‘He is, my Lord. But he is no longer a Scandinavian. He, like King Edward, has been seduced by the trappings of Rome and the soft life of the learned cloister. The Normandy he governs is turning to Paris, to Rome and to Aachen for its wisdom; it has forgotten its northern roots.’
This time a younger warrior stood up, Skule Konfrostre, a close friend of the King’s son, Olaf.
‘Earl Tostig, noble lord of the English, if you are contemptuous of the Normans, why were you at William’s court recently? Were you not also at the court of Estrithson? How many allies do you seek?’
There were hoots of derision in support of the young warrior’s caustic remarks.
He continued his barracking. ‘Also, is it not true that your own wife, Judith, is kinswoman of the midget Matilda, Duke William’s wife?’
More laughter ensued, amid derisory yells from the warriors. Tostig seemed to be losing his audience.
He turned squarely to Hardrada. ‘I was at William’s court in January to ask him his intentions. He told me he would invade as soon as his fleet was ready. I told him that the Saxons would fight him to the death until Edgar the Atheling, the true Cerdician King of England, was on the throne and I was reinstalled to my Earldom in Northumbria. My brother Harold has made himself King, but Harold is a general of armies, not a king. He has seen an opportunity and taken it; it is an ignoble act. I asked William to support the Atheling as King, and to act as guarantor against any threat to Edgar from my brother, but the Duke rejected my suggestion.’
Hardrada spoke for the first time. ‘Tell me of your brother, the new King Harold. Is he liked?’
‘He has support, especially in the South, and the army is loyal to him. It is well trained, but it numbers only a few thousand. In the North he is weak; that is where fealty is shown to me.’
Whether or not Hardrada realized Tostig was being disingenuous about loyalty to him in the North, it seemed not to matter. The King, who had listened carefully to all that had been said, stood and regarded the grand gathering of his kinsmen. He made eye contact with many, trying to gauge their mood.
‘Since the treaty of the Goda River with King Svein of the Danes, we have been at peace. Our battles with Denmark are over, but the years of peace have blunted our axes. England is rich; its maidens are fair. Are we not Vikings?’
He was carefully manipulating his audience, rekindling the fire in the hearts of his warriors. They began to shout their approval, stamp their feet and thump their shields with their fists.
‘I am now fifty-two years old, but my thirst for battle has not been quenched. This noble English earl has brought us word of a great opportunity. He is right, England is weak. Viking rule can be restored to York, to Winchester, to London. Send out messengers, raise your men, bring your ships. We invade England in the summer!’
A great chorus of approval reverberated around the hall as Tostig looked on in awe at the Norsemen in full cry. His wily plotting was paying off: to the south, the Normans were building their fleet; in the north the Norwegians would soon be gathering theirs; in the east his own force was being prepared in Flanders by his loyal deputy, Copsig.
Tostig seemed to have Harold exactly where he wanted him — outnumbered and surrounded.
15. Comet in the Heavens
‘The days are growing longer, Hereward.’
‘Yes, sire. It will soon be May Day; the Duke’s ships must be ready by now.’
Hereward was with King Harold on the south coast, at Dover, inspecting the local defences. Small garrisons had been commissioned along the entire coast, from the Tees in the north to the Severn in the west. News of a landing of any sort, be it Scandinavian or Norman, would be with the King within hours.
Harold had recently presided over his Easter Gemot at Westminster, which began on Easter Day, 16 April 1066. In an unprecedented session of law-making lasting ten days, Harold had instituted wholesale changes to England’s institutions: he had altered the tax structure to help those struggling to meet the demands of their lords; ordered the opening of new mints for the production of extra coinage to boost commerce; devolved back to the earls and thegns powers which had been garnered by King Edward; and, to the exclusion of Edward’s Norman placements, promoted prominent Saxons to senior positions in the Church and local administration.
Neither man had seen his woman in months. Edith Swan-Neck was in Winchester keeping a wary eye on Harold’s sister, Edith, King Edward’s widow, so that she could warn him of any scheming between her and Tostig. Torfida and the twins were in Glastonbury with the rest of Hereward’s entourage, helping Harold’s quartermasters with the onerous task of maintaining his standing army of housecarls. It was fortunate for Harold that England was rich in taxes from its productive farmers and the foreign merchants who came with gold and silver to buy the products of England’s thriving economy.
Hereward had sent Alphonso to Normandy to assess the strength of the Duke’s forces and gauge the preparedness of his fleet. He was due to return any day.
‘We need Alphonso’s report, sire. Your spies give us contradictory stories; I fear they tell us what they think we want to hear, or just repeat the local gossip from Normandy’s taverns.’
The King looked up at the rapidly darkening late evening sky above the towering white cliffs of Dover’s natural defences. The sea was dark and sombre with no moon to cast its reflection on the heaving waves. Hereward looked at the King’s silhouetted profile; here was a man balancing precariously on the fulcrum of history. In the coming months, the destinies of several kingdoms would be determined by his judgement, his sword arm, and his kingship.
As Hereward pondered Harold’s heavy burden, he suddenly became aware of agitated murmurings in the camp. Men were getting to their feet and pointing to the eastern sky. The King’s quiet contemplation was also disturbed by the commotion.
He looked at Hereward. ‘What is troubling the men?’
‘I don’t know, sire. I have never seen such a thing before.’
Low on the horizon, towards the darkest part of the sky in the south-east, blazed a star no one had seen before. It was as bright as Venus, but had a tail, like the wake of a ball of heavenly fire.
‘The men are scared, my Lord King. They are saying it is an omen of doom.’
‘Calm them, Hereward. It is a comet, an object a long way away among the stars. The ancients saw them and recorded their movements. Remind the men that there was a comet to herald the birth of Jesus, so it is a portent of our victory to come.’
He smiled at Hereward with a self-belief that was infectious. Hereward went to rally the men. It did not take him long, nor did they need much reassurance. They had fought many campaigns with Harold; as long as the King was in good spirits, they were too. Wisdom was a great comfort in difficult times.
Harold’s coastal inspection had reached Chichester by the time Alphonso returned. He reported that he had attached himself to the preparations being made by Robert, Count of Mortain, who was required by Duke William to provide 100 ships for the invasion. Adept with rope and leather, Alphonso had helped prepare the ships for the hundreds of horses that would have to make the perilous crossing to England.
‘My Lord King, an almighty host is gathering for the invasion. Two thousand ships have been built. Sea captains, farriers, carpenters, blacksmiths, armourers, tanners and saddle-smiths have come from all over Europe, and every adventurer, outlaw, mercenary and cut-throat from lands far and wide is joining the Duke’s war band. There are Hungarians, Bohemians, Bavarians, Frenchmen and Flems. I saw crossbowmen and archers practising every day, and over two thousand knights in full armour have gathered with their war horses.’ Alphonso, conscious that he was describing a terrifyingly potent enemy, tried to offer some words of comfort for Harold. ‘But you have time, my Lord King; the fleet will not begin to assemble until August, when it will gather at the port of Dives. There it will wait until the Duke is certain that all is adequately prepared before he moves the ships to the mouth of the Somme at St Valery. The veteran sailors I spoke to said it would not be wise to set sail for at least a month after that because the horses will need to be settled.’
The King queried the delay. ‘Why a month?’
‘Sire, they will stable the horses on the ships while they are still in dock, to get them used to the movement and the surroundings. With such a large number to transport, they must be tethered very closely together, so must stay calm. My estimate is that the Normans cannot sail until September at the earliest, by which time the autumn
