shown himself more considerate for the people’s feelings, or more ardent for their welfare. The new reign was marked by a complete return to the national customs, by a diminution of the taxes previously levied, and by a more decided impartiality in the administration of justice. By all means in his power Harold endeavoured to render his reign popular. “Ever active for the good of his country,” says the chronicler, “he spared himself no fatigue by land or by sea.”
Notwithstanding his vigour and energy, clouds soon began to gather around the Saxon king. In the midst of his efforts to keep together a decaying empire, Harold was disagreeably interrupted by the arrival of a messenger from Duke William to claim fulfilment of the promise made at Bayeux.
“William Duke of Normandy,” said the messenger, “reminds thee of the oath which thou didst swear to him upon good and holy relics.”
“It is true that I swore such an oath to Duke William,” replied Harold, “but I swore it under compulsion. I promised that which did not belong to me, and which I could not perform. My royalty is not mine, nor can I divest myself of it without consent of the country. As for my sister Thyra, whom the duke claims, to marry her to one of the chiefs, she died this year. Would he have me send her body?”
The Norman with this answer departed, and hastened to Duke William. But, with as little delay as possible, he was sent back, and appeared at Westminster with a new message, couched in terms of gentle remonstrance.
“Duke William,” said the messenger, “entreats you, if you will not abide by all the conditions, at least to execute one of them, and take, as wife, his daughter Adeliza, whom you promised to marry.”
“I could not marry,” said Harold, “without the country’s consent; and besides,” he added, “it is now impossible for me to wed the daughter of Duke William, since I have already wedded another woman.”
“Is this thine answer?” asked the Norman.
“It is,” replied Harold.
“Then,” said the Norman, “Duke William swears that, within the year, he will come and demand the whole of his debt, and pursue you, as perjurer, to the very places where you think you have the surest and firmest footing.”
Rumours of William’s projects crept about England, and the country was soon in serious apprehension. The appearance of the comet, coming, it was believed, as a harbinger of woe, added to the general alarm; and while thousands nightly went out to gaze at “the blazing star,” merchant and pilgrim carried to castle and cottage intelligence of the formidable preparations making by Duke William for the subjugation of England.
In the midst of the alarm which prevailed, Harold at first displayed a vigilance worthy of the crisis. All summer, and far into autumn, he remained steadily at his post, guarding the southern coast. Even when news of Tostig’s ravages came, he did not leave London, but left the chastisement of his brother to the Northumbrians and their earl.
But events baffled Harold’s plans. When summer passed and autumn came without an invasion, men, wise in their own conceit, began to ridicule the idea of the peril being imminent; and Harold, not uninfluenced by the general impression that William would not attempt to land before winter, allowed his army to disband, and the fleet to run short of provisions.
Such was the position of affairs, when news reached London that Hardrada, in company with Tostig, had landed in the North, defeated the Northumbrians in a sharp battle, and taken measures for forcing York to yield.
No sooner did Harold become aware of the new danger than he roused himself to action. Convincing himself, perhaps reluctantly, that the peril which he left behind was not extreme, the Saxon king hastily drew his men together, and prepared to crush the host of grim Norwegians. Turning his face northward, Harold pushed on, by forced marches, to York, and succeeded in reaching the capital of the North on the very evening before Hardrada and Tostig anticipated placing on its walls “The Ravager of the World.”