History of the Anglo-Saxons, from the Earliest Period to the Norman Conquest / Second Edition

by Thomas Miller

When William was only seven years old, his father was seized with a fit of devotion, and resolved to make a pilgrimage, on foot, to Jerusalem, to obtain forgiveness for his sins. His chiefs and barons rightly argued that such a journey was not free from danger, and that if he chanced to die, they should be left without a ruler. "By my faith," answered the duke, "I will not leave you without a lord. I have a little bastard, who will grow up and be a gallant man, if it please God. I know he is my son. Receive him, then, as your lord, for I make him my heir, and give him from this time forth the whole duchy of Normandy."

The Norman barons did as duke Robert desired; and placing their hands between the child's, acknowledged him as their ruler. The duke did not live to return from his pilgrimage; and although some opposition was offered to the election of William, and a civil war ensued, the adherents of the bastard were victorious.[12] Nor was William long before he gave proofs of that daring and valour which form so prominent a feature in his character; he was soon able to buckle on his armour, and mount his war-horse without the aid of the stirrup; and on the day when he first sprang into his saddle without assistance, the veterans who had drawn their swords in defence of his claim to the dukedom made it a day of great rejoicing. Bold, fearless, and determined, and as if resolved to triumph over those who had objected to his election on the ground of his birth, he occasionally issued his commands, and put forth his charter with the bold beginning that proclaimed his origin, and wrote, "We, William the Bastard, hereby decree, &c." He soon evinced a love for horses and military array, and while yet young made war upon his neighbours of Anjou and Brittany. Nor did he fail to punish those who made any allusion to his birth; although he himself at times made a boast of his illegitimacy, yet to none others would he allow that privilege in his hearing without resenting it as an insult; and his vengeance was at times accomplished with the most merciless cruelty. While attacking the town of Alençon, the besieged appeared upon the walls, and beating their shields, which were covered with leather, exclaimed, "Hides! hides!" in allusion to the calling of his mother's father. The cruel Norman immediately ordered the hands and feet of the prisoners he had captured in an attempted sally to be cut off, and thrown over the walls into the town by his slingers. Such was the inhuman act committed by the savage who now came as a spy and a guest to the court of England.

Great must have been the delight of duke William to see, wherever he moved, his own countrymen at the head of the navy and army. If he visited a fortress, a Norman was ready as governor to receive him; if he entered a church, a Norman bishop stood forth to meet him; if he remained in the palace, Norman friends surrounded him; and he heard only the language of his own country spoken, and was acknowledged by all who in England approached him (excepting the king, and a few Saxon chiefs) as their lord and governor. Wherever he moved, he was met by Normans, and bowed down to, as if he had already been England's king; for nearly all the high offices in the kingdom were either in the hands of the Norman or French favourites. What secret consultations he had with his friends, what notes were made on the strength of the fortresses, the safest roads, the best landing places, is not recorded, although it is evident that the Norman duke had already fixed his eye upon the crown of England, and but waited for a favourable pretext to seize upon it.

Edward, beyond doubt, received his cousin William kindly, perhaps more so than he had done any other Norman; for all his affections seemed planted in the land where he had spent the years of his youth; beside, William's father had been kind to him and his brother Alfred, when they had no friends in England whom they knew of. Nor could William well allude to the English throne becoming vacant on the death of Edward, nor deplore that he left no son behind to reign in his stead, for Edward, the son of his half-brother, Edmund Ironside, was still alive; so William wisely held his peace, and left all to time and chance—taking care to watch both. Previous to his return, Edward presented him with arms, horses, dogs, and falcons, loaded his attendants with presents, and gave the duke every proof of his sincere affection. After his departure, the Norman favourites became more arrogant than ever; for there is but little doubt that they now began to look upon England as their own, and but waited for the death of the weak-minded king, and the return of duke William, to take possession. All this seems secretly and silently to have been arranged. These plans, however, were for a time doomed to be frustrated. Earl Godwin and his powerful sons were still alive, and making such preparations as the court parasites had never dreamed of for returning to England, and avenging themselves upon their enemies. Still, the cunning of duke William failed him not. Chances favoured him; and we seem as we were now about to weave and unweave the web of a wild romance, instead of recounting the truthful events of history.

Yet, in the great drama which we are about to open, popes, and crowned kings, and mitred bishops, princes, and priests, are the actors; and the prize contended for is that England which now claims the proud title of "Queen of the World"—that little island which has dwarfed ancient Rome and classic Greece by its gigantic grandeur.

Earl Godwin during his exile had not remained idle; he had still a few friends in England who would take care to acquaint him with all that was going on at court. Here and there a Saxon had also managed to retain the command of a fortress, and but few of his countrymen now remained that were not heartily disgusted with the arrogance and tyranny of the Norman favourites. Such wealth as Godwin had carried out with him, or been able to muster, he had made good use of; and having got together a powerful fleet, he, in the summer of 1052, ventured once more upon the English court. He had taken the precaution to despatch faithful emissaries before him, and thousands of the Saxons and Danes had sworn an oath, that they would take up arms, and "fight until death for earl Godwin." His first attack was not very successful; for although he managed to elude the fleet, which was commanded by his enemies the Normans, he was at last discovered, pursued, and compelled to shelter in the Pevensey Roads. A tempest arose while Godwin lay at anchor, and dispersed the royal fleet.

Near the Isle of Wight he was joined by his sons, Harold and Leofwin, who had returned from Ireland, and brought with them both men and ships—a clear proof that Godwin had carefully arranged his plans. Wherever the Saxon fleet now moved along the coast they met with a warm welcome; wherever they chose to land, armed bands appeared, and joined with them; the peasants brought in stores of provisions; and the name of earl Godwin was again proclaimed with as much heartiness and sincerity as when he alone dared to beard the Norman favourites in the palace—the current of popularity had every way set in his favour. Part of his forces he landed at Sandwich, then daringly doubled the North Foreland, and sailed like a conqueror up the Thames, to the very foot of the grey wave-washed wall where Edmund and Canute had carried on the struggle, when London was besieged and defended. What a buzzing there would again be in the old city throughout all that summer night! what whispering in the secret corners of the old-fashioned streets! for Godwin had managed to land many of his followers, and they had friends on shore, and appointed places of meeting and passwords, by which they could recognise each other in the dark; and arms would be seen glancing, half concealed by short Saxon and Danish cloaks, and treason be as rife in every hole-and-corner as it ever was in any of the centuries which have since elapsed. From the royal army, troops were deserting every hour, and all around the coast, and up the Thames, the ships that were sent out to oppose him turned round their heads, and either willingly, or through fear, followed in his wake, and, instead of becoming enemies, strengthened his formidable fleet.

Before a blow was struck by his impatient followers, Godwin sent a respectful message to the king, requesting the revision of the sentence which had been passed against him, and demanding a restitution of his property and honours; in return for which he promised to become a true and faithful subject in all duty to the king. Edward refused the proffered submission, though every hour saw his forces thinned, and, with the exception of his foreigners, those who remained appeared unwilling to fight. Other messengers were despatched to Edward, for Godwin was reluctant to employ the large force under his command against the weak and wavering followers of the king, whose numerical strength bore no comparison to his own; for he clearly saw that, if his army would but have the patience to wait, he should obtain a bloodless victory; it was, however, with great difficulty that he could restrain them, so eager were they to be revenged on the Normans. Nor were the latter at all backward in urging Edward to commence the attack, for they well knew that concession on the king's part would be their ruin, while, in the chances of a fight, Godwin might probably be killed, or if even victorious there would be something for all who ventured into such a scramble. But the few ships which Edward had drawn up above London-bridge could not be depended on; the king knew that a battle on his part was a hopeless affair, yet still he remained unbending and obstinate. There were still a few Saxon nobles true to Edward; they were of those whose ancestors had followed Alfred, and Athelstan, and Ethelred through good and through evil report; and who, like the nobles that have for centuries succeeded them, resolved to remain true subjects while ever one sat upon the throne in whose veins the blood of Hengist or Horsa flowed. To such as these in the hour of real danger Edward was still wise enough to listen. He for once disregarded the advice of his Norman favourites, and leaving Stigand, his bishop, to act as president, permitted the Saxon chiefs who belonged to his own party to meet those who came over in the favour of earl Godwin, with the mutual intention of effecting a reconciliation. Where both parties were anxious for peace, there was but little probability of a war; this the Normans saw, and well knew that there was not a moment to be lost. And now our old English chroniclers fairly lose themselves in the feelings of delight with which they describe the hasty departure of the Norman favourites. Never before was there amongst them such packing and saddling! at every little portal-gate they were seen sallying out of London; in his hurry to escape, the Norman archbishop of Canterbury left behind his pallium. Stigand found it, threw it over his own shoulders, and on the strength of the sanctity which it was supposed to contain, set up archbishop on his own account. Some galloped off and left all their effects behind, glad to get to the seaside at any price, and to creep into little dirty fishing-boats, filled with "ancient smells," and there concealing themselves, crept over to the opposite coast as speedily as possible. Others, following the example set them on a former occasion by Eustace of Boulogne, trampled underfoot the children that were playing in the summer twilight in the streets of London, and thus slew by proxy earl Godwin's Saxons, for of such metal were these foreign favourites made of. We can picture the Saxon wives of that day picking up their dead and wounded children, and cursing the cowards as the thunder of their horses' hoofs died away in the dim distance.

The witena-gemot again assembled in London for the trial of earl Godwin; the balance of power was this time in his own hands—there were no Norman enemies to fear—and the Saxon boldly defended himself; his sons also showed that they were justified in acting as they had done, and "all the great men and chiefs of the country," before whom they appeared, were satisfied. The sentence of banishment was recalled; their honours and estates restored; and it was then decreed that all the Normans should be banished from England, as "promoters of discord, enemies of peace, and calumniators of the English to their king." A son and grandson of Godwin's were then given up to Edward as hostages; and, for better security, the king sent them over to duke William of Normandy—these we shall have to return to again as our plot deepens, and we draw nearer to the end of the bloody tragedy which ended in the destruction of the Saxons. Editha left her convent, and the family of earl Godwin were once more triumphant at the English court. An exception was made to one of the old earl's sons, named Sweyn, not for the part he had taken in ousting the Norman favourites, but for offences of a graver nature. He, however, became penitent, donned a pilgrim's garb, walked barefooted to Jerusalem, and died, as Robert the Devil had done before him, on his way home.

A few exceptions of but little note were made to this decree of banishment against the Normans; the archbishop, who had run away without his pallium, was restored; and a few others, who appear to have stood aloof from the quarrels fomented by their countrymen, or who, at least, had the tact to steer clear of open danger, were, at the intercession of Edward, permitted to remain in England.