A.D. 1066.
Two circumstances secured the triumph of William, Duke of Normandy, when he invaded Saxon England in the year 1066. The first was the temporary withdrawal of the Saxon fleet, for the purpose of securing supplies; the second was the enmity of Tosti Godwinsson, who incited Harold Hardrada to attempt the subjugation of the island. Had the Saxon fleet kept the sea, had Harold encountered the invader with the unbroken strength of his army of defence, the Norman might have effected a landing, but it would have been with decimated forces, and probably in the face of an army that would have offered a desperate resistance to their disembarkation, and would have called them to an even more bloody conflict than that of Senlac.
The chain of events which led to the Battle of Stamford Bridge may be traced back to that memorable scene when the aged and heroic Northumbrian, Jarl Siward, lay dying in his house at York. Disdaining to meet death in other than his customary guise of warrior and chief, he caused his servitors to invest his gigantic frame in the iron panoply of war, to arm him with the heavy sword and tempered battle-axe which he had so long and ably employed in the national service, and so breathed his last, leaving the wild hordes of Northumbria to be disposed of by King Edward, for his son, the afterwards far-famed Waltheof, was too young to rule over so extensive and warlike a province. No doubt Harold employed his great influence with King Edward to secure the aggrandisement of his own family, for his brother Tosti was invested with command of the province.
Tosti was the most froward of the sons of Godwin, and showed none of the high qualities and sincere patriotism which distinguished Godwin and his son Harold.
Cruel and passionate, Tosti was ill-fitted to govern a proud and inflammable people like the Northumbrians. The following passage from Roger of Wendover illustrates the violent disposition of the Earl: “Tosti quitted the King’s court in a rage, and coming to the city of Hereford, where his brother Harold had prepared a great feast for the King, he cut off the limbs of all the servants, and put an arm, or some other member, in each of the vessels of wine, mead, ale, or pickle; after which he sent a message to the King, that on coming to his lodgings, he would find the food seasoned to his mind, and that he should take care to carry away the delicacies with him.”
Tosti’s rule in Northumbria came to a sudden termination, A.D. 1065. The “Anglo-Saxon Chronicle” thus records the event: “All the thanes in Yorkshire and Northumberland gathered themselves together, and outlawed their Earl, Tosty, and slew his household men, all that they might come at, as well English as Danish: and they took all his weapons at York, and gold and silver, and all his treasures which they might anywhere there hear of, and sent after Morkar, the son of Elgar the Earl, and chose him to be their Earl: and he went south with all the shire, and with Nottinghamshire, and Derbyshire, and Lincolnshire, until he came to Northampton: and his brother Edwin came to meet him with the men who were in his earldom, and also many Britons came with him. There came Harold, the Earl, to meet them; and they laid an errand upon him to King Edward, and also sent messengers with him, and begged that they might have Morkar for their Earl. And the King granted it, and sent Harold again to them at Northampton, on the eve of St. Simon’s and St. Jude’s Mass; and he made known the same to them, and delivered a pledge thereof to them: and he there renewed Canute’s law. But the northern men did much harm about Northampton whilst he went on their errand, inasmuch as they slew men and burned houses and corn; and took all the cattle which they came at, that was many thousand: and many hundred men they took and led north with them; so that shire, and the other shires which there are nigh, were for many years the worse. And Tosty the earl, and his wife, and all those who would what he would, went south over sea with him to Baldwin, the earl, and he received them all; and they were all the winter there.”
The indignation of Tosti was extreme, and was not unnaturally directed towards his brother, Harold, who had used his influence with the Confessor to obtain the pardon of the turbulent Northumbrians, and the confirmation of Morkar in the possession of the earldom. That Harold was actuated by personal motives cannot be questioned, for he procured the government of Mercia for Earl Edwin, and espoused the sister of these potent nobles. It was obvious that a crisis must come in his history, and in that of his country, and as a man and a patriot he could not afford to be hampered by the crimes of his brother, and by the disaffection and revolt of a province so remote and difficult of access as Northumbria. Although Harold was at the head of an army when he treated with the Northumbrians at Northampton, it is apparent from the passage already quoted that they were assembled in such numbers and array, that any attempt to reinstate Tosti in the earldom would have resulted in a battle, and probably would have necessitated an armed invasion of Northumbria.
On the 5th of January, 1066, King Edward fulfilled the number of his days, and on the morrow was buried in Westminster Abbey. From the day of his death England entered upon a long course of stormy and disastrous years; and it must be confessed that to his own folly in promising the succession to his kinsman, William, Duke of Normandy, the national troubles are to be largely attributed. It is said that Edward’s last hours were vexed by the vision of a warrior shooting a bloody arrow, portending evil days for the Kingdom; and also that he gave a reluctant consent to the succession of Harold, warning him that the result would be very grevious.
The citizens of London, the nobility, and clergy, were largely favourable to the claims of Harold; the lineal heir to the crown being the Confessor’s nephew, Edgar Atheling—a youth of far too tender years to wear the crown to which the Duke of Normandy and Harold Godwinson aspired. No man wished to behold the Norman duke seated upon the throne of the great Alfred; and when Harold caused himself to be proclaimed king on the evening of the day of the Confessor’s death, his action was ratified by the Witenagemot, and the crown was placed upon his head by Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury.
In the North alone was any disaffection manifested towards King Harold, and he met it by paying the Northumbrians a visit, in which he was accompanied by Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester. He was favourably received, and won the esteem and support of the Northumbrians.
In the true sense of the word, Harold was an elected king, chosen of the nation; not a tyrant and usurper.
Earl Tosti spared no pains to raise up enemies against his brother during the period of his enforced banishment, and succeeded in inducing the famous Norwegian monarch, Harold Hardrada, to make a descent upon the island. Too impatient to await the appearance of his ally, Earl Tosti was the first to raise sword in the land, coming from beyond sea with a fleet of daring adventurers, Flemings, and others. Landing in the Isle of Wight, he enforced contributions of food and money, and proceeded to ravage the coast as far as Sandwich. Harold had, however, provided so largely for the protection of his Kingdom by the formation of a large fleet, and of formidable land forces, that Tosti was compelled to beat a speedy retreat, and directed his course to the North, taking “some of the boatmen with him, some willingly and some unwillingly.” Entering the Humber, he devastated the Lindsey shore with fire and sword; but being beset by the troops of Morkar and Edwin, he was deserted by the greater part of his fleet, and was obliged to precipitately retire into Scotland with the twelve gallies that remained to him. King Malcolm III. hospitably entertained the fugitive prince at his court, but all the solicitations of Tosti failed to induce him to invade the territories of King Harold. Tosti succeeded in attaching a number of adventurers to his cause, or rather a number of pirates followed his fortunes in the hope of obtaining plunder, and with the certainty of being allowed to slaughter the inhabitants of the coasts, and to ravage the land.
Where the North Sea foams around the Orkneys, Tosti was to meet the Norwegian monarch; and the Orkneyinga Saga thus narrates his arrival and departure:—“At this time, when the brothers, Paul and Erlendr, had taken up the rule in Orkney, there arrived at the east side of the island from Norway Harold Sigurdson with a large army. He came first to Shetland. Went from thence to Orkney. There he left Queen Ellisif, and their daughters, Maria and Ingigerdi. From Orkney he had much help. Both the jarls joined the expedition of the king. The king thence went south to England, and landed where it is called Klifland, and came to Skardaborg.”
Tosti and his gallies joined the Norwegians, and in the expressive phraseology of the time:—“Tosti submitted to him and became his man.” Northumbria was the seat of war, the Saxon fleet and Harold’s army of defence being located in the South, for the arrival of the armament of the Duke of Normandy was daily expected, and Tosti and his ally had therefore every prospect of obtaining a strong hold of the North, the population of which was largely of Danish origin.
From the first the proceedings of the invaders were not calculated to win over the Northumbrians to their cause. As the great fleet of 500 sail bore for the Humber, numerous troops were landed to ravage the coast; and a fierce swoop was made upon Scarborough, which was burnt to the ground. Sailing up the Humber, the invaders continued their evil work, and the sky was lurid with flame and dark with smoke, and slaughtered peasants were strewn on the soil which they had ploughed and sown in the earlier days of the year, when they looked forward to the harvest of the scythe and sickle, nor dreamt that Autumn would bring upon them the sharp chastisement of the sword.
York was the prize for which the invaders offered, and, sailing up the Ouse, they moored their fleet at the village of Riccall, ten miles from the city, upon which they at once directed their march. Jarls Edwin and Morkar made strenuous efforts to arrest the invaders, but the northern forces were insufficient to meet so numerous and powerful an army as that of Hardrada. Nevertheless, the brothers assembled such troops as they could collect, and took up a position at Fulford to cover the city. Hardrada occupied a defensive position, with the river on his right flank, and a morass on his left. Edwin and Morkar showed no lack of spirit in the combat which ensued, and promptly charged the Norwegian lines, which they penetrated, making a very great slaughter; but being too weak in numbers to reap the full advantage of their valour, they were unable to rout the ranks which they had thrown into disorder; and the Norwegians clung to their ground, and maintained a hand-to-hand conflict until the arrival of large reinforcements from the fleet enabled them to push back the Northumbrian ranks, and to charge them in turn. This was decisive of the battle: the Northumbrians had exhausted their strength in the first conflict, and could not stem the tide of fresh warriors that bore down upon them, with their ringing war-song, and with flashing spears and axes. The disordered ranks of the Northumbrians were speedily broken, and the army dissolved in a wild rout of savage fugitives, oft turning stubbornly at bay, and exacting a heavy price for their lives. Many of the Northumbrians were forced into the river, or took to the water in their endeavours to escape the vengeance of the unsparing Norwegians, so that more men of the Saxon army perished in the Ouse than fell by the sword on the field of Fulford. “And this fight was on the vigil of St. Matthew the apostle, and it was Wednesday.”
Morkar and Edwin retired into York with the remnant of fugitives that rallied around them; but their numbers were insufficient for the defence of the city, and they retreated thence, when Harold and Tosti entered in triumph at the head of a division of their army, and received the submission of the citizens, who furnished them with provisions, and placed hostages in their hands; “and they agreed upon a full peace, so that they should all go with him south, and this land subdue.”
The Norwegians had retired from the city, and taken up a position at Stamford Bridge, part of the army remaining at Riccall for the protection of the fleet, while the commanders appear to have been engaged in projects for organising an army to march south; but the enemy was approaching by forced marches; and on the 26th of September, 1066, the decisive battle of Stamford Bridge was fought
No sooner was Harold apprised of the invasion of Northumbria, than he placed himself at the head of his army, advanced his ensigns; and pressed forward with such celerity that, on the 23rd of September, his army occupied Tadcaster. On the following day he entered York; the Norwegians, who had been left in occupation, retiring before him. The battle commenced at sunrise on the 25th; and the forces of Harold and Tosti appear to have been taken by surprise, for a large number of Norwegians were with the fleet at Riccall. Under any circumstances, however, Hardrada was certain to provide for the safety of his fleet; and the fact that he afterwards drew large reinforcements from it does not of itself imply that he was taken by surprise, unless, indeed he had under-estimated the forces of Harold, and had prepared for battle accordingly.
The armies were sufficiently powerful for so important an occasion, each consisting of some 60,000 men; those of Hardrada being adventurers and soldiers by profession; whilst the warlike element was sufficiently developed in Harold’s army, many of the troops being veterans, and all accustomed to wield arms, for there had not been time to collect hasty levies, such as some of those that fought at Hastings three weeks later.
Before the battle commenced, Harold Godwinson dispatched a troop of twenty horse to negotiate with the enemy, no doubt in the hope of winning over his brother Tosti, against whom his mind revolted from engaging in war. Tosti manifested a marked disposition to accede to his brother’s wishes on being informed that he should be reinstated in his territories and honours; but, on his demanding what price would be paid to secure his ally, Harold Sigurdson, he was met by the significant reply:—“Six feet of earth; or, as he is a giant, he shall have seven.”
Then Tosti swore a great oath that no man should ever say that Tosti, son of Godwin, broke faith with Harold, son of Sigurd; whereon the trumpets sounded, and the Saxon advance began.
The Norwegians occupied a purely defensive position on rising ground in the rear of the Derwent; the narrow wooden bridge, which spanned the river, being held by a strong detachment posted on the Saxon side of the water. There is a strange legendary story told of a gigantic Norwegian holding the bridge, single-handed, against the Saxon army for three hours; meeting every rush of the assailants with tremendous blows of a huge battle-axe, and only falling by a treacherous blow from the spear of a Saxon soldier, who, in a boat, passed underneath the bridge, and directing a stroke of his spear between the planks, smote the warrior underneath his mail, and so slew him. Considering that Harold’s army contained both archers and slingers, it is difficult to believe that three hours should be lost, and forty Saxons slain by this terrible warrior, before he fell to the cowardly stroke of a concealed enemy.
It is certain, however, that the bridge was stormed by the Saxons, and that Harold Hardrada maintained a defensive position while they crossed, although he might have attacked them at great disadvantage while forming in the open ground. Being deficient in cavalry, he had formed his troops somewhat in the old Scottish fashion of the Schiltron: massing them in one huge circular column, with the front rank kneeling, and all presenting their pikes, so that the bristling column might scarcely be broken by the most desperate and repeated charges, and the soldiers, who loved fighting with the wild Norse love, which has not yet died out of the earth, might safely count upon a feast of blows that day.
Hardrada occupied the centre of his army, with his jarls and captains around him, and his famous war-standard, the “Land-Ravager,” floating above his head. He was mounted upon a powerful black war-horse, his hauberk and helmet were of burnished steel, and a long blue cloak rendered him conspicuous amidst his warlike thousands, over whom he towered in the physical superiority of his gigantic stature; as the battle commenced he lifted his powerful voice, and sang his war-song, kindling the enthusiasm of his warriors, and preparing them for the storm that was about to burst upon them.
Before the main-battle commenced, the force that guarded the bridge had to be driven back, and if there be any truth in the story of its sturdy defence, Hardrada’s reinforcements should have reached him before the Saxons passed the bridge.
The initiative was forced upon Harold Godwinson, and no slackness was shown by the Saxons in closing in upon their formidable adversaries. The charges were repeated again and again, and the famous Saxon twibil did good service that day; nor were the spearmen wanting in their efforts, while the Saxon cavalry charged again and again. The day wore on; the cries of battle and the clash of weapons sounded far; the Norwegian host was belted by a wide hem of the dead. The Saxon light troops did good service on this memorable day, and brought down many of the sea-rovers by the discharge of their missiles. Although both armies suffered severely, the battle endured steadily; the invaders maintained their formation with stubborn valour, and the Saxons continued their attacks with equal determination. In the heat of the battle an arrow smote King Hardrada in the throat, and he died in the midst of his army, at the foot of his standard, to the sound of ringing steel and fierce war-cries.
Although the noble form of Hardrada was missed from the press, and his war-cry no longer presaged victory to the Norwegian host, his valiant troops maintained the field with unabated ardour; and Prince Olave bringing up reinforcements from the fleet, the strife waxed fiercer, and the most sanguine might question with whom the victory would rest. Harold was an expert warrior, and failing to penetrate the Norwegian ranks by dint of hard fighting, he feigned a retreat, and induced them to abandon their close formation, in the excitement of attack and pursuit, when he turned upon their disordered lines, and the field instantly became the scene of a fierce hand-to-hand encounter, with its dreadful attendant carnage. Tosti, and many of the Norwegians, fell in the last stubborn effort to maintain the field, for although the generous Saxon offered them quarter, it was disdainfully refused by the maddened Northmen.
The following quaint and pithy account of the battle is taken from the “Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,” and is well worthy of quotation:—“Then, during this, came Harold, King of the Angles, with all his forces, on the Sunday, to Tadcaster, and there drew up his force, and went thence on Monday throughout York; and Harold, King of Norway, and Tosty, the Earl, and their forces, were gone from their ships beyond York to Stamford-bridge, because it had been promised them for a certainty, that there, from all the shire, hostages should be brought to meet them. Then came Harold, King of the English, against them, unawares, beyond the bridge, and they there joined battle, and very strenuously, for a long time of the day, continued fighting: and there was Harold King of Norway and Tosty the Earl slain, and numberless of the people with them, as well of the Northmen as of the English: and the Northmen fled from the English. Then was there one of the Norwegians who withstood the English people, so that they might not pass over the bridge, nor obtain the victory. Then an Englishman aimed at him with a javelin, but it availed nothing; and then came another under the Bridge, and pierced him terribly inwards under the coat of mail. Then came Harold, King of the English, over the bridge, and his forces onward with him, and there made great slaughter, as well of Norwegians as of Flemings. And the King’s son Edmund, Harold let go home to Norway, with all the ships.”
Dreadful were the events of that September day, and most dismally tragic the retreat from Stamford Bridge to Riccall; the pursuers wielding sword and spear with merciless energy on the rear of the fugitive army, while ever and anon the Northman turned upon his foe and died fighting.
The fleet was reached by the war-worn Norwegians, but afforded them no refuge, for the Saxons pressed on to the attack, and captured ship after ship, and in some instances appear to have fired the vessels, failing to carry them by the sword, for the “Anglo-Saxon Chronicle” says:—“And the English from behind hotly smote them, until they came, some to their ships, some were drowned, and some also burned; and thus in divers ways they perished, so that there were few left. The King then gave his protection to Olave, son of the King of the Norwegians, and to their bishop and to the Earl of Orkney, and to all those who were left in the ships: and they then went up to our King, and swore oaths that they ever would observe peace and friendship toward this land, and the King let them go home with twenty-four ships.”
On the low plain of Riccall the dead lay thickly, and to this day the villagers point out to the curious visitor the huge earthen mounds that cover the bones of the Norwegians.
The Harold Hardrada Saga gives us a last glimpse of the remnant of the forlorn fleet, as it sailed from the ancient port of Ravenser:—“Olafr, son of Harold Sigurdson, led the fleet from England, setting sail at Hrafnseyri, and in the autumn came to Orkney. Of whom Stein Herdisson makes mention:
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‘The King the swift ships with the flood Set out, with the autumn approaching, And sailed from the port, called Hrafnseyri (the raven tongue of land). The boats passed over the broad track Of the long ships; the sea raging, The roaring tide was furious around the ships’ sides.’” |
The memory of the Norwegian giant who held the bridge was perpetuated by the people of Stamford, for Drake tells us that they “have a custom, at an annual feast, to make pies in the form of a swill, or swine tub, which tradition says was made use of by the man who struck the Norwegian on the bridge, instead of a boat.”
Harold is accused of having disgusted his army by refusing them a share of the spoil; but this is difficult to reconcile with the known generous character of the man; and no prince could have been more nobly seconded by his troops than was Harold on the field of Senlac.
Brief indeed was the victor’s respite from the dangers of the field; for, as he was presiding at a great feast of his chieftains and officers at York, a messenger entered the hall in haste, and delivered his ominous message that William of Normandy had disembarked his army at Pevensey, unopposed, on the 29th of September.
The march south was at once commenced; and on the 14th of October a murderous battle was fought at Senlac, raging with unwavering fury from sunrise to sunset. King Harold, his brothers Leofwin and Gurth, fell in the front of battle, with the flower of the army; and from that day the Norman rule commenced in England.
[III.—AFTER STAMFORD BRIDGE.]
William, Duke of Normandy, landed at Pevensey on the eve of St. Michael, 1066, and cast up fortifications for the protection of his army. Not venturing to penetrate into the country, he awaited the approach of the Saxon army. He had not long to wait. The route from York to Hastings was covered by forced marches, and, with a decimated and wearied army, Harold Godwinson took up his position before the Norman host. His rear was protected by rising ground; his front and flanks by trenches and huge wooden piles. He had especially to fear the Norman cavalry and archers, and took every precaution to defend his troops against them.
On the eve of the battle the Saxons regaled themselves with strong ale, and chanted legendary songs by their bivouac fires; but the Normans occupied themselves in religious services, as befitted hired cut-throats and the “scum of Europe.”
Harold’s banner, embroidered in gold with the figure of a warrior, in battle attitude, was fixed near the “hoar apple tree.” The men of Wessex brought with them their great banner, emblazoned with a golden dragon.
On the 14th October, Harold’s birthday, the battle was fought. The Norman army advanced in three lines: the light infantry and archers under Roger de Montgomerie; the men-at-arms under Martel; and the knights, esquires, and picked men-at-arms under the command of the Duke.
As the Normans advanced they raised the song of Roland, and the minstrel Taillefer claimed first blood, as a sturdy Saxon fell to his sword.
The Norman archers shot their arrows fast and well, point-blank against the Saxons, but the palisades proved a most efficient protection, and from their bows, and slings, and military machines, the Saxons replied, but they were not famous in missile warfare. Then the Norman lines closed on front and flanks, with thrust of lance, and fierce axe-play against the stout wooden piles, and all the while the heavy Saxon twibils rose and fell, crashing through Norman helm and shield, as horse and rider bit the dust, and from the Saxon rear the heavy javelins came whirling through the air. The dead and wounded lay thick on both sides of the palisades, and blood trickled and curdled in the dust. With unflinching courage the conflict was maintained, amid a tumult of discordant sounds: the clash and clatter of steel against steel, the groans of the wounded, and the sudden death-yells of those whose spirits fled as the axes came crashing through helm and brain-pan, or lance was driven sheer through corset and breast: above the heat and roar of the melee pealed the Saxon war-cry: “Christ’s Rood! the Holy Rood!” answered by the sonorous Norman death-cry: “Our lady of help! God be our help!”
The day sped to the heat and languor of the mid October noon, and the Normans toiled before the Saxon front, and belted it with flashing steel.
With painful anxiety Duke William saw his repeated charges spent against the Saxon army, saw his ranks shaken and thinned, without one foot of ground being won. He now bade his archers shoot high in the air, so that their arrows might descend upon the heads of the Saxons. By this the slaughter was dreadfully increased within the Saxon lines, but the warriors were unshaken in their resolution to maintain their ground.
Along the front the Saxons nobly avenged their slaughtered brethren, and William poured his whole army against them in a murderous charge. Quicker rose and fell the Saxon axes, and, recoiling from the shock, the surging mass of mail-clad warriors rolled down the ravine, between two hills, and many men were trampled to death by the struggling horses. Surely a charge of heavy cavalry would, at this crisis, have secured the throne and crown of Harold. Thrice the stalwart form of Norman William sank amid the surges, as three horses were slain beneath him. A cry arose that the Duke was slain, and panic and defeat appeared inevitable, when William rode, bare-headed, among his warriors, and reformed their ranks.
During the dreadful carnage, Harold maintained the van, fighting with heroic courage, although suffering severely from an arrow-wound which had destroyed one of his eyes. William’s strenuous efforts were nobly seconded by his officers, and especially by his half-brother, Odo, the warlike bishop of Bayeux. Foiled in every attempt to penetrate the Saxon lines, and hopeless of beating them out of their defences, William drew the Saxons by a feigned retreat of his cavalry, and on passing the broken ground, turned upon them, and cut them to pieces. Twice was the ruse repeated, and although the Saxons maintained their position with undaunted front, their ranks were terribly thinned and shaken.
The charges were repeated, again and again, and the Normans rolled back in blood. The day waned, but the desperate attacks were foiled. At length a number of palisades were displaced, and the Norman horse bit into the Saxon masses, hewing a bloody pathway, and paying heavily for every foot they won. Twenty knights vowed to take Harold’s banner, and William of Normandy, rendered desperate by his peril, was anxiously seeking the Saxon hero. The conflict inside the palisades was tremendous. Harold’s brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, perished in the van: the King was slain; there was a bloody rally round the royal banner; ten of the Norman knights were hewn down, but the banner was captured, and the Norman flag elevated in its place. Still the Saxons would not fly; the “Golden Dragon” was taken, and they were reduced to a mere mob of struggling warriors. The grey of evening merged into the dusk of night before the retreat commenced. In retreat they were almost as dangerous as in battle, and repeatedly turned and drew Norman blood. The Normans were driven back, William advanced to their succour, and while their leader, Eustace of Boulogne, was whispering in the Duke’s ear, he was struck on the back by a heavy Saxon axe, and fell, insensible, from his horse, the blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils.
The Normans, relaxing the pursuit, rode their horses over the slain Saxons, in savage elation, before returning solemn thanks to God for the victory.
Gurtha, the mother of Harold, came to beg the hero’s body, to give it burial; but William is reported to have refused, ordering the corse to be buried on the strand, remarking, with unknightly anger—“He guarded the coast while he was alive, let him thus continue to guard it after death.” The dead King was, however, interred in Waltham Abbey, which he had founded and endowed; or, if Tovi, Canute’s standard-bearer, was the original founder of the abbey, yet Harold was largely its benefactor.
On the field of Senlac King William built the famous Battle Abbey, that priests might perpetually pray for the souls of the slain, but, as Palgrave remarks:—“All this pomp and solemnity has passed away like a dream. The ‘perpetual prayer’ has ceased for ever—the roll of Battle is rent—the shields of the Norman lieges are trodden in the dust—the Abbey is levelled to the ground—and a dark and reedy pool fills the spot where the foundations of the quire have been uncovered, merely for the gaze of the idle visitor, or the instruction of the moping antiquary.”
Yorkshire endured terrible evils at the hands of the Conqueror, as he penetrated its wilds with his famous bowmen and men-at-arms.
The year 1068 witnessed a Northumbrian revolt, which was easily quelled; but a more determined effort to cast off the Norman yoke was made in the following year. The events are thus recorded in the “Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,” and were graphically realized by the acutely sympathetic mind of the Rev. Charles Kingsley in his stirring story of “Hereward, the last of the English.” The accuracy of the latter part of the title of his novel is, however, generally disputed:
“A.D. 1068—This year King William gave the earldom of Northumberland to earl Robert,[43] and the men of that country came against him, and slew him and 900 others with him. And then Edgar etheling marched with all the Northumbrians to York, and the townsmen treated with him; on which King William came from the south with all his troops, and sacked the town, and slew many hundred persons. He also profaned St. Peter’s minster, and all other places, and the etheling went back to Scotland.
“After this came Harold’s sons from Ireland, about Midsummer, with sixty-four ships, and entered the mouth of the Taff, where they incautiously landed. Earl Beorn came upon them unawares with a large army, and slew all their bravest men; the others escaped to their ships, and Harold’s sons went back again to Ireland.
“A.D. 1069—This year died Aldred, Archbishop of York, and he lies buried in his cathedral church. He died on the festival of Protus and Hyacinthus, having held the see with much honour ten years, all but fifteen weeks.
“Soon after this, three of the sons of Sweyne came from Denmark with 240 ships, together with earl Osbern and earl Thorkill, into the Humber, where they were met by child Edgar and earl Waltheof, and Merle-Sweyne, and earl Cospatric[44] with the men of Northumberland and all the landsmen riding and marching joyfully with an immense army; and so they went to York, demolished the castle, and found there large treasures. They also slew many hundred Frenchmen, and carried off many prisoners to their ships; but, before the shipmen came thither, the Frenchmen had burned the city, and plundered and burnt St. Peter’s minister. When the King heard of this, he went northward with all the troops he could collect, and laid waste all the shire; whilst the fleet lay all the winter in the Humber, where the King could not get at them. The King was at York on Midwinter’s day, remaining on land all the winter, and at Easter he came to Winchester.”
It was on the 19th of September that the Danes and Northumbrians entered York, and, amid the flame and smoke of burning houses, stormed the Norman stronghold, and put the garrison to the sword. Egbert, the seventh Archbishop of York, had founded a valuable library in the city, but it was utterly consumed in the flames.
The triumph of King William was not so easily achieved as might be supposed from the account given in the “Anglo-Saxon Chronicle;” and had he not succeeded in buying off the Danish fleet, it is quite possible that all the fruit of his great victory at Senlac might have been swallowed up at York. Although the Northumbrians were not strong enough to brave the Normans in open field, they defended York against all the attacks of the King’s troops for a period of six months, and the garrison only surrendered when they were in danger of perishing from starvation.
During the siege Waltheof Siwardsson especially distinguished himself, and on one occasion defended, single-handed, a breach in the city-wall, dashing out the brains of the Normans as they came within the sweep of his axe.
In the first burst of rage on receiving news of the slaughter of the Norman garrison, William vowed to lay the whole of Northumbria in ashes, and he carried out with ruthless severity this rash and cruel resolution. The troops who fought beneath his banner were mercenary cut-throats, the fit agents of his vengeance, and they addressed themselves to the work of destruction with a keen appreciation. The peasantry fell by the edge of the sword, neither age nor sex being respected: the shrieking children were mingled in the common ruin. Cottages were fired, orchards hewn down, the instruments of husbandry destroyed, and every energy was bent to the destruction of human life, and to ensure by starvation the death of those whom the sword failed to reach. For nine years after the storm had passed over the devoted province, the ground remained untilled, and the villages unrestored. The wretched fugitives who hid their heads in forests and caves were driven to feed upon the flesh of unclean cats and dogs, and finally they endeavoured to prolong their miserable lives by the last resort to cannibalism. It is computed that one hundred thousand persons perished in a district of sixty miles in length. The sea-ports were subjected to the same severities, that, in case of further Danish invasions, the ships might be unable to obtain supplies.
York itself was not spared by the ruthless Norman. The prisoners, who had been delivered into William’s hands by the extreme pangs of famine, were put to the sword, and the city was given to the flames.
During his expedition to Northumbria, William narrowly escaped receiving the reward of his demerits, an example of poetic justice that would have been particularly striking to the historian, and useful to the moralist.
While on the march from Hexham to York, he became involved in a wild and unknown country; his horses perished, his soldiers were reduced to the extremes of suffering and privation; and William missed his way, in the obscurity of a night-march, and was reduced to a state of great anxiety, not to say fear, being uncertain of the ground over which he wandered, and equally uncertain of the direction in which his troops were marching.
The North continued to suffer from war and invasion. Malcolm wasted Northumberland, A.D. 1079, and his wild Scots invaded the country as far as the Tyne, and re-entered Scotland with much spoil, and many prisoners.
The bishopric of Durham had been bestowed upon Walcher of Lorraine, and as he equally governed by crozier and sword, taxing the people heavily, and allowing his Norman mercenaries to plunder, insult, and slay his flock at their pleasure, he was bitterly hated; and, when his servant Gilbert murdered Liulf, a noble Englishman, who had married Jarl Siward’s widow, the mother of the heroic Waltheof, their rage knew no bounds. Walcher consented to confer with the Northumbrians at Gateshead, and was attended by a large escort. Every Englishman carried a weapon with him, concealed beneath his garment, and the bishop, becoming alarmed for his life, took refuge in the church, which was speedily fired, when the murderer and his accomplice were driven out, and received a summary requital for their crime. Compelled to sally out by flame and smoke, the bishop appeared among the raging multitude, his face wrapped in the skirt of his robe. There was silence, then a voice gave the death-words: “Good rede, short rede! slay ye the bishop!” and the protector of murderers was slain. His escort of a hundred men, Normans and Flemings, died beneath Northumbrian steel in that awful hour, only two of his servants, menials of English birth, being saved.
Vengeance was delegated to Odo of Bayeux, and there was no Hereward, no Waltheof to welcome him with blood-wet steel. He entered Durham unopposed, a Norman army at his back, and slew or maimed all the men that he could find.
Seven years later, and William lay dying in the monastery of St. Gervas, passing to his last account at sunrise on the 9th of September, as the bells of St. Mary tolled the hour of prime. His last words were: “I recommend my soul to my Lady Mary, the holy mother of God.”
Rufus succeeded, and in his reign the King’s army besieged Durham Castle, and received its surrender. This arose from the revolt of Odo of Bayeux, who was captured at Rochester Castle, and sent out of the country, to the sound of Saxon curses and the triumphant strains of Saxon trumpets, for the proud prelate who had cursed England with his presence since the day of Senlac was conquered by Saxon steel at last.
The North was again ravaged by the Scots, A.D. 1091, when Rufus marched to protect it, and “Edgar Atheling mediated a peace between the kings.” The following year saw the King again in the North, with a large following, when, “he repaired the city (Carlisle), and built the castle. And he drove out Dolfin, who had before governed that country, and having placed a garrison in that castle he returned into the South, and sent a great number of rustic Englishmen thither, with their wives and cattle, that they might settle there and cultivate the land.”
A.D. 1093.—“King Malcolm returned home to Scotland, and as soon as he came thither, he assembled his troops and invaded England, ravaging the country with more fury than behoved him: and Robert, Earl of Northumberland, with his men, lay in wait for him, and slew him unawares. He was killed by Moræl of Bamborough, the earl’s steward, and King Malcolm’s own godfather: his son Edward, who, had he lived, would have been King after his father, was killed with him. When the good Queen Margaret heard that her most beloved lord, and her son, were thus cut off, she was grieved in spirit unto death, and she went with her priest into the church, and having gone through all befitting rites, she prayed of God that she might give up the ghost.”
The Northern province had little rest from marching armies, sieges, and battles. In the Easter of 1095, Robert, Earl of Northumberland, treated with contempt the King’s summons to attend the court at Winchester; whereon the King took an early opportunity of attacking him, seized his principal servants and officers, took Tynemouth Castle, and after vainly besieging Bamborough, built a castle, Malveisin, or “evil neighbour,” over against it, and leaving therein a strong garrison departed. After the King’s departure, the earl sallied out one night, riding towards Tynemouth, when a part of the garrison of Malveisin pursued after him, carried him off, wounded, and slew or captured his attendants. On this Rufus ordered his captains to carry Northumberland to Bamborough Castle, and summon it to surrender, threatening to put out the earl’s eyes if the castle continued to hold out. The scheme was successful, the countess—a young and beautiful woman, recently married to Northumberland—at once surrendered, when the unhappy earl was condemned to a life-long imprisonment.
The mysterious death of William Rufus, who was found in the New Forest, slain by an arrow, on the 2nd of August, A.D. 1100, was followed by the accession of Henry I., when the Northern provinces of the island enjoyed a period of unwonted repose, which was terminated by the usurpation of Stephen of Blois, when the Scottish invasions re-commenced, and the battle of the Standard was fought.
During these years York was steadily rising from its ashes, after the Conqueror’s fiery chastisement, when, on the 4th June, 1137, a fire accidently broke out, and the city was again consumed.
Of the patriots who combatted so valiantly against the Conqueror during the invasion of Northumbria, Earl Edwin was slain in 1071, being betrayed to the Normans by three of his servants; Morkar, after joining Hereward in the famous Camp of Refuge, fell into the hands of the King, and was cast into prison, pursuant to a sentence of imprisonment for life, but, when the Conqueror lay on his death-bed, he ordered his release, and William Rufus immediately re-committed him to prison; Earl Cospatrick was banished for the slaughter of the Normans at Durham and York, and received honours and lands from the King of Scotland. Hereward was murdered by the Normans, but exacted an heroic price for his life.