“He has also spoken of this,” replied the horseman. “This will he give him: seven feet of English ground to lie in, or as much more as he may need if he be taller than other men.”
“If that is so,” said Tosti, “go back and tell Harold to prepare for battle; for never shall it be said that Tosti failed the King of Norway when he came to England to fight for him. Rather we will resolve to die with honour if we may not gain England by a victory.”
When the horsemen rode back King Harald Hardrada said to the earl: “Who was that man who spoke so well?” “That,” said Tosti, “was King Harold Godwinson, the King of England.” “Had we only known that,” said the King angrily, “never would Harold have returned alive to tell the tale.”
But the earl said: “Although I knew my brother, I would not betray him or be his murderer when he came to offer me peace; but that he was bold to come thus so near us and ran a great risk, that is true, as you say.”
“He was but a little man,” said Harald, “yet I saw that he sat firmly in his stirrups.”
On this the fight began; and so long as the Northmen kept their ground the English could do nothing against them, and kept riding round their close ranks, seeking a weak spot. At length the Norse grew tired of this, and broke their line, thinking to drive back the English in flight; but from that time all went against them, and they fell in multitudes under the English spears and arrows. King Harald Hardrada became wild with rage, and burst forth from his men, fighting and hewing down with both hands, so that no one could stand before him; but at length he was hit in the windpipe with an arrow, and he fell, for that was his death-wound. When they saw that the King was dead the whole army paused awhile, and Harold again sent forward offers of peace; but the Norsemen said they would rather fall one across the other than accept quarter from the English. It is told in the English chronicles that the hardest fight was on the bridge, where one single Norseman stood at the entrance to the way to cover the flight of the Norse to their vessels, cutting down all who ventured their feet upon the structure. So many had he killed that at last the English feared to attempt to pass, and all stood back, for the bridge was piled with dead. They offered him peace, but scornfully he rejected it, and called on them to advance, deriding them as cowards because they were afraid of one single man. At length an iron javelin, thrown from afar, transfixed the brave warrior, and on his death the English passed the bridge and pursued the flying Norsemen. Many of the enemy fell through pure weariness, dying without a wound, and darkness came on before the slaughter was ended. Tosti was among the slain, but King Harold protected Olaf, the young son of Harald Hardrada, and sent him and the Earls of Orkney safely home, when they had sworn allegiance to him. This prince was known as Olaf Kyrre, or “the Quiet,” in Norway, where he reigned from 1068 to 1093. It is said that Harold would allow no spoil to his soldiers; and on account of this many of them were discontented, and stole away from him.
Hardly was the battle of Stamford Bridge concluded than the news was brought to Harold that William had landed at Pevensey, and was overwhelming the South of England with his vast army. Seventeen days later the battle of Senlac, or Hastings, as it is usually called, was fought and won, Harold falling at set of sun, pierced by an arrow in the eye.
Thus came to an end at one time the English dynasty and the rule of Danish kings. No future King of Norway or Denmark laid claim to the Crown of England as part of his rightful heritage; but the Norman kings who reigned in England were themselves part of the same stock, and the fresh blood they brought was still Northman’s blood, come round by way of Normandy.
The body of King Harald Hardrada was a year later transported from England to Nidaros,[48] and was there buried in a church that he had built. From the time when, at fifteen years of age, he had fought with his brother, St Olaf, at the battle of Stiklestad until his death, he had ever been a bold and lucky warrior; but his luck turned at Stamford Bridge.[49] He was of great height—four Danish ells, or nearly eight feet. It was on this account that Harold offered him seven feet of English ground to be buried in, “or more if he needed it.”