Gurth, however, rallied them. He told them that their all was at stake, that William had promised their lands to his followers, and that he had already taken homage for them from many. “Defend yourselves then,” he said, “and your children and all that belongs to you, while you may.”
At these words the English were aroused, and cried out that the Normans had come on an evil day, and had embarked on a foolish matter.
“The Duke and his men tried no further negotiation, but returned to their tents, sure of fighting on the morrow. Then men were to be seen on every side straightening lances, fitting hauberks and helmets, making ready the saddles and stirrups; filling the quivers, stringing the bows, and making all ready for the battle.”
The night before a battle must be a season of peculiar solemnity and suspense. The shades of night, giving indistinctness to the landscape, harmonize too well with the doubts which becloud the mind as to the morrow’s destiny. He is a fool, not a hero, who would step from time into eternity without solemn thought.
The accounts which we have of the way in which the hosts spent the night before the battle are all to the disadvantage of the English. Had they been the winning instead of the losing party, the chroniclers would doubtless have been less severe. As it is, they tell us that the troops of Harold spent the night in eating and drinking and merriment—never lying down in their beds. If this be true, how we are we to account for the vigour with which they fought from nine o’clock in the morning until nightfall next day? The Normans and French, on the other hand, we are told, betook themselves to their orisons. “They made confession of their sins, accused themselves to the priests, and vowed that they would never more eat flesh on the Saturday” (the day of the battle). Many of them kept the vow!
At the dawn of day each party had completed its preparations. Before the sun should set, a battle was to be fought on which hung not merely the fate of an empire, but, as events have subsequently proved, the destinies of the civilized world to this hour.
THE BATTLE.
“Revolving in his altered soul
The various turns of fate below.”
Dryden.
The room is still pointed out in the roofless donjon keep of Falaise, in which Arlotte, the tanner’s daughter, gave birth to William the Conqueror. It is a small comfortless apartment. When the newborn babe was laid upon the floor, he grasped the straw which covered it with a vigour that induced the bystanders to predict that he would ere long take a foremost place amongst the ambitious potentates of his age. In the course of our worsted narrative we have followed our hero to a point in which he is about to justify the correctness of these surmisings.
Harold, painfully conscious of the inferiority of his military equipments, resolved to act on the defensive. He took up his position on a round-topped hill, having on its summit a circular platform just sufficient to contain his troops drawn up in close order. This hill was anciently called Senlac; it afterwards became the site of the Abbey of Battle. Harold further strengthened his position by earthen ramparts crowned with palisades of wood. Wace, speaking of these precautions, says, “They had built up a fence before them with their shields, and with ash and other wood; and had well joined and wattled in their whole work, so as not to leave even a crevice; and thus they had a barricade in their front, through which any Norman who would attack them must first pass. Being covered in this way by their shields and barricades, their aim was to defend themselves; and if they had remained steady for that purpose, they would not have been conquered that day; for every Norman who made his way in lost his life in dishonour, either by hatchet or bill, by club or other weapon.” In addition to these defences, Wace tells us that Harold “made a fosse, which went across the field, guarding one side of their army.” This was probably lower down the hill than the position occupied by his camp, and was chiefly intended to incommode the cavalry.