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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 351 81 58 
 
HILDA AND THE TWO BROTHERS. — p. I58. 
 
 Haro d. 
 
^l)e iLoi-H Hvtton ISHttion. 
 
 HAROLD 
 
 THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS 
 
 ■m 
 
 SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, BART. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUMB 
 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOXT & 00. 
 
 1884. 
 
 ff 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 The author of an able and learned article ou 
 Mabillon,* in the Edinburgh Eeview, has accu- 
 rately described my aim in this work; although, 
 with that generous courtesy which characterizes the 
 true scholar, in referring to the labors of a con- 
 temporary, he has overrated my success. It was 
 indeed my aim "to solve the problem how to produce 
 the greatest amount of dramatic effect at the least 
 expense of historical truth," — I borrow the words 
 of the Beviewer, since none other could so tersely 
 express my design, or so clearly account for the lead- 
 ing characteristics in its conduct and completion. 
 
 There are two ways of employing the materials 
 of History in the service of Eomance : the one con- 
 Bists in lending to ideal personages, and to an 
 imaginary fable, the additional interest to be derived 
 from historical groupings : the other in extracting 
 Iho main interest of romantic narrative from History 
 itself. Those who adopt the former mode are at 
 
 * The Edinburgh Review, No. CLXXIX. January, 1849. Art. I. 
 " Correspondanoe in^dite, de S[abillon et de Montfaucon, avoo 
 ritalie." Par M. Val^ry. Paris, 1848. 
 
 1* (T) 
 
VI PEBrACB. 
 
 liberty to exclude all tliat does not contribute to 
 theatrical effect or picturesque composition ; tbeir 
 fidelity to the period they select is towards the 
 manners and costume, not towards the precise order 
 of events, the moral causes from which the events 
 proceeded, and the physical agencies by which they 
 were influenced and controlled. The plan thus 
 adopted is unquestionably the more popular and 
 attractive, and, being favored by the most illustrious 
 writers of historical romance, there is presumptive 
 reason for supposing it to be also that which is the 
 more agreeable to the art of fiction. 
 
 But he who wishes to avoid the ground pre-occu- 
 pied by others, and claim in the world of literature • 
 some spot, however humble, which he may " plough 
 with his own heifer," will seek to establish himself 
 not where the land is the most fertile, but where it 
 is the least enclosed. So, when I first turned my 
 attention to Historical Eomance, my main aim was 
 to avoid as much as possible those fairer portions of 
 the soil that had been appropriated by the first dis- 
 coverers. The great author of Ivanhoe, and those 
 amongst whom, abroad and at home, his mantle was 
 divided, had employed History to aid Eomance ; I 
 contented myself with the humbler task to employ 
 Eomance in the aid of History — to extract from 
 authentic but neglected chronicles, and the unfre- 
 quented storehouse of Archeology, the incidents and 
 details that enliven the dry narrative of facts to 
 which the general historian is confined — construct 
 my plot from the actual events themselves, and place 
 
PKJil'AOE. Til 
 
 the staple of such interest as I could create in 
 reciting the struggles, and delineating the characters, 
 of those who had been the living actors in the real 
 drama. For the main materials of the three His- 
 torical Romances I have composed, I consulted the 
 original authorities of the time with a care as scni- 
 pulous, as if intending to write, not a fiction, but a 
 history. And having formed the best judgment I 
 could of the events and characters of the age, I 
 adhered faithfully to what, as an Historian, I should 
 have held to be the true course and true causes of 
 the great political events, and the essential attribiites 
 of the principal agents. Solely in that inward life 
 which, not only as apart from the more public and 
 historical, but which, as almost wholly unknown, 
 becomes the fair domain of the poet, did I claim the 
 legitimate privileges of fiction, and even here I 
 employed the agency of the passions only so far a? 
 they served to illustrate what I believed to be the 
 genuine natures of the beings who had actually lived, 
 and to restore the warmth of the human heart to 
 the images recalled from the grave. 
 
 Thus, even had I the gifts of my most illustrious 
 predecessors, I should be precluded the use of many 
 of the more brilliant. I shut myself out from the 
 wider scope permitted to their fancy, and denied 
 myself the license to choose or select materials, alter 
 d.'ites, vary causes and effects according to the con- 
 venience of that more imperial fiction which invents 
 til 3 Probable where it discards the Eeal. The mode 
 [ have adopted has perhaps only this merit, that it is 
 
Tin PnHFAOB. 
 
 my own — mine hj discovery and mine by labor- 
 And if I can raise not the spirits that obeyed tha 
 great master of romance, nor gain the key to the 
 fairy-land that opened to his spell — at least I h^ve 
 not rifled the tomb of the wizard to -steal my art 
 from the book that lies clasped on his breast. 
 
 In treating of an age with which the general 
 reader is so unfamiliar as that preceding the Norman 
 Conquest, it is impossible to avoid (especially in the 
 earlier portions of my tale), those explanations of 
 the very character of the time which would have 
 been unnecessary if I had only sought in History 
 the picturesque accompaniments to Eomance. I have 
 to do more than present an amusing picture of 
 national manners — detail the dress, and describe the 
 banquet. According to the plan I adopt, I have to 
 make the reader acquainted with the imperfect fusion 
 of races in Saxon England, familiarize him with the 
 contests of parties and the ambition of chiefs, show 
 him the strength and the weakness of a kindly but 
 ignorant church ; of a brave but turbulent aristoc- 
 racy ; of a people partially free, and naturally ener- 
 getic, but disunited by successive immigrations, and 
 having lost much of the proud jealousies of national 
 liberty by submission to the preceding conquests of 
 the Dane; acquiescent in the sway of foreign kings, 
 anl with that bulwark against invasion which an 
 hereditary order of aristocracy usually erects, loosened 
 to its very foundations by the copious admixture of 
 foreign nobles. I have to present to the reader, here, 
 tl\e imbecile priestcraft of the illiterate monk ; there, 
 
PKEFACE. IX 
 
 tne dark superstition that still consulted the deities 
 of the North by runes on the elm bark and adjura- 
 tions of the dead. And in contrast to these pictures 
 of a decrepit monarchy and a fated race, I have to 
 bring forcibly before the reader the vigorous attri- 
 butes of the coming conquerors — the stern will and 
 deep guile of the Norman chief — the comparative 
 knowledge of the rising Norman Church — the nascent 
 spirit of chivalry in the Norman vavasours ; a spirit 
 destined to emancipate the very people it contributed 
 to enslave, associated, as it imperfectly was, with the 
 sense of freedom : disdainful, it is true, of the villein, 
 but proudly curbing, though into feudal limits, the 
 domination of the liege. In a word, I must place 
 fully before the reader, if I would be faithful to the 
 plan of my work, the political and moral features of 
 the age, as well as its lighter and livelier attributes, 
 and so lead him to perceive, when he has closed the 
 book, why England was conquered, and how England 
 survived the Conquest. 
 
 In accomplishing this task, I inevitably incur the 
 objections which the task itself raises up — objections 
 to the labor it has cost ; to the information which 
 the labor was undertaken in order to bestow ; ob- 
 jections to passages which seem to interrupt the 
 narrative, but which in reality prepare for the inci- 
 dents it embraces, or explain the position of the 
 persons whose characters it illustrates — whose fata 
 it involves ; objections to the reference to authorities; 
 where a fe,ct might be disputed, or mistaken for 
 fiction; objections to the use of Saxon words, for 
 i» 
 
PREFAOB. 
 
 which no accurate synonyms could be exchanged; 
 objections, in short, to the coloring, conduct, and 
 composition of the whole work; objections to all that 
 separate it from the common crowd of Romances, 
 and stamp on it, for good or for bad, a character 
 peculiarly its own. Objections of this kind I cannot 
 remove, though I have carefully weighed them all. 
 And with regard to the objection most important to 
 story-teller and novel-reader — viz., the dryness of 
 some of the earlier portions, though I have thrice 
 gone over those passages, with the stern determina- 
 tion to inflict summary justice upon every unneces- 
 sary line, I must own to my regret that I have found 
 but little which it was possible to omit without 
 rendering the after narrative obscure, and without 
 injuring whatever of more stirring interest the story, 
 as it opens, may afford to the general reader of 
 Eomance. 
 
 As to the Saxon words used, an explanation of all 
 those that can be presumed unintelligible to a person 
 of ordinary education, is given either in the text or 
 a foot-note. Such archaisms are much less numerous 
 than certain critics would fain represent them to be; 
 and they have rarely indeed been admitted where 
 other words could have been employed without a 
 glaring anachronism or a tedious periphrase. "Would 
 it indeed be possible, for instance, to convey a notion 
 of the customs and manners of our Saxon forefathers 
 without employing words so mixed up with their 
 daily usages and modes of thinking, as " weregeld " 
 and " niddiring ? " Would any words from the 
 
FBEFAOE. XI 
 
 modern vocabulary suggest the same idea or embody 
 the same meaning ? 
 
 One critic good-humoredly exclaims, " We have a 
 full attendance of thegns and cnehts, but we should 
 have liked much better our old friends and approved 
 good masters, thanes and knights." Nothing could 
 be more apposite for my justification than the in- 
 stp.nces here quoted in censure ; nothing could more 
 plainly vindicate the necessity of employing the 
 Saxon words. For I should sadly indeed have mis- 
 led the reader, if I had used the word knight in an 
 age when knights were wholly unknown to the 
 Anglo-Saxon; and cneht no more means what we 
 understand by knight, than a templar, in modern 
 phrase, means a man in chain maU vowed to celibacy, 
 and the redemption of the Holy Sepulchre from the 
 hands of the Mussulman. While, since thegn and 
 thane are both archaisms, I prefer the former ; not 
 only for the same reason that induces Sir Francis 
 Palgrave to prefer it, viz., because it is the more 
 etymologically correct; but because we take from 
 our neighbors the Scotch, not only the word thane, 
 but the sense in which we apply it, and that sense is 
 not the same that we ought to attach to the various 
 and complicated notions of nobility which the Anglo- 
 Saxon comprehended in the title of thegn. It haa 
 been peremptorily said by more than one writer in 
 periodicals, that I have overrated the erudition of 
 William, in permitting him to know Latin ; nay, to 
 nave read the Comments of Csesar at the age of 
 eight. Where these gentlemen find the authorities 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 to confute my statement I know not ; all I know is, 
 that in the statement I have followed the original 
 authorities usually deemed the best. And I content 
 myself with referring the disputants to a work not 
 so difficult to procure as (and certainly more pleasant 
 to read than) the old Chronicles. In Miss Strick- 
 land's "Lives of the Queens of England" (Matilda 
 of Flanders), the same statement is made, and no 
 doubt upon the same authorities. 
 
 More surprised should I be (if modern criticism 
 had not taught me in all matters of assumption the 
 nil admirari), to find it alleged that I have over- 
 stated not only the learning of the Norman duke, 
 but that which flourished in Normandy under his 
 reign ; for I should have thought that the fact of the 
 learning which sprung up in the most thriving period 
 of that principality ; the rapidity of its growth ; the 
 benefits it derived from Lanfranc; the encourage- 
 ment it received from William, had been phenomena 
 too remarkable in the annals of the age, and in the 
 history of literature, to have met with an incredulity 
 which the most moderate amount of information 
 would have sufficed to dispel. Not to refer such 
 skeptics to graver authorities, historical and eccle- 
 siastical, in order to justify my representations of 
 that learning which, under William the Bastard, 
 made the schools of Normandy the popular academies 
 of Europe, a page or two in a book so accessible as 
 Villemain's " Tableau de Moyen Age," will perhaps 
 suffice to convince them of the hastiness of their 
 censure, and the error of their impressions. 
 
PBJilFAOIi:. XUl 
 
 It is stated in the Athenseum, and, I believe, by a 
 writer whose authority on the merits of opera-singers 
 I am far from contesting, but of whose competence 
 to instruct the world in any other department of 
 human industry or knowledge I am less persuaded, 
 " that I am much mistaken when I represent not 
 merely the clergy, but the young soldiers and cour- 
 tiers of the reign of the Confessor, as well acquainted 
 with the literature of Greece and Eome." 
 
 The remark, to say the least of it, is disingenuous. 
 I have done no such thing. This general animad- 
 version is only justified by a reference to the pedantry 
 of the Norman Mallet de Graville — and it is ex- 
 pressly stated in the text that Mallet de Graville 
 was originally intended for the Church, and that it 
 was the peculiarity of his literary information, rare 
 in a soldier (but for which his earlier studies for the 
 ecclesiastical calling readily account, at a time when 
 the Norman convent of Bee was already so famous 
 for the erudition of its teachers, and the number of 
 its scholars), that attracted towards him the notice 
 of Lanfranc, and founded his fortunes. Pedantry is 
 made one of his characteristics (as it generally was 
 the characteristic of any man with some pretensions 
 to scholarship, in the earlier ages) ; and if he indulges 
 in a classical allusion, whether in taunting a courtier 
 or conversing with a "Saxon from the wealds of 
 Kent," it is no more out of keeping with the pedantry 
 ascribed to him, than it is unnatural in Dominie 
 Sampson to rail at Meg Merrilies in Latin, or JT.mes 
 the First to examine a young courtier in the same 
 
 I— 2 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 unfamiliar language. Nor should the critic in 
 question, when inviting his readers to condemn me 
 for making Mallet de Graville quote Horace, have 
 omitted to state that De Graville expressly laments 
 that he had never read, nor could even procure a 
 copy of the Eoman poet — judging only of the merits 
 of Horace by an extract in some monkish author, 
 who was equally likely to have picked up his quota- 
 tion second-hand. 
 
 So, when a. reference is made either by Graville, 
 or by any one else in the romance, to Homeric fables 
 and personages, a critic who had gone through the 
 ordinary education of an English gentleman, would 
 never thereby have assumed that the person so re- 
 ferring had read the poems of Homer themselves — 
 he would have known that Homeric fables, or per- 
 sonages, though not the Homeric poems, were made 
 familiar, by quaint travesties,* even to the most 
 illiterate audience of the Gothic age. It was scarcely 
 more necessary to know Homer then than now, in 
 order to have heard of Ulysses. The writer in the 
 Athenffium is acquainted with Homeric personages, 
 but who on earth would ever presume to assert that 
 he is acquainted with Homer ? 
 
 Some doubt has been thrown upon my accuracy in 
 ascribing to the Anglo-Saxons the enjoyments of 
 certain luxuries (gold and silver plate — the use of 
 
 * And long before the date of the travesty known to us, and 
 most popular amongst our mediaeval ancestors, it might be shovrn 
 that some rude notion of Homer's fable and personages had crept 
 bio the North. 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 glass, &c.) which were extremely rare in an age 
 much more recent. There is no ground for that 
 doubt ; nor is there a single article of such luxury 
 named in the text, for the mention of which I have 
 not ample authority. 
 
 I have indeed devoted to this work a degree of 
 research which, if unusual to romance, I cannot con- 
 sider superfluous when illustrating an age so remote, 
 and events unparalleled in their influence over the 
 destinies of England. Nor am I without the hope, 
 that what the romance-reader at first regards as a 
 defect, he may ultimately acknowledge as a merit ; 
 — forgiving me that strain on his attention by which 
 alone I could leave distinct in his memory the action 
 and the actors in that solemn tragedy which closed 
 on the field of Hastings, over the corpse of the Last 
 Saxon King. 
 
HAROLD, 
 
 THE LAST OF THE SAXOF KINGS. 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 
 IHE NORMAN VISITOR, THE SAXON KING, AND THE DANISH 
 PROPHETESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Merry was the month of May, in the year of our Lord 
 1052. Few were the boys, and few the lasses, who over- 
 slept themselves on the first of that buxom month. Long 
 ere the dawn, the crowds had sought mead and woodland, 
 to cut poles and wreathe flowers. Many a mead then lay 
 fair and green beyond the village of Charing, and behind 
 the, iale of Thorney (amidst the brakes and briars of 
 which were then rising fast and fair the Hall and Abbey 
 of Westminster) many a wood lay dark in the star-light, 
 along the higher ground that sloped from the dank 
 Strand, with its numerous canals or dykes; — and on 
 either side of the great road into Kent: — flutes and 
 horns sounded far and near through the green places, ard 
 laughter and song, and the crash of breaking boughs. 
 2 * B (17) 
 
18 HAROLD. 
 
 As the dawn came grey up the east, arch and blooming 
 faces bowed down to bathe in the May dew. Patient 
 oxen stood dozing by the hedge-rows, all fragrant with 
 blossoms, till the gay spoilers of the May came forth from 
 the woods with lusty poles, followed by girls with laps 
 full of flowers, which they had caught asleep. The poles 
 were pranked with nosegays, and a chaplet was hung 
 round the horns of every ox. Then towards day-break, 
 the processions streamed back into the city, through all 
 its gates ; boys with their May-gads (peeled willow wands 
 twined with cowslips) going before ; and clear through 
 the lively din of the horns and flutes, and amidst the 
 moving grove of branches, choral voices, singing some 
 early Saxon stave, precursor of the later song — 
 
 " We have brought the summer home." 
 
 Often in the good old days before the MonK-king 
 reigned, kings and ealdermen had thus gone forth a-may- 
 ing ; but these merriments, savoring of heathenesse, that 
 good prince misliked : nevertheless the song was as blithe, 
 aud the boughs were as green, as if king and ealderman 
 had walked in the train. 
 
 On the great Kent road, the fairest meads for the cow- 
 slip, and the greenest woods for the bough, surrounded 
 a large building that had once belonged to some volup- 
 tuous Roman, now all defaced and despoiled ; but the 
 boys and lasses shunned those demesnes ; and even in 
 their mirth, as they passed homeward along the road, and 
 saw near the ruined walls, and timbered out-buildings, 
 
HAROLD. 19 
 
 grey Druid stones (that spoke of an age before either 
 Saxon or Roma,n invader,) gleaming through the dawn 
 — the song was hushed — the very youngest crossed them- 
 selves ; and the elder, in solemn whispers, suggested the 
 precaution of changing the song into a psalm. For in 
 that old building dwelt Hilda, of famous and dark repute ; 
 Hilda, who, despite all law and canon, was still believed 
 to practise the dismal arts of the Wicca and Morthwyrtha 
 (the witch and worshipper of the dead). But once out 
 of sight of those fearful precincts, the psalm was for- 
 gotten, and again broke, loud, clear, and silvery, the 
 joyful chorus. 
 
 So, entering London about sunrise, doors and windows 
 were duly wreathed with garlands ; and every village in 
 the suburbs had its May-pole, which stood in its place all 
 the year. On that happy day, labor rested ; ceorl and 
 theowe had alike a holiday to dance, and tumble round 
 the May-pole ; and thus, on the first of May, — Youth, 
 and Mirth, and Music, "brought the summer home." 
 
 The next day, you might still see where the buxom 
 bands had been ; you might track their way by fallen 
 flowers, and green leaves, and the deep ruts made by oxen 
 (yoked often in teams from twenty to forty, in the wains 
 that carried home the poles) ; and fair and frequent 
 throughout the land, from any eminence, you might be- 
 hold the hamlet swards still crowned with the May trees, 
 and the air still seemed fragrant with their garlands. 
 
 It is on that second da/ of May, 1052, that my story 
 apen.s, at the House of Hilda, the reputed Morthwyrtha 
 
20 HAROLD. 
 
 It jtood upon a gentle and verdant height; and even 
 through all the barbarous mutilation it had undergone 
 from barbarian hands, enough was left strikingly to con- 
 trast the ordinary abodes of the Saxon. 
 
 The remains of Roman art were indeed still numerous 
 throughout England, but it happened rarely that the 
 Saxon had chosen his home amidst the villas of those 
 noble and primal conquerors. Our first forefathers were 
 more inclined to destroy than to adapt. 
 
 By what chance this building became an exception to 
 the ordinary rule, it is now impossible to conjecture, but 
 from a very remote period it had sheltered successive 
 races of Teuton lords. 
 
 The changes wrought in the edifice were mournful and 
 grotesque. What was now the Hall, had evidently been 
 the atrium ; the round shield, with its pointed boss, the 
 spear, sword, and small curved ssex of the early Teuton, 
 were suspended from the columns on which once had been 
 wreathed the flowers ; in the centre of the floor, where 
 fi-agments of the old mosaic still glistened from the hard- 
 pressed paving of clay and lime, what now was the fire- 
 place, had been the impluvium, and the smoke went sul- 
 lenly through the aperture in the roof, made of old to 
 receive the rains of heaven. Around the Hall were still 
 left the old cubicola or dormitories (small, high, and 
 lighted but from the doors), which now served for the 
 sleeping-rooms of the humbler guest or the housenold 
 servant ; while at the farther end of the Hall, the wide 
 space between the columns, which had once given ample 
 
HAROLD. 2^ 
 
 »ista from graceful awnings into tablinum and viridarlum, 
 was filled up with rude rubble and Roman bricks, leaving 
 but a low, round, arched door, that still led into the tabli- 
 num. But that tablinum, formerly the gayest state-room 
 of the Roman lord, was now filled with various lumber, 
 piles of faggots, and farming utensils. On either side 
 ol this desecrated apartment, stretched to the right, the 
 old lararium, stripped of its ancient images of ancestor 
 and god ; to the left, what had been the gynoecium (wo- 
 men's apartment). 
 
 One side of the ancient peristyle, which was of vast 
 extent, was now converted into stabling, sties for swine, 
 and stalls for oxen. On the other side was constructed 
 a Christian chapel, made of rough oak planks, fastened 
 by plates at the top, and with a roof of thatched reeds. 
 The columns and wall at the extreme end of the peristyle 
 ■were a mass of ruins, through the gigantic rents of which 
 loomed a grassy hillock, its sides partially covered with 
 clumps of furze. On this hillock were the mutilated re- 
 mains of an ancient Druidical crommel, in the centre of 
 which (near a funeral monnd, or barrow, with the bau- 
 tastean, or grave-stone, of some early Saxon chief at one 
 end) had been sacrilegiously placed an altar to Thor, as 
 was apparent both from the shape, from a rude, half- 
 obliterated, sculptured relief of the god, with his lifted 
 hammer, and a few Runic letters. Amidst the temple 
 of the Briton the Saxon had reared the shrine of his tri- 
 umphant war-god. 
 
 Now still, amidst the ruins of that extreme side of the 
 
22 HAROLD. 
 
 peristyle wl.ich opened to this hillock were left, first, an 
 ancient Roman fountain, that now served to water the 
 Bwine, and next, a small sacellum, or fane to Bacchus (as 
 relief and frieze, yet spared, betokened) : thus the eye, at 
 one survey, beheld the shrines of four creeds ; the Druid, 
 mystical and symbolical ; the Roman, sensual, but hu- 
 mane ; the Teutonic, ruthless and destroying ; and, latest 
 risen and surviving all, though as yet with but little of its 
 gentler influence over the deeds of men, the edifice of the 
 Faith of Peace. 
 
 Across the peristyle, theowes and swineherds passed to 
 and fro: — in the atrium, men of a higher class, half 
 armed, were, some drinking, some at dice, some playing 
 with huge hounds, or caressing the hawks that stood 
 grave and solemn on their perches. 
 
 The lararium was deserted ; the gynoecium was still, as 
 In the Roman time, the favored apartment of the female 
 portion of the household, and indeed bore the same 
 name,* — and with the group there assembled we have 
 now to do. 
 
 The appliances of the chamber showed the rank and 
 wealth of the owner. At that period the domestic 
 luxury of the rich was infinitely greater than has been 
 generally supposed. The industry of the women deco- 
 rated wall and furniture with needlework and hangings : 
 and as a Thegn forfeited his rank if he lost his lands, so 
 the higher orders of an aristocracy rather of wealth than 
 
 * "The apartment in which the Anglo-Saxon women lived, waa 
 ealled Gynecium.'' — Fosbrooke^ vol. ii. p. 670. 
 
HAROtD. 23 
 
 birth, had, usually, a certain portion of superfluous riches, 
 which served to flow towards the bazaars of the East 
 and the nearer markets of Flanders and Saracenic Spain. 
 In this room the walls were draped with silken hang- 
 ings richly embroidered. The single window was glazed 
 with a dull grey glass.* On a beaufet were ranged horns 
 tipped with silver, and a few vessels of pure gold. A 
 Bmall cirenlar table in the centre was supported by sym- 
 bolical monsters quaintly carved. At one side of the 
 wall, on a long settle, some half-a-dozen handmaids were 
 employed in spinning ; remote from them, and near the 
 window, sat a woman advanced in years, and of a mien 
 and aspect singularly majestic. Upon a small tripod be- 
 fore her was a Runic manuscript, and an inkstand of ele- 
 gant form, with a silver graphinm, or pen. At her feet 
 reclined a girl somewhat about the age of sixteen, her 
 long fair hair parted across her forehead and falling far 
 down her shoulders. Her dress was a linen under tunic, 
 with long sleeves, rising high to the throat, and without 
 one of the modern artificial restraints of the shape, the 
 simple belt sufficed to show the slender proportions and 
 
 * Glass introduced about the time of Bede, was more common 
 then in the houses of the wealthy, whether for vessels or windows, 
 than in the much later age of the gorgeous Plantagenets. Alfred, 
 In one of his poems, introduces glass as a familiar illustration : — . 
 
 " So oft the mild sea 
 With south wind 
 As grey glass clear 
 Becomes grimly troubled" 
 
 Shabon Tcrner. 
 
H HAROLD. 
 
 delicate outline of the wearer. The color of the dress 
 was of the purest white, but its hems, or borders, were 
 richly embroidered. This girl's beauty was something 
 marvellous. In a land proverbial for fair women, it had 
 already obtained her the name of "the fair." In that 
 beauty were blended, not as yet without a struggle for 
 mastery, the two expressions seldom united in one 
 countenance, the soft and the noble ; indeed in the whole 
 aspect there was the evidence of some internal struggle ; 
 the intelligence was not yet complete ; the soul and heart 
 were not yet united : and Edith the Christian maid dwelt 
 in the home of Hilda the heathen prophetess. The girl's 
 blue eyes, rendered dark by the shade of their long lashes, 
 were fixed intently upon the stern and troubled counte- 
 nance which was bent upon her own, but bent with that 
 abstract gaze which shows that the soul is absent from 
 the sight. So sate Hilda, and so reclined her grandchild 
 Edith. 
 
 " Grandma," said the girl in a low voice and after a 
 long pause ; and the sound of her voice so startled the 
 handmaids, that every spindle stopped for a moment and 
 then plied with renewed activity ; " Grandma, what trou- 
 bles you — are you not thinking of the great Earl and 
 his fair sons, now outlawed far over the wide seas ? " 
 
 As the girl spoke, Hilda started slightly, like one 
 awakened from a dream ; and when Edith had concluded 
 her question, she rose slowly to the height of a statue, 
 unbowed by her years, and far towering above even the 
 ordinary standard of men ; and turning from the child, 
 
HAROLD. 25 
 
 her eye fell upon the row of silent maids, each at her 
 rapid, noiseless, stealthy work. "Hoi" said she; hev 
 cold and haughty eye gleaming as she spoke ; " yester- 
 day, they brought home the summer — to-day, ye aid to 
 bring home the winter. Weave well — heed well warf 
 and woof; Skulda* is amongst ye, and her pale fingers 
 guide the web ! " 
 
 Tlie maidens lifted not their eyes, though in every 
 cheek the color paled at the words of the mistress. The 
 spindles revolved, the thread shot, and again there was 
 silence more freezing than before. 
 
 "Askest thou," said Hilda at length, passing to the 
 child, as if the question so long addressed to her ear had 
 only just reached her mind ; " askest thou if I thought 
 of the Earl and his fair sons ? — yea, I heard the smith 
 welding arms on the anvi(, and the hammer of the ship- 
 wright shaping strong ribs for the horses of the sea. Ere 
 the reaper has bound his sheaves. Earl Godwin will scare 
 the Normans in the halls of the Monk King, as the hawk 
 scares the brood in the dove-cot. Weave well, heed well 
 warf and woof, nimble maidens — strong be the texture, 
 for biting is the worm." 
 
 "What weave they, then, good grandmother?" asked 
 the girl, with wonder and awe in her soft mild eyes. 
 
 " The winding-sheet of the great I " 
 
 Hilda's lips closed, but her eyes, yet brighter than be- 
 
 * Skulda, the Norma, or Fate, that presided over the future. 
 I.— 3 
 
26 HAROLD. 
 
 fore, gazed upon space, and her pale hand seemed tracing 
 letters, like runes, in the air. 
 
 Then slowly she turned, and looked forth through the 
 dull window. " Give me my ooverchlef and my staff," 
 said she, quickly. 
 
 Every one of the handmaids, blithe for excuse to quit 
 a task which seemed recently commenced, and was cer- 
 tainly not endeared to them by the knowledge of its pur- 
 pose communicated to them by the lady, rose to obey. 
 
 Unheeding the hands that vied with each other, Hilda 
 took the hood, and drew it partially over her brow. 
 Leaning lightly on a long staff, the head of which formed 
 a raven, carved from some wood stained black, she passed 
 into the hall, and thence through the desecrated tablinum, 
 into the mighty court formed by the shattered peristyle ; 
 there she stopped, mused a moment, and called on Edith. 
 The girl was soon by her side. 
 
 " Come with me. There is a face you shall see but 
 twice in life ; — this day," — and Hilda paused, and the 
 rigid and almost colossal beauty of her countenance 
 softened. 
 
 "And when again, my grandmother ? " 
 
 " Child, put thy warm hand in mine. So 1 the vision 
 darkens from me. — When again, saidst thou, Edith ? — 
 alas, I know not." 
 
 While thus speaking, Hilda passed slowly by the Ro- 
 man fountain and the heathen fane, and ascended the 
 little hillock. There, on the opposite side of the summit, 
 
HAROLD. 27 
 
 backed by the Druid crommel and the Teaton altar, she 
 seated herself deliberately on the sward. 
 
 A few daisies, primroses, and cowslips, grew around : 
 these Edith began to pluck. Singing, as she wots, a 
 simple song, that, not more by the dialect than the senti- 
 ment, betrayed its origin in the ballad of the Norse,* 
 which had, in its more careless composition, a character 
 quite distinct from the artificial poetry of the Saxons. 
 The song may be thus imperfectly rendered : 
 
 "Mirrily the throstle singg 
 Amid the merry May, 
 The throstle sings but to my ear; 
 My heart is far away ! 
 
 Blithely bloometh mead and bank; 
 
 And blithely buds the tree; 
 And hark ! — they bring the summer home I 
 
 It has no home with me ! 
 
 They hare outlaw'd him — my Summer! 
 
 An outlaw far away ! — 
 The birds may sing, the flowers may bloom, — 
 
 0, give me back my May ! " 
 
 As she came to the last line, her soft low Toice seemed 
 to awaken a chorus of sprightly horns and trumpets, and 
 
 * The historians of our literature have not done justice to the 
 great influence which the poetry of the Danes has had upon our 
 early national muse. I have little doubt but that to that source 
 may be traced the minstrelsy of our borders, and the Scottish Low- 
 lands ; while, even in the central counties, the example and exer- 
 tions of Canute must have had considerable effect on the taste and 
 spirit of our Scops. That great prince aff'orded the amplest encou- 
 ragement to Scandinavian poetry, and Olaus names eight Dan-ah 
 noets, who flourished at his court. 
 
28 HAROLD. 
 
 certain other wind instruments peculiar to the music of 
 that day. The hillock bordered the high road to Lon- 
 don — which then wound through wastes of forest land — 
 and now emerging from the trees to the left appeared a 
 goodly company. First came two riders abreast, each 
 holding a banner. On the one was depicted the crosa 
 and five martlets, the device of Edward, afterwards sur- 
 named the Confessor : on the other, a plain broad cross 
 with a deep border round it, and the streamer shaped 
 into sharp points. 
 
 The first was familiar to Edith, who dropped her gar- 
 land to gaze on the approaching pageant ; the last was 
 strange to her. She had been accustomed to see the 
 banner of the great Earl Godwin by the side of the Saxon 
 king ; and she said, almost indignantly, — 
 
 " Who dares, sweet grandam, to place banner or pen- 
 non where Earl Godwin's ought to float ? " 
 
 "Peace," said Hilda, "peace, and look." 
 
 Immediately behind the standard-bearers came two 
 figures — strangely dissimilar indeed in mien, in years, in 
 bearing : each bore on his left wrist a hawk. The one 
 was mounted on a milk-white palfrey, with housings in- 
 laid with gold and uncut jewels. Though not really old 
 — for he was much on this side of sixty : both his coun- 
 tenance and carriage evinced age. His complexion, in- 
 deed, was extremely fair, and his cheeks ruddy ; but the 
 visage was long and deeply furrowed, and from beneath 
 a bonnet not dissimilar to those in use among the Scotch, 
 streamed hair long and white as snow, mingling with a 
 
HAKOLD. 29 
 
 large and forked beard. White seemed his chosen color. 
 White was the upper tunic clasped on his shoulder with a 
 broad ouche or brooch ; white the woollen leggings fitted 
 to somewhat emaciated limbs ; and white the mantle, 
 though broidered with a broad hem of gold and purple. 
 The fashion of his dress was that which well became a 
 noble person, but it suited ill the somewhat frail and 
 graceless figure of the rider. Nevertheless, as Edith 
 saw him, she rose, with an expression of deep reverence 
 on her countenance, and saying, " It is our lord the 
 king," advanced some steps down the hillock, and there 
 stood, her arms folded on her breast, and quite forgetful, 
 in her innocence and youth, that she had left the house 
 without the cloak and coverchief which were deemed in- 
 dispensable to the fitting appearance of maid and matron 
 when they were seen abroad. 
 
 " Fair sir, and brother mine," said the deep voice of 
 the younger rider, in the Romance or Norman tongue, 
 " I have heard that the small people of whom my neigh- 
 bors, the Bretons, tell us much, abound greatly in this 
 fair land of yours ; and if I were not by the side of one 
 whom no creature unassoilzed and unbaptized dare ap- 
 proach, by sweet St. Valery I should say — yonder stands 
 one of those same gentilles fdesf" 
 
 Xing Edward's eye followed the direction of his com- 
 panion's outstretched hand, and his quiet brow slightly 
 contracted as he beheld the young form of Edith stand- 
 ing motionless a few yards before him, with the warm 
 May wind lifting and playing with her longgolden locks. 
 3* 
 
30 HAROLD. 
 
 He checked his palfrey, and murmured some Latin words 
 which the knight beside him recognized as a prayer, and 
 to which, doffing his cap, he added an Amen, in a tone 
 of such unctuous gravity, that the royal saint rewarded 
 him with a faint approving smile, and an affectionate 
 "Bene, bene, Piosissime." 
 
 Then, inclining his palfrey's head towards the knoll, 
 he motioned to the girl to approach him. Edith, with a 
 heightened color, obeyed, and came to the road-side. 
 The standard-bearers halted, as did the king and his com- 
 rade — the procession behind halted — thirty knights, two 
 bishops, eight abbots, all on fiery steeds and in Norman 
 garb — squires and attendants on foot — a long and 
 pompous retinue — they halted all. Only a stray hound 
 or two broke from the rest, and wandered into the forest 
 land with heads trailing. 
 
 "Edith, my child," said Edward, still in Norman- 
 French, for he spoke his own language with hesitation, 
 and the Romance tongue, which had long been familiar 
 to the higher classes in England, had, since his accession, 
 become the only language in use at court, and as such 
 
 everyone of ' Eorl-kind ' was supposed to speak it; 
 
 "Edith, my child, thou hast not forgotten my lessons, I 
 trow ; thou singest the hymns I gave thee, and neglectest 
 not to wear the relic round thy neck ?" 
 
 The girl hung her head, and spoke not. 
 
 " How comes it, then," continued the king, with a 
 voice to which he in vain endeavored to impart an accent 
 of severity, "how comes it, little one, that thou, whose 
 
HAROLD. 31 
 
 thoughts should be lifted already above this carnal world, 
 and eager for the service of Mary the chaste and blessed, 
 standest thus hoodless and alone on the waysides, a mark 
 for the eyes of men ? go to, it is naught." 
 
 Thus reproved, and in presence of so large and bril- 
 liant a company, the girl's color went and came, her 
 breast heaved high, but with an effort beyond her ago 
 she checked her tears, and said meekly, " My grandmother, 
 Hilda, bade me come with her, and I came." 
 
 " Hilda I " said the king, backing his palfrey jvith ap- 
 parent perturbation, " but Hilda is not with thee ; I see 
 her not." 
 
 As he spoke, Hilda rose, and so suddenly did her tall 
 form appear on the brow of the hill, that it seemed as if 
 she had emerged from the earth. With a light and rapid 
 stride she gained the side of her grandchild ; and after 
 a slight and haughty reverence, said, " Hilda is here ; 
 what wants Edward the king with his servant Hilda ? " 
 
 " Nought, nought," said the king, hastily ; and some- 
 thing like fear passed over his placid countenance ; " save, 
 indeed," he added, with a reluctant tone, as of that of a 
 man who obeys his conscience against his inclination, 
 " that I would pray thee to keep this child pure to thres- 
 hold and altar, as is meet for one whom our Lady, the 
 Virgin, in due time, will elect to her service." 
 
 "Not so, son of Etheldred, son of Woden, the last 
 descendant of Penda should live, not to glide a ghost 
 amidst cloisters, but to rock children for war in their 
 father's shield. Few men are there yet like the men of 
 
S3 HAROLD. 
 
 old ; and while the foot of the foreigner is on the Saxon 
 Boil, no branch of the stem of Woden should be nipped 
 in the leaf" 
 
 "Per la resplendar Be* bold dame," cried the knight 
 by the side of Edward, while a lurid flush passed over 
 his cheek of bronze ; " but thou art too glib of tongue 
 for a subject, and pratest over-much of Woden the Paynim, 
 for the lips of a Christian matron." 
 
 Hilda met the flashing eye of the knight with a brow 
 of lofty scorn, on which still a certain terror was visible. 
 
 " Child," she said, putting her hand upon Edith's fair 
 locks ; " this is the man thou shalt see but twice in thy 
 life: — look up, and mark well I" 
 
 Edith instinctively raised her eyes, and, once fixed upon 
 the knight, they seemed chained as by a spell. His vest, 
 of a cramoisay so dark, that it seemed black beside the 
 snowy garb of the Confessor, was edged by a deep band 
 of embroidered gold ; leaving perfectly bare his firm, full 
 throat — firm and full as a column of granite, — a short 
 jacket or manteline of fur, pendent from the shoulders, 
 left developed in all its breadth a breast, that seemed 
 meet to stay the march of an army ; and on the left arm, 
 curved to support the falcon, the vast muscles rose, round 
 and gnarled, through the close sleeve. 
 
 In height, he was really but little above the stature of 
 many of those present ; nevertheless, so did his port, his 
 air, the nobility of his large proportions, fill the eye, that 
 he seemed to tower immeasurably above the rest. 
 
 * " By the splendor of God." 
 
HAROLD. 33 
 
 His countenance was yet more remarkable than hia 
 form ; still in the prime of youth, he seemed at the first 
 glance younger, at the second older, than he was. At 
 the first glance younger ; for his face was perfectly shaven, 
 without even the moustache which the Saxon courtier, in 
 imitating the Norman, still declined to surrender ; and 
 the smooth visage and bare throat sufficed in themselves 
 to give the air of youth to that dominant and imperious 
 presence. His small skull-cap left unconcealed his fore- 
 head, shaded with short thick hair, uncurled, but black 
 and glossy as the wings of a raven. It was on that fore- 
 head that time had set its trace ; it was knit into a frown 
 over the eyebrows ; lines deep as furrows crossed its 
 broad, but not elevated expanse. That frown spoke of 
 hasty ire and the .habit of stern command ; those furrows 
 spoke of deep thought and plotting scheme : the one 
 betrayed but temper and circumstance ; the other, more 
 noble, spoke of the character and the intellect. The face 
 was square, and the regard lion-like ; the mouth — small, 
 and even beautiful in outline — had a sinister expression 
 in its exceeding firmness ; and the jaw — vast, solid, as if 
 bound in iron — showed obstinate, ruthless, determined 
 will ; such a jaw as belongs to the tiger amongst beasts, 
 and the conqueror amongst men ; such as it is seen in 
 the effigies of Caesar, of Cortes, of Napoleon. 
 
 That presence was well calculated to command the 
 
 admiration of women, not less than the awe of men. 
 
 But no admiration mingled with the terror that seized the 
 
 girl as she gazed long and wistful upon the knight. 
 
 3» o 
 
a HAROLD. 
 
 The fascination of the serpent on the bird held her mute 
 and frozen. Never was that face forgotten: often in 
 after-life, it haunted her in the noonday, it frowned upon 
 her dreams. 
 
 " Fair child," said the knight, fatigued at length by 
 the obstinacy of the gaze, while that smile peculiar to 
 lb )se who have commanded men relaxed his brow, and 
 restored the native beauty to his lip, " fair child, learn 
 not from thy peevish grandam so uncourteous a lesson as 
 hate of the foreigner. As thou growest into womanhood, 
 know that Norman knight is sworn slave to lady fair ; " 
 and, doffing his cap, he took from it an uncut jewel, set 
 in Byzantine filagree work. " Hold out thy lap, my child ; 
 and when thou hearest the foreigner scoffed, set this 
 bauble in thy locks, and think kindly .of William, Count 
 of the Normans."* 
 
 He dropped the jewel on the ground as he spoke ; for 
 Edith, shrinking and unsoftened towards him, held no lap 
 to receive it ; and Hilda, to whom Edward had been 
 speaking in a low voice, advanced to the spot and struck 
 the jewel with her staff under the hoofs of the King's 
 palfrey. 
 
 " Son of Emma, the Norman woman, who sent thy 
 
 " It is noticeable that the Norman dukes did not call themselves 
 Counts or Dukes of Normandy, but of the Normans ; and the first 
 Anglo-Norman kings, till Richard the First, styled themselves Kings 
 of the English, not of England. In both Saxon and Norman 
 chronicles, William usually bears the title of Count (Comes), but iu 
 this tale he will be generally called Duke, as a title more familiar 
 to us 
 
HAROLD. 35 
 
 youth into exile, trample ou the gifts of thy Normau 
 kinsman. And if, as men say, thou art of such gifted 
 holiness that Heaven grants thy hand the power to heal, 
 and thy voice the power to curse, heal thy country, and 
 curse the stranger!" 
 
 She extended her right arm to. William as she spoke, 
 and such was the dignity of her passion, and such ita 
 force, that an awe fell upon all. Then dropping her hood 
 over her face, she slowly turned away, regained the sum- 
 mit of the knoll, and stood erect beside the altar of the 
 Northern god, ber face invisible through the hood drawn 
 completely over it, and her form motionless as a statue. 
 
 "Ride on,'' said Edward, crossing himself. 
 
 "Now by the bones of St. Valery," said William, after 
 a pause, in which his dark keen eye noted the gloom upon 
 the King's gentle" face, "it moves much my simple wonder 
 how even presence so saintly can hear without wrath 
 words so unleal and foul. Gramercy, 'an the proudest 
 dame in Normandy (and I take her to be wife to my 
 stoutest baron, William Fitzosborne), had spoken thus 
 to me " 
 
 " Thou wouldst have done as I, my brother," interrupted 
 Edward ; " prayed to our Lord to pardon her, and rode 
 on pitying." 
 
 William's lip quivered with ire, yet he curbed the reply 
 that sprang to it, and he looked with affection genuinely 
 more akin to admiration than scorn, upon his fellow prince. 
 For, fierce and relentless as the Duke's deeds were, hia 
 faith was notably sincere ; and while this made, indeeu, 
 
36 HAROLD. 
 
 the prince's chief attraction to the pious Edward, so on 
 the other hand, this bowed the Duke in a kind of involun- 
 tary and superstitious homage to the man who sought to 
 square deeds to faith. It is ever the case with stern and 
 stormy spirits, that the meek ones which contrast them 
 steal strangely into their affections. This principle of 
 human nature can alone account for the enthusiastic de 
 votion which the mild sufferings of the Savior awoke ic 
 the fiercest exterminators of the North. In proportion^ 
 often, to the warrior's ferocity, was his love to that Divine 
 model, at whose sufferings he wept, to whose tomb he 
 wandered barefoot, and whose example of compassionate 
 forgiveness he would have thought himself the basest of 
 men to follow I 
 
 " Now, by my Halidame, I honor and love thee, Ed- 
 ward," cried the Duke, with a heartiness more frank than 
 was usual to him ; " and were I thy subject, woe to man 
 or woman that wagged tongue to wound thee by a breath 
 But who and what is this same Hilda ? one of thy kith 
 and kin ? — surely not less than kingly blood runs so bold ?" 
 
 "William, hien aime," * said the King, "it is true that 
 Hilda, whom the saints assoil, is of kingly blood, though 
 not- of our kingly line. It is feared," added Edward, in 
 a timid whisper, as he cast a hurried glance around him, 
 " that this unhappy woman has ever been more addicted 
 
 * The few expressions borrowed occasionally from the Romance 
 tongue, to give indiTiduality to the speaker, will generally be trans- 
 Inted into modern French ; for the same reason as Saxon is rendered 
 into modern English,, viz. that the words may be intelligible to th« 
 reader. 
 
HAROLD. 31 
 
 to the rites of her pagan ancestors than to those of Holy 
 Church ; and men do say that she hath thus acquired from 
 fiend or charm secrets devoutly to be eschewed by the 
 righteous. Nathless, let us rather hope that her mind is 
 somewhat distraught with her misfortunes." 
 
 The King sighed, and the Duke sighed too, but the 
 Duke's sigh spoke impatience. He swept behind him a 
 stem and withering look towards the proud figure of 
 Hilda, still seen through the glades, and said in a sinister 
 voice : " Of kingly blood ; but this witch of Woden hath 
 no sons or kinsmen, I trust, to pretend to the throne of 
 the Saxon?" 
 
 " She is sibbe to Githa wife of Godwin," answered the 
 King, " and that is her most perilous connection ; for the 
 banished Earl, as thou knowest, did not pretend to fill 
 the throne, but he was content with nought less than 
 governing our people." 
 
 The King then proceeded to sketch an outline of the 
 history of Hilda, but his narrative was so deformed both 
 by his superstitions and prejudices, and his imperfect in- 
 formation in all the leading events and characters in his 
 own kingdom, that we will venture to take upon ourselves 
 his task ; and while the train ride on through glade and 
 mead, we will briefly narrate, from our own special 
 sources of knowledge, the chronicle of Hilda, the Scan, 
 dinavian Vala. 
 
38 HAROLD. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A MAGNIFICENT race of men were those war sons of tha 
 old North, whom our popular histories, so superficial ia 
 their accounts of this age, include in the common name 
 of the "Danes." They replunged into barbarism the 
 nations over which they swept ; but from that barbarism 
 they reproduced the noblest elements of civilization. 
 Swede, Norwegian, and Dane, differing in some minor 
 points, when closely examined, had yet one common 
 character viewed at a distance. They had the same pro- 
 digious energy, the same passion for freedom, individual 
 and civil, the same splendid errors in the thirst for fame 
 and the " point of honor ; " and above all, as a main cause 
 of civilization, they were wonderfully pliant and mallea- 
 ble iii their admixtures with the people they overran. 
 This is their true distinction from the stubborn Celt, who 
 refuses to mingle, and disdains to improve. 
 
 Frankes, the archbishop, baptized Rolf-ganger ; * and 
 within a little more than a century afterwards, the de- 
 scendants of those terrible heathens, who had spared 
 neither priest or altar, were the most redoubtable de- 
 fenders of the Christian Church ; their old language for- 
 gotten (save by a few in the town of Bayeux), their 
 
 * '■ Roman de Kou," part i. v. 1914 
 
HAROLD. 39 
 
 ancestral names* (save among a few of the noblest s 
 changed into French titles, and little else but the in- 
 domitable valor of the Scandinavian remained unaltered 
 amongst the arts and manners of the Frankish-Norman. 
 In like manner their kindred tribes, who had poured 
 Into Saxon England, to ravage and lay desolate, liad no 
 sooner obtained from Alfred the Great permanent homes, 
 than they became perhaps the most powerful part of the 
 Anglo-Saxon population. f At the time our story opens, 
 these Northmen, under the common name of Danes, were 
 
 * The reason why the Normans lost their old names is to be 
 found in their conversion to Christianity. They ivere baptized; 
 and -Franks, as their godfathers, gave them new appellations. Thus, 
 Charles the Simple insists that Rolf-ganger shall change his law 
 (creed), and his name, and Rolf or Rou is christened Robert. A 
 few of those who retained Scandinavian names at the time of the 
 Conquest will be cited hereafter. 
 
 ■f- Thus in 991, about a, century after the first settlement, the 
 Danes of East Anglia gave the only efficient resistance to the host 
 of the Vikings under Jnstin and Gurthmund; and Brithnoth, 
 celebrated by the Saxon poet, as a Saxon, par excellence the heroic 
 defender of his native soil, was, in all probability, of Danish de- 
 scent. Mr. Laing, in his preface to his translation of the Sfeim- 
 akringla, truly observes, " that the rebellions against William the 
 Conqueror, and his successors, appear to have been almost always 
 raised, or mainly supported, in the counties of recent Danish 
 descent, not in those peopled by the old Anglo-Saxon race." 
 
 The portion of Mercia, consisting of the burghs of Lancaster, 
 Lincoln, Nottingham, Stamford, and Derby, became a Danish State 
 in A. D. 877; — East Anglia, consisting of Cambridge, Suffolk, Nor- 
 folk, and the Isle of Ely, in a. d. 879-80; — and the vast territory 
 of Northumbria, extending all north the Humber, into all that part 
 «f Scotland south of the Frith, in a. d. 870. — See Palgravb's 
 Conmonwealth. But, beside their more allotted settlements, the 
 Danes were interspersed as land-owners all over England. 
 
10 HAROLD. 
 
 peaceably settled in no less than fifteen * counties ia 
 England ; their nobles abounded in towns and cities be-f 
 yond tke boundaries of those counties which bore tho 
 distinct appellation of Danelagh. They were numerous 
 in London : in the precincts of which they had their own 
 burial-place, to the chief municipal court of which they 
 gave their own appellation — the Hustings. f Their 
 power in the national assembly of the Witan had decided 
 the choice of kings. Thus, with some differences of law 
 and dialect, these once-turbulent invaders had amalga- 
 mated amicably with the native race.| And to this day, 
 the gentry, traders, and farmers of more than one-third 
 of England, and in those counties most confessed to be 
 'n the van of improvement, descend, from Saxon mothers 
 ^deed, but from Viking fathers. There was in reality 
 little difference in race between the Norman knight of 
 the time of Henry I. and the Saxon franklin of Norfolk 
 and York. Both on the mother's side would most 
 probably have been Saxon, both on the father's would 
 have traced to the Scandinavian. 
 
 * Bromton Ohron. — viz., Essex, Middlesex, Suffolk, Norfolk, 
 Herts, Cambridgeshire, Hants, Lincoln, Notts, Derby, Northainp- 
 ton, Leicestershire, Bucks, Beds, and the vast territory called 
 Northumbria. 
 
 f Palokavk's History of England, p. 315. 
 
 % The laws collected by Edward the Confessor, and in later times 
 ?o often and so fondly referred to, contain many introduced by the 
 Danes, which had grown pop\;lar with the Saxon people. Much 
 which we ascribe to the Norman; Conqueror, pre-existed in the 
 Anglo-Danish, and may be found both in Normandy, and parts of 
 Scandinavia, to this day. — See Hakewell's Treatise on the Ami' 
 quily of Laws in this Island, in Hearne's Curious Discourses. 
 
HAROLD. 41 
 
 But though this character of adaptability was general, 
 exceptions in some points were necessarily found, ind 
 these were obstinate in proportion to the adherence to 
 the old pagan faith, or the sincere conversion to Christi- 
 anity. The Norwegian chronicles, and passages in our 
 own history, show how false and hollow was the assume i 
 Christianity of many of those fierce Odin-worshippers. 
 They willingly enough accepted the outward sign of 
 baptism, but the holy water changed little of the inner 
 man. Even Harold, the son of Canute, scarce seventeen 
 years before the date we have now entered, being unable 
 to obtain from the Archbishop of Canterbury — who had 
 espoused the cause of his brother Hardicanute — the con- 
 secrating benediction, lived and reigned as one " who had 
 abjured Christianity."* 
 
 The priests, especially on the Scandinavian continent, 
 were often forced to compound with their grim converts, 
 by indulgence to certain habits, such as indiscriminate 
 polygamy. To eat horse-flesh in honor of Odin, and to 
 marry wives ad libitum, were the main stipulations of the 
 neophytes. And the puzzled monks, often driven to a 
 choice, yielded the point of the wives, but stood firm on 
 the graver article of the horse-flesh. 
 
 With their new religion, very imperfectly understood, 
 even when genuinely received, they retained all that host 
 of heathen superstition which knits itself with the most 
 obstinate instincts in the human breast. Not many yea's 
 
 * Paiqkave's History of England, p. 322. 
 4* 
 
42 HAROLD. 
 
 before the reign of the Confessor, the laws of the great 
 Canute against witchcraft and charms, the worship of 
 stones, fountains, runes by ash and elm, and the incanta- 
 tions that do homage to the dead, were obviously rather 
 intended to apply to the recent Danish converts, than to 
 the Anglo-Saxons, already subjugated for centuries, body 
 and soul, to the domination of the Christian monks. 
 
 Hilda, a daughter of the royalty of Denmark, and 
 cousin to Githa (niece to Canute, whom that king had 
 bestowed in second spousals upon Godwin), had come 
 over to England with a fierce Jarl, her husband, a year 
 after Canute's accession to the throne — both converted 
 nominally, both secretly believers in Thor and Odin. 
 
 Hilda's husband had fallen in one of the actions in the 
 Northern seas, between Canute and St. Olave, King of 
 Norway (that saint himself, by the bye, a most ruthless 
 persecutor of his forefathers' faith, and a most unqualified 
 practical asserter of his heathen privilege to extend his 
 domestic affections beyond the severe pale which should 
 have confined them to a single wife. His natural son 
 Magnus then sat on the Danish throne). The Jarl died 
 as he had wished to die, the last man on board his ship, 
 with the soothing conviction that the Valkyrs would bear 
 him to Valhalla. 
 
 Hilda was left with an only daughter, whom Canute 
 bestowed on Ethelwolf, a Saxon earl of large domains, 
 and tracing his descent from Penda, that old king of 
 Mercia who refused to be converted, but said so discreetly, 
 " that he had no objection to his neighbors being Chris- 
 
HAROLD. 43 
 
 tians, if they would practise that peace and forgiveness 
 which the monks told him were the elements of the faith." 
 
 Ethelwolf fell under the displeasure of Hardicanuie, 
 perhaps because he was more Saxon than Danish ; and 
 though that savage king did not dare openly to arraign 
 him before the Witan, he gave secret orders by which he 
 was butchered on his own hearth-stone, in the arms of his 
 wife, who died shortly afterwards of grief and terror. 
 The only orphan of this unhappy pair, Edith, was thus 
 consigned to the charge of Hilda. 
 
 It was a necessary and invaluable characteristic of that 
 " adaptability" which distinguished the Danes, that they 
 transferred to the land in which they settled all the love 
 they had borne to that of their ancestors ; and so far as 
 attachment to soil was concerned, Hilda had grown no 
 ess in heart an Englishwoman, than if she had been born 
 and reared amidst the glades and knolls from which the 
 smoke of her hearth rose through the old Roman com. 
 pluvium. 
 
 But in all else she was a Dane. Dane in her creed and 
 her habits — Dane in her intense and brooding imagina- 
 tion — in the poetry that filled her soul, peopled the air 
 with spectres, and covered the leaves of the trees with 
 charms. Living in austere seclusion after the death of 
 her lord, to whom she had borne a Scandinavian woman's 
 devoted but heroic love, — sorrowing indeed for his death, 
 bat rejoicing that he fell amidst the feast of ravens, — her 
 mind settled more and more, year by year, and day by 
 day, upon those visions of the unknown world, which, in 
 
44 HAROLD. 
 
 every faith, conjure up the companions of solitude and 
 grief 
 
 Witchcraft in the Scandinavian North assumed many 
 forms, and was connected by many degrees. There was 
 the old and withered hag, on whom, in our later mediaeval 
 ages, the character was mainly bestowed ; there was the 
 terrific witch- wife, or wolf-witch, who seems wholly apart 
 from human birth and attributes, like the weird sisters of 
 Macbeth — creatures who entered the house at night, and 
 seized warriors to devour them, who might be seen gliding 
 over the sea, with the carcase of the wolf dripping blood 
 from their giant jaws ; and there was the more serene, 
 classical, and awful vala, or sibyl, who, honored by chiefs 
 and revered by nations, foretold the future, and advised 
 the deeds of heroes. Of these last, the Norse chronicles 
 tell us much. They were often of rank and wealth, they 
 were accompanied by trains of handmaids and servants — 
 kings led them (when their counsel was sought) to the 
 place of honor in the hall — and their heads were sacred, 
 as those of ministers to the gods. 
 
 This last state in the grisly realm of the Wig-lstr 
 (wizard-lore) was the one naturally appertaining to the 
 high rank, and the soul lofty though blind and perverted, 
 of the daughter of warrior-kings. All practice of the 
 art to which now for long years she had devoted herself 
 that touched upon the humble destinies of the vulgar, 
 the child of Odin* haughtily disdained. Her reveries 
 
 * The name of this god is spelt Odin, -when referred to as the 
 object of Scandinavian worship ; Woden, when applied directly to 
 the deity of the Saxons. 
 
HAROLD. 45 
 
 were upon the fate of kings and kingdoms ; she aspired 
 to save or to rear the dynasties which should rule the 
 races yet unborn. In youth proud and ambitious, — 
 common faults with her countrywomen, — on her entrance 
 into thf darker world, she carried with her the prejudices 
 and passions that she had known in that colored by the 
 external sun. 
 
 All her human affections were centered in her grand- 
 child Edith, the last of a race royal on either side. Her 
 researches into the future had assured her, that the life 
 and death of this fair child were entwined with the fates 
 of a king, and the same oracles had intimated a niyste- 
 ious and inseparable connection between her own shat- 
 £red house and the flourishing one of Earl Godwin, the 
 spouse of her kinswoman Githa ; so that with this great 
 family she was intimately bound by the links of super- 
 stition as by the ties of blood. The eldest-born of God- 
 win, Sweyn, had been at first especially her care and her 
 favorite ; and he, of more poetic temperament than his 
 brothers, had willingly submitted to her influence. But 
 of all the brethren, as will be seen hereafter, the career 
 of Sweyn had been most noxious and ill-omened, and at 
 that moment, while the rest of the house carried with it 
 into exile the deep and indignant sympathy of England, 
 no man said of Sweyn, " God bless him ! " 
 
 But as the second son, Harold, had grown from child- 
 hood into youth, Hilda had singled him out with a pre- 
 ference even more marked than that she had bestowed 
 upon Sweyn. The stars and the runes assured her of his 
 
46 HAROLD 
 
 future greatness, and the qualities and talents of the 
 young Earl had, at the very onset of his career, con 
 firmed the accuracy of their predictions. Her interest in 
 Harold became the more intense, partly because whenever 
 she consulted the future for the lot of her grandchild 
 Edith, she invariably found it associated with the fate of 
 Harold — partly because all her arts had failed to pene- 
 trate beyond a certain point of their joint destinies, and 
 left her mind agitated and perplexed between hope and' 
 terror. As yet, however, she had wholly failed in gain- 
 ing any ascendency over the young Earl's vigorous and 
 healthful mind ; and though before his exile, he came 
 more often than any of Godwin's sons to the old Roman 
 house, he had smiled with proud incredulity at her vague 
 prophecies, and rejected all her offers of aid from invisi- 
 ble agencies with the calm reply — "The brave man wants 
 no charms to encourage him to his duty, and the good 
 man scorns all warnings that would deter him from ful- 
 filling it." 
 
 Indeed, though Hilda's magic was not of the malevo- 
 lent kind, and sought the source of its oracles not in 
 fiends but gods (at least the gods in whom she believed) 
 it was noticeable that all over whom her influence had 
 prevailed had come to miserable and untimely ends ; — 
 not alone her husband and her son-in-law (both of whom 
 had been as wax to her counsel), but such other chiefs aa 
 i-ank or ambition permitted to appeal to her lore. Ne- 
 vertheless, such was the ascendency she had gained over 
 the popular mind, that it would have beer dangerous in 
 
HAROLD. 47 
 
 the highest degree to put into execution against her the 
 laws condemnatory of witchcraft. In her, all the more 
 powerful Danish families reverenced, and would have 
 protected, the blood of their ancient kings, and the widow 
 of one of their most renowned heroes. Hospitable, liberal, 
 and beneficent to the poor, and an easy mistress over 
 numerous ceorls, while the vulgar dreaded, they would 
 yet have defended her. Proofs of her art it would have 
 been hard to establish ; hosts of compurgators to attest 
 her innocence would have sprung up. Even if subjected 
 to the ordeal, her gold could easily have bribed the priests 
 with whom the power of evading its dangers rested. And 
 with thatworldly wisdom which persons of genius in their 
 wildest chimeras rarely lack, she had already freed her- 
 self from the chance of active persecution from the 
 Church, by ample donations to all the neighboring mo- 
 nasteries. 
 
 Hilda, in fine, was a woman of sublime desires and 
 extraordinary gifts ; terrible, indeed, but as the passive 
 agent of the Fates she invoked, and rather commanding 
 for herself a certain troubled admiration, and mysterious 
 pity ; no fiend-hag, beyond humanity, in malice and in 
 power, but essentially human, even when aspiring most 
 to the secrets of a god. Assuming, for the moment, that 
 by the aid of intense imagination, persons of a peculiar 
 idiosyncrasy of nerves and temperament might attain to 
 such dim affinities with a world beyond our ordinary 
 senses, as forbid entire rejection of the magnetism and 
 magic of old times — ^it was on no foul and mephitic pool. 
 
48 HAROLD. 
 
 overhung with the poisonous night-shade, and excluded 
 from the beams of heaven, but on the living stream on 
 which the star trembled, and beside whose banks the 
 green herbage waved, that the demon shadows fell dark 
 and dread. 
 
 Thus safe and thus awful, lived Hilda ; and under her 
 care, a rose beneath the funereal cedar, bloomed her 
 grandchild Edith, goddaughter of the Lady of England. 
 
 It was the anxious wish, both of Edward and his virgin 
 wife, pious as himself, to save this orphan from the con- 
 tamination of a house more than suspected of heathen 
 faith, and give to her youth the refuge of the convent. 
 But this, without her guardian's consent or her own ex- 
 pressed will, could not be legally done ; and Edith as yet 
 iad expressed no desire to disobey her grandmother, who 
 treated the idea of the convent with lofty scorn. 
 
 This beautiful child grew up under the influence, as it 
 were, of two contending creeds ; all her notions on both 
 were necessarily confused and vague. But her heart was 
 so genuinely mild, simple, tender, and devoted, — there 
 was in her so much of the inborn excellence of the sex, 
 that in every impulse of that heart struggled for clearer 
 light and for purer air the unquiet soul. In manner, in 
 ttiought, and iu person, as yet almost an infant, deep in 
 her heart lay yet one woman's secret, known scarcely to 
 herself, but which taught her, more powerfully than Hilda's 
 prond and scofBng tongue, to shudder at the thought of 
 the barren cloister and the eternal vow. 
 
HAROLD. 49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 While King Edward was narrating to tne Norman 
 Duke all that he knew, and all that he knew not, of 
 Uilda's history and secret arts, the road wound through 
 lands as wild and wold-like as if the metropolis of Eng- 
 land lay a hundred miles distant. Even to this day, 
 patches of such land in the neighborhood of Norwood, 
 may betray what the country was in the old time : — when 
 a mighty forest, ' abounding with wild beasts' — ' the bull 
 and the boar' — skirted the suburbs of London, and af- 
 forded pastime to king and thegn. For the Norman kings 
 hare been maligned by the popular notion, that assigns 
 to them all the odium of the forest laws. Harsh and 
 severe were those laws in the reign of the Anglo-Saxon ; 
 as harsh and severe, perhaps, against the eeorl and the 
 poor man, as in the days of Rufus, though more mild 
 unquestionably to the nobles. To all beneath the rank 
 of abbot and thegn, the king's woods were made, even 
 by the mild Confessor, as sacred as the groves of the 
 Druids : and no less penalty than loss of life was incurred 
 by the low-born huntsman who violated their recesses. 
 
 Edward's only mundane passion was the chase ; and a 
 ^ay rarely passed, but what after mass he went forth with 
 bawk or hound. So that, though the regular season for 
 
 1. — 5 » 
 
50 HAROLD. 
 
 hawking did not commence till October, he had ever on 
 his wrist some yonng falcon to essay, or some old favorite 
 to exercise. And now, just as William was beginning to 
 grow weary of his good cousin's prolix recitals, the hounda 
 suddenly gave tongue, and from a sedge-grown pool by 
 the way-side, with solemn wing and harsh boom, roso a 
 bittern. 
 
 " Holy St. Peter I " exclaimed the Saint king, spurring 
 his palfrey, and loosing his famous Peregrine falcon.* 
 William was not slow in following that animated exam- 
 ple, and the whole company rode at half speed across 
 the rough forest-land, straining their eyes upon the soar- 
 ing quarry, and the large wheels of the falcons. Riding 
 thus, with his eyes in the air, Edward was nearly pitched 
 over his palfrey's head, as the animal stopped suddenly, 
 checked by a high gate, set deep in a half-embattled wall 
 of brick and rubble. Upon this gate sat, quite unmoved 
 and apathetic, a tall ceorl, or laborer, while behind it was 
 a gazing curious group of men of the same rank, clad in 
 those blue tunics of which our peasant's smock is the 
 successor, and leaning on scythes and flails. Sonr and 
 ominous were the looks they bent upon that Norman 
 cavalcade. The men were at least as well clad as those 
 of the same condition are now; and their robust limb i 
 and ruddy cheeks showed no lack of the fare that sup- 
 ports labor. Indeed, the working-man of that day, if not 
 
 * The Peregrine hawk built on the rocks of Llandudno, and thia 
 breed was celebrated, even to the days of Elizaleth. Burleigh 
 thanks one of the Mostyns for a cast of hawks from Llandudno. 
 
HAROIiD. 61 
 
 one of the absolute theowes, or slaves, was, physically 
 speaking, better off, perhaps, than he has ever since been 
 in England, more especially if he appertained to some 
 wealthy thegn of pure Saxon lineage, whose Tery title of 
 lord came to him in his quality of dispenser of bread ; * 
 and these men had been ceorls under Harold, son of God- 
 win, now banished from the land. 
 
 " Open the gate, open quick, my merry men," said the 
 gentle Edward (speaking in Saxon, though with a strong 
 foreign accent), after he had recovered his seat, murmured 
 a benediction, and crossed himself three times. The men 
 stirred not. 
 
 " No horse tramps the seeds we have sown for Harold 
 the Earl to reap ; " said the ceorl doggedly, still seated 
 on the gate. And the group behind him gave a shout 
 of applause. 
 
 Moved more than ever he had been known to be be- 
 fore, Edward spurred his steed up to the boor, and lifted 
 his hand. At that signal, twenty swords flashed in the 
 air behind, as the Norman nobles spurred to the place. 
 Putting back with one hand his fierce attendants, Edward 
 shook the other at the Saxon. " Knave, knave," he cried, 
 " I would hurt you, if I could ! " 
 
 There was something in these words, fated to drift 
 down into history, at once ludicrous and touching. The' 
 Normans saw them only in the former light, and turned 
 
 * HIaf, loaf, — Hlaford, lord, giver of bread ; Hleafdian, lady,, 
 server of bread. — Veksteoah 
 
S2 HAROID. 
 
 aside to conceal their laughter ; the Saxon felt them in 
 the latter and truer sense, and stood rebuked. That 
 great king, whom he now recognized, with all those 
 drawn swords at his back, could not do him hurt; that 
 king had not the heart to hurt him. The ceorl sprang 
 from the gate, and opened it, bending low. 
 
 " Ride first. Count William, my cousin," said the king, 
 calmly. 
 
 The Saxon ceorl's eyes glared as he heard the Nor- 
 man's name uttered in the Norman tongue, but he kept 
 open the gate, and the train passed through, Edward 
 lingering last. Then said the king, in a low voice, — 
 
 "Bold man, thou spokest of Harold the Earl and his 
 harvests ; knowest thou not that his lands have passed 
 from him, and that he is outlawed, and his harvests are 
 not for the scythes of his ceorls to reap ? " 
 
 " May it please you, dread Lord and King," replied 
 the Saxon, simply, " these lands that were Harold the 
 Earl's, are now Clapa's, the sixhsendman's." 
 
 " How is that ? " quoth Edward, hastily ; " we gave 
 them neither to sixhaendman nor to Saxon. All the 
 lands of Harold hereabout were divided amongst sacred 
 abbots and noble chevaliers — Normans all." 
 
 " Fulke the Norman had these fair fields, yon orchards 
 and tynen ; Fulke sold them to Clapa, the Earl's sixhasnd- 
 man, and what in maneusses and pence Clapa lacked of 
 the price, we, the ceorls of the Earl, made up from our 
 own earnings in the Earl's noble service. And this very 
 
HAROLD. 68 
 
 day, in token thereof, have we quaffed the bedden-ale.* 
 Wherefore, please God and our Lady, we hold these 
 lands part and parcel with Clapa ; and when Earl Harold 
 comes again, as come he will, here at least he will have 
 his own." 
 
 Edward, who, despite a singular simplicity of character, 
 which at times seemed to border on imbecility, was by no 
 means wanting in penetration when his attention was 
 fairly roused, changed countenance at this proof of rough 
 and homely affection on the part of these men to his 
 banished earl and brother-in-law. He mused a little 
 while in grave thought, and then said, kindly — 
 
 " Well, man, I think not the worse of you for loyal 
 love to your thegn, but there are those who would do so, 
 and I advise you, brother-like, that ears and nose are in 
 peril if thou talkest thus indiscreetly." 
 
 " Steel to steel, and hand to hand," said the Saxon, 
 bluntly, touching the long knife in his leathern belt, " and 
 he who sets gripe on Sexwolf, son of Elf helm, shall pay 
 his weregeld twice over." 
 
 "Forewarned, foolish man, thou art forewarned. 
 Peace," said the king ; and, shaking his head, he rode 
 on to join the Normans, who now, in a broad field, where 
 the corn sprang green,, and which they seemed to delight 
 in wantonly trampling, as they curveted their steeds to 
 
 * Bedden-ale. When any man waa set up in his estate by tha 
 contributions of his friends, those friends were bid to a feast, and 
 the ale so drunk was called the bedden-ale, from bedden, to pray, 
 or to bid. — (Sea Beand's JPop. Antiq.) 
 
 5* 
 
54 HAROLD. 
 
 and fro, watched the movements of the bitteta afld the 
 pursuit of the two falcons. 
 
 "A wager, Lord King 1 " said a prelate, whose strong 
 family likeness to William proclaimed him to be the duke's 
 bold and haughty brother, Odo,* Bishop of Bay«ux ; — 
 " a wager. My st«ed to your palfrey that th« duke's 
 falcon first fixes the bittern." 
 
 " Holy father," answered Edward, in that slight change 
 of voice which alone showed his displeasure, " these wagei-s 
 all savor of heathenesse, and our canons forbid them to 
 monef and priest. Go to, it is naught." 
 
 The bishop, who brook«d no rebuke, even from his 
 terrible brother, knit his brows, and was about to make 
 no gentle rejoinder, when William, whose profound craft 
 or sagacity was always at watch, Jest bis followers should 
 displease the king, interposed, and, taking the word out 
 of the prelate's mouth, sadd — 
 
 " Thou reprovest us well, sir and king ; we Normans 
 are too inclined to such levities. And see, your falcon is 
 first in pride of place. By the bones of St. Yalery, how 
 nobly he towers ! See him cover the bittern I — see him 
 rest on the wing I Down he swoops I Gallant bird 1 " 
 
 " With his heart split in two on the bittern's bill," said 
 the bishop ; and down, rolling one over the other, fell 
 bittern and hawk, while William's Norway falcon, smaller 
 
 * Herleve (Arlotta), William's mother, married Herluin de Con- 
 teville, after tlie death of Duke Robert, and had by him two eons, 
 Robert Count of Mortain, and Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. — Obd. 
 Vital, lib. vii. 
 
 f Mone, monk. 
 
HAEOLD. 68 
 
 of size than the king's, descended rapidly, and hovered 
 over the two. Both were dead. 
 
 " I accept the omen," muttered tiie gazing duke ; "let 
 the natives destroy each other 1 " He placed his whistle 
 to his lips, and his falcon flew back to his wrist. 
 
 "Now home," said King Edward. 
 
 OHAPTER IV. 
 
 The royal party entered London by the great bridge 
 which divided Southwark from the capital; and we must 
 pause to gaze a moment on the animated scene which the 
 immemorial thoroughfare presented. 
 
 The whole suburb before entering Southwark was rich 
 in orchards and gardens, lying round the detached houses 
 of the wealthier merchants and citizens. Approaching 
 the river-side to the left, the eye might see the two cir- 
 cular spaces set apart, the one for bear, the other for 
 bull-baiting. To the right, upon a green mound of waste, 
 within sight of the populous bridge, the glee-men were 
 exercising their art. Here one dexterous juggler threw 
 three balls and three knives alternately in the air, catch- 
 ing them one by one as they fell.* There, another was 
 gravely leading a great bear to dance on its hind 'egs, 
 while his coadjutor kept time with a sort of flute or 
 flageolet. The lazy by-standers, in great concourse, 
 
 * Stkutt's Sofia. 
 
66 HAEOLB. 
 
 stared and laughed ; but the laugh was hushed at the. 
 tramp of the Norman steeds ; and the famous count by 
 the king's side, as, with a smiling lip, but observant eye, 
 he rode along, drew all attention from the bear. 
 
 On now approaching that bridge, which, not many 
 years before, had been the scene of terrible contest be- 
 tween the invading Danes and Ethelred's ally, Olave of 
 Norway,* you might still see, though neglected and 
 already in decay, the double fortifications that had wisely 
 guarded that vista into the city. On both sides of the 
 bridge, which was of wood, were forts, partly of timber, 
 partly of stone, and breast-works, and by the forts a 
 little chapel. The bridge, broad enough to admit two 
 vehicles abreast, ■{" was crowded with passengers, and lively 
 with stalls and booths. Here was the favorite spot of 
 the popular ballad-singer.J Here too, might be seen 
 the swarthy Saracen, with wares from Spain and Afric.§ 
 
 * There is an animated description of this " Battle of London 
 Bridge," which gave ample theme to the Scandinavian scalds, in 
 Snorro Sturleson : — 
 
 "London Bridge is broken down; 
 Gold is won and bright renown; 
 Shields resounding, 
 War horns sounding, 
 Hildur shouting in the din. 
 Arrows singing, 
 Mail-coats ringing, 
 Odin makes our Olaf win." 
 
 Laing's Ueimskringla, vol. ii. p. 10. 
 I Sharon Turner. J Hawkins, vol. ii. p. 94. 
 
 J Doomsday makes mention of the Moors, and the Germans (tha 
 Emperor's merchants) that were sojourners or settlers, in London. 
 
HAKOLD. Oi 
 
 Here, the German merchant from the Steel-yard swept 
 along on his way to his suburban home. Here, on some 
 holy office, went quick the muffled monk. Here the city 
 gallant paused to laugh with the country girl, her basket 
 full of May-boughs and cowslips. In short, all bespoke 
 that activity, whether in business or pastime, which was 
 destined to render that city the mart of the world, and 
 which had already knit the trade of the Anglo-Saxon to 
 the remoter corners of commercial Europe. The deep 
 dark eye of William dwelt admiringly on the bustling 
 groups, on the broad river, and the forest of masts which 
 rose by the indented marge near Belin's Gate.* And he 
 to whom, whatever his faults, or rather crimes, to the un- 
 fortunate people he not only oppressed but deceived — 
 London at least may yet be grateful, not only for chartered 
 franchise,f but for advancing, in one short vigorous reign 
 
 The Saracens at that time were among the great merchants of thf 
 world ; Marseilles, Aries, Avignon, Montpellier, Toulouse, weri« 
 the wonted eiapes of their active traders. What oivilizers, wha». 
 teachers they were — those same Saracens! How much in arma 
 and in arts we owe them ! Fathers of the Provenjal poetry, thev, 
 far more than even the Scandinavian scalds, have influenced the 
 literature of Christian Europe. The most ancient chronicle of the 
 Cid was written in Arabic, a, little before the Cid's death by two 
 cf his pages, who were Mussulmans. The medical science of the 
 Moors for six centuries enlightened Europe, and their metaphysics 
 were adopted in nearly all the Christian universities. 
 
 * Billingsgate. 
 
 ■[■ London received a charter from 'William at the instigation of 
 the Norman Bishop of London; but it probably only confirmed the 
 previous municipal constitution, since it saya briefly, "I grant yoa 
 all to be as law- worthy as ye were in the days of King Edward." 
 The rapid increase, however, of the commercial prosperity and 
 5* 
 
53 HAaOLD. 
 
 her commerce and wealth, beyond what centuries of Anglo- 
 Saxon domination, with its inherent feebleness, had 
 effected, exclaimed aloud : — 
 
 "By rood and mass, dear king, thy lot hath fallen 
 on a goodly heritage 1 " 
 
 "Hem!" said Edward, lazily; "thou knowest not 
 how troublesome these Saxons are. And while thon 
 speakest, lo 1 in yon shattered walls, built first, they say, 
 by Alfred, of holy memory, are the evidences of the 
 Danes. Bethink thee how often they have sailed up this 
 river. How know I but what the next year the raven 
 flag may stream over these waters? Magnus of Den- 
 mark hath already claimed my crown as heir to the 
 royalties of Canute, and " (here Edward hesitated) " God- 
 win and Harold, whom alone of my thegns, Dane and 
 Northman fear, are far away." 
 
 " Miss not them, Edward, my cousin," cried the duke, 
 in haste. " Send for me, if danger threat thee. Ships 
 enow await thy hest in my new port of Cherbourg. And 
 I tell thee this for thy comfort, that were I king of the 
 English, and lord of this river, the citizens of London 
 might sleep from vespers to prime, without fear of the 
 Dane. Never again should the raven flag be seen by 
 this bridge 1 Never, I swear, by the Splendor Divine 1 " 
 
 Not without purpose spoke William thus stoutly ; and 
 he turned on the king those glittering eyes (micanien 
 
 political importance of London after the Conquest, is attested in 
 many chronicles, and becomes strikingly evident even on the sur- 
 face of history. 
 
HAROLD. 69 
 
 ocidos), which the chroniclers nave praised and noted. 
 For it was his liope and his aim in this visit, that his 
 cousin Edward should formally promise him that goodly 
 heritage of England. But the king made no rejoinder, 
 and they now neared the end of the bridge. 
 
 "What old ruin looms yonder?"* asked William, 
 hiding his disappointment at Edward's silence ; " it seem- 
 eth the remains of some stately keape, which, by its 
 fashion, I should pronounce Roman." 
 
 " Ay I " said Edward, "It is said to have been built by 
 the Romans ; and one of the old Lombard freemasons 
 employed on my new palace of Westminster, giveth that, 
 and some others in my domain, the name of the Juillet 
 Tower." 
 
 " Those Romans were our masters in all things gallant 
 and wise," said William ; "and I predict that, some day 
 or other, on this site, a king of England will re-erect 
 palace and tower. And yon castle towards the west?" 
 
 " Is the Tower Palatine, where our predecessors have 
 lodged, and Ourself sometimes ; but the sweet loneliness 
 «f Thorney Isle, pleaseth me more now." 
 
 * There seemed good reason for believing that a keep did stand 
 where the Tower etanSs, before the Conquest, and tliat William's 
 edifice spared some of its remains. In the very interesting letter 
 from John Bayford relating to the city of London, (Lei. Calleet. 
 Iviii.), the writer, a Itorough master of his subject, states, that 
 " the Bomams mads a puWic military way, that of Watling Street, 
 from the Tower to Ludgate, in a straight line, at the end of which 
 they built stations or citadels, one of which was where the White 
 Tower now stands." Bayford adds that " when the White Tower 
 was fitted up for the reception of records, there remained many 
 Saxon inscriptions." 
 
60 HAROLD 
 
 Thus talking, they entered London, a rude, dark city 
 built mainly of timbered houses; streets narrow am 
 winding ; windows rarely glazed, but protected chiefly bj 
 linen blinds ; vistas opening, however, at times into broad 
 spaces, round the various convents, where green trees 
 grew up behind low palisades. Tall roods, and holy 
 images, to which we owe the names of existing thorough- 
 fares (Rood-lane and Lady-lane*), where the waya 
 crossed, attracted the curious, and detained the pious. 
 Spires there were not then, but blunt cone-headed turrets, 
 pyramidal, denoting the Houses of God, rose often from 
 the low, thatched, and reeded roofs. But every now and 
 then, a scholar's, if not an ordinary eye, could behold the 
 relics of Roman splendor, traces of that elder city which 
 now lies buried under our thoroughfares, and of which, 
 year by year, are dug up the stately skeletons. 
 
 Along the Thames still rose, though much mutilated, 
 the wall of Constantine.f Round the humble and bar- 
 barous church of St. Paul's (wherein lay the dust of 
 Sebba, that king of the East Saxons who quitted his 
 throne for the sake of Christ, and of Edward's feeble and 
 luckless father, Ethelred), might be seen, still gigantic in 
 decay, theruins of the vast temple of Diana.| Many a 
 church, and many a convent, pierced their mingled brick 
 and timber work with Roman capital and .shaft. Still, 
 by the tower, to which was afterwards given the Saracen 
 name of Barbican, were the wrecks of the Roman station, 
 
 * Rude-lane. Lad-lane. — Bayfokd. f Fitzstephen. 
 
 J Camden. 
 
HAEOLD. 
 
 61 
 
 where cohorts watched night and day, in case of fire 
 within or foe without.* 
 
 In a niche, near the Aldersgate, stood the headless 
 statue of Fortitude, which monks and pilgrims deemed 
 some unknown saint in the old time, and halted to honor. 
 And in the midst of Bishopsgate Street, sat on his dese- 
 crated throne a mangled Jupiter, his eagle at his feet. 
 Many a half-converted Dane there lingered, and mistook 
 the Thunderer and the bird for Odin and his hawk By 
 Leod-gate (the People's gate f ) still too were seen the 
 arches of one of those mighty aqueducts which the Roman 
 learned from the Etrurian. And close by the still-yard, 
 occupied by " the Emperor's cheap men " (the German 
 merchants), stood, almost entire, the Roman temple, ex- 
 taut in the time of Geoffrey of Monmouth. Without the 
 trails, the old Roman vineyards still put forth their green 
 leaves and crude clusters, in the plains of East Smith- 
 field, in the fields of St. Giles's, and on the site where 
 now stands Hatton Garden. Still massere J and cheap- 
 men chaffered and bargained, at booth and stall, in Mart 
 Lane, where the Romans had bartered before them. With 
 every encroachment on new soil, within the walls and 
 without, urn, vase, weapon, human bones, were shovelled 
 out, and lay disregarded amidst heaps of rubbish. 
 
 Not on such evidences of the past civilization looked 
 the practical eye of the Norman Count ; not on things, 
 
 * Bayford, Leland's Collectanea, p. Iviii. 
 f Ludgate (Leod-gate). — Vebsteqan. 
 J Massere, merchant, mercer. 
 
 I.— 6 
 
62 HAROLD. 
 
 Ittit on men, looked he .; and as silently he rode on from 
 .street to street, out of those men, stalwart and tall, busy, 
 active, toiling, ike Man-Ruler saw the Civilization that 
 was to come. 
 
 So, gravely tlirough fhe small city, and over the bridge 
 that spanned the little river of the Fleet, rode the train 
 along the Strand ; to the left, smooth sands ; to the 
 right, fair pastures below green holts, thinly studded with 
 houses ; over numerous cuts and inlets running into the 
 river, rode they on. The hour and tke season were 
 those in which youth enjoyed its holiday, and gay groups 
 resorted to the then * fashionable haunts of the Foun- 
 tain of Holywell, "streaming forth among glistening 
 pebbles." 
 
 So they gained at length the village of Charing, which 
 Edward had lately bestowed on his Abbey of West- 
 minster, and which was now filled with workmen, native 
 and foreign, employed on that edifice and the contiguous 
 palacp. Here they loitered awhile at the Mews f (where 
 the feawks were kept), passed by the rude palace of stone 
 and rubble, appropriated to the tributary kings of Scot- 
 land J — a gift from Edgar to Kenneth — and finally, 
 reaching the inlet of the river, wMch, winding round the 
 
 * Fitzstephen. 
 
 ■]• Meuae. Apparently rather a hawk hospital, from Mula (Cam- 
 den). Du Fresne, in his Glossary, says, Muia is in French Le 
 Meue, and a disease to which the hawk was suhject on changing its 
 feathers. 
 
 J Scotland-yard. — Stkype. 
 
HAEWLB. 63 
 
 Isle of Thorney (now Westminster), separated the risi#^ 
 •church, abbey, aod palace, of the JSaint-king from the 
 main land, dismounted — and were ferried across* the 
 narrow stream to the broad space round the royal resi- 
 dence. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The new pulaice of Edward the Confessor, the pala,ce 
 of "Westminster, opened its gates to receive the Saxon 
 King and the Norman Duke, remounting on the maTgin 
 of the isle, 'and now riding side by side. And as the 
 duke glanced from brows, habitually knit, first over the 
 pile, stately though not yet completed, with its long rows 
 of round arched windows, cased by indented fringes and 
 frsBt (or tooth) work, its sweep of solid columns with 
 circling cloisters, and its ponderous towers of simple 
 grandeur ; then over the groups of courtiers, with close 
 vests, and short mantles and beardless cheeks, that filled 
 up the wide space, to gaze in homage on the renowned 
 guest, his heart swelled within him, and checking his 
 rein, he drew near to his brother of Bayeux, and whis- 
 pered : — 
 
 "Is not this already the court of the Norman ? Be- 
 hold yon nobles and earls, how they mimic our garb I 
 
 * The first bridge that connected Thorney Isle with the main- 
 land ia said to have been built by Matilda, wife of Henry I. 
 
64 HAROLD. 
 
 behold the very stones in yon gate, how they range 
 themselves, as if carved by the hand of the Norman 
 mason 1 Verily and indeed, brother, the shadow of the 
 rising sun rests already on these halls." 
 
 " Had England no People," said the bishop, "England 
 were yours already. But saw you not, as we rode along, 
 the lowering brows ? and heard you not the angry mur- 
 murs ? The villeins are many, and their hate is strong." 
 
 " Strong is the roan I bestride,'' said the duke ; " but 
 a bold rider curbs it with the steel of the bit, and guides 
 it with the goad of the heel." 
 
 And now as they neared the gate, a band of minstrels 
 in the. pay of the Norman touched their instruments, and 
 woke their song — the household song of the Norman — 
 the battle-hymn of Roland, the Paladin of Charles the 
 Great. At the first word of the song, the Norman 
 knights and youths, profusely scattered amongst the 
 Normanized Saxons, caught up the lay, and with spark- 
 ling eyes, and choral voices, they welcomed the mighty 
 duke into the palace of the last meek successor of Woden. 
 
 By the porch of the inner court the duke flung himself 
 from his saddle, and held the stirrup for Edward to dis- 
 mount. The king placed his hand gently on his guest's 
 broad shoulder, and, having somewhat slowly reached the 
 ground, embraced and kissed him in the sight of the gor- 
 geous assemblage ; then led him by the hand towards the 
 fair chamber which was set apart for the duke, and so 
 Ifift him to his attendants. 
 
 William, lost in thought, suffered himself to be disrobed 
 
HAROLD. 65 
 
 in silence ; but when Fitzosborne, his favorite confidant 
 and haughtiest baron, who yet deemed himself but 
 honored by personal attendance 'n his chief, conducted 
 him towards the bath, which adjoined the chamber, he 
 drew back, and wrapping round him more closely the 
 gown of fur that had been thrown over his shoulders, lie 
 muttered low, — "Nay, if there be on me yet one speck 
 of English dust, let it rest there I^ — seizin, Pitzosborne, 
 seizin, of the English land." Then, waving his hand, he 
 dismissed all his attendants except Pitzosborne, and 
 Rolf, Earl of Hereford,* nephew to Edward, but French 
 on the father's side, and thoroughly in the duke's coun- 
 cils. Twice the duke paced the chamber without vouch- 
 safing a word to either, then paused by the round win- 
 dow that overlooked the Thames. The scene was fair ; 
 the sun, towards its decline, glittered on numerous small 
 pleasure-boats, which shot to and fro between Westmin- 
 ster and London, or towards the opposite shores of Lam- 
 beth. His eye sought eagerly, along the curves of the 
 river, the grey remains of the fabled Tower of Julius, and 
 the walls, gates, and turrets, that rose by the stream, or 
 above the dense mass of silent roofs ; then it strained 
 hard to descry the tops of the more distant masts of that 
 infant navy, fostered under Alfred, the far-seeing, for the 
 future civilization of wastes unknown, and the empire of 
 seas nntracked. 
 
 * We give him that title, which this Norman noble generally 
 Dears in the Chronicles, though Palgrave observes that he is 
 rather to be styled Earl of the Magestan (the Welch Marches). 
 6* E 
 
66 HAROLD. 
 
 The duke breathed bard, and opened and closed the 
 hand which he stretched forth into space, as if to grasp 
 the city he beheld. "Rolf," said he, abruptly, "thou 
 knowest, no doubt, the wealth of the London traders, 
 one and all ; for, foi de Ouillaume, my gentil chevalier, 
 thou art a true Norman, and scentest the smell of gold 
 as a hound the boar ! " 
 
 Rolf smiled, as if pleased with a compliment which 
 simpler men might have deemed, at the best, equivocal, 
 and replied, — 
 
 " It is true, my liege ; and gramercy, the air of Eng- 
 land sharpens the scent ; for in this villein and motley 
 country, made up of all races, — Saxon and Fin, Dane 
 and Fleming, PLct and Walloon, — it is not as with us, 
 where the brave man and the pure descent are held chief 
 in honor ; here, gold and land are, in truth, name and 
 lordship ; even their popular name for their national as- 
 sembly of the Witan is, 'The Wealthy.'* He who is 
 but a ceorl to-day, let him be rich, and he may be earl 
 to-morrow, marry in king's blood, and rule armies under 
 a gonfanon statelier than a king's ; while he whose fathers 
 were ealdormen and princes, if, by force or by fraud, by 
 waste or by largess, he become poor, falls at once into 
 contempt, and out of his state, — sinks into a class they 
 call ' six-hundred men,' in their barbarous tongue, and 
 his children will probably sink still lower, into ceorls. 
 Wherefore gold is the thing here most coveted ; and, by 
 St. Michael, the sin is infectious." 
 
 * Eadigan. — S. Tukneb, vol. i. p. 274. 
 
HABOLD. 67 
 
 William listened to the speech with close attention. 
 
 "Good," said he, rubbing slowly the palm of his right 
 hand over the back of the left ; " a land all compact with 
 the power of one race, a race of conquering men, as our 
 fathers were, whom nought but cowardice or treason can 
 degrade, — such a land, Eolf of Hereford, it were hard 
 indeed to subjugate, or decoy, or tame; — " 
 
 " So has my lord the duke found the Bretons ; and so 
 also do I find the Welch upon my marches of Hereford." 
 
 " Bat," continued William, not heeding the interrup- 
 tion, " where wealth is more than blood and race, chiefs 
 may be bribed or menaced; and the multitude — by'r 
 Lady, the multitude are the same in all lands, mighty 
 under valiant and faithful leaders, powerless as sheep 
 without them. But to my question, my gentle Rolf; this 
 London must be rich ? " * 
 
 'Rich enow," answered Rolf, "to coin into armed 
 men, that should stretch from Rouen to Flanders on the 
 one hand, and Paris on the other." 
 
 " In the veins of Matilda, whom thou wooest for wife," 
 said Fitzosborne, abruptly, " flows the blood of Charle- 
 magne. God grant his empire to the children she shall 
 bear thee I " 
 
 The duke bowed his head, and kissed a relic suspended 
 
 * The comparative wealth of London was indeed considerable. 
 TVhen, in 1018, all the rest of England was taxed to an amount 
 considered stupendous, viz., 71,000 Saxon pounds, London con- 
 tributed 11,000 pounds besides. 
 
68 HAROLD. 
 
 from his throat. Farther sign of approval of his coun^ 
 sellor's words he gave not, but, after a pause, he said, — 
 
 "When I depart, Rolf, thou wendest back to thy 
 marches. These Welch are brave and fierce, and shape 
 work enow for thy hands." 
 
 "Ay, by my halidame 1 poor sleep by the side of the 
 bee-hive you have strickeu down." 
 
 "Marry, then," said William, "let the Welch prey on 
 Saxon, Saxon on Welch ; let neither win too easily. 
 Remember our omens to-day, Welch hawk and Saxon 
 bittern, and over their corpses, Duke William's Norway 
 falcon 1 Now dress we for the complin * and the ban- 
 quet." 
 
 * CompKn, the second vespeni. 
 
BOOK SECOND. 
 
 LANFRANO THE SCHOLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Four meals a day, nor those sparing, were not deemed 
 too extravagant an interpretation of the daily bread for 
 which the Saxons prayed. Four meals a day, from earl 
 to ceorl I " Happy times I " may sigh the descendant of 
 the last, if he read these pages ; partly so they were for 
 the ceorl, but not in all things, for never sweet is the 
 food, and never gladdening is the drink, of servitude 
 Inebriety, the vice of the warlike nations of the North, 
 had not, perhaps, been the pre-eminent excess of the 
 earlier Saxons, while yet the active and fiery Britons, and 
 the subsequent petty wars between the kings of the Hep- 
 tarchy, enforced on hardy warriors the safety of temper- 
 ance ; but the example of the Danes had been fatal. 
 Those giants of the sea, like all who pass from great 
 vicissitudes of toil and repose, from the tempest to the 
 haven, snatch with full hands every pleasure in their 
 reach. With much that tended permanently to elevate 
 the character of the Saxon, they imparted much for a 
 
 (69) 
 
TO HAROLD. 
 
 time to degrade it. The Anglian learned to feast to re- 
 pletion, and drink to delirium. But such were not the 
 Tices of the court of the Confessor. Brought up from 
 his youth in the cloister-camp of the Normans, what he 
 loved in their manners was the abstemious sobriety, and 
 the ceremonial religion, which distinguished those sons 
 of the Scandinarian from all other kindred tribes. 
 
 The Norman position in Prance, indeed, in much re- 
 sembled that of the Spartan in Greece. He had forced 
 a settlement with scanty num.bers in the midst of a subju- 
 gated and sullen population, surrounded by jealous and 
 formidable foes. Hence sobriety was a condition of his 
 being, and the policy of the chief lent a willing ear to 
 the lessons of the preacher. Like the Spartan, every 
 Norman of pure race was free and noble ; and this con- 
 sciousness inspired not only that remarkable dignity of 
 mien which Spartan and Norman alike possessed, but 
 also that fastidious self-respect which would have revolted 
 from exhibiting a spectacle of debasement to inferiors. 
 And, lastly, as the paucity of their original numbers, the 
 perils that beset, and the good fortune that attended 
 them, served to render the Spartans the most religious 
 of all the Greeks in their dependence on the Divine aid ; 
 so, perhaps, to the same causes may be traced the pro- 
 verbial piety of the ceremonial Normans ; they carried 
 into their new creed something of feudal loyalty to their 
 spiritual protectors ; did homage to the Virgin for the 
 lands that she vouchsafed to bestow, and recognized in 
 St Michael, the chief who conducted their armies. 
 
HAROLD. 71 
 
 After hearing the complin vespers in the temporary 
 chapel fitted up in that unfinished abbey of Westminster, 
 which occupied the site of the temple of Apollo,* the 
 king and his guests repaired to their evening meal in the 
 great hall of the palace. Below the dais were ranged 
 three long tables for the knights in William's train, and 
 that flower of the Saxon nobility who, fond, like all youth, 
 of change and imitation, thronged the court of their 
 Normanized saint, and scorned the rude patriotism of 
 their fathers. But hearts truly English were not there. 
 Yea, many of Godwin's noblest foes sighed for the Eng- 
 lish-hearted earl, banished by Norman guile on behalf of 
 English law. 
 
 At the oval table on the dais the guests were select 
 and chosen. At the right hand of the king sat William ; 
 at the left Odo of Bayeux. Over these three stretched a 
 canopy of cloth of gold ; the chairs on which each sat 
 were of metal, richly gilded over, and the arms carved in 
 elaborate arabesques. At this table too was the king's 
 nephew, the Earl of Hereford, and, in right of kinsman- 
 ship to the duke, the Norman's beloved baron and grand 
 seneschal, William Fitzosborne, who, though in Nor- 
 mandy even he sat not at the duke's table, was, as related 
 to his lord, invited by Edward to his own. No other 
 
 * Camden. — A church was built out of the ruins of that temple 
 by Sibert, King of the East Saxons ; and Canute favored much the 
 small monastery attached to it (originally established by Dunstan 
 for twelve Benedictines), on account of its Abbot Wulnoth, -whose 
 society pleased him. The old palace of Canute, in Thorney Isle, 
 had been destroyed by fire. 
 
12 HAROLD. 
 
 guests were admitted to this board, so that, save Edward, 
 all were Norman. The dishes were of gold and silver, 
 the cups inlaid with jewels. Before each guest was a 
 knife, with hilt adorned by precious stones, and a napkin 
 fringed with silver. The meats were not placed on the 
 table, but served upon small spits, and between every 
 course a basin of perfumed water was borne round by 
 high-born pages. No dame graced the festival ; for she 
 who should have presided — she, matchless for beauty 
 without pride, piety without asceticism, and learning with- 
 out pedantry — she, the pale rose of England, loved daugh- 
 ter of Godwin, and loathed wife of Edward, had shared 
 in the fall of her kindred, and had been sent by the meek 
 King, or his fierce counsellors, to an abbey in Hampshire, 
 with the taunt "that it was not meet that the child and 
 sister should enjoy state and pomp, while the sire and 
 brethren ate the bread of the stranger in banishment and 
 disgrace." 
 
 But, hungry as were the guests, it was not the custom 
 of that holy court to fall to without due religious cere- 
 monial. The rage for psalm-singing was then at its 
 height in England ; psalmody had excluded almost every 
 other description of vocal music ; and it is even said that 
 great festivals on certain occasions were preluded by no 
 less an effort of lungs and memory than the entire songs 
 bequeathed to us by King David ! This day, however, 
 Ilugoline, Edward's Nerman chamberlain, had been 
 pleased to abridge the length of the prolix grace, and 
 the company were let off, to Edward's surprise and dis- 
 
HAROLD. Ta 
 
 pleasure, with the curt and unseemly preparation of only 
 nine psalms and one special hymn in honor of some ob- 
 scure saint to whom the day was dedicated. This per- 
 formed, the guests resumed their seats, Edward murmur- 
 ing an apology to William for the strange omission of 
 bis chamberlain, and saying thrice to himself, " Naught, 
 naught — very naught." 
 
 The mirth languished at the royal table, despite some 
 gay efforts from Rolf, and some hollow attempts at light- 
 hearted cheerfulness from the great duke, whose eyes, 
 wandering down the table, were endeavoring to distin- 
 guish Saxon from Norman, and count how many of the 
 first might already be reckoned in the train of his friends. 
 But at the long tables below, as the feast thickened, and 
 ale, mead, pigment, morat, and wine circled round, the 
 tongue of the Saxon was loosed, and the Norman knight 
 lost somewhat of his superb gravity. It was just as what 
 a Danish poet called the "sun of the night,'' (in other 
 words, the fierce warmth of the wine), had attained its 
 meridian glow, that some slight disturbance at the doors 
 of the hall, without which waited a dense crowd of the 
 poor on whom the fragments of the feast were afterwards 
 to be bestowed, was followed by the entrance of two 
 strangers, for whom the officers appointed to marshal the 
 entertainment made room at the foot of one of the tables. 
 Both these new comers were clad with extreme plain- 
 ness ; one in a dress, though not quite monastic, that of 
 an ecclesiastic of low degree ; the other in a long grey 
 mantle and loose gonna, the train of which last was 
 1—1 
 
74 HAEOLD. 
 
 lucked into a broad leathern belt, leaving bare the 
 leggings, which showed limbs of great bulk and sinew, 
 and which were stained by the dust and mire of travel. 
 The first mentioned was slight and small of person ; the 
 last was of the height and port of the sons of Anak. 
 The countenance of neither could be perceived, for both 
 had let fall the hood, worn by civilians as by priests out 
 of doors, more than half-way over their faces. 
 
 A murmur of great surprise, disdain, and resentment, 
 at the intrusion of strangers so attired, circulated round 
 the neighborhood in which they had been placed, checked 
 for a moment by a certain air of respect which the officer 
 had shown towards both, but especially the taller; but 
 breaking out with greater vivacity from the faint restraint, 
 as the tall man unceremoniously stretched across the 
 board, drew towards himself an immense flagon, which 
 (agreeably to the custom of arranging the feast in 
 "messes" of four), had been specially appropriated to 
 TJlf the Dane, Godrich the Saxon, and two young Nor- 
 man knights akin to the puissant Lord of Grantmesnil, — 
 and having offered it to his comrade, who shook his 
 bead, drained it with a gusto that seemed to bespeak him 
 at least no Norman, and wiped his lips boorishly with 
 the sleeve of his huge arm. 
 
 " Dainty, sir," said one of those Norman knights, 
 William Mallet, of the house of Mallet de Graville,* as 
 
 * See Note to Pluquet'a "Roman de Rou," p. 285. 
 N. B. — Whenever the " Roman de Rou " is quoted in these 
 pages, it is from the excellent edition of M. Pluquet. 
 
HAROLD. 15 
 
 he moved as far from the gigantic intruder as the space 
 on the settle would permit, "forgive the observation that 
 you have damaged my mantle, you have grazed my foot, 
 and you have drunk my wine. And vouchsafe, if it so 
 please you, the face of the man who hath done this triple 
 wrong to William Mallet de Graville." 
 
 A kind of laugh — for laugh absolute it was not — 
 rattled under the cowl of the tall stranger, as he drew it 
 still closer over his face, with a hand that might have 
 spanned the breast of his interrogator, and he made a 
 gesture as if he did not understand the question addressed 
 to him. 
 
 Therewith the Norman knight, bending with demure 
 courtsey across the board to Godrith the Saxon, said, — 
 
 " Pardex* but this fair guest and seigneur seemeth to 
 me, noble Godree (whose name I fear my lips do but 
 rudely enounce), of Saxon line and language ; our Ro- 
 mance tongue he knoweth not. Pray you, is it the Saxon 
 custom to enter a king's hall so garbed, and drink a 
 knight's wine so mutely?" 
 
 Godrith, a young Saxon of considerable rank, but one 
 of the most sedulous of the imitators of the foreign 
 fashions, colored high at the irony in the knight's speech, 
 and turning rudely to the huge guest, who was now 
 causing immense fragments of pastry to vanish under the 
 cavernous cowl, he said in his native tongue, though with 
 a lisp as if unfamiliar to him, — 
 
 * Pardex, or PardS, corresponding to the modern French exple- 
 tive, pardie. 
 
76 HAUOLD. 
 
 " If thou beest Saxon, shame us not with thy ceorlish 
 manners ; crave pardon of this Norman thegn, who will 
 doubtless yield it to thee in pity. TJnoover thy face — 
 and — " 
 
 Here the Saxon's rebuke was interrupted ; for, one of 
 the servitors, just then approaching Godrith's side with a 
 spit, elegantly caparisoned with some score of plump 
 larks, the unmannerly giant gtretched out his arm within 
 an inch of the Saxon's startled nose, and possessed him- 
 self of larks, broche, and all. He drew oif two, which he 
 placed on his friend's platter, despite all dissuasive 
 gesticulations, and deposited the rest upon his own. The 
 young banqueters gazed upon the spectacle in wrath too 
 full for words. 
 
 At last spoke Mallet de Graville, with an envious eye 
 upon the larks — for though a Norman was not glutton- 
 ous, he was epicurean — " Certes, and foi de chevalier! 
 a man must go into strange parts if he wish to see 
 monsters ; but we are fortunate people," (and he turned 
 to his Norman friend Aymer, Quen * or Count, D'Eve- 
 reux,) "that we have discovered Polyphemus without 
 going so far as Ulysses ; " and pointing to the hooded 
 giant, he quoted, appropriately enough, 
 "Monstrum, horrendum, informe, ingcns, cui lumen ademptum." 
 
 The giant continued to devour his larks, as compla- 
 cently as the ogre to whom he was likened might have 
 
 * Quen, or rather Quent; synonymous with Count in the Norman 
 Chronicles. Earl Godwin is strangely styled by Waoe, Quem 
 Qmne. 
 
HAROLD. 17 
 
 devoured the Greeks in his cave. But his fellow intruder 
 seemed agitated by the sound of the Latin ; he lifted up 
 his head suddenly, and showed lips glistening with white 
 even teeth, and curved into an approving smile, while he 
 said : " Bene, mi fili ! bene, lepidissime, poetce verba, in 
 militis ore, mon indecora sonant."* 
 
 The young Norman stared at the speaker, and replied, 
 in the same tone of grave affectation, — " Courteous Sir I 
 the approbation of an ecclesiastic so eminent as I take 
 you to be, from the modesty with which you conceal your 
 greatness, cannot fail to draw upon me the envy of my 
 English friends ; who are accustomed to swear in verba 
 magistri, only for verba they learnedly substitute vina. " 
 "Tou are pleasant, Sire Mallet," said Godrith, red- 
 dening ; " but I know well that Latin is only fit for 
 monks and shavelings; and little enow even they have 
 to boast of" 
 
 The Norman's lip curled in disdain. " Latin I — O, 
 Godree, bien aim&.' — Latin is the tongue of Csesars and 
 senators, fortes conquerors and jsr-eifa? chevaliers. Know- 
 est thou not that Duke William the dauntless at eight 
 years old had the Comments of Julius Csesar jy heart ? 
 .^and that-it is his saying, that 'a king without letters 
 is a crowned ass ? ' f When the king is an ass, asinine 
 are his subjects. Wherefore go to school, speak respect- 
 
 * "Good, good, pleasant son, — the worda of the poet sound 
 gracefully on the lips of the knight." 
 
 j- A sentiment Tariously assigned to William and to his son 
 neury the Beau Clerc. 
 
 7* 
 
18 HAROLD. 
 
 fully of thy betters, the monks and shavelings, who with 
 us are often brave captains and sage councillors, — and 
 learn that a full head makes a weighty hand." 
 
 " Thy name, young knight?" said the ecclesiastic, in 
 Norman French, though with a slight foreign accent. 
 
 " I can give it thee," said the giant, speaking aloud 
 for the first time, in the same language, and in a rough 
 voice, which a quick ear might have detected as disguised, 
 — '' I can describe to thee name, birth, and quality. By 
 name, this youth is Guillaume Mallet, sometimes styled 
 De Graville, because our Norman gentilhommes, forsooth, 
 must always now have a ' de ' tacked to their names ; 
 nevertheless he hath no other right to the seigneurie of 
 Graville, which appertains to the head of his house, than 
 may be conferred by an old tower on one corner of the 
 demesnes so designated, with lands that would feed one 
 horse and two villeins — if they were not in pawn to a 
 Jew for moneys to buy velvet mantelines and a chain of 
 gold. By birth, he comes from Mallet,* a bold Nor- 
 wegian in the fleet of Rou the Sea-king ; his mother was 
 a Frank woman, from whom he inherits his best posses- 
 sions — videlicet, a shrewd wit and a railing tongue. His 
 qualities are abstinence, for he eateth nowhere save at 
 the cost of another — some Latin, for he was meant for a 
 monk, because he seemed too slight of frame for a war- 
 rior — some courage, for in spite of his frame he slew 
 three Burgundians with his own hand; and Duk'» Wil- 
 
 * Mallet is a genuine Scandinavian name to this day. 
 
HAROLD. 79 
 
 liam, among other foolish acts, spoilt a friar sans tache, 
 bj making a knight sans terre ; and for the rest " 
 
 "And for the rest," interrupted the Sire de Graville, 
 turning white with wrath, but speaking in a low repressed 
 voice, " were it not that Duke William sat yonder, thou 
 Bhouldst have six inches of cold steel in thy huge carcase 
 to digest thy stolen dinner, and silence thy unmannerly 
 tongue. — " 
 
 " For the rest," continued the giant indifferently, and 
 as if he had not heard the interruption ; " for the rest, 
 he only resembles Achilles, in being impiger, iracundus. 
 Big men can quote Latin as well as little ones, Messire 
 Mallet the beau clerc ! " 
 
 Mallet's hand was on his dagger ; and his eye dilated 
 like that of the panther before he springs ; but fortunately, 
 at that moment, the deep sonorous voice of William, ac- 
 customed to send its sounds down the ranks of an army, 
 rolled clear through the assemblage, though pitched little 
 above its ordinary key : — 
 
 " Fair is your feast, and bright your wine. Sir King 
 and brother mine 1 But I miss here what king and 
 knight hold' as the salt of the feast and the perfume to 
 the wine : the lay of the minstrel. Beshrew me, but 
 both Saxon and Norman are of kindred stock, and love 
 to hear in hall and bower the deeds of their northern 
 fathers. Crave I therefore from your glee-men, or harp- 
 ers, some song of the olden time ! " 
 
 A murmur of applause went through the Norman part 
 of the assembly I the Saxons looked up ; and some of 
 
80 HAEOI.D. 
 
 thu more practised conrtiers sighed wearily, for they knew 
 well what ditties alone were in favor with the saintly Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 The low voice of the king in reply was not heard, but 
 those habituated to read his countenance in its very faint 
 varieties of expression, might have seen that it conveyed 
 reproof; and its purport soon became practically known, 
 when a lugubrious prelude was heard from a quarter of 
 the hall, in which sat certain ghost-like musicians in white 
 robes — white as winding-sheets ; and forthwith a dolor- 
 ous and dirge-like voice chaunted a long, and most tedious 
 recital of the miracles and martyrdom of some early saint. 
 So monotonous was the chaunt, that its effect soon be- 
 came visible in a general drowsiness. And when Edward, 
 who alone listened with attentive delight, turned towards 
 the close to gather sympathizing admiration from his dis- 
 tinguished guests, he saw his nephew yawning as if his 
 jaw were dislocated — the Bishop of Bayeux, with his 
 well-ringed fingers interlaced and resting on his stomach, 
 fa.st asleep — Fitzosborne's half-shaven head balancing to 
 and fro with many an uneasy start — and William, wide- 
 awake indeed, but with eyes iixed on vacant space, and 
 his soul far away from the gridiron to which (all other 
 saints be praised !) the saint of the ballad had at last 
 happily arrived. 
 
 "A comforting and salutary recital. Count William," 
 said the king. 
 
 The duke started from his reverie, and bowed his head : 
 then said rather abruptly, " Is not yon blazon that of 
 King Alfred?" 
 
HAROLD. 81 
 
 " Tea. Wherefore ? " 
 
 " Hem 1 Matilda of Flanders is in direct descent from 
 Alfred : it is a name and a line the Saxons yet honor 1 " 
 
 " Surely, yes ; Alfred was a great man, and reformed 
 the Psalmster," replied Edward. 
 
 The dirge ceased, but so benumbing had been its effect, 
 that the torpor it created, did not subside with the cause 
 There was a dead and funereal silence throughout the 
 spacious hall, when suddenly, loudly, mightily, as the 
 blast of the trumpet upon the hush of the grave, rose a 
 single voice. All started — all turned — all looked to one 
 direction ; and they saw, that the great voice pealed 
 from the farthest end of the hall. From under his gown 
 the gigantic stranger had drawn a small three-stringed 
 instrument — somewhat resembling the modern lute — and 
 thus he sang : — 
 
 THE BALLAD OF BOU.» 
 
 From Blois to Senlis, wave by wave, rolled on the Norman flood, 
 And Frank on Frank went drifting down the weltering tide of 
 
 blood ; 
 There was not left in all the land a castle wall to fire. 
 And not a wife but wailed a lord, a child but mourned a sire. 
 To Charles the king, the mitred monks, the mailed barons flew, 
 While, shaking earth, behind them strode, the thunder march of 
 
 Eou. 
 
 * Eou — the name given by the French to EoUo, or Eolf-ganger 
 the founder of the Norman settlement. 
 
 7# If 
 
82 HAROLD. 
 
 '' king," then cried those barons bold, " in vain are maoe and 
 
 mail, 
 We fall before the Norman axe, aa corn before the hail." 
 "And vainly,'' cried the pious monks, " by Mary's shrine we kneel, 
 For prayers, like arrows, glance aside, against the Norman steel." 
 The barons groaned, the shavelings wept, while near and nearer 
 
 drew, 
 As death-birds round their scented feast, the raven flags of Ron. 
 
 Then said King Charles, " where thousands fail, what king can 
 
 stand alone? 
 The strength of kings is in the men that gather round the throne. 
 When war dismays my barons bold, 'tis time for war to cease ; 
 When Heaven forsakes my pious monks, the will of Heaven is peace. 
 Go forth, my monks, with mass and rood the Norman camp unto, 
 And to the fold, with shepherd crook, entice this grisly Eou. 
 
 " I'll give him all the ocean coast, from Michael Mount to Eure, 
 And 6ille, my child, shall be his bride, to bind him fast and sure ; 
 Let him but kiss the Christian cross, and sheathe the heathen 
 
 sword. 
 And hold the lands I cannot keep, a fief from Charles his lord." 
 Forth went the pastors of the Church, the Shepherd's work to do, 
 And wrap the golden fleece around the tiger loins of Rou. 
 
 Fsa.^ chanting came the shaven monks, within the camp of dread , 
 Amidst his warriors, Norman Rou stood taller by the head. 
 Out spoke the Frank archbishop then, a priest devout and sage, 
 " When peace and plenty wait thy word, what need of war and 
 
 rage ? 
 Why waste a land as fair as aught beneath the arch of blue. 
 Which might be thine to sow and reap ? — Thus saith the king to 
 
 Kou: 
 
HAKOLD. 83 
 
 " ' I'll give thee all the ocean coast, from Michael Mount to Eure, 
 And Gille, my fairest child, as bride, to bind thee fast and sure ; 
 If thou but kneel to Christ our God, and sheathe thy paynim sword. 
 And hold thy land, the Church's son, a fief from Charles thy lord.' " 
 The Norman on his warriors looked — to counsel they withdrew; 
 The saints took pity on the Franks, and moved the soul of Rou. 
 
 So back he strode and thus he spoko, to that archbishop meek : 
 "I take the land thy king bestows from Eure to Michael-peak, 
 I take the maid, or foul or fair, a bargain with the coast. 
 And for thy creed, » sea-king's gods are those that give the moat. 
 So hie thee back, and tell thy chief to make his proffer true, 
 And he shall find a docile son, and ye a saint in Bou." 
 
 So o'er the border stream of Epte came Rou the Norman, where, 
 Begirt with barons, sat the king, enthroned at green St. Clair ; 
 Tie placed his hand in Charles's hand, — loud shouted all the throng. 
 But tears were in King Charles's eyes — the grip of Rou was strong. 
 "Now kiss the foot," the bishop said, "that homage still is due;" 
 Then dark the frown and stern the smile of that grim convert, Ron. 
 
 He takes the foot, as if the foot to slavish lips to bring ; 
 
 The Normans scowl ; be tilts the throne, and backward falls the 
 
 king. 
 Loud laugh the joyous Norman men — pale stare the Franks aghast ; 
 And Rou lifts up his head as from the wind springs up the mast : 
 " I said I would adore a God, but not a mortal too ; 
 The foot that fled before a foe let cowards kiss ! " said Rou. 
 
 No words can express the excitement which this rough 
 minstrelsy — marred as it is by our poor translation from 
 the Romance tongue in which it was chanted — produced 
 amongst the Norman guests ; less perhaps, indeed, the 
 
84 HAEOLD 
 
 aonpr itself, than the recognition of the minstrel ; and as 
 he closed, from more than a hundred voices came the loud 
 murmur, only subdued from a shout by the royal pre- 
 sence, " Taillefer, our Norman Taillefer 1 " 
 
 "By our joint saint, Peter, my cousin the king," ex- 
 claimed William, after a frank cordial laugh; "well I 
 wot, no tongue less free than my warrior minstrel's could 
 have so shocked our ears. Excuse his bold theme, for 
 the sake of his bold heart, I pray thee ; and since I know 
 well" (here the duke's face grew grave and anxious) 
 " that nought save urgent and weighty news from my 
 stormy realm could have brought over this rhyming 
 petral, permit the officer behind me to lead hither a bird, 
 I fear, of omen as well as of song." 
 
 "Whatever pleases thee, pleases me," said Edward, 
 dryly ; and he gave the order to the attendant. In a 
 few moments, up the space in the hall, between either 
 table, came the large stride of the famous minstrel, pre- 
 ceded by the ofBcer, and followed by the ecclesiastic. 
 The hoods of both were now thrown back, and discovered 
 countenances in strange contrast, but each equally worthy 
 of the attention it provoked. The face of the minstrel 
 was. open and sunny as the day ; and that of the priest, 
 dark and close as night. Thick curls of deep auburn (the 
 most common color for the locks of the Norman) wreathed 
 in careless disorder round Taillefer's massive unwrinkled 
 brow. His eye, of light hazel, was bold and joyous ; 
 mirth, though sarcastic and sly, mantled round his lips, 
 His whole presence was at once engaging and heroic. 
 
HABOLD. 8ft 
 
 On the other hand, the priest's cheek was dark and 
 sallow ; his features singularly delicate and refined ; his 
 forehead high, but somewhat narrow, and crossed with 
 lines of thought ; his mien composed, modest, but not 
 without calm self-confidence. Amongst that assembly 
 of soldiei-s, noiseless, self-collected, and conscious of his 
 surpassing power over swords and mail, moved the 
 Scholar. 
 
 William's keen eye rested on the priest with some sur- 
 prise, not unmixed with pride and ire ; but first address- 
 ing Taillefer, who now gained the foot of the dais, he 
 said, with a familiarity almost fond — 
 
 " Now, by're lady, if thou bringest not ill news, thy 
 gay face, man, is pleasanter to mine eyes than thy rough 
 song to my ears. Kneel, Taillefer, kneel to King Ed- 
 ward, and with more address, rogue, than our unlucky 
 countryman to King Charles." 
 
 But Edward, as ill-liking the form of the giant as the 
 subject of his lay, said, pushing back his seat as far as 
 he could — 
 
 "Nay, nay, we excuse thee, we excuse thee, tall man."- 
 Nevertheless, the minstrel still knelt, and so, with a look 
 of profound humility, did the priest. Then both slowly 
 rose, and , at a sign from the duke, passed to the othei 
 side of the table, standing behind Pitzosborne's chair. 
 
 " Clerk," said William, eyeing deliberately the sallow 
 face of the ecclesiastic ; " I know thee of old ; and if the 
 church have sent me an envoy, per la resplendar De, it 
 should have sent me at least an abbot." 
 I.— 8 
 
86 HAROLD. 
 
 " Hein, Hein ! " said Taillefer, bluntly ; " vex not my 
 bon camarade, Count of the Normans. Gramercy, thou 
 wilt welcome Mm, peradventure, better than me ; for the 
 einger tells but of discord, and the sage may restore the 
 harmony." 
 
 " Ha I " said the duke ; and the frown fell so dark over 
 his eyes that the last seemed only visible by two sparks 
 of fire. " I guess, my proud Vavasours are mutinous. 
 Retire, thou and thy comrade. Await me in my cham- 
 ber; The feast shall not flag in London because the wind 
 blows a gale in Rouen." 
 
 The two envoys, since so they seemed, bowed in silence 
 and withdrew. 
 
 " Nought of ill-tidings, I trust," said Edward, who 
 had not listened to the whispered communications that 
 had passed between the duke and his subjects. " No 
 schism in thy church I The clerk seemed a peaceful man, 
 and a humble." 
 
 "An' there were schism in my church," said the fiery 
 duke ; " my brother of Bayeux would settle it by argu- 
 ments as close as the gap between cord and throttle." 
 
 "Ah! thou art, doubtless, well read in the canons, 
 holy Odo 1 " said the king, turning to the bishop with 
 more respect than he had yet evinced towards that gentle 
 prelate. 
 
 " Canons, yes, seigneur, I draw them up myself for my 
 flock, conformably with such interpretations of the Roman 
 Church as suit best with the Norman realm ; and woe to 
 
HAROLD. 81 
 
 deacon, monk, or abbot, who chooses to misconstrue 
 them. " * 
 
 The bishop looked so truculent and menacing, while 
 his fancy thus conjured up the possibility of heretical 
 dissent, that Edward shrank from him as he had done 
 from Taillefer ; and in a few minutes after, on exchange 
 of signals between himself and the duke, who, impatient 
 to escape, was too stately to testify that desire, the retire- 
 ment of the royal party broke up the banquet ; save, in- 
 deed, that a few of the elder Saxons, and more incor- 
 rigible Danes, still steadily kept their seats, and were 
 finally dislodged from their later settlements on the stone 
 floors, to find themselves, at dawn, carefully propped in 
 a row against the outer walls of the palace, with their 
 patient attendants, holding links, and gazing on their 
 masters with stolid envy, if not of the repose at least of 
 the drugs that had caused it. 
 
 * Pious severity to the heterodox was a Norman virtue. William 
 of Poiotiers says of William, " One knows with what zeal he pur- 
 Bued and exterminated those who thought differently ; " i. e., on 
 transubstantiation. But the wise Norman, while flattering the 
 tastes of the Roman Pontiff in such matters, took special care to 
 preserve the independence of his Church from any undue dictation. 
 
88 HAROLD. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "And now," said William, reclining on a long and 
 narrow couch, with raised carved-work all round il like 
 a box (the approved fashion of. a bed in those days), 
 "now, Sire Taillefer — thy news." 
 
 There were then in the duke's chamber, the Count 
 Fitzosborne, Lord of Breteail, surnamed "the Proud 
 Spirit " — who, with great dignity, was holding before the 
 brazier the ample tunic of linen (called dormitorium in 
 the Latin of that time, and night-rail in the Saxon 
 tongue), in which his lord was -to robe his formidable 
 limbs for repose,* — Taillefer, who stood erect before the 
 duke as a Roman sentry at his post, — and the ecclesiastic, 
 a little apart, with arms gathered under his gown, and 
 his bright dark eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 '' High and puissant, my liege," then said Taillefer, 
 gravely, and with a shade of sympathy on his large face, 
 " my news is such as is best told briefly : Bunaz, Count 
 d'Eu and descendant of Richard Sanspenr, hath raised 
 the standard of revolt." 
 
 " Go on," said the duke, clenching his hand. 
 
 " Henry,. King of the French, is treating with the rebel, 
 
 * A few generations later this comfortable and decent fashion of 
 night-gear was abandoned ; and our forefathers, Saxon and Nor- 
 mac, went to bed in puris naluralibus, like the Laplanders. 
 
HAROLD. 89 
 
 and stirring up mutiny in thy realm, and pretendors to 
 thy throne." 
 
 " Ha I " said the duke, and his lip quivered ; " this is 
 not all?" 
 
 " No, my liege ! and the worst is to come. Thy uncle 
 Manger, knowing that thy heart is bent on thy speorly 
 nuptials with the high and noble damsel, Matilda of 
 Flanders, has broken out again in thine absence — is 
 preaching against thee in hall and from pulpit. He 
 declares that such espousals are incestuous, both as within 
 the forbidden degrees, and inasmuch as Adele, the lady's 
 mother, was betrothed to thine uncle Richard ; and 
 Mauger menaces excommunication if my liege pursues 
 his suit I * So troubled is the realm, that I, waiting not 
 for debate in council, and fearing sinister ambassage if I 
 did so, took ship from thy port of Cherburg, and have 
 not flagged rein, and scarce broken bread, till I could 
 say to the heir of Rolf the Founder — Save thy realm 
 from the men of mail, and thy bride from the knaves in 
 serge." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " cried William ; then bursting forth in full 
 
 * Most of the chroniclers merely state the parentage within the 
 forbidden degrees as the obstacle to William's marriage with 
 Matilda ; but the betrothal or rather nuptials of her mother Adele 
 with Richard III. (though never consummated) appears to have 
 been the true canonical objection. — See note to Wace, p. 27. 
 Nevertheless, Matilda's mother Adele stood in the relation of aunt 
 to William, as widow of his father's elder brother, " an affinity,'' 
 as is observed by a writer in the "Arohaeologia,'' "quite near 
 enough to account for, if not to justify, the interference of the 
 Church." — Arch. vol. xzxii. p. 109. 
 8* 
 
90 HAROLD. 
 
 wrath, as he sprang from the couch, " Hearest thou this, 
 Lord Seneschal ? Seven years, the probation of the 
 patriarch, have I wooed and waited ; and lo, in the 
 Beventh, does a proud priest say to me, ' Wrench the love 
 from thy heart-strings 1 ' — Excommunicate me — me — 
 William, the son of Robert the Devil I Ha, by God's 
 splendor, Mauger shall live to wish the father stood, in 
 the foul fiend's true likeness, by his side, rather than 
 brave the bent brow of the son 1 " 
 
 " Dread my lord," said Fitzosborne, desisting from his 
 employ, and rising to his feet ; " thou knowest that I am 
 thy true friend and leal knight ; thou knowest how I have 
 aided thee in this marriage with the lady of Flanders, 
 and how gravely I think that what pleases thy fancy will 
 guard thy realm ; but rather than brave the order of the 
 Church, and the ban of the Pope, I would see thee wed 
 to the poorest virgin in Normandy." 
 
 William, who had been pacing the room, like an en- 
 raged lion in his den, halted in amaze at this bold speech. 
 
 " This from thee, William Fitzosborne 1 — from thee 1 
 I tell thee, that if all the priests in Christendom, and all 
 the barons in France, stood between me and my bride, I 
 would hew my way through the midst. Foes invade my 
 realm — let them; princes conspire against me — I smile 
 in scorn ; subjects mutiny — this strong hand can punish, 
 or this large heart can forgive. All these are the 
 dangers which he who governs men should prepare to 
 meet ; but man has a right to his love, as the stag to his 
 hind. And he who wrongs me here, is foe and tntitoir to 
 
HAROLD. 9- 
 
 me, not as Norman duke but as human being. Look to 
 It — thou and thy proud barons, look to it!" 
 
 " Proud may thy barons be," said Fitzosborne, redden- 
 ing, and with a brow that quailed not before his lord's ; 
 "for they are the sons of those who carved out the realm 
 of the Norman, and owned in Ron but the feudal chief 
 of free warriors ; vassals are not villeins. And that 
 which we hold our duty — whether to Church or chief — 
 that Duke William, thy proud barons will doubtless do ; 
 nor less, believe me, for threats which, braved in dis- 
 charge of duty and defence of freedom, we hold as air." 
 
 The duke gazed on his haughty subject with an eye in 
 which a meaner spirit might have seen its doom. The 
 veins in his broad temples swelled like cords, and a light 
 foam gathered round his quivering lips. But fiery and 
 fearless as William was, not less was he sagacious and 
 profound. In that one man he saw the representative 
 of that superb and matchless chivalry — that race of races 
 — those men of men, in whom the brave acknowledge the 
 highest example of valiant deeds, and the free the manli- 
 est assertion of noble thoughts,* since the day when the 
 
 * It might be easy to show, were this the place, that though the 
 Saxons never lost their love of liberty, yet that the victories which 
 gradually regained the liberty from the gripe of the Anglo-Norman 
 kings, were achieved by the Anglo-Norman aristocracy. And even 
 to this day, the few rare descendants of that race (whatever their 
 political faction), will generally exhibit that impatience of despotic 
 influence, and that disdain of corruption, which characterize the 
 homely bonders of Norway, in whom we may still recognize the 
 sturdy likeness of their fathers ; while it is also remarkable that 
 the modern inhabitants of those portions of the kingdom originally 
 
»2 HAROLD 
 
 last Athenian covered his head with his mantle, and 
 mutely died; and far from being the most stubborn 
 against his will, it was to Fitzosborne's paramount 
 influence with the council, that he had often owed their 
 submission to his wishes, and their contributions to his 
 wars. In the very tempest of his wrath, he felt that the 
 blow he longed to strike on that bold head would shiver 
 his ducal throne to the dust. He felt too, that awful 
 indeed was that power of the Church which could thus 
 turn against him the heart of his truest knight : and he 
 began (for with all his outward frankness his temper was 
 suspicious) to wrong the great-souled noble by the 
 thought that he might already be won over by the enemies 
 whom Mauger had arrayed against his nuptials. There- 
 fore, with one of those rare and mighty efforts of that 
 dissimulation which debased his character, but achieved 
 his fortunes, he cleared his brow of its dark cloud, and 
 said in a low voice, that was not without its pathos — 
 
 " Had an angel from heaven forewarned me that Wil- 
 liam Fitzosborne would speak thus to his kinsman and 
 brother in arms, in the hour of need and the agony of 
 passion, I would have disbelieved him. Let it pass " 
 
 But, ere the last word was out of his lips, Fitzosborne 
 had fallen on his knees before the duke, gnJ, clasping his 
 hand, exclaimed, while the tears rolled down his swarthy 
 
 peopled by their kindred Danes, are, irrespective of mere party- 
 divisions, noted for their intolerance of all oppression, and their 
 resolute independence of character; to wit, Yorkshire, Norfolk, 
 Cumberland, and large districts in the Scottish lowlands. 
 
HAROLD. 93 
 
 cbeek, " Pardon, pardon, my liege 1 when thou speakest 
 thus, my heart melts. What thou wiliest, that will I ! 
 Church or Pope, no matter. Send me to Flanders; I 
 will bring back thy bride." 
 
 The slight smile that curved "William's lip, showed that 
 he was scarce worthy of that sublime weakness in his 
 friend. But he cordially pressed the hand that grasped 
 his own, and said, " Rise ; thus should brother speak to 
 brother." Then — for his wrath was only concealed, not 
 stifled, and yearned for its vent — his eye fell upon the 
 delicate and thoughtful face of the priest, who had 
 watched this short and stormy conference in profound 
 silence, despite Taillefer's whispers to him to interrupt 
 the dispute. "So, priest," he said, "I remember me 
 that when Mauger before let loose his rebellious tongue 
 thou didst lend thy pedant learning to eke out his brain- 
 less treason. Methought that I then banished thee my 
 realm ? " 
 
 " Not so. Count and Seigneur," answered the ecclesi- 
 astic, with a grave but arch smile on his lip ; " let me 
 remind thee, that to speed me back to my native land 
 thou didst graciously send me a horse, halting on three 
 legs, and all lame on the fourth. Thus mounted, I met 
 thee on my road. I saluted thee ; so did the beast, for 
 his head well-nigh touched the ground. Whereon I did 
 ask thee, in a Latin play of words, to give me at least a 
 quadruped, not a tripod, for my journey.* Gracious 
 
 * Ex pervelusto codice, MS. Chron. Bee. in Vit. Lanfranc, quoted 
 Id the " Archseologia, " vol. xxxii. p. 109. The joke, which is very 
 
94 HAROLD. 
 
 even in ire, and with relenting laugh, was thine answer. 
 My liege, thy words implied banishment — thy laughter, 
 pardon. So I stayed." 
 
 Despite his wrath, William could scarcely repress a 
 smile j but recollecting himself, he replied, more gravely, 
 " Peace with this levity, priest. Doubtless, thou art the 
 envoy from this scrupulous Mauger, or some other of my 
 gentle clergy ; and thou comest, as doubtless, with soft 
 words, and whining homilies. It is in vain. I hold the 
 Church in holy reverence ; the pontiff knows it. But 
 Matilda of Flanders I have wooed ; and Matilda of 
 Flanders shall sit by my side in the halls of Rouen, or 
 on the deck of my war-ship, till it anchors on a land 
 worthy to yield a new domain to the son of the Sea- 
 king." 
 
 " In the halls of Rouen — and it may be on the throne 
 of England — shall Matilda reign by the side of William," 
 said the priest, in a clear, low, and emphatic voice ; " and 
 it was to tell my lord the duke that I repent me of my 
 first unconsidered obeisance to Mauger as my spiritual 
 superior ; that since then I have myself examined canon 
 and precedent ; and though the letter of the law be against 
 thy spousals, it comes precisely under the category of those 
 alliances to which the fathers of the Church accord dis- 
 pensation : — it is to tell thee this, that I, plain Doctor 
 of Laws and priest of Pavia, have crossd the seas." 
 
 pooF, seems to have turned upon pede and quadrupede ; it is a little 
 altered in the text. 
 
HAROLD. 96 
 
 " Ha Ron I — Ha Rou I " cried Taillefer, with his usual 
 bluffness, and laughing with great glee, " why wouldst 
 thou not listen to me, mouseigneur ? " 
 
 " If thou deceivest me not," said William, in surprise, 
 "and thou canst make good thy words, no prelate in 
 Neustria, save Odo of Bayeux, shall lift his head high aa 
 thiis." And here, William, deeply versed in the science 
 of men, bent his eyes keenly upon the unchanging and 
 earnest face of the speaker. "Ah," he burst out, as if 
 satisfied with the survey, " and my mind tells me that thou 
 speakest not thus boldly and calmly without ground suffi- 
 cient. Man, I like thee. Thy name ? I forget it." 
 
 " Lanfranc of Pavia, please you, my lord ; called some- 
 times, ' Lanfranc the Scholar ' in thy cloister of Bee. Nor 
 misdeem me, that I, humble, unmitred priest, should be 
 thus bold. In birth I am noble, and my kindred stand 
 near to the grace of our ghostly pontiff; to the pontiff I 
 myself am not unknown. Did I desire honors, in Italy I 
 might seek them ; it is not ffo. I crave no guerdon for 
 the service I proffer; none but this — leisure and books 
 in the Convent of Bee." 
 
 " Sit down — nay, sit, man," said William, greatly in- 
 terested, but still suspicious. ''One riddle only I ask 
 thee to solve, before I give thee all my trust, and place 
 my very heart in thy hands. Why, if thou desirest not 
 rewards, shouldst thou thus care to serve me — th'/a, a 
 foreigner ? " 
 
 A light, brilliant and calm, shone in the eyes of the 
 scholar, and a blush spread over his pale cheeks. 
 
96 HAROLD. 
 
 '• My Lord Prince, I will answer in plain words. But 
 first permit me to be the questioner." 
 
 The priest turned towards Fitzosborne, who had seated 
 himself on a stool at William's feet, and, leaning his chin 
 on his hand, listened to the ecclesiastic, not more with 
 devotion to his calling, than wonder at the influence one 
 so obscure was irresistiby gaining over his own martial 
 spirit, and William's iron craft. 
 
 " Lovest thou not, William Lord of Breteuil, lovest 
 thou not fame for the sake of fame ? " 
 
 " Sur nion dme, — yes ! " said the baron. 
 
 "And thou, Taillefer the minstrel, lovest thou not song 
 for the sake of song?" 
 
 " For song alone," replied the mighty minstrel. " More 
 gold in one ringing rhyme than in all the coffers of Chris- 
 tendom." 
 
 "And marvellest thou, reader of men's hearts," said 
 the scholar, turning once more to William, "that the 
 student loves knowledge for the sake of knowledge ? 
 Born of high race, poor in purse, and slight of thews, 
 betimes I found wealth in books, and drew strength from 
 lore. I heard of the Count of Rouen and the Normans, 
 as a prince of small domain, with a measureless spirit, a 
 lover of letters, and a captain in war. I came to thy 
 duchy, I noted its subjects and its prince, and the words 
 of Themistocles rang in my ear : ' I cannot play the lute, 
 but I can make a small state great.' I felt an interest in 
 thy strenuous and troubled career. I believe that know- 
 ledge, to spread amongst the nations, must first find a 
 
HAROLD. 97 
 
 nnrsery in the brain of kings ; and I saw in the deed- 
 doer, the agent of the thinker. In those espousals, on 
 which with untiring obstinacy thy heart is set, I might 
 sympathize with thee ; perchance " (here a melancholy 
 smile flitted over the student's pale lips), "perchance 
 even as a lover : priest though I be now, and dead to 
 human love, once I loved, and I know what it is to strive 
 in hope, and to waste in despair. But my sympathy, I 
 own, was more given to the prince than to the lover. It 
 was natural that I, priest and foreigner, should obey at 
 first the orders of Mauger, arch-prelate and spiritual 
 chief, and the more so as the law was with him ; but when 
 I resolved to stay, despite thy sentence which banished 
 me, I resolved to aid thee ; for if with Mauger was the 
 dead law, with thee was the living cause of man. Duke 
 "William, on thy nuptials with Matilda of Flanders rests 
 thy duchy — rest, perchance, the mightier sceptres that 
 are yet to come. Thy title disputed, thy principality new 
 and unestablished, thou, above all men, must link thy new 
 race with the ancient line of kings and kaisars. Ma- 
 tilda is the descendant of Charlemagne and Alfred. Thy 
 realm is insecure as long as Prance undermines it with 
 plots, and threatens it with arms. Marry the daughter 
 of Baldwin — and thy wife is the niece of Henry of France 
 — thine enemy becomes thy kinsman, and must, perforce, 
 be thine ally. This is not all; it were strange, looking 
 round this disordered royalty of England — a childless 
 king, who loves thee better than his own blood ; a divided 
 nobility, already adopting the fashions of the stranger, 
 
 T — 9 G 
 
98 HAROLD. 
 
 and accustomed to shift their faith from Saxon to Dane, 
 and Dane to Saxon ; a people that has respect indeed 
 for brave chiefs, bnt, seeing new men rise daily from new 
 houses, has no reverence for ancient lines and hereditary 
 names ; with a vast mass of villeins or slaves that have 
 no interest in the land or its rulers ; strange, seeing all 
 this, if thy day-dreams have not also beheld a Norman 
 sovereign on the throne of Saxon England. And thy 
 marriage with the descendant of the best and most be- 
 loved prince that ever ruled these realms, if it does not 
 give thee a title to the land, may help to conciliate its 
 affections, and to fix thy posterity in the halls of their 
 mother's kin. Have I said eno' to prove why, for the 
 sake of nations, it were wise for the pontiff to stretch the 
 harsh girths of the law ? why I might be enabled to prove 
 to the Court of Rome the policy of conciliating the love, 
 and strengthening the hands, of the Norman count, who 
 may so become the main prop of Christendom ? Yea, 
 have I said eno' to prove that the humble clerk can look 
 on mundane matters with the eye of a man who can make 
 small states great ? " 
 
 William remained speechless — his hot blood thrilled 
 with a half-superstitious awe ; so thoroughly had this 
 obscure Lombard divine detailed all the intricate meshes 
 of that policy with which he himself had interwoven his 
 pertinacious affection for the Flemish princess, that it 
 seemed to him as if he listened to the echo of his own 
 heart, or heard from a soothsayer the voice of his most 
 secret thoughts 
 
HAROLD. 99 
 
 The priest continued : — 
 
 " Wherefore, thus considering, I said to myself, Now 
 has the time come, Lanfranc the Lombard, to prove to 
 thee whether thy self-boastings have been a vain deceit, 
 or whether, in this age of iron, and amidst this lust of 
 gold, thou, the penniless and the feeble, canst make 
 knowledge and wit of more avail to the destinies of kings 
 than armed men and filled treasuries. I believe in that 
 power. I am ready for the test. Pause, judge from 
 what the Lord of Breteuil hath said to thee, what will 
 be the defection of thy lords if the Pope confirm the 
 threatened excommunication of thine uncle. Thine armies 
 will rot from thee ; thy treasures will be like dry leaves 
 In thy coffers ; the Duke of Bretagne will claim thy 
 duchy as the legitimate heir of thy forefathers ; the Duke 
 of Burgundy will league with the King of France, and 
 march on thy faithless legions under the banner of the 
 Church. The hand-writing is on the walls,' and thy 
 sceptre and thy crown will pass away." 
 
 William set his teeth firmly, and breathed hard. 
 
 "But send me to Rome, thy delegate, and the thunder 
 of Manger shall fall powerless. Marry Matilda, bring 
 her to thy halls, place her on thy throne, laugh to scorn 
 the interdict of thy traitor uncle, and rest assured that 
 the Pope shall send thee his dispensation to thy spousals, 
 and his benison on thy marriage-bed. And when this 
 be done, Duke William, give me not abbacies and pre- 
 lacies ; multiply books, and stablish schools, and bid thy 
 
100 HAaOLD. 
 
 Bervant found the royalty of knowledge, as thou shalt 
 found the sovereignty of war." 
 
 The duke, transported from himself, leaped up and 
 embraced the priest with his vast arms; he kissed his 
 cheeks, he kissed his forehead, as, in those days, king 
 kissed king with "the kiss of peace." 
 
 "Lanfranc of Pavia," he cried, "whether thou succeed 
 or fail, thou hast my love and gratitude evermore. As 
 thou speakest, would I have spoken, had I been born, 
 framed, and reared as thou. And, verily, when I hear 
 thee, I blush for the boasts of my barbarous pride, that 
 no man can wield my mace, or bend my bow. Poor is 
 the strength of body — a web of law can entangle it, and 
 a word from a priest's mouth can palsy. But thou I — - 
 let me look at thee." 
 
 William gazed on the pale face ; from head to foot he 
 scanned the delicate, slender form, and then turning 
 away, he- said to Fitzosborne — 
 
 " Thou, whose mailed hand hath felled a war-steed, 
 art thou not ashamed of thyself? The day is coming, I 
 see it afar, when these slight men shall set their feet upon 
 our corslets." 
 
 He paused as if in thought, again paced the room, and 
 stopped before the crucifix, and image of the Yirgin, 
 which stood in a niche near the bed-head. 
 
 "Right, noble prince," said the priest's low voice. 
 "Pause there for a solution to all enigmas; there view 
 the symbol of all-enduring power; there learn its ends 
 
HAROLD. lOJ 
 
 below — comprehend the account it must yield above. 
 To your thoughts and your prayers we leave you." 
 
 He took the stalwart arm of Taillefer, as he spoke 
 and, with a grave obeisance to Fitzosborne, left the 
 chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The next morning William was long closeted alone 
 with Lanfrane — that man, among the most remarkable 
 of his age, of whom it was said, that "to comprehend 
 the extent of his talents, one must be Herodian in 
 grammar, Aristotle in dialectics, Cicero in rhetoric, 
 Augustine and Jerome in Scriptural lore,"* — and ere 
 the noon the duke's gallant and princely train were 
 ordered to be in readiness for return home. 
 
 The crowd in the broad space, and the citizens from 
 their boats in the river, gazed on the knights and steeds 
 of that gorgeous company, already drawn up and await- 
 ing without the open gates the sound of the trumpets 
 that should announce the duke's departure. Before the 
 hall-door in the inner court were his own men. The 
 snow-white steed of Odo ; the alezan of Fitzosborne ; 
 and, to the marvel of all, a small palfrey plainly capa- 
 risoned What did that palfrey amid those steeds? — 
 the steeds themselves seemed to chafe at the corapanion- 
 
 * Ord. Vital 
 
102 HABOLD 
 
 ship ; the dake's charger pricked up his ears and snorted ; 
 the Lord of Breteuil's alezan kicked out, as the poor nag 
 humbly drew near to make acquaintance ; and the pre- 
 late's white barb, with red vicious eye, and ears laid 
 down, ran fiercely at the low-bred intruder, with difficulty 
 reined in by the squires, who shared the beast's amazn 
 and resentment. 
 
 Meanwhile the duke thoughtfully took his way to Ed- 
 ward's apartments. In the ante room were many mortks 
 and many knights; but conspicuous amongst them all 
 was a tall and stately veteran, leaning on a great two- 
 handed sword, and whose dress and fashion of beard 
 were those of the last generation, the men who had fought 
 with Canute the Great or Edmund Ironsides. So grand 
 was the old man's aspect, and so did he contrast in 
 appearance, the narrow garb and shaven chins of those 
 around, that the duke was roused from his reverie at the 
 sight, and marvelling why one, evidently a chief of high 
 rank, had neither graced the banquet in his honor, nor 
 been presented to his notice, he turned to the earl of 
 Hereford, who approached him with gay salutation, and 
 inquired the name and title of the bearded man in the 
 loose flowing robe. 
 
 " Know you not, in truth ? " said the lively earl, in 
 some wonder. " In him you see the great rival of Gcd- 
 v/in. He is the hero of the Danes, as Godwin is of the 
 Saxons, a true son of Odin, Siward Earl of the North- 
 umbrians."* 
 
 * Siward was almost a giant (j>ene gigai itaiura). There ar« 
 
HAROLD. 103 
 
 "Notre Dame be my aid, — his fame hath oft filled my 
 ears, and I should have lost the most welcome sight in 
 merrie England had I not now beheld him." 
 
 Therewith, the duke approached courteously, and, 
 doffing the cap he had hitherto retained, he greeted the 
 old hero with those compliments which the Norman had 
 already learned in the courts of the Frank. 
 
 The stout earl received them coldly, and replying in 
 Danish to William's Romance tongue, he said, 
 
 " Pardon, Count of the Normans, if these old lips 
 cling to their old words. Both of us, methinks, date our 
 lineage from the lands of the Norse. Suffer Siward to 
 speak the language the sea-kings spoke. The old oak 
 is not to be transplanted, and the old man keeps the 
 ground where his youth took root." 
 
 The duke, who with some difficulty comprehended the 
 general meaning of Siward's speech, bit his lip, but re- 
 plied courteously, — 
 
 " The youths of all nations may learn from renowned 
 age. Much doth it shame me that I cannot commune 
 
 Bome curious anecdotes of this hero, immortalized by Shakspere, 
 in the "Bromton Chronicle." His grandfather is said to have 
 been a bear, who fell in love with a Danish lady ; and his father, 
 Beom, retained some of the traces of the parental physiognomy in 
 n pair of pointed ears. The origin of this fable seems evident. 
 His grandfather was a Berserker: for whether that name be de- 
 rived, as is more generally supposed, from bare-sark, or rather 
 from bear-sark, that is, whether this grisly specimen of the Viking 
 genus fought in his shirt or his bear-skin, the name equally lends 
 itself to those mystifications from which half the old legends, 
 whether of Greece or Norway, are derived. 
 
104 HAROLD. 
 
 with thee in the ancestral tongue ; but the angels at least 
 know the language of the Norman Christian, and I pray 
 them and the saints for a calm end to thj brave career." 
 
 " Pray not to angel or saint for Siward son of Beorn," 
 said the old man hastily ; " let me not have a cow's 
 death, but a warrior's ; die in my mail of proof, axe in 
 hand, and helm on head. And such may be my death, 
 if Edward the king reads my rede and grants my prayer." 
 
 " I have influence with the king," said William ; " name 
 thy wish, that I may back it." 
 
 "The fiend forfend," said the grim earl, "that a 
 foreign prince should sway England's king, or that thegn 
 and earl should ask other backing than leal service and 
 just cause. If Edward be the saint men call him, he 
 will loose me on the hell-wolf, without other cry than his 
 own conscience." 
 
 The duke turned inquiringly to Rolf; who, thus ap- 
 pealed to, said, — 
 
 " Siward urges my uncle to espouse the cause of Mal- 
 colm of Cumbria against the bloody tyrant Macbeth ; and 
 but for the disputes with the traitor Godwin, the king 
 had long since turned his arms to Scotland." 
 
 " Call not traitors, young man," said the earl, in high 
 disdain, "those who, with all their faults and crimes, 
 have placed thy kinsman on the throne of Canute." 
 
 "Ilush, Rolf," said the duke, observing the fierce 
 young Norman about to reply hastily. " But methought, 
 though my knowledge of English troubles is but scant, 
 that Siward was the sworn foe to Godwin ? " 
 
HAROLD. 105 
 
 " Foe to him in his power, friend to him in his wrongs," 
 answered Siward. "And if England needs defenders 
 when I and Godwin are in our shrouds, there is but one 
 man worthy of the days of old, and his name is Harold, 
 the outlaw." 
 
 William's face changed remarkably, despite all his 
 dissimulation ; and, with a slight inclination of his head, 
 he strode on, moody and irritated. 
 
 " This Harold I this Harold I " he muttered to himself, 
 " all brave men speak to me of this Harold I Even my 
 Norman knights name him with reluctant reverence, and 
 even his foes do him honor ; — verily his shadow is cast 
 from exile over all the land." 
 
 Thus murmuring, he passed the throng with less than 
 his wonted affable grace, and pushing back the officers 
 who wished to precede him, entered, without ceremony, 
 Edward's private chamber. 
 
 The king was alone, but talking loudly to himself, 
 gesticulating vehemently, and altogether so changed 
 from his ordinary placid apathy of mien, that William 
 drew back in alarm and awe. Often had he heard indi- 
 rectly, that of late years Edward was said to see visions, 
 and be rapt from himself into the world of spirit and 
 shadow ; and such, he now doubted not, was the strange 
 paroxysm of which he was made the witness. Edward's 
 eyes were fixed on him, but evidently without recognizing 
 his presence ; the king's hands were outstretched, and ha 
 cried aloud in a voice of sharp anguish — 
 
 " Sanguelac, Sanguelac ! — the Lake of Blood I — the 
 
 9» 
 
106 HAROLD. 
 
 waves spretid, the waves redden I Mother of mercy — 
 where is the ark ? — where the Ararat ? — FI7 — fly — this 
 way — this " and he caught convulsive hold of Wil- 
 liam's arm. " No 1 there the corpses are piled — high 
 and higher — there the horse of the Apocalypse tramples 
 the dead in their gore." 
 
 In great horror, William took the king, now gasping 
 on his breast, in his arms, and laid him on his bed, be- 
 neath its canopy of state, all blazoned with the martlets 
 and cross of his insignia. Slowly Edward came to him- 
 self, with heavy sighs ; and when at length he sate up 
 and looked round, it was with evident unconsciousness 
 of what had passed across his haggard and wandering 
 spirit, for he said with his usual drowsy calmness — 
 
 " Thanks, Guillaume, bien aimS, for rousing me from 
 unseasoned sleep. How fares it with thee ? " 
 
 " Nay, how with thee, dear friend and king ? thy dreams 
 have been troubled." 
 
 " Not so ; I slept so heavily, methinks I could not 
 have dreamed at all. But thou art clad as for a journey 
 — spur on thy heel, staff in thy hand ! " 
 
 " Long since, dear host, I sent Odo to tell thee of 
 the ill news from Normandy that compelled me to de- 
 part. " 
 
 " I remember — I remember me now," said Edward, 
 passing his pale womanly fingers over his forehead. " The 
 heathen rage against thee. Ah ! my poor brother, a 
 crown is an awful head-gear. While yet time, why not 
 
HAROLD. lot 
 
 both seek some quiet convp.nt, and put away these earthly 
 cares ? " 
 
 William smiled and shook his head. " Nay, holy Ed- 
 ward, from all I have seen of convents, it is a dream to 
 think that the monk's serge hides a calmer breast than 
 the warrior's mail, or the king's ermine. Now give me 
 thy benison, for I go." 
 
 He knelt as he spoke, and Edward bent his hands over 
 his head, and blessed him. Then, taking from his own 
 neck a collar of zimmes (jewels and uncut gems), of great 
 price, the king threw it over the broad throat bent before 
 him, and rising, clapped his hands. A small door opened, 
 giving a glimpse of the oratory within, and a monk ap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Father, have my behests been fulfilled ? — hath Hugo- 
 line, my treasurer, dispensed the gifts that I spokeof ?" 
 
 " Verily yes ; vault, coffer, and garde-robe — stall and 
 mense — are well-nigh drained," answered the monk, with 
 a sour look at the Norman, whose native avarice gleamed 
 in his dark eyes as he heard the answer. 
 
 " Thy train go not hence empty-handed," said Edward 
 fondly. " Thy father's halls sheltered the exile, and the 
 exile forgets not the sole pleasure of a king — the power 
 to requite. We may never meet again, William — age 
 creeps over me, and who will succeed to my thorny 
 throne ? " 
 
 William longed to answer, — to tell the hope that con- 
 i!umed him, — to remind his cousin of the vague promise 
 iiv their youth, that the Norman count should succeed to 
 
108 HAROLD. 
 
 that "thorny throne;" but the presence of the SaxoQ 
 monk repelled him, nor was there in Edward's uneasy 
 look much to allure him on. 
 
 "But peace," continued the king, "be between thine 
 and mine, as between thee and me I " 
 
 "Amen," said the duke, " and I leave thee at least free 
 from the proud rebels who so long disturbed thy reign. 
 This house of Godwin, thou wilt not again let it tower 
 above thy palace ?" 
 
 " Nay, the future is with God and his saints," answered 
 Edward feebly. "But Godwin is old — older than I, and 
 bowed by many storms." 
 
 "Ay, his sons are more to be dreaded, and kept aloof 
 — mostly Harold!" 
 
 " Harold, — he was ever obedient, he alone of his kith ; 
 truly my soul mourns for Harold," said the king, sighing. 
 
 " The serpent's egg hatches but the serpent. Keep 
 thy heel on it," said William, sternly. 
 
 " Thou speakest well," said the irresolute prince, who 
 never seemed three days or three minutes together in the 
 same mind. " Harold is in Ireland — there let him rest : 
 better for all." 
 
 " For all," said the duke ; " so the saints keep thea, 
 royal saint ! " 
 
 He kissed the king's hand, and strode away to the hall 
 where Odo, Fitzosborne, and the priest Lanfranc awaited 
 him. And so that day, half-way towards the fair town 
 of Dover, rode Duke William, and by the side of his roan 
 barb ambled the priest's palfrey. 
 
HAROLD. 109 
 
 Behind came his gallant train, and with tumbrils and 
 Bumpter-mules laden with baggage, and enriched by Ed- 
 ward's gifts ; while Welch hawks, and steeds of great 
 price from the pastures of Surrey and the plains of Cam- 
 bridge and York, attested no less acceptably than zimme, 
 nnd golden chain, and broidered robe, the munificence 
 of the grateful king.* 
 
 As they journeyed on, and the fame cf the duke's 
 coming was sent abroad by the bodes or messengers, 
 despatched to prepare the towns through which he was 
 to pass for an arrival sooner than expected, the more 
 high-born youths of England, especially those of the 
 party counter to that of the banished Godwin, came 
 round the ways to gaze upon that famous chief, who, 
 from the age of fifteen, had wielded the most redoubtable 
 sword of Christendom. And those youths wore the Nor- 
 man garb : and in the towns, Norman counts held his 
 stirrup to dismount, and Norman hosts spread the fasti- 
 dious board ; and when, at the eve of the next day, Wil- 
 liam saw the pennon of one of his own favorite chiefs 
 waving in the van of armed men, that sallied forth from 
 the towers of Dover (the key of the coast), he turned 
 to the Lombard, still by his side, and said : — 
 " Is not England part of Normandy already ? " 
 And the Lombard answered : — 
 " The fruit is well-nigh ripe, and the first breeze will 
 
 * Wace. 
 I.— 10 
 
no HAROLD. 
 
 shake it to thy feet. Pat not out thy hand too soon. 
 Let the wind do its work." 
 
 And the duke made reply, 
 
 "As thou thinkest, so think I. And there is but one 
 wind in the halls of heaven that can waft the fruit to the 
 feet of another." 
 
 "And that ? " asked the Lombard. 
 
 "Is the wind that blows from the shores of Ireland, 
 when it fills the sails of Harold, son of Godwin." 
 
 " Thou fearest that man, and why ? " asked the Lom- 
 bard with interest. 
 
 And the duke answered : — 
 
 " Because in the breast of Harold beats the heart of 
 England." 
 
BOOK THIRD. 
 
 THE HOUSE or GODWIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 And all went to the desire of Dnke William the Nor- 
 man. With one hand he curbed his proud vassals, and 
 drove back his fierce foes : with the other, he led to the 
 altar Matilda, the maid of Flanders ; and all happened 
 as Lanfranc had foretold. William's most formidable 
 enemy, the King of France, ceased to conspire against 
 his new kinsman ; and the neighboring princes said, 
 " The Bastard hath become one of us since he placed by 
 his side the descendant of Charlemagne." AndMauger, 
 Archbishop of Rouen, excommunicated the duke and 
 his bride, and the ban fell idle ; for Lanfranc sent from 
 Rome the Pope's dispensation and blessing, conditionally 
 only that bride and bridegroom founded each a church. 
 And Mauger was summoned before the synod, and ac- 
 cused of unclerical crimes ; and they deposed him from 
 his state, and took from him abbacies and sees. And 
 England, every day waxed more and more Norman ; 
 
 (111) 
 
112 HAROLD. 
 
 and Edward grew more feeble and infirm, and there 
 seemed not a barrier between the Norman duke and the 
 English throne, when suddenly the wind blew in the halla 
 of heaven, and filled the sails of Harold the Earl. 
 
 And his ships came to the mouth of the Severn. And 
 the people of Somerset and Devon, a mixed and mainly 
 a Celtic race, who bore small love to the Saxons, drew 
 together against him, and he put them to flight.* 
 
 Meanwhile, Godwin and his sons Sweyn, Tostig, and 
 Gurth, who had taken refuge in that very Flanders from 
 which William the Duke had won his bride — (for Tostig 
 had wed, previously, the sister of Matilda, the rose of 
 Flanders ; and Count Baldwin had, for his sons-in-law, 
 both Tostig and William), — meanwhile, I say, these, not 
 holpen by the Count Baldwin, but helping themselves, 
 lay at Bruges, ready to join Harold the Earl. And Ed- 
 ward,' advised of this from the anxious Norman, caused 
 forty ships f to be equipped, and put them under com- 
 mand of Rolf, Earl of Hereford. The ships lay at Sand- 
 wich in wait for Godwin. But the old earl got from them, 
 and landed quietly on the southern coast. And the fort 
 of Hastings opened to his coming with a shout from its 
 armed men. 
 
 All the boatmen, all the mariners, far and near, 
 thronged to him, with sail and with shield, with sword 
 and with oar. All Kent (the foster-mother of the 
 Saxons) sent forth the cry, "Life or death with Earl 
 
 * Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. ■(■ Some writers say fifty 
 
HAROLD. 113 
 
 Godwin."* Fast over the length and breadth of the 
 land went the bodes f and riders of the earl ; and hosts, 
 with one voice, answered the cry of the children of 
 Horsa, "Life or death with Earl Godwin." And the 
 ships of King Edward, in dismay, turned flag and prow 
 to London, and the fleet of Harold sailed on. So the 
 old earl met his young son on the deck of a war-ship, 
 that had once borne the Raven of the Dane, 
 
 Swelled and gathering sailed the armament of the 
 EngKsh men. Slow up the Thames it sailed, and on 
 either shore marched tumultuous the swarming multi- 
 tudes. And King Edward sent after more help, but it 
 came up very late. So the fleet of the earl nearly faced 
 the Juliet Keape of London, and abode at Southwark 
 till the flood-tide came up. When he had mustered his 
 host, then came the flood-tide. J 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 King Edward sat, not on his throne, but on a chair 
 of state, in the presence-chamber of his palace of West* 
 minster. His diadem, with the three zimmes shaped into 
 a triple trefoil § on his brow, his sceptre in his right hand. 
 
 * Hovenden. f Bodes, i. e. messengers. 
 
 J Anfflo-Saxon Chronicle. 
 
 g Or Flenr-de-lis, which seems to have been a common form of 
 ornament with the Saxon kings. 
 
 10* H 
 
114 HAROLD. 
 
 His royal robe, tight to the throat, with a broad band 
 of gold, flowed to his feet; and at the fold gathered 
 round the left knee, where now the kings of England 
 wear the badge of St. George, was embroidered a simple 
 cross.* In that chamber met the thegns and procerea 
 of his realm : but not they alone. No national Witan 
 there assembled, but a council of war, composed at least 
 one-third part of Normans — counts, knights, prelates, 
 and abbots of high degree. 
 
 And King Edward looked a king I The habitual 
 lethargic meekness had vanished from his face, and the 
 large crown threw a shadow, like a frown, over his brow. 
 His spirit seemed to have risen from the weight it took 
 from the sluggish blood of his father, Bthelred the 
 Unready, and to have remounted to the brighter and 
 earlier source of ancestral heroes. Worthy in that hour 
 he seemed to boast the blood and wield the sceptre of 
 Athelstan and Alfred. 
 
 Thus spoke the king : 
 
 " Right worthy and beloved, my ealdermen, earls, and 
 thegns of England ; noble and familiar, my friends and 
 guests, counts and chevaliers of Normandy, my mother's 
 land; and you, our spiritual chiefs, above all ties of 
 birth and country, Christendom your common appanage, 
 and from Heaven your seignories and fiefs — hear the 
 words of Edward, the King of England, under grace of 
 the Most High. The rebels are in our river ; open yonder 
 
 * Bayeux tapestry. 
 
HAROLD. 115 
 
 .attice, and you will see the piled shields glittering from 
 their barks, and hear the hum of their hosts. Not a 
 bow has yet been drawn, not a sword left its sheath ; yet 
 on the opposite side of the river are our fleets of forty 
 sail — along the strand, between our palace and the 
 gates of London, are arrayed our armies. And this 
 pause because Godwin the traitor hath demanded truce, 
 and his nuncius waits without. Are ye willing that we 
 should hear the message ? or would ye rather that we 
 dismiss the messenger unheard, and pass at once, to rank 
 and to sail, the war-cry of a Christian king, ' Holy Crosse 
 and our Lady I ' " 
 
 The king ceased, his left hand grasping firm tha 
 leopard head carved on his throne, and his sceptre un. 
 trembling in his lifted hand. 
 
 A murmur of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, the war-cry 
 of the Normans, was heard amongst the stranger-knights 
 of the audience ; but haughty and arrogant as those 
 strangers were, no one presumed to take precedence, in 
 England's danger, of men English born. 
 
 Slowly then rose Aired, Bishop of Winchester, the 
 worthiest prelate in all the land.* 
 
 " Kingly son," said the bishop, " evil is the strife be- 
 
 * The York Chronicle, ■written by an Englishman, Stubbs, gives 
 this eminent person an excellent character as peace-maker. " He 
 could make the warmest friends of foes the most hostile. " De 
 inimicissimis, amicissimos faoeret." This gentle priest had yet the 
 courage to curse the Norman Conqueror in the midst of his barons. 
 That scene is not within the range of this work, but it is very 
 strikingly told in the Chronicle. 
 
116 HAROLD. 
 
 tween men of the same blood and lineage, nor justified 
 but by extremes, which have not yet been made clear to 
 US. And ill would it sound throughout England were it 
 said that the king's council gave, perchance, his city of 
 London to sword and fire, and rent his land in twain, 
 when a word in season might have disbanded yon armies, 
 and given to your throne a submissive subject, where now 
 you are menaced by a formidable rebel Wherefore, I 
 say, admit the nuncius." 
 
 Scarcely had Aired resumed his seat, before Robert 
 the Norman prelate of Canterbury started up — a man, 
 it was said, of worldly learning — and exclaimed — 
 
 " To admit the messenger is to approve the treason. 
 I do beseech the king to consult only his own royal heart 
 and royal honor. Reflect — each moment of delay swells 
 the rebel hosts — strengthens their cause ; of each moment 
 they avail thenjselves, to allure to their side the misguided 
 citizens. Delay but proves our own weakness ; a king's 
 name is a tower of strength, but only when fortified by a 
 king's authority. Give the signal for — war I call it not 
 -—no — for chastisement and justice." 
 
 "As speaks my brother of Canterbury, speak I," said 
 William, Bishop of London, another Norman. 
 
 But then there rose up a form at whose rising all 
 murmurs were hushed. 
 
 Grey and vast, as some image of a gone and mightier 
 age, towered over all Siward, the son of Beorn, the great 
 Barl of Northumbria. 
 
 " We have nought to do with the Normans. Were 
 
HAROLD. in 
 
 they on the river, and our countrymen, Dane or Saxon, 
 alone in this hall, small doubt of the King's choice, and 
 niddering were the man who spoke of peace ; but when 
 Norman advises the dwellers of England to go forth and 
 slay each other, no sword of mine shall be drawn at his 
 hest. Who shall say that Siwatd of the Strong Arm, 
 the grandson of the Berserker, ever turned from a foe ? 
 The foe, son of Ethelred, sits in these halls ; I iight thy 
 battles when I say Nay to the Norman ! Brothers-in- 
 arms of the kindred race and common tongue, Dane and 
 Saxon long intermingled, proud alike of Canute the 
 glorious and Alfred the wise, ye will hear the man whom 
 Godwin, our countryman, sends to us ; he at least will 
 speak our tongue, and he knows our laws. If the demand- 
 he delivers be just, such as a king should grant, and our 
 Witan should hear, woe to him who refuses ; if unjust be 
 the demand, shame to him who accedes. Warrior sends 
 to warrior, countryman to countryman ; hear we as coun- 
 trymen, and judge as warriors. I have said." 
 
 The utmost excitement and agitaition followed the 
 speech of Siward, — unanimous applause from the Saxons, 
 even those who in times of peace were most under the 
 Norman contagion ; but no words can paint the wrath 
 and scorn of the Normans. They spoke loud and many 
 at a time ; the greatest disorder prevailed. But the 
 majority being English, there could be no doubt as to 
 the decision, and Edward, to whom the emergence gave 
 both a dignity and presence of mind rare to him, resolved 
 lO terminate the dispute at once. He stretched forth his 
 
118 HAROLD. 
 
 sceptre, and motioning to his chamberlain, bade him in- 
 troduce the nuncius.* 
 
 A blank disappointment, not unmixed with apprehen- 
 sive terror, succeeded the turbulent excitement of the 
 Normans ; for well they knew that the consequences, if 
 not condition, of negotiations, would be their own downfall 
 and banishment at the least ; — happy, it might be, to 
 escape massacre at the hands of the exasperated multi- 
 tude. 
 
 The door at the end of the room opened, and the nun- 
 cius appeared. He was a sturdy, broad-shouldered man, 
 of middle age, and in the long loose garb originally 
 national with the Saxon, though then little in vogue ; 
 his beard thick and fair, his eyes grey and calm — a chief 
 of Kent, where all the prejudices of his race were strong- 
 est, and whose yeomanry claimed in war the hereditary 
 right to be placed in the front of battle. 
 
 He made his manly but deferential salutation to the 
 august council as he approached ; and pausing midway 
 between the throne and door, he fell on his knees with- 
 out thought of shame, for the king to whom he knelt was 
 the descendant of Woden, and the heir of Hengist. At 
 a sign and a brief word from the king, still on his knees 
 Vebba, the Kentman, spoke. 
 
 " To Edward, son of Ethelred, his most gracious king 
 and lord, Godwin, son of Wolnoth, sends faithful and 
 
 * Heralds, though probably the word is Saxon, were not then 
 known in the modern acceptation of the word. The name given 
 to the messenger or envoy who fulfilled that oiEce was bode or 
 nuncius. 
 
HAROLD. 119 
 
 humble greeting, by Vebba, the thegn-born. He prays 
 the king to hear him in kindness, and judge of him with 
 mercy. Not against the king comes he hither with ships 
 and arms ; but against those only who would stand be- 
 tween the king's heart and the subject's : those who have 
 divided a house against itself, and parted son and father, 
 man and wife. — " 
 
 At those last words Edward's sceptre trembled in his 
 hand, and his face grew almost stern. 
 
 " Of the king, Godwin but prays with all submiss and 
 earnest prayer, to reverse the unrighteous outlawry against 
 him and his ; to restore to him and his sons their just 
 possessions and well-won honors ; and, more than all, to 
 replace them where they have sought by loving service 
 not unworthily to stand, in the grace of their born lord, 
 and in the van of those who would uphold the laws and 
 liberties of England. This done — the ships sail back to 
 their haven ; the thegn seeks his homestead, and the ceorl 
 returns to the plough ; for with Godwin are no strangers : 
 and his force is but the love of his countrymen." 
 
 " Hast thou said ? " quoth the king. 
 
 "I have said." 
 
 "Retire, and await our answer." 
 
 The Thegn of Kent was then led back into an ante- 
 room, in which, armed from head to heel in ring-mail, 
 were several Normans whose youth or station did not 
 admit them into the council, but still of no mean interest 
 in the discussion, from the lands and possessions they had 
 already contrived to gripe out of the demesnes of the 
 
120 HAROLD. 
 
 exiles ; — onrning for battle and. eager for the word. 
 Amongst these was Mallet de Graville. 
 
 The Norman yalor of this young knight was, as we 
 have seen, guided by Norman intelligence ; and he had 
 not disdained, since William's departure, to study the 
 tongue of the country in which he hoped to exchange his 
 mortgaged tower on the Seine, for some fair barony on 
 the Humber or the Thames. 
 
 While the rest of his proud conntrymen stood aloof, 
 with eyes of silent scorn, from the homely nuncius. Mallet 
 approached him with courteous bearing, i,nd said in 
 Saxon : — 
 
 " May I crave to know the issue of thy message from 
 the reb — that is, from the doughty earl?" 
 
 "I wait to learn it," said Tebba, bluffly. 
 
 " They heard thee throughout, then ? " 
 
 "Throughout." 
 
 "Friendly sir," said the Sire de Graville, seeking to 
 subdue the tone of irony habitual to him, and acquired, 
 perhaps, from his maternal ancestry, the Franks. 
 " Friendly and peace-making sir, dare I so far venture to 
 intrude on the secrets of thy mission as to ask if Godwin 
 demands, among other reasonable items, the head of thy 
 humble servant — not byname, indeed, for my name is as 
 yet unknown to him — but as one of the unhappy class 
 called Normans ?" 
 
 "Had Earl Godwin," returned the nuncius, "thought 
 fit to treat for peace by asking vengeance, he would have 
 chosen other spokesman. The earl asks but his own ; 
 
HAROLD. 121 
 
 and thy head is not, I trow, a part of his goods and 
 chattels." 
 
 " This is comforting," said Mallet. " Marry, I thank 
 thee, Sir Saxon ; and thou speakest like a brave man and 
 an honest. And if we fall to blows, as I suspect we 
 shall, I should deem it a favor of our Lady the Yirgia 
 if she send thee across my way. Next to a fair fi-iend, I 
 love a bold foe." 
 
 Vebba smiled, for he liked the sentiment, and the tone 
 and air of the young knight pleased his rough mind, 
 despite his prejudices against the stranger. 
 
 Encouraged by the smile. Mallet seated himself on the 
 corner of the long table that skirted the room, and with 
 a debonnair gesture, invited Vebba to do the same ; then 
 looking at him gravely, he resumed — 
 
 " So frank and courteous thou art. Sir Envoy, that I 
 yet intrude on thee my ignorant and curious questions." 
 
 "Speak out, Norman." 
 
 " How comes it, then, that you English so love this 
 Earl Godwin ? — Still more, why think you it right and 
 proper that King Edward should love him too ? It is a 
 question I have often asked, and to which I am not likely 
 in these halls to get answer satisfactory. If I know 
 aught of your troublous history, this same earl has 
 changed sides oft eno' ; first for the Saxon, then for 
 Canute the Dane — Canute dies, and your friend takes 
 up arms for the Saxon again. He yields to the advice 
 of your Witan, and sides with Hardicanute and Harold, 
 ihe Danes — a letter, nathless, is written as from Emma, 
 
 I. — 11 
 
122 HAROLD. 
 
 the mother to the youDg Saxon princes, Edward and 
 Alfred, inviting them over, to England, and promising 
 aid ; the saints protect Edward, who continues to say 
 aves in Normandy — Alfred comes over, Earl Godwin 
 meets him, and unless belied, does him homage, and 
 swears to him faith. Nay, listen yet. This Godwin, 
 whom ye love so, then leads Alfred and his train to the 
 ville of Guildford, I think ye call it, — fair quarters enow. 
 At the dead of the night rush in King Harold's men, 
 seize prince and follower, six hundred men in all ; and 
 next morning, saving only every tenth man, they are 
 tortured and put to death. The prince is borne off to 
 London, and shortly afterwards his eyes are torn out in 
 the Islet of Ely, and he dies of the anguish I That ye 
 should love Earl Godwin withal may be strange, but yet 
 possible. But is it possible, cher Envoy, for the king to 
 love the man who thus betrayed his brother to the 
 shambles? " 
 
 " All this is a Norman fable," said the Thegn of Kent, 
 with a disturbed visage ; " and Godwin cleared himself 
 on oath of all share in the foul murder of Alfred." 
 
 " The oath, I have heard, was backed," said the knight 
 dryly, " by a present to Hardicanute, who, after the death 
 of King Harold, resolved to avenge the black butchery ; 
 a present, I say, of a gilt ship manned by four-score 
 warriors, with gold-hilted swords, and gilt helms. — But 
 let this pass." 
 
 "Let it pass," echoed Tebba, with a sigh. "Bloody 
 were those times, and unholy their secrets." 
 
HAROLD. 123 
 
 "Yet, answer me still, why love you Earl Godwin? 
 He hath changed sides from party to party, and in each 
 change won lordships and lands. He is ambitious and 
 grasping, ye all allow; for the ballads sung in your 
 streets liken him to the thorn and the bramble, at JH-hich 
 the sheep leaves his wool. He is haughty and overbear- 
 ing. Tell me, Saxon, frank Saxon, why you love 
 Godwin the Earl ? Fain would I know ; for, please the 
 saints (and you and your earl so permitting), I mean to 
 live and die in this merrie England ; and it would be 
 pleasant to learn that I have but to do as Earl Godwin, 
 in order to win love from the English." 
 
 The stout Vebba looked perplexed ; but after stroking 
 his beard thoughtfully, he answered thus — 
 
 " Though of Kent, and therefore in his earldom, I am 
 not one of Godwin's especial party; for that reason was 
 I chosen his bode. Those who are under him doubtless 
 love a chief liberal to give and strong to protect. The 
 old age of a great leader gathers reverence, as an oak 
 gathers moss. But to me, and those like me, living 
 peaceful at home, shunning courts, and tempting not 
 broils, Godwin the man is not dear — it is Godwin the 
 thing. '^ 
 
 " Though I do my best to know your language," said 
 the knight; "ye have phrases that might puzzle King 
 Solomon. What meanest thou by ' Godwin the thing ? ' " 
 
 " That which to us Godwin only seems to uphold. 'We 
 love justice ; whatever his offences, Godwin was banished 
 DTJustly. We love our laws ; Godwin was dishonored 
 
IM HAROLD. 
 
 4)y maintaining them. We love England, and are devoured 
 by strangers; Godwin's cause is England's, and — 
 stranger, forgive me for not concluding." 
 
 Then, examining the young Norman with a look of 
 rough compassion, he laid his large hand upon tlin 
 knight's shoulder and whispered, — 
 
 "Take my advice — and fly." 
 
 "Fly I" said De Graville, reddening. "Is it to fly, 
 think you, that I have put on my mail, and girded my 
 sword ? " 
 
 "Vain — vain 1 Wasps are fierce, but the swarm is 
 doomed when the straw is kindled. I tell you this — fly 
 in time, and you are safe ; but let the king be so mis- 
 guided as to count on arms, and strive against yon 
 multitude, and verily before nightfall not one Norman 
 will be found alive within ten miles of the city. Look to 
 it, youth I Perhaps thou hast a mother — let her not 
 mourn a son 1 " 
 
 Before the Norman could shape into Saxon sufliciently 
 polite and courtly his profound and indignant disdain of 
 the counsel, his sense of the impertinence with which his 
 shoulder had been profaned, and his mother's son had 
 been warned, the nuncius was again summoned into the 
 presence-chamber. Nor did he return into the ante-room, 
 but conducted forthwith from the council — his brief 
 answer received — to the stairs of the pdlace, he reached 
 the boat in which he had come, and was rowed back to 
 the ship that held the earl and his sons. 
 
 Now this was the manoeuvre of Godwin's array. His 
 
HAEOLD. 125 
 
 vessels having passed London Bridge, had rested, aw hile 
 on the banks of the Southward suburb (South-weorde) 
 — since called Southwark — and the king's ships lay to 
 the north ; but the fleet of the earl's, after a brief halt, 
 veered majestically round, and coming close to the palace 
 of Westminster, inclined northward, as if to hem ths 
 king's ships. Meanwhile the land forces drew up close 
 to the Strand, almost within bow-shot of the jking's 
 troops, that kept the ground inland ; thus Yebba saw 
 before him, so near as scarcely to be distinguished from 
 each other, on the river the rival, fleets, on the shore the 
 rival armaments. 
 
 High above all the vessels towered the majestic bark, 
 or sesca, that had borne Harold from the Irish shores. 
 Its fashion was that of the ancient sea-kings, to one of 
 whom it had belonged. Its curved and mighty prow, 
 richly gilded, stood out far above the waves : the prow, 
 the head of the sea-snake ; the stern its spire ; head and 
 spire alike glittering in the sun. 
 
 The boat drew up to the lofty side of the vessel, a 
 ladder was lowered, the nnncius ascended lightly and 
 stood on deck. At thfi farther end grouped the saibrs, 
 few in number, and at respectful distance from the earl 
 and his sous. 
 
 Godwin himself was but half-armed. His head was 
 bare, nor had he other weapon of offence than the gilt 
 battle-axe of the Danes — weapon as much of office as 
 of war ; but his broad breast was covered with tlie ring- 
 mail of the time. His stature was lower than that of 
 11* 
 
126 HAROLD. 
 
 aty of his sons ; tior did his form exhibit greater physi- 
 cal strength than that of a man, well-shaped, robust, and 
 deep of chest, who still preserved in age the pith and 
 sinew of mature manhood. Neither, indeed, did legend 
 or fame ascribe to that eminent personage those romantic 
 achievements, those feats of purely animal prowess, which 
 distinguished his rival Siward. Brave he was, but bravo 
 as a leader; those faculties in which he appears to have 
 excelled all his contemporaries, were more analogous to 
 the requisites of success in civilized times, than those 
 which won renown of old. And perhaps England was 
 the only country then in Europe which could have given 
 to those faculties their fitting career. He possessed essen- 
 tially the arts of party ; he knew how to deal with vast 
 iiiasses of mankind ; he could carry along with its inter- 
 ests the fervid heart of the multitude ; he had in the 
 highest degree that gift, useless in most other lands — in 
 all lands where popular assemblies do not exist — the gift 
 of popular eloquence. Ages elapsed, after the Norman 
 conquest, ere eloquence again became a power in Bng- 
 lai d.* 
 
 But like all men renowned for eloquence, he went with 
 the popular feeling of his times ; he embodied its passions, 
 its prejudices — but also that keen sense of self-interest, 
 which is the invariable characteristic of a multitude. He 
 was the sense of the commonalty carried to its highest 
 degree. Whatever the faults, it may be the crimes, of a 
 
 * When the chronicler praises the gift of speech, he uncon- 
 sciously proves the existence of constitutional freedom. 
 
HAROLD. 127 
 
 career singularly prosperous and splendid, amidst events 
 the darkest and most terrible, — shining with a steady 
 light across the thunder-clouds, — he was never accused 
 of cruelty or outrage to the mass of the people. Eng- 
 lish, emphatically, the English deemed him ; and this not 
 the less that in his youth he had sided with Canute, and 
 owed his fortunes to that king ; for so intermixed were 
 Danes and Saxons in England, that the agreement which 
 had given to Canute one half the kingdom, had been 
 received with general applause : and the earlier severities 
 of that great prince had been so redeemed in his later 
 years by wisdom and mildness — so, even in the worst 
 period of his reign, relieved by extraordinary personal 
 affability, and so lost now in men's memories by pride in 
 his power and fame, — that Canute had left behind him a 
 beloved and honored name,* and Godwin was the more 
 esteemed as the chosen counsellor of that popular prince 
 At his death, Godwin was known to have wished, and 
 even armed, for the restoration of the Saxon line ; and 
 only yielded to the determination of the Witan, no doubt 
 acted upon by the popular opinion. Of one dark crime 
 he was suspected ; and, despite his oath to the contrary, 
 and the formal acquittal of the national council, doubt 
 of his guilt rested then, as it rests still, upon his name ; 
 
 * Recent Danish historians have in vain endeavored to detract 
 from the reputation of Canute as an English monarch. The Danes 
 are, doubtless, the best authorities for his character in Denmark. 
 But our own English authorities are sufficiently decisive as to the 
 personal popularity of Canute in this country, and the affection 
 entertained for his laws. 
 
128 HAROT^D. 
 
 viz. tne perfidious ;surreiider of Alfred, Edward'3 mur- 
 dered brother. 
 
 But time had passed over the dismal tragedy ; and 
 there was an instinctive and prophetic feeling throughout 
 the English nation, that with the House of Godwin was 
 idjntified the cause of the English people. Everything 
 in this man's aspect served to plead in his favor. His 
 ample brows were calm with benignity and thought ; his 
 large, dark-blue eyes were serene and mild, though their 
 expression, when examined, was close and inscrutable; 
 His mien was singularly noble, but wholly without for- 
 mality or affected state ; and though haughtiness and 
 arrogance were largely attributed to him, they could be 
 found only in his deeds, not manner — plain, familiar, 
 kindly to all men, his heart seemed as open to the service 
 of his countrymen as his hospitable door to their wants. 
 
 Behind him stood the stateliest group of sons that ever 
 filled with pride a father's eye. Each strikingly distin- 
 guished from the other, all remarkable for beauty of 
 countenance and strength of frame. 
 
 Sweyn, the eldest,* had the dark hues of his mother, 
 
 * Some of our historians erroneously represent Harold as tie 
 eldest son. But Florence, the test authority we have, in the silecce 
 of the Saxon Chronicle, as well as Knyghton, distinctly states Sweyn 
 to be the eldest; Harold was the second, and Tostig was the third. 
 Sweyn's seniority seems corroborated by the greater importance 
 of his earldom. The Norman chroniclers, in their spite to Harold, 
 wish to make him junior to Tostig — for the reasons evident at the 
 close of this work. And the Norwegian chronicler, Snorro Sturle- 
 Bon, says that Harold was the youngest of all the sons; so little 
 was really known, or cared to be accurately known of that great 
 house which so nearly founded a new dynasty of English kings. 
 
HAROI.I>. 129 
 
 the Dane : a wild and mournful majesty sat upon features 
 aquiline and regular, but wasted by grief or passion ; 
 raven locks, glossy even in neglect, fell half over eyes 
 hollow in their sockets, but bright, though with troubled 
 fire. Over his shoulder he wore his mighty axe. His 
 form, spare, but of immense power, was sheathed in mail, 
 and he leant on hia great pointed Danish shield. At his 
 feet sat his young son Haco, a boy with a countenance 
 preternaturally thaughtful. for his years, which were yet 
 those of childhood. 
 
 Next to him stood the most dreaded and ruthless of 
 the sons of Godwin — he, fated to become to, the Saxon 
 what Julian was to the Goth. With hia arms folded on 
 his breast stood Tostig; his face was beautiful as a 
 Greek's, in all save the forehead, which was low and 
 lowering. Sleek and trim were his bright chesnnt locks ; 
 and his arms were damascened with silver, for he was 
 one who loved the pomp and luxury of war. 
 
 Wolnothj, the mother's favorite, seemed yet in the first 
 flower of youth, but he alone of all the sons had some- 
 thing irresolute and effeminate in. his aspect and bearing ; 
 his form, though tall,, had not y«t come to its full height 
 and strength; and, as if the weight of mail were unuscal 
 to him, he leant with both hands upon the wood of nis 
 long spear. Leofwine, who stood next to Wolnoth, con- 
 trasted him notably ; his sunny locks wreathed carelessly 
 over a white unclouded brow, and the silken hair on the 
 upper lip quivered over arch lips, smiling, even in thai 
 serious hour. 
 
 11* I 
 
130 HAROLD. 
 
 At (Godwin's right hand, but not immediately near 
 him, stood the last of the group, Gurth and Harold. 
 Gurth had passed his arm over the shoulder of his bro- 
 ther, and not watching the nuncius while he spoke, 
 watched only the eflfect his words produced on the face 
 of Harold. For Gurth loved Harold as Jonathan loved 
 David. And Harold was the only one of the group not 
 armed ; and had a veteran skilled in war been asked who 
 of that group was born to lead armed men, he would 
 have pointed to the man unarmed. 
 
 "So what says the- king?" asked Earl Godwin. 
 
 " This : he refuses to restore thee and thy sons, or to 
 hear thee, till thou hast disbanded thine army, dismissed 
 thy ships, and consented to clear thyself and thy house 
 before the Witanagemot." 
 
 A fierce laugh broke from Tostig ; Sweyn's mournful 
 brow grew darker ; Leofwine placed his right hand on 
 his ateghar ; Wolnoth rose erect ; Gurth kept his eyes 
 on Harold, and Harold's face was unmoved. 
 
 " The king received thee in his council of war," said 
 Godwin, thoughtfully, " and doubtless the Normans were 
 there. Who were the Englishmen most of mark ? " 
 
 " Siward of Northumbria, thy foe." 
 
 " My sons," said the earl, turning to his children, and 
 breathing loud as if a load were off his heart; "there 
 will be no need of axe or armor to-day. Harold alone 
 was wise," and he pointed to the linen tunic of the son 
 thus cited. 
 
 "What mean you. Sir Father?" said Tostig im- 
 periously. " Think you to " 
 
HAROLD. 131 
 
 " Peace, son, peace ; " said Godwin, without asperity, 
 but with conscions command. "Return, brave and dear 
 friend," he said to Vebba, "find out Siward the earl; 
 tell bim that I, Godwin, his foe in the old time, place 
 honor and life in his hands, and what he counsels that 
 villi we do. — Go." 
 
 The Kentman nodded, and regained his boat. Then 
 spoke Harold. 
 
 " Father, yonder are the forces of Edward ; as yet 
 without leaders, since the chiefs must be still in the halls 
 of the king. Some fiery Norman amongst them may 
 provoke an encounter ; and this city of London is not 
 won, as it behoves us to win it, if one drop of English 
 blood dye the sword of one Englishman. "Wherefore, 
 with your leave, I will take boat, and land. And unless 
 I have lost in my absence all right lere in the hearts of 
 our countrymen, at the first shout from our troops which 
 proclaims that Harold, son of Godwin, is on the soil of 
 our fathers, half yon array of spears and helms pass a', 
 once to our side." 
 
 "And if not, my vain brother?" said Tostig, gnawing 
 his lip with envy. 
 
 "And if not, I will rid« alone into the midst of them, 
 
 and ask what Englishmen are there who will aim sh.ift 
 
 or spear at this breast, never mailed against England I " 
 
 Godwin placed his hand on Harold's head, and the 
 
 tears came to those close cold eyes. 
 
 " Thou knowest by nature what I have learned by art. 
 Go, and prosper. Be it as thou wilt." 
 
132 HAROI.D. 
 
 " He takes thy post, Sweyn— thou art the elder," said 
 Tostig, to the wild form by his side. 
 
 " There is guilt on my soul, and woe in my heart," 
 answered Sweyn, moodily. " Shall Esau lose his birth- 
 right, and Cain retain it ? " So saying, he withdrew, 
 and, reclii\ing against the stern of the vessel, leant his 
 face upon the edge of his shield. 
 
 Karold watched him with deep compassion in his eyes, 
 passed to his side with a quick step, pressed his hand, 
 and whispered, " Peace to the past, O my brother 1 " 
 
 The boy Haco, who had noiselessly followed his father, 
 lifted his sombre, serious looks to Harold as he thus 
 spoke ; and when Harold turned away, he said to Sweyn, 
 timidly, "He, at least, is ever good to thee and to me." 
 
 "And thou, when I am no more, shalt cling to him as 
 thy father, Haco," answered Sweyn, tenderly smoothing 
 back the child's dark locks. 
 
 The boy shivered ; and, bending his head, murmured 
 to himself, " When thou art no more 1 No more I Has 
 the Vala doomed /w'w, too ? Father and son, both V 
 
 Meanwhile, Harold had entered the boat lowered from 
 the sides of the sesca to receive him ; and Gurth, looking 
 appealingly to his father, and seeing no sign of dissent, 
 sprang down after the young earl, and seated himself by 
 his side. 
 
 Godwin followed the boa,t with musing eyes. 
 
 "Small need," said he aloud, but to himself, "to be- 
 lieve in soothsayers, or to credit Hilda the saga, when 
 sne prophesied, ere we left our shores, that Harold— — " 
 
HAROLD. 133 
 
 He stopped short, for Tostig's wrathful exclamation broke 
 on his reverie. 
 
 " Father, father I My blood surges in my ears, and 
 boils in my heart, when I hear thee name the prophecies 
 of Hilda in favor of thy darling. Dissension and strife 
 in our house have they wronglit already ; and if the feuds 
 between Harold and me have sown grey in thy locks, 
 thank thyself when, flushed with vain soothsayings for 
 thy favored Harold, thou saidst, in the hour of our first 
 childish broil, ' Strive not with Harold ;, for his brothers 
 will be his men.'" 
 
 "Falsify the prediction," said Godwin calmly; "wise- 
 men may always make their own future, and seize their 
 own fetes. Prudence, patience, labor, valor; these are 
 the stars that rule the career of mortals." 
 
 Tostig made no answer ; for th« splash of oars was 
 near, and two ships, containing the principal chiefs that 
 had joined Godwin's cause, eame alongside the Runic 
 eesca to hear the result of the message sent to the king. 
 Testing sprang to the vessel's side, and exclaimed, " The 
 king, girt by his false counsellors, will hear us not, and 
 arms must decide between us." 
 
 "Hold, hold I malignant, unhappy boyI"ci'ied God- 
 win, between his grinded teeth; as a shout of indignant, 
 yet joyous ferocity, broke from the crowded ships thus 
 hailed. " The curse of all time be on him who draws the 
 first native blood in sight of the altars and hearths of 
 London I Hear me, thou with the vulture's blood-lust, 
 and the peacock's vain joy in the gaudy plume 1 Hear 
 I.— 12 
 
134 HAROLD. 
 
 me, Tostig, and tremble. If but by one word thou widen 
 the breach between me and the king, outlaw thou enterest 
 England, outlaw shalt thou depart — for earldom and 
 broad lands, choose the bread of the stranger, and the 
 weregeld of the wolf I" 
 
 The young Saxon, haughty as he was, quailed at his 
 father's thrilling voice, bowed his head, and retreated 
 sullenly. Godwin sprang on the deck of the nearest 
 vessel, and all the passions that Tostig had aroused, he 
 exerted his eloquence to appease. 
 
 In the midst of his arguments, there rose from the 
 ranks on the strand, the shout of " Harold I Harold the 
 Earl 1 Harold and Holy Crosse ! " And Godwin, turn- 
 ing his eye to the king's ranks, saw them agitated, swayed, 
 and moving ; till suddenly from the very heart of the 
 hostile array, came, as by irresistible impulse, the cry — 
 " Harold, our Harold 1 All hail, the good Earl I " 
 
 While this chanced without, — within the palace, 
 Edward had quitted the presence-chamber, and was 
 closeted with Stigand, the bishop. This prelate had the 
 more influence with Edward, inasmuch as though Saxon, 
 he was held to be no enemy to the Normans, and had, 
 indeed on a former occasion, been deposed from his 
 bishopric on the charge of too great an attachment to 
 the Norman Queen-mother Emma.* Never in his whole 
 life had Edward been so stubborn as on this occasion. 
 
 * Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, A. D. 1043. " Stigand was deposed 
 from Ms bishopric, and all that he possessed was seized iuto the 
 king's hands, because he was received to his mother's counpel, and 
 
HAROLD. 135 
 
 For here, more than his realm was concerned, he was 
 threatened in the peace of his household, and the com- 
 fort of his tepid friendships. With the recall of his 
 powerful father-in-law, he foresaw the necessary reintru- 
 sion of his wife upon the charm of his chaste solitude. 
 His favorite Normans would he banished, he should be 
 surrounded with faces he abhorred. All the representa- 
 tions of Stigand fell upon a stern and unyielding spirit, 
 when Siward entered the king's closet. 
 
 " Sir, my king," said the great son of Beorn, " I 
 yielded to your kingly will in the council, that, before we 
 listened to Godwin, he should disband his men, and sub- 
 mit to the judgment of the Witan. The earl hath sent 
 to me to say, that he will put honor and life ia my keep- 
 ing, anil abide by my counsel. And I have answered as 
 became the man who will never snare a foe, or betray a 
 trust." 
 
 "How hast thou answered?" asked the king. 
 
 " That he abide by the laws of England, as Dane and 
 Saxon ag reed to abide in the days of Canute ; that he 
 and his sons shall make no claim for land or lordship, 
 but subniit all to the Witan." 
 
 " Good J' said the king ; " and the Witan will condemn 
 him now, as it would have condemned when he shunned 
 to meet it ? " 
 
 she went just as lie advised her, as people thought." The saintly 
 Confessor dealt with his bishops as summarily as Henry VIII 
 could have done, after his quarrel with the Pope. 
 
1S6 HAROLD 
 
 " Aud the Witan now," returned the earl, emphatic- 
 ally, "will be free, and fair, and just." 
 
 "And meanwhile the troops " 
 
 " Will wait on either side ; and if reason fail, then the 
 sword," said Siward. 
 
 " This I will not hear," exclaimed Edward ; when the 
 tramp of many feet thundered along the passage; th3 
 door was flung open, and several captains (Norman as 
 well as Saxon) of the king's troops rushed in, wild, rude, 
 and tumultuous. 
 
 " The troops desert 1 half their ranks have thrown down 
 -their arms at the very name of Harold I" exclaimed the 
 Earl of Hereford. "Curses on the knaves 1" 
 
 " And their lithsmen of London," cried a Saxon thegn, 
 " are all on hjs side, and marching already through the 
 gates." 
 
 " Pause yet," whispered Stigand ; " and who shall say, 
 this hour to-morrow, if Edward or Godwin reign on the 
 throne of Alfred?" 
 
 His stern heart moved by the distress of his king, and 
 not the less for the unwonted firmness which Edward 
 displayed, Siward here approached, knelt, and took tlie 
 king's hand. 
 
 " Siward can give no niddering counsel to his king ; fo 
 save the blood of his subjects is never a king's disgrace. 
 Yi«ld-thou to mercy — Godwin to the law!" 
 
 "Oh for the cowl and cell I " exclaimed the prince, 
 wringing his hands. "Oh Norman home, why did J 
 leave thee ? " 
 
HAROLD. 13T 
 
 He took the cross from his breast, contemplated it 
 fixedly, prayed silently but with fervor, and his face 
 again became tranquil. 
 
 " Go," he said, flinging himself on his seat in the ex- 
 haustion that follows passion, " Go, Siward, go Stigand, 
 deal with things mundane as ye will." 
 
 The bishop, satisfied with this reluctant acquiescence, 
 seized Siward by the arm and withdrew him from the 
 closet. The captains remained a few moments behind, 
 the Saxons silently gazing on the king, the Normans 
 whispering each other, in great doubt and trouble, and 
 darting looks of the bitterest scorn at their feeble bene- 
 factor. Then, as with one accord, these last rushed 
 along the corridor, gained the hall where their country- 
 men yet assembled, and exclaimed, "A toute bride! Franc 
 ttrier ! — All is lost bat life I — God for the first man, — 
 knife and cord for the last ! " 
 
 Then, as the cry of fire, or as the first crash of an 
 earthquake, dissolves all union, and reduces all emotion 
 into one thought of self-saving, the whole conclave, 
 crowding pell-mell on each other, bustled, jostled, 
 clamored to the door — happy he who could fi,nd horse — 
 palfrey, — even monk's mule I This way, that way, fled 
 those lordly Normans, those martial abbots, those mitred 
 bishops — some singly, some in pairs ; some by tens, and 
 some by scores ; but all prudently shunning association 
 with those chiefs whom they had most courted the day 
 before, and who, they now knew, would be the main 
 mark for revenge ;, save only two, who yet, from that awa 
 12* 
 
138 HAROLD. 
 
 of the spiritual power which characterized the Norman, 
 wha was already half monk, half soldier, (Crusader and 
 Templar before Crusades were yet preached, or the Tem- 
 plars yet dreamed of), — even in that hour of selfish panic 
 rallied round them the prowest chivalry of their country- 
 men, viz., the Bishop of London and the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury. Both these dignitaries, armed cap-d-piS, 
 and spear in hand, headed the flight ; and good service 
 that day, both as guide and champion, did Mallet de 
 Graville. He led them in a circuit behind both armies, 
 but being intercepted by a new body, coming from the 
 pastures of Hertfordshire to the help of Godwin, he was 
 compelled to take the bold and desperate resort of enter- 
 ing the city gates. These were wide open ; whether to 
 admit the Saxon earls, or vomit forth their allies, the 
 Londoners. Through these, up the narrow streets, riding 
 three a-breast, dashed the slaughtering fugitives ; worthy 
 in flight of their national renown, they trampled down 
 every obstacle. Bodies of men drew up against them at 
 every angle, with the Saxon cry of " Out 1 — Out!" 
 " Down with the outland men I " Through each, spear 
 pierced, and sword clove the way. Red with gore was 
 the spear of the prelate of London ; broken to the hilt 
 was the sword militant in the terrible hand of the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury. So on they rode, so on they 
 slaughtered — gained the Eastern Gate, and passed with 
 but two of their number lost. 
 
 The fields once gained, for better precaution they se- 
 oarated. Some few, not quite ignorant of the Saxon 
 
HAROLD. .39 
 
 tongae, doffed their mail, and crept through forest and 
 fell towards the sea-shore ; others retained steed and 
 arms, but shunned equally the high roads. The two pre- 
 lates were among the last ; they gained, in safety, Ness, 
 in Essex, threw themselves into an open, crazy, fishing- 
 boat, committed themselves to the waves, and, half 
 drowned and half famished, drifted over the Channel to 
 the French shores. Of the rest of the courtly foreigners, 
 some took refuge in the forts yet held by their country- 
 men ; some lay concealed in creeks and caves till they 
 could find or steal boats for their passage. And thus, in 
 the year of our Lord 1052, occurred the notable disper- 
 sion and ignominious flight of the counts and vavasours 
 of great William the Duke 1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Witana-gemot was assembled in the Great Hall 
 of Westminster in all its imperial pomp. 
 
 It was on his throne that the King sate now — and it 
 was the sword that was in his right hand. Some seated 
 below, and some standing beside, the throne, were the 
 ofiScers of the Basileus* of Britain. There, were to be 
 
 * The title of Basileus was retained by our kings so late as the 
 time of John, who styled himself ■' Totius Insulse Britannicse Ba- 
 sileus." — Agabd : On the Anliquity of Shires in England, ap Hearne, 
 Cur. Disc. 
 
140 HAROLD. 
 
 seen camararius and pincerna, chamberlain and cup- 
 bearer ; disc thegn and hors thegn : * the thegn of the 
 dishes, and the thegn of the stud ; with many more, whose 
 state offices may not impossibly have been borrowed from 
 the ceremonial pomp of the Byzantine court ; for Edgar, 
 King of England, had in the old time styled himself the 
 Heir of Constantine. Next to these sat the clerks of the 
 chapel, with the King's confessor at their head. Officers 
 were they of higher note than their name bespeaks, and 
 wielders, in the trust of the Great Seal, of a power un- 
 known of old, and now obnoxious to the Saxon. For 
 tedious is the suit which lingers for the king's writ and 
 the king's seal ; and from those clerks shall arise hereafter 
 a thing of torture and of might, which shall grind out 
 the hearts of men, and be called Chancery I f 
 
 Below the scribes, a space was left on the floor, and 
 farther down sat the chiefs of the Witan. Of these, first 
 in order, both from their spiritual rank and their vast 
 temporal possessions, sat the Lords of the Church ; the 
 chairs of the prelates of London and Canterbury were 
 void. But still goodly was the array of Saxon mitres, 
 with the harsh, hungry, but intelligent face of Stigand, 
 
 * Sharon Turner. 
 
 j- See the Introduction to Palqravb's History of the Anglo-Saxoni, 
 from which this description of the Witan is borrowed so largely, 
 that I am loft without other apology for the plagiarism, than the 
 frank confession, that if I could have found in others, or conceived 
 from raj own resources, a description half as graphic and half as 
 accurate, I would on)y have plagiarized to half the extent I have 
 done. 
 
HAROLD. 141 
 
 Stigand the stout and the covetous ; and the benign but 
 firm features of Alfred, true priest and true patriot, dis- 
 tinguished amidst all. Around each prelate, as stars 
 round a sun, were his own special priestly retainers, se- 
 lected from his diocese. Farther still down the hall are 
 the great civil lords and vice-king vassals of the " Lord- 
 Paramount." Vacant the chair of the King of the Scots, 
 for Siward hath not yet had his wish ; Macbeth is in his 
 fastnesses, or listening to the weird sisters in the wold ; 
 and Malcolm is a fugitive in the halls of the Northum- 
 brian earl. Vacant the chair of the hero GryfFyth, son 
 of Llewelyn, the dread of the marches, Prince of Gwyned, 
 whose arms had subjugated all Cyrary. But there, are 
 the lesser sub-kings of Wales, true to the immemorial 
 schisms amongst themselves, which destroyed the realm 
 of Ambrosius, and rendered vain the arm of Arthur. 
 With their torques of gold, and wild eyes, and hair cut 
 round ears and brow,* they stare on the scene. 
 
 On the same bench with these sub-kings, distinguished 
 from them by height of stature, and calm collectedness 
 of mien, no less than by their caps of maintenance and 
 furred robes, are those props of strong thrones and 
 terrors of weak — the earls to whom shires and counties 
 fall, as hyde and carricate to the lesser thegns. But three 
 of these were then present, and all three the foes of 
 Godwin — Siward, Earl of Northumbria ; Leofric, of 
 Mercia (that Leofric whose wife Godiva yet lives in 
 
 * Girald. tiambrensis. 
 
142 HAROLD. 
 
 ballad and song) ; and Rolf, Earl of Hereford and Wor- 
 cestershire, who, strong in his claim of " king's blood," 
 left not the court with his Norman friends. And on the 
 same benches, though a little apart, are the lesser earls, 
 and that higher order of thegns, called king's thegns. 
 
 Not far from these sat the chosen citizens from the 
 free burgh of London, already of great weight in the 
 senate,* — sufficing often to turn its counsels ; all friends 
 were they of the English Earl and his house. In the 
 Bame division of the hall were found the bulk and true 
 popular part of the meeting — popular indeed — as repre- 
 senting not the people, but the things the people most 
 prized — valor and wealth ; the thegn land-owners, called 
 in the old deeds the " Ministers : " they sate with swords 
 by their side, all of varying birth, fortune, and connection, 
 whether with king, earl, or ceorl. For in the different 
 districts of the old Heptarchy, the qualification varied ; 
 high in East Anglia, low in Wessex ; so that what was 
 wealth in the one shire was poverty in the other. There 
 sate, half a yeoman, the Saxon thegn of Berkshire or 
 Dorset, proud of his five hydes of land ; there, half an 
 ealderman, the Danish thegn of Norfolk or Ely, discon- 
 tented with his forty ; some were there in right of smaller 
 offices under the crown ; some traders, and sons of 
 traders, for having crossed the high seas three times at 
 
 * Palgrave omits, I presume accidentally, these members of th» 
 Witan, but it is clear from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle that the 
 London "lithsmen" were represented in the great National Witans, 
 and helped to decide the election even of kings. 
 
HAROLD 143 
 
 their own risk ; some could boast the blood of OfTa and 
 Egbert ; and some traced but three generations back to 
 neat-herd and ploughman ; and some were Saxons, and 
 some were Danes ; and some from the western shires 
 were by origin Britons, though little cognizant of their 
 race. Farther down still, at the extreme end of the hall, 
 crowding by the open doors, filling up the space without, 
 were the ceorls themselves, a vast and not powerless 
 body : in these high courts (distinct from the shire 
 gemots, or local senates) — never called upon to vote or 
 to speak or to act, or even to sign names to the doom, 
 but only to shout " Yea, yea," when the proceres pro- 
 nounced their sentence. Yet not powerless were they, 
 but rather to the Witan, what public opinion is to the 
 Witan's successor, our modern parliament : they were 
 opinion I And according to their numbers and their 
 sentiments, easily known and boldly murmured, often and 
 often must that august court of basileus and prelate, 
 vassal-king and mighty earl, have shaped the council and 
 adjudged the doom. 
 
 And the forms of the meeting had been duly said and 
 done ; and the king had spoken words, no doubt wary 
 and peaceful, gracious and exhortatory ; but those words 
 — for bis voice that day was weak — travelled not bejond 
 the small circle of his clerks and his oiBcers ; and a 
 murmur buzzed through the hall, when Earl Godwin 
 stood on the floor with his six sons at his back ; and 
 you might have heard the hum of the gnat that vexed 
 (he smooth cheek of Earl Rolf; or the click of the spider 
 
144 HAROLD. 
 
 from the web on the vaulted roof, the moment before 
 Earl Godwin spoke. 
 
 "If," said he, with the modest look and downcast eye 
 of practised eloquence, "if I rejoice once more to breaihe 
 the air of England, in whose service, often perhaps with 
 faulty deeds, but at all times with honest thoughts, 1 
 have, both in war and council, devoted so much of my 
 life that little now remains — but (should you, my king, 
 and you, prelates, proceres, and ministers so vouchsafe) 
 to look round and select that spot of my native soil 
 which shall receive my bones; — if I rejoice to stand 
 once more in that assembly which has often listened to 
 my voice when our common country was in peril, who 
 here will blame that joy ? Who among my foes, if foes 
 now I have, will not respect the old man's gladness ? 
 Who amongst you, earls and thegns, would not grieve, 
 if his duty bade him say to the grey-haired exile, 'In 
 this English air you shall not breathe- your last sigh — 
 on this English soil you shall not find a grave I ' Who 
 amongst you would not grieve to say it ? " (Suddenly 
 he drew up his head and faced his audience.) " Who 
 amongst you hath the courage and the heart to say it ? 
 Yes, I rejoice that I am at last in an assembly fit to 
 juclge my cause, and pronounce my innocence. For 
 what offence was 1 outlawed ? Tor what offence were T, 
 and the six sons I have given to my land, to bear the 
 wolfs penalty, and be chased and slain as the wild beasts ? 
 Hear me, and answer I 
 
 " Eustace, Count of Boulogne, returning to his domains 
 
HABOLD. 145 
 
 from a visit to our lord the King, intered the town of 
 Dover in mail and on his war-steed ; his train did the 
 . same. Unknowing our laws and customs (for I desire 
 to press light upon all old grievances, and will impute 
 ill designs to none), these foreigners invade by force the 
 private dwellings of citizens, and there select their quar- 
 ters. Ye all know that this was the strongest violation 
 of Saxon right ; ye know that the meanest ceorl hath 
 the proverb on his lip, 'Every man's house is his castle.' 
 One of the townsman acting on this belief — which I 
 have yet to learn was a false one — expelled from his 
 threshold a retainer of the French Earl's. The stranger 
 drew his sword and wounded him; blows followed — 
 the stranger fell by the arm he had provoked. The news 
 arrives to Earl Eustace ; he and his kinsmen spur to 
 the spot ; they murder the Englishman ou his hearth- 
 stone. " 
 
 Here a groan, half-stifled and wrathful, broke from 
 the ceorls at the end of the hall. Godwin held up his 
 hand in rebuke of the interruption, and resumed : 
 
 "This deed done, the outlanders rode through the 
 streets with their drawn swords; they butchered those 
 who came in their way ; they trampled even children 
 nnder their horses' feet. The burghers armed. I thank 
 the Divine Father, who gave me for my countrymen 
 those gallant burghers 1 They fought, as we English 
 know how to fight ; they slew some nineteen or more of 
 these mailed intruders ; they chased them from the town. 
 Earl Eustace fled fast. Earl Eustace we know is a wbe 
 
 I. — 13 K 
 
146 HAROLD. 
 
 man: small rest took he, little bread broke he, till he 
 pulled rein at the gate of Gloucester, where my lord the 
 king then held court. He made his complaint. My. 
 lord the king, naturally hearing but one side, thought 
 the burghers in the wrong ; and, scandalized that such 
 high persons of his own kith should be so aggriered, he 
 sent for me, in whose government the burgh of Dover is, 
 and bade me chastise, by military execution, those who 
 had attacked the foreign Count. I appeal to the great 
 Earls whom I see before me — to you, illustrious Leofric ; 
 to you, renowned Siward — what value would ye set on 
 your earldoms, if ye had not the heart and the power to 
 see right done to the dwellers therein ? 
 
 " What was the course I proposed ? Instead of mar- 
 tial execution, which would involve the whole burgh in 
 one sentence, I submitted that the reeve and gerefas of 
 the burgh should be cited to appear before the king, and 
 account for the broil. My lord, though ever most cle- 
 ment and loving to his good people, either unhappily 
 moved against me, or over-swayed by the foreigners, was 
 counselled to reject this mode of doing justice, which our 
 laws, as settled under Edgar and Canute, enjoin. And 
 because I would not, — and I say in the presence of all, 
 because I, Godwin son of Wolnoth, durst not, if I would, 
 have entered the free burgh of Dover with mail on my 
 back and the dooms-man at my right hand, these out- 
 landers induced my lord the king to summon me to at- 
 tend in person (as for a sin of my own) the council of 
 the Witan, convened at Gloucester, then filled with the 
 
HAROLD. 14? 
 
 foreigners, not, as I humbly opined, to do justice to me 
 and my folk of Dover, but to secure to this Count of 
 Boulogne a triumph over English liberties, and sanction 
 his scorn for the value of English lives. 
 
 " I hesitated, and was menaced with outlawry ; I armed 
 in self-defence, and in defence of the laws of England ; I 
 armed that men might not be murdered on their hearth- 
 stones, nor children trampled under the hoofs of a 
 stranger's war-steed. My lord the king gathered his 
 troops round 'the cross and the martlets.' Yon noble 
 earls, Siward and Leofric, came to that standard, as 
 (knowing not then my cause) was their duty to the 
 Basileus of Britain. But when they knew my cause, and 
 saw with me the dwellers of the land, against me the out- 
 land aliens, they righteously interposed. An armistice 
 was concluded ; I agreed, to refer all matters to a Witan 
 held where it is held this day. My troops were disbanded : 
 but the foreigners induced my lord not only to retain his 
 own, but to issue his Herrbann for the gathering of hosts 
 far and near, even allies beyond the seas. When I looked 
 to London for the peaceful Witan, what saw I ? The 
 largest armament that had been collected in this reign — 
 that armament headed by Norman knights. Was this 
 the meeting where justice could be done mine and me ? 
 Nevertheless, what was my ofFer ? That I and my six 
 sons would attend, provided the usual sureties, agreeable 
 to our laws, from which only thieves * are excluded, were 
 
 * By Athelatan's law, every man was to have peace going to and 
 from the Witan, unless he was a thief. — Wilkins, p. 137 
 
148 HAEOLP 
 
 given that we should come and go life-free and safe. 
 Twice this offer was made, twice refused ; and so I and 
 my sons were banished. We went ; — we have returned 1" 
 
 "And in arms," murmured Earl Rolf, son-in-law to 
 that Count BuStace of Boulogne whose violence had been 
 temperately and truly narrated.* 
 
 "And in arms," repeated Godwin : " true ; in arms 
 against the foreigners who had thus poisoned the ear of 
 our gracious king; in arms. Earl Rolf; and at the first 
 clash of those arms Franks and foreigners have fled. We 
 have no need of arms now. We are amongst our coun- 
 trymen, and no Frenchman interposes between us and the 
 fever gentle, ever generous nature of our born king. 
 
 " Peers and proceres, chiefs of this Witan, perhaps the 
 /argest ever yet assembled in man's memory, it is for yott 
 to decide whether I and mine, or the foreign fugitives, 
 caused the dissension in these realms ; whether our bauish- 
 ment was just or not ; whethisr in our return we have 
 abused the power we possessed. Ministers, on those 
 swords by your sides there is not onfe drop of blood I At 
 all events, in submitting to you our fate, we submit to 
 our own laws and our own race. I am here to clear my- 
 self, on my oath, of deed and thought of treason. There 
 are amongst my peers as king's thegns, those who will 
 attest the satae otl my behalf, and prove the fafcts I have 
 stated, if they are not sufficiently notorious. As for my 
 sons, no crime can be alleged against them, unless it be 
 
 * Goda, Edward's sister, married first Rolfs father, Count of 
 Mantes ; secondly. — Count of Boulogne. 
 
HAKOLD. U9 
 
 a crime to have in their veins that blood, wiioh flows itj 
 mine — blood which they have learned from me to shed in 
 defence of that beloved land to which, they now ask to 
 be recalled." 
 
 The Earl ceased and receded behind his children, hav- 
 ing artfully, by his very abstinence from the more heated 
 eloquence imputed to him often as a fault and a wile, pro- 
 duced a powerful effect upon an audience already pre- 
 pared for his acquittal. 
 
 But now as from the sons, Sweyn the eldest stepped 
 forth, with a wandering eye and uncertain foot, there w^s 
 a movement like a shudder amongst the large majority 
 of the audience, and a murmur of hate or of horror. 
 
 The young earl marked the sensation his presence pro- 
 duced, and stopped short. His breath qame thick ; he 
 raised his right hand, but spoke not, IJis voice died on 
 his lips ; his eyes roved wildly round with a haggard stare 
 more imploring than defying. Then rose, in his episcopal 
 stole, Aired the bishop, and his clear sweet voice trem- 
 bled as he spoke. 
 
 " Comes Sweyn, son of Godwin, here, to prove his in- 
 nocence of treason against the king ? — if so, let him hold 
 his peace ; for if the Witan acquit Godwin son of Wol- 
 noth of that charge, the acquittal includes his House. 
 But in the name of the holy Church here represented by 
 its fathers, will Sweyn say, and fasten his word by oath, 
 that he is guiltless of treason to the King of Kings — . 
 guiltless of sacrilege that ray lips shrink to name? Alas, 
 tjiat the duty falls on me, -r for I loved thee cnce, and 
 13* 
 
150 HAEOLD. 
 
 lore thy kindred now. But I am God's servant before 
 all things" — the prelate paused, and gathering up new 
 energy, added in unfaltering accents, "I charge thee 
 here, Sweyn the outlaw, that, moved by the fiend, thou 
 didst bear off from God's house and violate a daughter 
 of the Church — Algive, abbess of Leominster 1 " 
 
 "And I, " cried Siward, rising to the full height of his 
 Rtature, "I, in the presence of these proceres, whose 
 proudest title is milites or warriors — I charge Svvcyn, 
 son of Godwin, that, not in open field and hand to hand, 
 but by felony and guile, he wrought the foul and abhor- 
 rent murder of his cousin, Beorn the earl I " 
 
 At these two charges from men so eminent, the effect 
 upon the audience was startling. While those not influ- 
 enced by Godwin raised their eyes, sparkling with wrath 
 and scorn, upon the wasted, yet still noble face of the 
 eldest-born ; even those most zealous on behalf of that 
 popular House evinced no sympathy for its heir. Some 
 looked down abashed and mournful — some regarded the 
 accused with a cold unpitying gaze. Only perhaps among 
 the ceorls, at the end of the hall, might be seen some 
 compassion on anxious faces ; for before those deeds of 
 crime had been bruited abroad, none among the sons of 
 Godwin more blithe of mien and bold of hand, more 
 honored and beloved, than Sweyn the outlaw. But the 
 hush that succeeded the charges was appalling in its 
 depth. Godwin himself shaded his face with his mantle, 
 and only those close by could see that his breast heaved 
 and his limbs trembled. The brothers had shrunk from 
 
BAROLD. 151 
 
 the side of the accused, outlawed even amongst his kin — 
 all save Harold, who, strong in his blameless name ana 
 beloved repute, advanced three strides amidst the silence, 
 and, standing hj his brother's side, lifted his command- 
 ing brow above the seated judges, but he did not speak. 
 
 Then said Sweyn the earl, strengthened by such soli- 
 tary companionship in that hostile assemblage, — " I might 
 answer that for these charges in the past, for deeds alleged 
 as done eight long years ago, I have the king's grace, 
 and the inlaw's right ; and that in the Witans over which 
 I as earl presided, no man was twice judged for the same 
 offence. That I hold to be the law, in the great councils 
 as the small." 
 
 " It is ! it is 1 " exclaimed Godwin ; bis paternal feel- 
 ings conquering his prudence and his decorous dignity. 
 " Hold to it, my son I " 
 
 "I hold to it not,'' resumed the young earl, casting a 
 haughty glance over the somewhat blank and disappointed 
 faces of his foes, " for my law is here " — and he smote 
 his heart — " and that condemns me not once alone, but 
 evermore I Aired, O holy father, at whose knees I once 
 confessed my every sin, — I blame thee not that thou first, 
 in the Witan, lifted thy voice against me, though thou 
 knowest that I loved Algive from youth upward ; she, 
 with her heart yet mine, was given in the last year of 
 Hardicanute, when might was right, to the Church. I 
 met her again, flushed with my victories over the Walloon 
 kings, with power in my hand and passion in my veins. 
 Deadly was my sin I — But what asked I ? that vows com- 
 
152 HAROLD. 
 
 pelled should be annulled ; that the love of my yontt* 
 might yet be the wife of my manhood. Pardon, that I 
 knew not then how eternal are the bonds ye of the Church 
 have woven round those of whom, if ye fail of saints, ye 
 may at least make martyrs I " 
 
 He paused, and his lip curled, and his eye shot wild- 
 fire ; for in that moment his mother's blood was high 
 within him, and he looked and thought, perhaps, as some 
 heathen Dane, but the flash of the former man was mo- 
 mentary, and humbly smiting his breast, he murmured, 
 "Avaunt, Satan ! — yea, deadly was my sin I And the 
 sin was mine alone ; Algive, if stained, was blameless ; 
 she escaped — and — and died I 
 
 " The king was wroth ; and first to strive against my 
 pardon was Harold my brother, who now alone in my 
 penitence stands by my side : he strove manfully and 
 openly ; I blamed him not : but Beorn, my cousin, de- 
 sired my earldom, and he strove against me, wilily and in 
 secret, — to my face kind, behind my back despiteful. I 
 detected his falsehood, and meant to detain, but not to 
 slay him. He lay bound in my ship ; he reviled and he 
 taunted me in the hour of my gloom ; and when the blood 
 of the sea-kings flowed in fire through my veins. And I 
 lifted my axe in ire ; and my men lifted theirs, and so, — ■ 
 and so! — Again I say — Deadly was my sin I 
 
 "Think not that I seek now to make less my guilt, as 
 I sought when I deemed that life was yet long, and power 
 v/as yet sweet. Since then I have known worldly evil, 
 and worldly good, — the storm and the shine of life ; I 
 
HAROLD. 153 
 
 have swept the seas, a sea-king ; I have battled with the 
 Dane in his native land ; I have almost grasped in my 
 right Land, as I grasped in my dreams, the crown of my 
 kinsman, Canute ; — again, I have been a fugitive and an 
 exile ; — again, I have been inlawed, and earl of all the 
 lands from Isis to. the Wye.* And whether in state or 
 in penury, — whether in war or in peace, I have seen tje 
 pale face of the nun betrayed, and the gory wounds of the 
 murdered man. Wherefore I come not here to plead for 
 a pardon, which would console me not, but formally to 
 dissever my kinsmen's cause from mine, which alone sul- 
 lies and degrades it ; — I come here to say, that, coveting 
 not your acquittal, fearing not your judgment, I pro- 
 nounce mine own doom. Cap of noble, and axe of war- 
 rior, I lay aside for ever ; barefooted, and alone, I go 
 hence to the Holy Sepulchre ; there to assoil my soul, 
 and implore that grace which cannot come from man 1 
 Harold, step forth in the place of Sweyn the first-born I 
 And ye prelates and peers, milites and ministers, proceed 
 to adjudge the living ! To you, and to England, he who 
 now quits you is the dead 1 " 
 
 He gathered his robe of state over his breast as a 
 monk his gown, and looking neither to right nor to left, 
 passed slowly down the hall, through the crowd, which 
 made way for him in awe and silence ; and it seemed to 
 the assembly as if a, cloud had gone from the face of 
 day. 
 
 * More correctly of Oxford, Somerset, Berkshire. Gloucester, and 
 Hereford. 
 13 » 
 
154 HAROLD. 
 
 And Godwin still stood with his face covered by his 
 robe. 
 
 And Harold anxiously watched the faces of the assem- 
 bly, and saw no relenting 1 
 
 And Gurth crept to Harold's side. 
 
 And the gay Leofwine looked sad. 
 
 And the young Wolnoth turned pale and trembled. 
 
 And the fierce Tostig played with his golden chain. 
 
 And one low sob was heard, and it came from the 
 breast of Aired, the meek accuser, — God's firm but gentle 
 priest. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 This memorable trial ended, as the reader will have 
 foreseen, in the formal renewal of Sweyn's outlawry, and 
 the formal restitution of the Earl Godwin and his other 
 sons to their lands and honors, with declarations imputing 
 all the blame of the late dissensions to the foreign favor- 
 ites, and sentence of banishment against them, except 
 only, by way of a bitter mockery, some varlets of low 
 degree, such as Humphrey Cocks-foot, and Richard, Son 
 of Scrob.* 
 
 * Yet how little safe it is for the great to despise the low-born ! 
 This very Richard, son of Scrob, more euphoniously styled by the 
 Normans Richard Fitz Scrob, settled in Herefordshire (he wag 
 probably among the retainers of Earl Rolf), and on William's land- 
 ing, became the chief and most active supporter of the invader in 
 
HAROLD. 155 
 
 The retui-n to power of this able and vigorous familj 
 vas attended with an instantaneous effect upon the long- 
 relaxed strings of the imperial government. Macbeth 
 heard, and trembled in his moors ; Gryffyth of Wales lit 
 the fire-beacon on moel and craig. Earl Rolf was 
 banished, but merely as a nominal concession to public 
 opinion : his kinship to Edward sufficed to restore him 
 soon, not only to England, bat to the lordship of the 
 Marches, and thither was he sent, with adequate force, 
 against the Welch, who had half-repossessed themselves 
 of the borders they harried. Saxon prelates and abbots 
 replaced the Norman fugitives ; and all were contented 
 with the revolution, save the King ; for the King lost his 
 Norman friends, and regained his English wife. 
 
 In conformity with the usages of the time, hostages of 
 the loyalty and faith of Godwin were required and con- 
 ceded. They were selected from his own family ; and the 
 choice fell on Wolnoth, his son, and Haco, the son of 
 Sweyn. As, when nearly all England may be said to 
 have repassed to the hands of Godwin, it would have 
 been an idle precaution to consign these hostages to the 
 keeping of Edward, it was settled, after some discussion, 
 .that they should be placed in the court of the Norman 
 dnke, until such time as the king, satisfied with the good 
 faith of the family, should authorize their recall : — Fatal 
 hostage, fatal ward and host I 
 
 those districts. The sentence of banishment seems to hare been 
 mainly confined to the foreigners about the court ; for it is clear 
 that many Norman land-owners and priests were still left scattered 
 throughout the country. 
 
15b HAROLD. 
 
 It was some days after this national crisis, and order 
 and peace were again established in city and land, forest 
 and shire, when, at the setting of the sun, Hilda stood 
 alone by the altar-stone of Thor. 
 
 The orb was sinking red and lurid, amidst long cloud- 
 wracks of vermeil and purple, and not one human form 
 was seen in the landscape, save that tall and majestic 
 figure by the Runic shrine and the Druid cromniel. She 
 was leaning both hands on her wand, or seid-stafif, as it 
 was called in the language of Scandinavian superstition, 
 and bending slightly forward as in the attitude of listen- 
 ing or expectation. Long before any form appeared on 
 the road below, she seemed to be aware of coming foot- 
 steps, and probably her habits of life had sharpened her 
 senses ; for she smiled, muttered to herself, " Ere it sets I " 
 and changing her posture, leant her arm on the altar, and 
 rested her face upon her hand. 
 
 At length, two figures came up the road ; they neared 
 the hill ; they saw her, and slowly ascended the knoll. 
 The one was dressed in the serge of a pilgrim, and his 
 cowl thrown back, showed the face where human beauty 
 and human power lay ravaged and ruined by human 
 passions. He upon whom the pilgrim lightly leaned was 
 attired simply, without the brooch or bracelet common 
 to thegns of high degree, yet his port was that of majesty, 
 and his brow that of mild command. A greater contras*. 
 could not be conceived than that between these two men, 
 yet united by a family likeness. For the countenance 
 of the last described was. though sorrowful at that 
 moment, and indeed habitually not without a certain 
 
HAROLD. 151 
 
 melancholy, wonderfully, imposing from ife calm and 
 sweetness. There, no devouring passions had left the 
 cloud or ploughed the line ; but all the smooth loveliness 
 of youth took dignity from the conscious resolve of man. 
 The long hair, of a fair brown, with a slight tinge of gold, 
 as the last sun-beams shot through its luxuriance, was 
 parted from the temples, and fell in large waves half-way 
 to the shoulder. The eye-brows, darker in hue, arche.l 
 and finely traced ; the straight features not less manly 
 than the Norman, but less strongly marked ; the cheek, 
 hardy with exercise and exposure, yet still retaining some- 
 what of youthful bloom under the pale bronze of its sun- 
 burnt surface : the form tall, not gigantic, and vigorous 
 rather from perfect proportion and athletic habits than 
 from breadth and bulk — were all singularly characteristic 
 of the Saxon beauty in its highest and purest type. But 
 what chiefly distinguished this personage, was that 
 peculiar dignity, so simple, so sedate, which no pomp 
 seems to dazzle, no danger to disturb ; and which per- 
 haps arises from a strong sense of self-dependence, and 
 is connected with self-respect — a dignity common to the 
 Indian and the Arab ; and rare, except in that state of 
 society in which each man is a power in himself. The 
 liatin tragic poet touches close upon that sentiment in 
 the fine lines — 
 
 "Rex est qui metuit nihil; 
 Hoc regnum sibi quisque dat."* 
 
 * Seneca, Thyeit. Act ii. — "He is a. king who fears nothing: 
 (bat kingdom every man gives to himself." 
 
 r— 14 
 
158 HAROLD. 
 
 So stood the brothers, Sweyn the outlaw and Harold 
 the Earl before the reputed prophetess. She looked od 
 both with a steady eye, which gradually softened almost 
 into tenderness, as it finally rested upon the pilgrim. 
 
 "And is it thus," she said at last, "that I see the first- 
 born of Godwin the fortunate, for whom so often I have 
 tasked the thunder, and watched the setting sun ? for 
 whom my runes have been graven on the bark of the elm, 
 and the Scin-lseca * been called in pale splendor from the 
 graves of the dead ? " 
 
 " Hilda," said Sweyn, " not now will I accuse thee of 
 the seeds thou hast sown : the harvest is gathered and 
 the sickle is broken. Abjure thy dark Galdra,t and turn 
 as I to the sole light in the future, which shines from the 
 tomb of the Son Divine." 
 
 The Prophetess bowed her head and replied : — 
 
 " Belief cometh as the wind. Can the tree say to the 
 wind, 'Rest thou on my boughs?' or Man to Belief, 
 ' Fold thy wings on my heart 1 ' Go where thy soul can 
 find comfort, for thy life hath passed from its uses on 
 earth. And when I would read thy fate, the runes are 
 blanks, and the wave sleeps unstirred on the fountain. 
 Go where the Fylgia,| whom Alfader gives to each at 
 his birth, leads thee. Thou didst desire love that seemed 
 shut' from thee, and I predicted that thy love should 
 
 * Scin-lseca, literally a shining corpse ; a species of apparition 
 invoked by the witch or wizard. — See Shakon TukSbk en the Super- 
 stitions of the Anglo- Saxont, b. ii. o. 14. 
 
 •}■ Oaldra, magic. J Fylgia, tutelar/ divinity 
 
HAROLD. 159 
 
 awake from the charnel in which the creed that succeeds 
 to the faith of our sires inters life in its bloom. And 
 thou didst covet the fame of the Jarl and the Viking, 
 and T blessed thine axe to thy hand, and wove the sail 
 for thy masts. So long as man knows desire, can Hilda 
 have power over his doom. But when the heart lies in 
 ashes, I raise but a corpse that, at the hush of the charm, 
 falls again into its grave. Yet, come to me nearer, 
 Sweyn, whose cradle I rocked to the chant of my rhyme." 
 
 The outlaw turned aside his face, and obeyed. 
 
 She sighed as she took his passive hand in her own, 
 and examined the lines on the palm. Then, as if by an 
 involuntary impulse of fondness and pity, she put aside 
 his cowl and kissed his brow. 
 
 "Thy skein is spun, and happier than the many who 
 scorn, and the few who lament thee, thou shalt win where 
 they lose. The steel shall not smite thee, the storm shall 
 forbear thee, the goal that thou yearnest for thy steps 
 shall attain. Night hallows the ruin, — and peace to the 
 shattered wrecks of the brave ! " 
 
 The outlaw heard as if unmoved. But when he turned 
 to Harold, who covered his face with his hand, but could 
 not restrain the tears that flowed through the clasped 
 fingers, a moisture came into his own wild, bright eyes, 
 and he said, " Now, my brother, farewell, for no farther 
 step shalt thou wend with me." 
 
 Harold started, opened his arms, and the outlaw fell 
 upon his breast. 
 
 No sound was heard save a single sob ; and so close 
 
160 HAKOLD. 
 
 was breast to breast, you could not say from whose heart 
 it came. Then the outlaw wrenched himself from the 
 embrace, and murmured, "And Haco — my son — mother- 
 less, fatherless — hostage in the land of the stranger 1 
 Thou wilt remember — thou wilt shield him ; thou be to 
 him mother, father in the days to come 1 So may the 
 saints bless thee 1" With these words he sprang down 
 the hillock. 
 
 Harold bounded after him ; but Sweyn, halting, said, 
 mournfully, " Is this thy promise ? Am I so lost that 
 faith should be broken even with thy father's son?" 
 
 At that touching rebuke, Harold paused, and the out- 
 law passed his way alone. As the last glimpse of his 
 figure vanished at the turn of the road, whence, on th« 
 second of May, the Norman Duke and the Saxon King 
 had emerged side by side, the short twilight closed 
 abruptly, and up from the far forest-land rose the moon. 
 
 Harold stood rooted to the spot, and still gazing on 
 the space, when the Vala laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " Behold, as the moon rises on the troubled gloaming, 
 so rises the fate of Harold, as yon brief, human shadow, 
 halting between light and darkness, passes away to night. 
 ThoQ art now the first-born of a House that unites the 
 hopes of the Saxon with the fortunes of the Dane." 
 
 " Thinkest thou," said Harold, with a stern composure, 
 " that I can have joy and triumph in a brother's exile 
 and woe ?" 
 
 " Not now, and not yet, will the voice of thy true 
 nature be heard ; but the warmth of the sun brings the 
 
HAROLD. 161 
 
 thunder, and the glory of fortune wakes the storm of the 
 Boul." 
 
 " Kinswoman," said Harold, with a slight curl of his 
 lip, " by me at least have thy prophecies ever passed as 
 the sough of the air ; neither in horror nor with faith do 
 I think of thy incantations and charms ; and I smile 
 alike at the exorcism of the shaveling and the spells of 
 the Saga. I have asked thee not to bless mine axe, nor 
 weave my sail. No runic rhyme is on the sword-blade 
 of Harold. I leave my fortunes to the chance of mine 
 own cool brain and strong arm. Vala, between thee and 
 me there is no bond." 
 
 The Prophetess smiled loftily. 
 
 "And what thinkest thou, self-dependent I what 
 thinkest thou is the fate which thy brain, and thine arm 
 shall win ? " 
 
 " The fate they have w;on already. I see no Beyonrt^ 
 The fate of a man sworn to guard his country, love jus- 
 tice, and do rigbt." 
 
 The moon shone full on the heroic face of the young 
 Earl as he spoke ; and on its surface there seemed nought 
 to belie the noble words. Yet, the Prophetess, gazing 
 earcestly on that fair countenance, said, in a whisper, 
 that, despite a reason singularly sceptical for the age in 
 which it had been cultured, thrilled to the Saxon's heart, 
 "Under that calm eye sleeps the soul of thy sire; and 
 beneath that brow, so haught and so pure, works the 
 genius that crowned the kings of the-north in the lineage 
 of thy mother the Dane." 
 14* L 
 
•ba HAROLD. 
 
 " Peace 1" said Harold, almost fiercely; then, as if 
 ashamed of the weakness of his momentary irritation, he 
 added, with a faint smile, " Let us not talk of these mat- 
 ters while my heart is still sad and away from the thoughts 
 of the world, with my brother the lonely outlaw. Night 
 is on us, and the ways are yet unsafe ; for the king's 
 troops, disbanded in haste, were made up of many who 
 turn to robbers in peace. Alone, and unarmed, save my 
 ateghar, I would crave a night's rest under thy roof; 
 and," — he hesitated, and a slight blush came over his 
 cheek — "and I would fain see if your grandchild' is as 
 fair as when I last looked on her blue eyes, that then 
 wept for Harold ere he went into exile." 
 
 " Her tears are not at her command, nor her smiles," 
 said the Vala, solemnly ; " her tears flow from the fount 
 of thy sorrows, and her smiles are the beams from thy 
 joys. For know, Harold 1 that Edith is thine earthly 
 Pylgia ; thy fate and her fate are as one. And, vainly 
 as man would escape from his shadow, would soul wrench 
 itself from the soul that Skulda hath linked to his doom." 
 
 Harold made no reply ; but his step, habitually slow, 
 grew more quick and light, and this time his reason found 
 :,o fault with the oracles of the Vala. 
 
HAROLD. 163 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 As Hilda entered the hall, the various idlers accustomed 
 to feed at her cost were about retiring, some to their homes 
 in the vicinity, some, appertaining to the household, to 
 the dormitories in the old Roman villa. 
 
 It was not the habit of the Saxon noble, as it was of 
 the Norman, to put hospitality to profit, by regarding 
 . his guests in the light of armed retainers. Liberal as the 
 Briton, the cheer of the board and the shelter of the roof 
 were afforded with a hand equally unselfish and indiscri- 
 minate ; and the doors of the more wealthy and munifi- 
 cent might be almost literally said to stand open from 
 morn to eve. 
 
 As Harold followed the Vala across the vast atrium, 
 his face was recognized, and a shout of enthusiastic wel- 
 come greeted the popular earl. The only voices that did 
 not swell that cry, were those of three monks from a ' 
 neighboring convent, who chose to wink at the supposed 
 practices of the Morthwyrtha,* from the affection they 
 bore to her ale and mead, and the gratitude they felt for 
 her ample gifts to their convent. 
 
 " One of the wicked House, brother," whispered the 
 monk, 
 
 * Morthwyrtha, worshipper of the dead. 
 
164 HAROLS. 
 
 " Yea ; mockers and scorners are Godwin and his lewd 
 sons," answered the monk. 
 
 And all three sighed and scowled, as the door closed 
 on the hostess and her stately guest. 
 
 Two tall and not ungraceful lamps lighted the same 
 chamber in which Hilda was first presented to the reader. 
 The handmaids were stiil at their spindles, and the white 
 web nimbly shot as the mistress entered. She paused, 
 and her brow knit, as she eyed the work. 
 
 " But three parts done ? " she said ; " weave fast, and 
 weave strong." 
 
 Harold, not heeding the maids or their task, gazed 
 inquiringly round, and from a nook near the window, 
 Edith sprang forward with a joyous cry, and a face all 
 glowing with delight — sprang forward, as if to the arms 
 of a brother ; but, within a step or so of that noble guest, 
 she stopped short, and her eyes fell to the ground. 
 
 Harold held his breath in admiring silence. The child 
 he had loved from her cradle stood before him as a woman. 
 Even since we last saw her, in the interval between the 
 spring and the autumn, the year had ripened the youth 
 of the maiden, as it had mellowed the fruits of the earth; 
 and her cheek was rosy with the celestial blush, and her 
 form rounded to the nameless grace, which say that in- 
 fancy is no more. 
 
 He advanced and took her hand, but for the first time 
 in his life in their greetings, he neither gave nor received 
 the kiss. 
 
 " You are no child now, Edith," said he, involuntarily ; 
 
HAROLD. 16S 
 
 "bat still set apart, I pray you, some remains of the old 
 childish love for Harold." 
 
 Edith's charming lips smiled softly ; she raised her eyes 
 to his, and their innocent fondness spoke through happy 
 tears. 
 
 But few words passed in the short interval between 
 Harold's entrance and his retirement to the chamber 
 prepared for him in haste. Hilda herself led him to a 
 rude ladder which admitted to a room above, evidently 
 added, by some Saxon lord, to the old Roman pile. The 
 ladder showed the precaution of one accustomed to sleep 
 in the midst of peril : for by a kind of windlass in the 
 room, it could be drawn up at the inmate's will, and, so 
 drawn, left below a dark and deep chasm, delving down 
 to the foundations of the house ; nevertheless the room 
 itself had all the luxury of the time ; the bedstead was 
 quaintly carved, and of some rare wood ; a trophy of 
 arms — though very ancient, sedulously polished — hung 
 on the wall. There were the small round shield and spear 
 of the earlier Saxon, with his vizorless helm, and the 
 short curved knife or ssex,''' from which some antiqua- 
 rians deem that the Saxish men take their renowned 
 name. 
 
 Edith, following Hilda, ptoffered to the guest, on a 
 
 * It is a disputed question whether the sa3x of the earliest Saxon 
 invaders was a long or short curved weapon, — nay, whether it was 
 curved or straight ; but the author sides with those who contend 
 that it was a short, crooked weapon, easily concealed by a cloak, 
 and similar to those depicted on the banner of the East Saxons. 
 
166 HAROLD. 
 
 salver of gold, spiced wines and confections ; while Hilda, 
 siltntly and unpereeived, waved her seid-staff over the 
 bed, and rested her pale hand on the pillow. 
 
 "Nay, sweet cousin," said Harold, smiling, "this is 
 not one of the fashions of old, but rather, methinks, 
 borrowed from the Frankish manners in the court of 
 King Edward." 
 
 " Not so, Harold," answered Hilda, quickly turning ; 
 " such was ever the ceremony due to Saxon king, when 
 he slept in a subject's house, ere our kinsmen the Danes 
 introduced that unroyal wassail, which left subject and 
 king unable to hold or to quaff cup, when the board was 
 left for the bed." 
 
 " Thou rebukest, Hilda, too tauntingly, the pride 
 of Godwin's House, when thou givest to his homely son 
 the ceremonial of a king. But, so served, I envy not 
 kings, fair Edith." 
 
 He took the cup, raised it to his lips, and when he 
 placed it on the small table by his side, the woman had 
 left the chamber, and he was alone. He stood for some 
 minutes absorbed in reverie, and his soliloquy ran some- 
 what thus : — 
 
 " "Why said the Yala that Edith's fate was inwoven 
 with mine ? And why did I believe and bless the Yala, 
 \(hen she so said ? Can Edith ever be my wife ? The 
 monk-king designs her for the cloister. — Woe and well-a- 
 day 1 — Sweyn, Sweyn, let thy doom forewarn me ! And 
 if I stand up in my place and say, ' Give nge and grief 
 to tVe cloister — youth and delight to man's hearth,' 
 
HAROLD. 161 
 
 what will answer the monks ? ' Edith cannot be thy 
 wife, son of Godwin, for faint and scarce traced though 
 your affinity of blood, ye are within the banned degrees 
 of the Church. Edith may be wife to another, if thou 
 wilt — barren spouse of the Church, or mother of children 
 who lisp not Harold's name as their father.' Out ou 
 these priests with their mummeries, and out on their war 
 upon human hearts." 
 
 His fair brow grew stern and fierce as the Norman 
 Duke's in his ire ; and had you seen him at that moment 
 you would have seen the true brother of Sweyn. He 
 broke from his thoughts with the strong effect of a man 
 habituated to self-control, and advancing to the narrow 
 window, opened the lattice, and looked out. 
 
 The moon was in all her splendor. The long deep 
 shadows of the breathless forest chequered the silvery 
 whiteness of open sward and intervening glade. Ghostly 
 arose on the knoU before him the grey columns of the 
 mystic Druid — dark and indistinct the bloody altar of 
 the Warrior god. But there his eye was arrested ; for 
 whatever is least distinct and defined iu a landscape has 
 the charm that is the strongest ; and, while he gazed, he 
 thought that a pale phosphoric light broke from the 
 mound with the bautastein, that rose by the Teuton altar. 
 He thought, for he was not sure that it was not some 
 cheat of the. fancy. Gazing still, in the centre of that 
 light, there appeared to gleam forth for one moment, a 
 form of superhuman height. It was the form of a man, 
 that seemed clad in arms like those on the wall, leaning 
 
IRS HAROLD. 
 
 on a spear, whose point was lost behind the shafts of the 
 crommell. And the face grew in that moment distinct 
 from the light which shimmered around it, a face large 
 as some early god's, liut stamped with unutterable and 
 solemn woe. He drew back a step, passed his hand over 
 his eyes, and looked again. Light and figure alike had 
 vanished ; nought was seen save the grey columns and 
 the dim fane. The Earl's lip curved in derision of his 
 weakness. He closed the lattice, undressed, knelt for a 
 moment or so by the bed-side, and his prayer was brief 
 and simple, nor accompanied with the crossings and signs 
 customary in his age. He rose, extinguished the lamp, 
 and threw himself on the bed. 
 
 The moon, thus relieved of the lamp-light, came clear 
 and bright through the room, shone on the trophied 
 arms, and fell upon Harold's face, casting its brightness 
 on the pillow on which the Vala had breathed her charm. 
 And Harold slept — slept long — his face calm, his breath- 
 ing regular : but ere the moon sunk and the dawn rose, 
 the features were dark and troubled, the breath came by 
 gasps, the brow was knit, and the teeth clenched 
 
BOOK FOURTH. 
 
 THE HEATHEN ALTAR AND THE SAXON CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 While Harold sleeps, let us here pause to survey for 
 the first time the greatness of that House to which 
 Sweyn's exile had left him the heir. The fortunes of 
 Godwin had been those which no man not eminently 
 versed in the science of his kind can achieve. Though 
 the fable which some modern historians of great name 
 have repeated and detailed, as to his early condition as 
 the son of a cow-herd, is utterly groundless, and he be- 
 longed to a house all-powerful at the time of his youth, 
 he was unquestionably the builder of his own greatness. 
 That he should rise so high in the early part of his career 
 was less remarkable than that he should have so long 
 continued the possessor of a power and state in reality 
 more than regal. 
 
 But, as has been before implied, Godwin's civil capa- 
 cities were more prominent than his warlike. And this 
 it is which invests him with that peculiar interest which 
 
 1—15 (169) 
 
ITO HAROLD. 
 
 attracts us lo those who knit our modern intelligence 
 with the past. In that dim world before the Worman 
 deluge, we are startled to recognize the gifts, that ordi- 
 narily distinguish a man of peace in a civilized age 
 
 His father, Wolnoth, had been " Childe " * of the 
 South Saxons, or thegn of Susses, a nephew of Edrie 
 Slreone, Earl of Mercia, the unprincipled but able 
 minister of Ethelred, who betrayed his master to Canute, 
 by whom, according to most authorities, he was right- 
 eously, though not very legally, slain as a reward for the 
 treason. 
 
 "I promised," said the Dane king, "to set thy head 
 higher than other men's, and I keep my word." The 
 trunkless head was set on the gates of London. 
 
 Wolnoth had quarrelled with his uncle Brightric, 
 Edric's brother, and before the arrival of Canute, had 
 betaken himself to the piracy of a sea-chief, seduced 
 twenty of the king's ships, plundered the southern coasts, 
 burnt the royal navy, and then his history disappears 
 from the chronicles ; but immediately afterwards the 
 great Danish army, called Thurkell's Host, invaded the 
 
 * Saxon Chronicle, Florence Wigorn. Sir P. Palgrave says that 
 the title of Childe is equivalent to that of Atheling. With that 
 remarkable appreciation of evidence which generally makes him 
 BO invaluable as a judicial authority where accounts are contra- 
 dictory, Sir F. Palgrave discards with silent contempt the absurd 
 romance of Godwin's station of herdsman, to which, upon such 
 very -fallacious and flimsy authorities, Thierry and Sharon Turner 
 have been betrayed into lending their distinguished names. 
 
HAROIiD. ni 
 
 coast, and kept their chief station on the Thames. Theii 
 victorious arms soon placed the country almost at their 
 command. The traitor Edric joined them with a power 
 of more than 10,000 men ; and it is probable enough 
 that the ships of Wolnoth had before this time melted 
 amicably into the armament of the Danes. If this, which 
 seems the most likely conjecture, be received, Godwin, 
 then a mere youth, would naturally have commenced his 
 career in the cause of Canute ; and as the son of a 
 formidable chief of thegn's rank, and even as kinsman 
 to Edric, who, whatever his crimes, must have retained a 
 party it was wise to conciliate, Godwin's favor with 
 Canute, whose policy would lead him to show marked 
 distinction to any able Saxon follower, ceases to be sur 
 prising. 
 
 The son of Wolnoth accompanied Canute in bis mili- 
 tary expedition to the Scandinavian continent, and here 
 a signal victory, planned by Godwin, and executed solely 
 by himself and the Saxon band under his command, with- 
 out aid from Canute's Danes, made the most memorable 
 military exploit of his life, and confirmed his rising for- 
 tunes. 
 
 Edric, though he is said to have been low-born, had 
 married the sister of King Ethelred ; and as Godwin 
 advanced in fame, Canute did not disdain to bestow his 
 own sister in marriage on the eloquent favorite, who pro- 
 bably kept no small portion of the Saxon population to 
 their allegiance. On the death of this, his first wife, who 
 
1Y2 HAROLD. 
 
 bore him but one son * (who died by accident), he fonnd 
 a second spouse in the same royal house ; and the mother 
 of his six living sons and two daughters was the niece 
 of his king, and sister of Sweyn, who subsequently filled 
 the throne of Denmark. After the death of Canute, the 
 Saxon's predilections in favor of the Saxon line became 
 apparent ; but it was either his policy or his principle 
 always to defer to the popular will as expressed in the 
 national council ; and on the preference given by the 
 Witan to Harold the son of Canute over the heirs of 
 Ethelred, he yielded his own inclinations. The great 
 power of the Danes, and the amicable fusion of their race 
 with the Saxon which had now taken place, are apparent 
 in this decision ; for not only did Earl Leofric, of Mercia, 
 though himself a Saxon (as well as the Earl of Northum- 
 bria, with the thegns north of the Thames), declare for 
 Harold the Dane, but the citizens of London were of the 
 same party ; and Godwin represented little more than the 
 feeling of his own principality of Wessex. 
 
 From that time, Godwin, however, became identified 
 with the English cause ; and even many who believed 
 him guilty of some share in the murder, or at least the 
 betrayal of Alfred, Edward's brother, sought excuses n 
 the disgust with which Godwin had regarded the foreign 
 retinue that Alfred had brought with him, as if to owe 
 
 * This first wife, Thyra, was of very unpopular repute with the 
 Saxons. She was accused of sending young English persons as 
 slaves into Denmark, and is said to have been killed by lightning. 
 
HAROLD. 173 
 
 liis throne * to Norman swords, rather than to English 
 hearts. 
 
 Hardicanute, who succeeded Harold, whose memory 
 he abhorred, whose corpse he disinterred and flung into 
 a fen,f had been chosen by the unanimous council ooth 
 ol English and Danish thegns ; and despite Hardi- 
 canute's first vehement accusations of Qodwjn, the Earl 
 still remained throughout that reign as powerful as in the 
 two preceding it. When Hardicanute dropped down dead 
 at a marriage banquet, it was Godwin who placed Edward 
 upon the throne ; and that great Earl must either have 
 been conscious of his innocence of the murder of Ed- 
 ward's brother, or assured of his own irresponsible power, 
 when he said to the prince who knelt at his feet, and, 
 fearful of the difficulties in his way, implored the Earl 
 to aid his abdication of the throne and return to Nor- 
 mandy — 
 
 "Tou are the son of Ethelred, grandson of Edgar. 
 Reign, it is your duty ; better to live in glory than die 
 in exile. You are of mature years, and having known 
 sorrow and need, can better feel for your people. Rely 
 on me, and there will be none of the difficulties you dread ; 
 whom I favor, England favors." 
 
 * It is just however to Godwin to say, that there is no proof of 
 his share in this barbarous transaction ; the presumptions, on the 
 contrary, are in his favor ; but the iuthoritios are too contradictory, 
 and the whole event too obscure, to enable us unhesitatingly to 
 coniirm the acquittal he received in his own age, and from his own 
 national tribunal. 
 
 t Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 
 
 15* 
 
IT4 HAROLD. 
 
 And shortly afterwards, in the national assembly, G^^d- 
 win won Edward his throne. "Powerful in speech, 
 powerful in bringing over people to what he desired, 
 some yielded to his words, some to bribes."* Verily, 
 Godwin was a man to have risen as high had he lived 
 later I 
 
 So Edward reigned, and agreeably, it is said, with 
 previous stipulations, married the daughter of his kiog- 
 maker. Beautiful as Edith the Queen was in mind and 
 in person, Edward apparently loved her not. She dwelt 
 in his palace, his wife only in name. 
 
 Tostig (as we have seen) had married the daughter of 
 Baldwin, Count of Flanders, sister to Matilda, wife to 
 the Norman Duke ; and thus the House of Godwin was 
 triply allied to princely lineage — the Danish, the Saxon, 
 the Flemish. And Tostig might have said, as in his 
 heart William the Norman said, " My children shall de- 
 scend from Charlemagne and Alfred." 
 
 Godwin's life, though thus outwardly brilliant, was too 
 incessantly passed in public affairs and politic schemes 
 to allow the worldly man much leisure to watch over the 
 nurture and rearing of the bold spirits of his sons. Githa 
 his wife, the Dane, a woman with a haughty but noble 
 spirit, imperfect education, and some of the wild and 
 lawless blood derived from her race of heathen sea-kings, 
 was more fitted to stir their ambition, and inflame their 
 fancies, than curb their tempers and mould their hearts 
 
 * William of Malmesbury. 
 
HAEOLD. nd 
 
 We have seen the career of Sweyn ; but Sweyn was an 
 angel of light compared to his brother Tostig. He who 
 can be penitent has ever something lofty in his original 
 nature ; but Tostig was remorseless as the tiger, as trea- 
 cherous and as fierce. With less intellectual capacities 
 than any of his brothers, he had more personal ambition 
 than all put together. A kind of effeminate vanity, not 
 uncommon with daring natures (for the bravest races 
 and the bravest soldiers are usually the vainest ; the de- 
 sire to shine is as visible in the fop as in the hero), made 
 him restless both for command and notoriety. " May I 
 ever be in the mouths of men," was his favorite prayer. 
 Like his maternal ancestry, the Danes, he curled his long 
 hair, and went as a bridegroom to the feast of the ravens. 
 Two only of that house had studied the Humane Let- 
 ters, which were no longer disregarded by the princes of 
 the Continent ; they were the sweet sister, the eldest of 
 the family, fading fast in her loveless home, and Harold. 
 But Harold's mind, — in which what we call common 
 sense was carried to genius, — a mind singularly practical 
 and sagacious, like his father's, cared little for theological 
 learning and priestly legend — for all that poesy of re- 
 ligion in which the Woman was wafted from the sorrows 
 of earth. 
 
 Godwin himself was no favorite of the Church, and 
 had seen too much of the abuses of the Saxon priesthood 
 (perhaps, with few exceptions, the most corrupt and 
 illiterate in all Europe, which is saying much), to instil 
 into his children that reverence for the spiritual authority 
 
1T6 HAROLD. 
 
 which existed abroad ; and the enlightenment, which in 
 him was experience in life, was in Harold, betimes, the 
 result of study and reflection. The few books of the 
 classical world then within reach of the student opened 
 to the young Saxon views of human duties and human 
 responsibilities utterly distinct from the unmeaning cere- 
 monials and fleshly mortifications in which even the higher 
 theology of that day placed the elements of virtue. He 
 smiled in scorn when some Dane, whose life had been 
 passed in the alternate drunkenness of wine and of blood, 
 thought he had opened the gates of heaven by bequeath- 
 ing lauds gained by a robber's sword, to pamper the lazy 
 sloth of some fifty monks. If those monks had presumed 
 to question his own actions, his disdain would have been 
 mixed with simple wonder that men so besotted in igno- 
 rance, and who could not construe the Latin of the very 
 prayers they pattered, should presume to be the judges 
 of educated men. It is possible — for his nature was 
 earnest — that a pure and enlightened clergy, that even a 
 clergy, though defective in life, zealous in duty, and culti- 
 vated in mind, — such a clergy as Alfred sought to found, 
 and as Lanfranc endeavored (not without some success) 
 to teach — would have bowed his strong sense to that 
 grand and subtle truth which dwells in spiritual authority. 
 But as it was, he stood aloof from the rude superstition 
 of his age, and early in life made himself the arbiter of 
 his own conscience. Reducing his religion to the sim- 
 plest elements of our creed, he found rather in the books 
 
HAROLD. ItT 
 
 of Heathen authors than in the lives of the saints, his 
 notions of the larger morality which relates to the citizen 
 and the man. The love of country ; the sense of justice ; 
 fortitude in adverse, and temperance in prosperous for- 
 tune, became portions of his very mind. Unlike his 
 father, he played no actor's part in those qualities which 
 liad won him the popular heart. He was gentle and 
 affable ; above all, he was fair-dealing and just, not be- 
 cause it was politic to seem, but his nature to he, so. 
 
 Nevertheless, Harold's character, beautiful and sublime 
 in many respects as it was, had its strong leaven of human 
 imperfection in that very self-dependence which was born 
 of his reason and his pride. In resting so solely on man's 
 perceptions of the right, he lost one attribute of the true 
 hero — -faith. We do not mean that word in the religious 
 sense alone, but in the more comprehensive. He did not 
 vely on the Celestial Something pervading all nature, 
 never seen, only felt when duly courted, stronger and 
 lovelier than what eye could behold and mere reason 
 could embrace. Believing, it is true, in God, he lost 
 those fine links that unite God to man's secret heart, and 
 which are woven alike from the simplicity of the child 
 and the wisdom of the poet. To use a modern illustra- 
 tion, his large mind was a "cupola lighted from below." 
 
 His bravery, though inflexible as the fiiercest sea-king's, 
 when need arose for its exercise, was not his prominent 
 characteristic. He despised the brutq valor of Tostig, — ■ 
 his bravery was a necessary part of a firm and balanced 
 
 15* 
 
 M 
 
178 HAROLD. 
 
 manhood — the bravery of Hector, not Achilles. Con- 
 stitutionally averse to bloodshed, he coald seem timid 
 where daring only gratified a wanton vanity, or aimed at 
 a selfish object. On the other hand, if duty demanded 
 daring, no danger could deter, no policy warp him; — he 
 could seem rash ; he could even seem merciless. In the 
 what ought to be, he understood a must be. 
 
 And it was natural to this peculiar, yet thoroughly 
 English temperament, to be, in action, rather steadfast 
 and patient than quick and ready. Placed in perils 
 familiar to him, nothing could exceed his vigor and ad- 
 dress ; but if taken unawares, and before his judgment 
 could come to his aid, he was liable to be surprised into 
 error. Large minds are rarely quick, unless they have 
 been corrupted into unnatural vigilance by the necessities 
 of suspicion. But a nature more thoroughly unsuspect- 
 ing, more frank, trustful, and genuinely loyal than that 
 young Earl's, it was impossible to conceive. All these 
 attributes considered, we have the key to much of Harold's 
 character and conduct in the later events of his fated and 
 tragic life. 
 
 But with this temperament, so manly and simple, we 
 are not to suppose that Harold, while rejecting the super- 
 Btitions of one class, was so far beyond his time as to re- 
 ject those of another. No son of fortune, no man placing 
 himself and the world in antagonism, can ever escape 
 from some belief in the Invisible. Csesar could ridicule 
 and profane the mystic rites of Roman mythology, bat 
 
HAROLD. 179 
 
 he must still believe in his fortune, as in a god. And 
 Harold, in his very studies, seeing the freest and boldest 
 minds of antiquity subjected to influences akin to those 
 of his Saxon forefathers, felt less shame in yielding to 
 them, vain as they might be, than in monkish impostures 
 s; easily detected. Though hitherto he had rejected all 
 direct appeal to the magic devices of Hilda, the sound 
 of her dark sayings, heard in childhood, still vibrated on 
 his soul as man. Belief in omens, in days lucky or un- 
 lucky, in the stars, was universal in every class of the 
 Saxon. Harold had his own fortunate day, the day of 
 his nativity, the 14th of October. All enterprises un- 
 dertaken on that day had hitherto been successful. He 
 believed in the virtue of that day, as Cromwell believed 
 in his 3rd of September. For the rest, we have described 
 him as he was in that part of his career in which he is 
 now presented. Whether altered by fate and circum- 
 stances, time will show. As yet, no selfish ambition 
 leagued with the natural desire of youth and intellect for 
 their fair share of fame and power. His patriotism, fed 
 by the example of Greek and Roman worthies, was 
 genuine, pure, and ardent ; he could have stood in the 
 pass with Leonidas, or leaped into the gulf with Curtius. 
 
180 HABOLD 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 At dawn, Harold woke from uneasy and broken slnm- 
 bcrs, and his eyes fell upon the face of Hilda large and 
 fair, and unutterably calm, as the face of Egyptian sphinx. 
 
 " Have thy dreams been prophetic, son of Godwin ?" 
 said the Yala. 
 
 " Our Lord forfend," replied the Earl, with unusual 
 devoutness. 
 
 " Tell them, and let me read the rede ; sense dwells in 
 the voices of the night." 
 
 Harold mused, and after a short pause he said: 
 
 " Methinks, Hilda, I can myself explain how those 
 dreams came to haunt me." 
 
 Then raising himself on his elbow, he continued, while 
 he fixed his clear penetrating eyes upon his hostess : — 
 
 " Tell me frankly, Hilda, didst thou not cause some 
 light to shine on yonder knoll, by the mound and stone, 
 within the temple of the Druids?" 
 
 But if Harold had suspected himself to be the dupe of 
 some imposture, the thought vanished when he saw the 
 look of keen interest, even of awe, which Hilda's face 
 instantly assumed. 
 
 "Didst thou see a light, son of Godwin, by the altar 
 of Thor, and over the bautastein of the mighty dead ? a 
 flame, lambent and livid, like moonbeams collected over 
 snow ?" 
 
HABOIil). 181 
 
 "So seemed to me the light." 
 
 "No human hand ever kindled that flame, which 
 announces the presence of the Dead," said Hilda, with a 
 tremulous voice ; " though seldom, uncompelled by the 
 seid and the rune, does the spectre itself warn the eyes 
 of the living." 
 
 "What shape, or what shadow of shape, does that 
 spectre assume ? " 
 
 " It rises in the midst of the flame, pale as the mist on 
 the mountain, and vast as the giants of old ; with the 
 ssex, and the spear, and the shield, of the sons of Woden. 
 Thou hast seen the Scin-lseca," continued Hilda, looking 
 full on the face of the Earl. 
 
 "If thou deceivest me not," began Harold, doubting 
 still. 
 
 " Deceive thee I not to save the crown of the Saxon 
 dare I mock the might of the dead. Knowest thou not 
 — or hath thy vain lore stood in place of the lore of thy 
 fathers — that where a hero of old is buried, his treasures 
 lie in his grave ; that over that grave is at times seen at 
 night the flame that thou sawest, and the dead in his 
 image of air ? Oft seen in the days that are gone, when 
 the dead and the living had one faith — were one race; 
 now never marked, but for portent, and prophecy, and 
 doom : glory or woe to the eyes that see 1 On yon knoll, 
 .^se, (the first-born of Cerdic, that Father-King of the 
 Saxons,) has his grave where the mound rises green, and 
 the stone gleams wan, by the altar of Thor. He smote 
 the Britons in their temple, and he fell smiting. They 
 
 I. — 16 
 
18S HAROLD. 
 
 buried him in his arms, and with the treasures his right 
 hand had won. Fate hangs on the house of Cerdic, or 
 the realm of the Saxon, when Woden calls the laeca of 
 his son from the grave." 
 
 Hilda, much troubled, bent her face over her clasped 
 hands, and, rocking to and fro, muttered some runes un- 
 intelligible to the ear of her listener. Then she turned 
 to him, commandingly, and said : — 
 
 " Thy dreams now, indeed, are oracles, more true thau 
 living Vala could charm with the wand, and the rune : 
 Unfold them." 
 
 Thus adjured, Harold resumed : — 
 
 " Methought, then, that I was on a broad, level plain, 
 in the noon of day ; all was clear to my eye, and glad to 
 my heart. I was alone, and went on my way rejoicing. 
 Suddenly the earth opened under my feet, and I fell deep, 
 fathom-deep ; — deep, as if to that central pit, which our 
 heathen sires called Niffelheim — the Home of Vapor — 
 the hell of the dead who die without glory. Stunneii by 
 the fall, I lay long, locked as in a dream in the midst of 
 a dream. When I opened my eyes, behold, I was girt 
 round with dead men's bones ; and the bones moved round 
 me, undulating, as the dry leaves that wirble round in 
 the winds of. the winter. And from the midst of them 
 peered a trunkless skull, and on the skull was a mitre, 
 and from the yawning jaws a voice came hissing, as a 
 serpent's hiss, ' Harold the scorner, thou art ours I ' 
 Then, as from the buzz of an army, came voices multi- 
 tudinous, ' Thou art ours 1 ' I sought to rise, and behold 
 
HAKOLS. 183 
 
 my limbs were bound, and the gyves were fine and frail, 
 as the web (if the gossamer, and they weighed on me like 
 chains of iron. And I felt an anguish of soul that no 
 words can speak — an anguish both of horror and shame ; 
 and my manhood seemed to ooze from me, and I was 
 weak as a child new born. Then suddenly there rushed 
 forth a freezing wind, as from an air of ice, and the bones 
 from their whirl stood still, and the buzz ceased, and the 
 mitred skull grinned on me still and voiceless ; and ser- 
 pents darted their arrowy tongues from the eyeless sock- 
 ets. And lo, before me stood (0 Hilda, I see it now I) 
 the form of the spectre that had risen from yonder knoll. 
 With his spear, and saex, and his shield, he stood before 
 me ; and his face, though pale as that of one long dead, 
 was stern as the face of a warrior in the van of armed 
 man ; he stretched his hand, and he smote his ssex on his 
 shield, and the clang sounded hollow ; the gyves broke at 
 the clash — I sprang to my feet, and I stood side by side 
 with the phantom, dauntless. Then, suddenly, the mitre 
 on the skull changed to a helm ; and where the skull had 
 grinned, trunkless and harmless, stood a shape like War, 
 made incarnate ; — a Thing above giants, with its crest 
 to the stars, and its form an eclipse between the sun and 
 the day. The earth changed to ocean, and the ocean 
 was blood, and the ocean seemed deep as the seas where 
 the whales sport in the North, but the surge rose not to 
 the knee of that measureless image. And the ravens 
 came round it from all parts of the heaven, and the vul- 
 tures with dead eyes and dull scream. A Qd all the bones. 
 
184 HAROLD. 
 
 before scattered and shapeless, sprung to life and to 
 form, some monks and some warriors ; and there was a 
 hoot, and a hiss, and a roar, and the storm of arms. And 
 a broad pennon rose out of the sea of blood, and from 
 the clouds came a pale hand, and it wrote on the pennon, 
 " Harold the Accursed 1 ' Then said the stern shape by 
 his side, ' Harold, fearest thou the dead men's bones ? ' 
 and its voice was as a trumpet that gives strength to the 
 craven, and I answered, 'Niddering, indeed, were Harold 
 to fear the bones of the dead I " 
 
 "As I spoke, as if hell had burst loose, came a gibber 
 of scorn, and all vanished at once, save the ocean of 
 blood. Slowly came from the north, over the sea, a bird 
 like a raven, save that it was blood-red, like the ocean ; 
 and there came from the south, swimming towards me, a 
 lion. And I looked to the spectre ; and the pride of war 
 had gone from its face, which was so sad that methought 
 I forgot raven and lion, and wept to see it. Then the 
 spectre took me in its vast arms, and its breath froze my 
 veins, and it kissed my brow, and my lips, and said, gently 
 and fondly, as my mother, in some childish sickness, 'Ha- 
 rold, my best beloved, mourn not. Thou hast all which 
 the sons of Woden dreamed in their dreams of Valhalla 1' 
 Thus saying, the form receded slowly, slowly, still gazing 
 en rae with its sad eyes. I stretched forth my hand to 
 detain it, and in my grasp was a shadowy sceptre. And, 
 lo I round me, as if from the earth, sprang up thegns 
 and chiefs, in their armor ; and a board was spread, and 
 a wassail was blithe around me. So my heart felt cheered 
 
HAROLD. 185 
 
 and light, and in my hand was still the sceptre. And we 
 feasted long and merrily ; but over the feast flapped the 
 wings of the blood-red raven, and, over the blood-red sea 
 beyond, swam the lion, near and near. And in the hea- 
 vens there were two stars, one pale and steadfast, the 
 other rushing and luminous ; and a shadowy hand pointed 
 from the cloud to the pale star, and a voice said, ' Lo, 
 Harold 1 the star that shone on thy birth.' And another 
 hand pointed to the luminous star, and another voice 
 said, ' Lo ! the star that shone on the birth of the victor,' 
 Then, lo I the bright star grew fiercer and larger ; and, 
 rolling on with a hissing sound, as when hot iron is dipped 
 into water, it rushed over the disk of the mournful planet, 
 and the whole heavens seemed on fire. So methought 
 the dream faded away, and in fading, I heard a full swell 
 of music, as the swell of an anthem in an aisle : a music 
 like that which but once in my life I heard ; when I stood 
 in the train of Edward, in the halls of Winchester, the 
 day they crowned him king." 
 
 Harold ceased, and the Vala slowly lifted her head 
 from her bosom, and surveyed him in profound silence, 
 and with a gaze that seemed vacant and meaningless. 
 
 " Why dost thou look on me thus, and why art thou 
 so silent ? " asked the Earl. 
 
 " The cloud is on my sight, and the burthen is on my 
 soul, and I cannot read thy rede," murmured the Yala. 
 " But morn, the ghost-chaser, that waketh life, the action, 
 charms into slumber life, the thought. As the stars pale 
 at the rising of the sun, so fade the lights of the soul 
 16* 
 
186 HAKOLD. 
 
 wheu the buds revive in the dews, and the lark sings to 
 the day. In thy dream lies thy future, as the wing of the 
 moth in the web of the changing worm ; but, whether 
 for weal or for woe, thou shalt burst through thy mesh, 
 and spread thy plumes in the air. Of myself I know 
 nought. Await the hour when Skulda shall pass into the 
 soul of her servant, and thy fate shall rush from my lips 
 as the rush of the waters from the heart of the cave." 
 
 " I am content to abide," said Harold, with his wonted 
 smile, so calm and so lofty : " but I cannot promise thee 
 that I shall heed thy rede, or obey thy warning, when my 
 reason hath awoke, as while I speak it awakens, from the 
 fumes of the fancy and the mists of the night." 
 
 The Vala sighed heavily, but made no answer. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 GiTHA, Earl Godwin's wife, sate in her chamber, and 
 her heart was sad. In the room was one of her sons, the 
 one dearer to her than all, Wolnoth, her darling. For 
 the rest of her sons were stalwart and strong of frame, 
 and in their infancy she had known not a mother's fears. 
 But Wolnoth had come into the world before his time, 
 and sharp had been the travail of the mother, and long 
 between life and death the struggle of the new-born babe. 
 And his cradle had been rocked with a trembling knee, 
 and his pillow been bathed with hot tears. Frail had 
 
HAROLD. 187 
 
 been his childhood — a thing that hung on ner care ; 
 and now, as the boy grew, blooming and strong, into 
 youth, the mother felt that she had given life twice to 
 her child. Therefore was he more dear to her than the 
 rest; and, therefore, as she gazed upon him now, faif 
 and smiling, and hopeful, she mourned for hira more than 
 for Sweyn, the outcast and criminal, on his pilgrimage 
 of woe, to the waters of Jordan, and the tomb of our 
 Lord. For Wolnoth, selected as the hostage for the 
 faith of his house, was to be sent from her arms to the 
 Court of William the Norman. • And the youth smiled 
 and was gay, choosing vestment and mantle, and ateghars 
 of gold, that he might be flaunting and brave in the halls 
 of knighthood and beauty, — the school of the proudest 
 chivalry of the Christian world. Too young and too 
 thoughtless, to share the wise hate of his elders for the 
 manners and forms of the foreigners, their gaiety and 
 splendor, as his boyhood had seen them, relieved the 
 gloom of the cloister court, and contrasting the spleen 
 and the rudeness of the Saxon temperament, had dazzled 
 his fancy and half Normanized his mind. A proud and 
 happy boy was he to go as hostage for the faith, and re- 
 presentative of the rank, of his mighty kinsmen ; and 
 step into manhood in the eyes of the dames of Rouen. 
 
 By Wolnoth's side stood his young sister, Thyra, a, 
 mere infant ; and her innocent sympathy with her bro- 
 ther's pleasure in gaud and toy saddened Githa yet more. 
 
 " O my son ! " said the troubled mother, " why, of all 
 ray children, have they chosen thee ? Harold is wise 
 
188 HAROLD. 
 
 against danger, and Tostig is fierce against foe^, and 
 Gunh is too loving to wake hate in the sternest, and 
 from the mirth of sunny Leofwine sorrow glints aside, as 
 the shaft from the sheen of a shield. But thou, thou, 
 beloved ! — cursed be the king that chose thee, and cruel 
 was the father that forgot the light of the mother's eyes 1 " 
 
 " Tut, mother the dearest," said Wolnoth, pausing 
 from the contemplation of a silk robe, all covered with 
 broidered peacocks, which had been sent him as a gift 
 from his sister the queen, and wrought with her own fair 
 hands ; for a notable needle-woman, despite her sage 
 leer, was the wife of the Saint King, as sorrowful women 
 mostly are — -"Tut! the bird must leave the nest when 
 the wings are fledged. Harold the eagle, Tostig the kite, 
 Gurth the ring-dove, and Leofwine the stare. See, my 
 wings are the richest of all, mother, and bright is the 
 sun in which thy peacock shall spread Ms pranked 
 plumes." 
 
 Then, observing that his liveliness provoked no smile 
 from his mother, he approached, and said more seriously : 
 
 " Bethink thee, mother mine. No other choice was 
 left to king or to father. Harold, and Tostig, and Leof- 
 wine, have their lordships and ofBces. Their posts are 
 fixed, and they stand as the columns of our house. And 
 Gurth is so young, and so Saxish, and so the shadow of 
 Harold, that his hate to the Norman is a by-word 
 already among our youths ; for hate is the more marked 
 in a temper of love, as the blue of this border seems 
 
HAROLD. 189 
 
 black against the white of the woof. But I; — the good 
 king knows that I shall be welcome, for the Norman 
 knights love Wolnoth, and I have spent hours by the 
 knees of Montgommeri and Grantmesnil, listening to the 
 feats of Rolfganger, and playing with their gold chains 
 of knighthood. And the stout Count himself shall knight 
 me, and I shall come back with the spurs of gold which 
 thy ancestors, the brave kings of Norway and Daneland, 
 wore ere knighthood was known. Come, kiss me, my 
 mother, and come see the brave falcons Harold has sent 
 me : — true Welch 1 " 
 
 Githa rested her face on her son's shoulder, and her 
 tears blinded her. The door opened gently, and Harold 
 entered ; and with the Earl, a pale dark-haired boy, 
 Haco, the son of Sweyn. 
 
 But Githa, absorbed in her darling Wolnoth, scarce 
 saw the grandchild reared afar from her knees, and hurried 
 at once to Harold. In his presence she felt comfort and 
 safety ; for Wolnoth leaned on her heart, and her heart 
 leaned on Harold. 
 
 " son, son I " she cried, " firmest of hand, surest of 
 faith, and wisest of brain, in the house of Godwin, tell 
 me that he yonder, he thy young brother risks no danger 
 in the halls of the Normans ! " 
 
 " Not more than in these, mother," answered Harold, 
 soothing her, with caressing lip and gentle tohe. "Fierce 
 and ruthless, men say, is William the Duke against foes 
 with their swords in their hands, but debonnair and mild 
 
190 HAROLD. 
 
 to the gentle,* frank host and kind lord. And these 
 Normans have a code of their own, more grave than all 
 morals, more binding than even their fanatic religion. 
 Thou knowest it well, mother, for it comes from thy race 
 of the North, and this code of honor, they call it, makes 
 Wolnoth's head as sacred as the relics of a saint set in 
 zimmes. Ask only, my brother, when thou comest in 
 sight of the Norman Duke, ask only ' the kiss of peace,' 
 and, that kiss on thy brow, thou wilt sleep more safely 
 than if all the banners of England waved over thy 
 couch." f 
 
 "But how long shall the exile be ?" asked Githa, com 
 forted. 
 
 Harold's brow fell. 
 
 " Mother, not even to cheer thee will I deceive. The 
 time of the hostageship rests with the king and the duke. 
 As long as the one affects fear from the race of Godwin, 
 as long as the other feigns care for such priests or such 
 knights as were not banished from the realm, being not 
 courtiers, but scattered wide and far in convent and home- 
 
 . * So Robert of Gloucester says pithily of William, " King Wylliam 
 was to mild men debonnere ynou." — Hearns. v. ii. p. 309. 
 
 t This kiss of peace was held singularly saoved by the Normans, 
 and all the more knightly races of the continent. Even the craftiest 
 dissimulator, designing fraud and stratagem, an"! murder to a foe, 
 would not, to gain his ends, betray the pledge of the kiss of peace. 
 When Henry II. consented to meet Becket after his return from 
 Rome, and promised to remedy all of which his prela-te complained, 
 he struck prophetic dismay into Beoket's heart by cTadiug the kiss 
 of peace. 
 
HAROLD. 191 
 
 Btead, so long will Wolnoth and Haco be guests in the 
 Norman Halls." 
 
 Githa wrung her hands. 
 
 " But comfort, my mother ; Wolnoth is young, his eye 
 is keen, and his spirit prompt and quick. He will mark 
 these Norman captains, he will learn their strength and 
 their weakness, their manner of war, and he will come 
 back, not as Edward the King came, a lover of things 
 un-Saxon, but able to warn and to guide us against the 
 plots of the camp-court, which threatens more, year by 
 year, the peace of the world. And he will see there arts 
 we may worthily borrow ; not the cut of a tunic, and the 
 fold of a gonna, but the arts of men who found states 
 and build nations. William the Duke is splendid and 
 wise ; merchants tell us how crafts thrive under his iron 
 hand, and warmensay that his forts are constructed with 
 ekill, and his battle-schemes planned as the mason plans 
 key-stone and arch, with weight portioned out to the 
 prop, and the force of the hand made tenfold by the 
 science of the brain. So that the boy will return to us 
 a man round and complete, a teacher of greybeards, and 
 the sage of his kin ; fit for earldom and rule, fit for glory 
 and England. Grieve not, daughter of the Dane kings, 
 that thy son, the best loved, hath nobler school and wider 
 field than his brothers." 
 
 This appeal touched the proud heart of the niece of 
 Canute the Great, and she almost forgot the grief of her 
 love in the hope of her ambition. 
 
 She dried her tears and smiled upon Wolnoth, and 
 
192 HAROLD. 
 
 already, in the dreams of a mother's vanity, saw him 
 great as Godwin in council, and prosperous as Harold in 
 the field. Nor, half Norman as he was, did the young 
 man seem insensible of the manly and elevated patriotism 
 of his brother's hinted lessons, though he felt they im- 
 plied reproof. He came to the Earl, whose arm was 
 round his mother, and said with a frank heartiness not 
 usual to a nature somewhat frivolous and irresolute — 
 
 " Harold, thy tongue could kindle stones into men, and 
 warm those men into Saxons. Thy Wolnoth shall not 
 hang his head with shame when he comes back to our 
 merrie land with shaven locks and spurs of gold. For 
 if thou doubtest his race from his look, thou shalt put 
 thy right hand on his heart, and feel England beat there 
 in every pulse." 
 
 "Brave words, and well spoken," cried the Earl, and 
 he placed his hand on the boy's head as in benison. 
 
 Till then, Haco had stood apart, conversing with the 
 infant Thyra, whom his dark, mournful face awed and 
 yet touched, for she nestled close to him, and put her 
 little hand in his; but now, inspired no less than his 
 cousin by Harold's noble speech, he came proudly forward 
 by Wolnoth's side, and said -^ 
 
 "I, too, am English, and I have the name of English- 
 man to redeem." 
 
 Ere Harold could reply, Githa exclaimed — 
 
 " Leave there thy right hand on my child's head, and 
 say, simply, _ ' By my troth and my plight, if the Duke 
 detain Wolnoth, son of Githa, against just plea, and 
 
HAROLD. 193 
 
 king's assent to his return, I, Harold, will, failing letter 
 and nuncius, cross the seas, to restore the child to the 
 mother.' " 
 
 Harold hesitated. 
 
 A sharp cry of reproach that went to his heart broke 
 from Githa's lips. 
 
 "Ah 1 cold and self-heeding, wilt thou send him to bear 
 ft peril from which thou shrinkest thyself ? " 
 
 " By my troth and my plight, then," said the Earl, " if, 
 fair time elapsed, peace in England, without plea of jus- 
 tice, and against my king's fiat, Duke William of Nor- 
 mandy detain the hostages, — thy son and this dear boy, 
 more sacred and more dear to me for his father's woes, — 
 I will cross the seas to restore the child to the mother, 
 the fatherless to his father-land. So help me, all-seeing 
 One, Amen and Amen ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 We have seen, in an earlier part of this record, that 
 Harold possessed, amongst his numerous and more stately 
 possessions, a house, not far from the old Roman dwell- 
 ing-place of Hilda. And in this residence he now (save 
 when the king) made his chief abode. He gave as the 
 reasons for his selection, the charm it took, in his eyes, 
 from that signal mark of affection which his ceorls had 
 rendered him, in purchasing the house and tilling the 
 
 I. — It N 
 
194 HAROLD. 
 
 ground in his absence ; and more especially the con- 
 venience of its vicinity to the new palace at Westminster ; 
 for by Edward's special desire, while the other brothers 
 repaired to their different domains, Harold remained near 
 his royal person. To use the words of the great Nor- 
 wegian chronicler, " Harold was always with the Court 
 itself, and nearest to the king in all service." " The king 
 loved him very much, and kept him as his own son, for 
 he had no children."* This attendance on Edward was 
 naturally most close at the restoration to power of the 
 Earl's family. For Harold, mild and conciliating, was, 
 like Aired, a great peace-maker, and Edward had never 
 cause to complain of him, as he believed he had of the 
 rest of that haughty house. But the true spell which 
 made dear to Harold the rude building of timber, with 
 its doors open all day to its lithsmen, when with a light 
 heart he escaped from the halls of Westminster, was the 
 fair face of Edith his neighbor. The impression which 
 this young girl had made upon Harold seemed to par- 
 take of the strength of a fatality. For Harold had loved 
 her before the marvellous beauty of her womanhood be- 
 gan ; and, occupied from his earliest youth in grave and 
 earnest affairs, his heart had never been frittered away 
 on the mean and frivolous affections of the idle. Now, 
 in that comparative leisure of his stormy life, he was 
 naturally most open to the influence of a charm more 
 potent than all the glamoury of Hilda. 
 
 * Snokko Sxuriesoh's Beimskringla. — Laing's Translation, pp. 
 
 76-77. 
 
HAROLD. 195 
 
 The autumn sun shone through the golden glades of 
 the forest-land, when Edith sate alone on the knoll that 
 faced forest-land and road, and watched afar. 
 
 And the birds sung cheerily; but that was not the 
 sound for which Edith listened : and the squirrel darted 
 from tree to tree on the sward beyond ; but not to see 
 the games of the squirrel sate Edith by the grave of the 
 Teuton. By-and-by, came the cry of the dogs, and the 
 tall greyhound * of Wales emerged from the bosky dells. 
 Then Edith's heart heaved, and her eyes brightened. 
 And now, with his hawk on his wrist, and his spear f in 
 his hand, came through the yellowing boughs, Harold 
 the Earl. 
 
 And well may ye ween, that his heart beat as loud and 
 his eye shone as bright as Edith's, when he saw who had 
 watched for his footsteps on the sepulchral knoll ; Love, 
 forgetful of the presence of Death ; — so has it ever been, 
 so ever shall it be 1 He hastened his stride, and bounded 
 up the gentle hillock, and his dogs, with a joyous bark, 
 came round the knees of Edith. Then Harold shook the 
 bird from his wrist, ana it fell, with its light wing, on the 
 altar-stone of Thor. 
 
 "Thou art late, but thou art welcome, Harold my 
 kinsman," said Edith, simply, as she bent her face over 
 the hounds, whose gaunt heads she caressed 
 
 * The gre-hound was so called from hunting the grk, or badger. 
 
 f The spear and the hawk were as the badges of Saxon nobility ; 
 and a thegn was seldom seen abroad without the one on his left 
 ■wrist, the other in his right hand. 
 
196 HAROLD. 
 
 " Call me not kinsman," said Harold, shrinking, and 
 with a dark cloud on his broad brow. 
 
 "And why, Harold?" 
 
 "Oh, Edith, why?" murmured Harold; and his 
 thought added, " she knows not, poor child, that in th^t 
 mockery of kinship the Church sets its ban on our 
 bridals." 
 
 He turned, and chid his dogs fiercely as they gambolled 
 in rough glee round their fair friend. 
 
 The hounds crouched at the feet of Edith ; and Edith 
 looked in mild wonder at the troubled face of the Earl. 
 
 " Thine eyes rebuke me, Edith, more than my words 
 the hounds I " said Harold, gently. " But there is quick 
 blood in my veins ; and the mind must be calm when it 
 would control the humor. Calm was my mind, sweet 
 Edith, in the old time, when thou wert an infant on my 
 knee, and wreathing, with these rude hands, flower-chains 
 for thy neck like the swan's down, I said — ' The flowers 
 fade, but the chain lasts when love weaves it.'" 
 
 Edith again bent her face over the crouching hounds. 
 Harold gazed on her with mournful fondness ; and the 
 bird still sung, and the squirrel swung himself again from 
 bough to bough. Edith spoke first — 
 
 " My godmother, thy sister, hath sent for me, Harold, 
 and I am to go to the court to-morrow. Shalt thou be 
 there?" 
 
 " Surely," said Harold, in an anxious voice, " surely, 1 
 will be there ! So my sister hath sent for thee : wittest 
 thou wherefore ? '' 
 
EABOLD. 191 
 
 Edith grew very pale, and her tone trembled aa ;/he 
 answered — 
 
 " Well-a-day, yes." 
 
 " It is as I feared, then I " exclaimed Harold, in great 
 agitation ; " and my sister, whom these monks Lave de- 
 mented, leagues herself with the king against thi; law of 
 the wide welkin and the grand rtligion of the human 
 heart. Gh ! " continued the Earl, kindling ii-to an en- 
 thusiasm, rare to his even moods, but wrung a,v much from 
 his broad sense as from his strong affection, " when I 
 compare the Saxon of our land and day, all enervated 
 and decrepit by priestly superstition, with his forefathers 
 in the first Christian era, yielding to the religion they 
 adopted in its simple truths, but not to that rot of social 
 happiness and free manhood which this cold and lifeless 
 monachism — making virtue the absence of human ties — 
 spreads around — which the great Bede,* though himself 
 a monk, vainly but bitterly denounced ; -^ yea, verily, 
 when I see the Saxon already the theowe of the priest, 
 I shudder to ask bow long he will be folk-free of the 
 tyrant. " 
 
 He paused, breathed hard, and seizing, almost sternly, 
 the girl's treinbling arm, he resumed between his set 
 teeth, — " So they would have thee be a nun ? — Thou 
 wilt not, -^ thou durst not, — thy heart would perjure thy 
 vows I" 
 
 "Ah, Harold I" answered Edith, moved out of all 
 
 * Bed. Ejiiet. ad Egbert. 
 
198 HAEOLD. 
 
 bashfulness by his emotion and her own terror of the 
 convent, and answering, if with the love of a woman, still 
 with all the unconsciousness of a child : " better, oh better 
 the grate of the body than that of the heart I — In the 
 grave I could still live for those I love ; behind the Grate, 
 love itself must be dead. Yes, thou pitiest me, Harold ; 
 thy sister, the queen, is gentle and kind ; I will fling my- 
 self at her feet, and say — ' Youth is fond, and the world 
 is fair : let me live my youth, and bless God in the world 
 that He saw was good 1 ' " 
 
 " My own, own dear Edith 1 " exclaimed Harold, over- 
 joyed. " Say this. Be firm ; they cannot, and they dare 
 not force thee 1 The law cannot wrench thee against thy 
 will from the ward of thy guardian Hilda ; and, where 
 the law is, there Harold at least is strong, — and there at 
 least our kinship, if my bane, is thy blessing." 
 
 "Why, Harold, sayest thou that our kinship is thy 
 bane ? It is so sweet to me to whisper to myself, ' Ha- 
 rold is of thy kith, though distant ; and it is natural to 
 thee to have pride in his fame, and joy in his presence 1 ' 
 Why is that sweetness to me, to thee so bitter ? " 
 
 " Because,'' answered Harold, dropping the hand he 
 had clasped, and folding his arms in deep dejection, " be- 
 cause but for that I should say — ' Edith, I love thee more 
 than a brother : Edith, be Harold's wife ! ' And were I 
 to say it, and were we to wed, all the priests of the Saxons 
 would lift up their hands in horror, and curse our nup- 
 tials; and I should be the bann'd of that spectre the 
 Church ; and my house would shake to its foundations : 
 
HAROLD. 199 
 
 and my father, and my brothers, and the thegns and the 
 proceres, and the abbots and prelates, whose aid makes 
 our force, would gather round me with threats and with 
 prayers, that I might put thee aside. And mighty as 1 
 am now, so mighty once was Sweyn my brother; and 
 outlaw as Sweyn is now, might Harold be, and outlaw 
 if Harold were, what breast so broad as his could fill up 
 the gap left in the defence of England ? And the pas- 
 sions that I curb, as a rider his steed, might break their 
 rein ; and, strong in justice, and child of Nature, I might 
 come, with banner and mail, against Church, and House, 
 and Father-land ; and the blood of my countrymen might 
 be poured like water : and, therefore, slave to the lying 
 thraldom he despises, Harold dares not say to the maid 
 of his love, — ' Give me thy right hand, and be my 
 bride I ' " 
 
 Edith had listened in bewilderment and despair, her 
 eyes fixed on his, and her face locked and rigid, as if 
 turned to stone. But when he had ceased, and, moving 
 some steps away, turned aside his manly countenance, 
 that Edith might not perceive its anguish, the noble and 
 sublime spirit of that sex which ever, when lowliest, most 
 comprehends the lofty, rose superior both to love and to 
 grief; and rising, she advanced, and placing her slight 
 hand on his stalwart shoulder, she said, half in pity, half 
 ju reverence — 
 
 " Never before, Harold, did I feel so proud of tnee : 
 for Edith could not love thee as she doth, and will till 
 the grave clasp her, if thou didst not love England more 
 
200 HAROLD. 
 
 vhan Edith. Harold, till this hour I was a child, and I 
 knew not my own heart : I look now into that heart, and 
 I see that I am woman. Harold, of the cloister I have 
 now no fear: and all life does not shrink — no, it en- 
 larges, and it soars into one desire — to be worthy to pray 
 for thee I " 
 
 "Maid, maid I" exclaimed Harold, abruptly, and pale 
 as the dead, " do not say thou hast no fear of the cloister. 
 I adjure, I command thee, build not up between us that 
 dismal everlasting wall. While thou art free, Hope yet 
 survives — a phantom, haply, but Hope still." 
 
 "As thou wilt, I will," said Edith, humbly: "order 
 my fate so as pleases thee the best." 
 
 Then, not daring to trust herself longer, for she felt 
 the tears rushing to her eyes, she turned away hastily, 
 and left him alone beside the altar-stone and the tomb. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 The next day, as Harold was entering the palace of 
 Westminster, with intent to seek the king's lady, his 
 father met him in one of the corridors, and taking him 
 gTi'vely by the hand, said — 
 
 " My son, I have mnch on my mind regarding thee and 
 our House; come with me." 
 
 " Nay," said the Earl, " by your leave let it be later. 
 For I have it on hand to see ray sister, ere confessor, or 
 monk, or schoolman, claim her hours 1 " 
 
HAROLD. 201 
 
 "Not so, Harold," said the Earl, briefly. "My 
 daughter is now in her oratory, and we shall have time 
 enow to treat of things mundane ere she is free to receive 
 thee, and to preach to thee of things ghostly, the last 
 miracle at St. Alban's, or the last dream of the king, who 
 would be a great man and a Stirring, if as restless when 
 awake as he is in his sleep. Come." 
 
 Harold, in that filial obedience which belonged, as of 
 course, to his antique cast of character, made no farther 
 effort to escape, but with a sigh followed Godwin into 
 one of the contiguous chambers. 
 
 "Harold," then said Earl Godwin, after closing the 
 door carefully, "thou must not let the king keep thee 
 longer in dalliance and idleness : thine earldom needs 
 thee without delay. Thou knowest that these East 
 Angles, as we Saxons still call them^ are in truth mostly 
 Danes and Norsemen ; a people jealous and fierce, and 
 free, and more akin to the Normans than to the Saxons. 
 My whole power in England hath been founded, not less 
 on my common birth with the freefolk of Wessex — Saxons 
 like myself, and therefore easy for Hie, a Saxon, to con- 
 ciliate and control — than on the hold I have ever sought 
 to establish, whether by arms or by arts, over the Danes 
 in the realm. And I tell and I warn thee, Harold, as 
 the natural heir of my greatness, that he who cannot 
 command the stout hearts of the Anglo-Danes, will never 
 maintain the race of Godwin in the post they have won 
 in the van-guard of Saxon England." 
 
 " This I wot well, my father," answered Harold ; " and 
 ir* 
 
202 HAROLD. 
 
 I see with joy, that while those descendants of heroes and 
 freemen are blended indissolubly with the meeker Saxon, 
 their freer laws and hardier manners are gradually sup- 
 planting, or rather regenerating, our own." 
 
 Godwin smiled approvingly on his son, and then bis 
 brow becoming serious, and the dark pupil of his blue 
 eye dilating, he resumed : 
 
 " This is well, my son ; and hast thou thought also, 
 that while thou art loitering in these galleries, amidst the 
 ghosts of men in monk cowls, Siward is shadowing our 
 House with his glory, and all north the Humber rings 
 with his name ? Hast thou thought that all Mercia is in 
 the hands of Leofric our rival, and that Algar his son, 
 who ruled Wessex in my absence, left there a name so 
 beloved, that had I stayed a year longer, the cry had 
 been 'Algar ' not ' Godwin ? ' — for so is the multitude 
 ever I Now aid me, Harold, for my soul is troubled, 
 and I cannot work alone ; and though I say nought to 
 others, my heart received a death-blow when tears fell 
 from its blood-springs on the brow of Sweyn, my first- 
 born." The old man paused, and his lip quivered. 
 
 " Thou, thou alone, Harold noble boy, thou alone 
 didst stand by his side in the hall ; alone, alone, and I 
 blessed thee in that hour over all the rest of my sons. 
 Well, well ! now to earth again. Aid me, Harold. I 
 open to thee my web : complete the woof when this hand 
 is cold. The new tree that stands alone in the plain is 
 soon nipped by the winter ; fenced round with the forest. 
 
HAROLD. 303 
 
 ts youth takes shelter from its fellows.* So is it with 
 .1 house newly founded ; it must win strei.gth from the 
 allies that it sets round its slender stem. What had 
 been Godwin, son of Wolnoth, had he not married into 
 the kingly house of great Canute ? It is this that gives 
 my sons now the right to the loyal love of the Danes. 
 The throne passed from Canute and his race, and the 
 Saxons again had their hour ; and I gave, as Jephtha 
 gave his daughter, my blooming Edith, to the cold bed 
 of the Saxon King. Had sons sprung from that union, 
 the grandson of Godwin, royal alike from Saxon and 
 Dane, would reign on the throne of the isle. Fate 
 ordered otherwise, and the spider must weave web anew. 
 Thy brother, Tostig, has added more splendor than solid 
 strength to our line, in his marriage with the daughter 
 of Baldwin the Count. The foreigner helps us little in 
 England. Thou, O. Harold, must bring new props to 
 the House. I would rather see thee wed to the child of 
 one of our great rivals than to the daughter of kaisar, or 
 outland king. Siward hath no daughter undisposed of. 
 Algar, son of Leofric, hath a daughter fair as the fairest ; 
 make her thy bride, that Algar may cease to be a foe. 
 This alliance will render Mercia, in truth, subject to our 
 principalities, since the stronger must quell the weaker. 
 It doth more. Algar himself has married into the 
 royalty of Wales.f Thou wilt win all those fierce tribes 
 
 * Tjsignee's Frilhiof. 
 
 + Some of the chroniclers say that he married the daughter of 
 Ciryifyth, the king of North Wales, but Gryffjth certainly married 
 
204 HAEOLD. 
 
 to thy side. Their forces will gain thee the marches, 
 now held so freely under Rolf the Norman, and in case 
 of brief reverse, or sharp danger, their mountains will 
 give refuge from all foes. This day, greeting Algar, he 
 told me he meditated bestowing his daughter on Gryffyth, 
 the rebel under-King of North Wales. Therefore," con- 
 tinued the old Earl, with a smile, " thou must speak in 
 time, and win and woo in the same breath. No hard 
 task, methinks, for Harold of the golden tongue." 
 
 " Sir, and father," replied the young Earl, whom the 
 long speech addressed to him had prepared for its close, 
 and whose habitual self-control saved him from disclosing 
 his emotion, " I thank you duteously, for your care for 
 my future, and hope to profit by your wisdom. I will 
 ask the king's leave to go to my East Anglians, and hold 
 there a folkmuth, administer justice, redress grievances, 
 and make thegn and ceorl content with Harold, their 
 earl. But vain is peace in the realm, if there is strife in 
 the house. And Aldyth, the daughter of Algar, cannot 
 be house-wife to me." 
 
 " Why ? " asked the old Earl, calmly, and surveying 
 his son's face, with those eyes so clear yet so unfathom- 
 able 
 
 " Because, though I grant her fair, she pleases not my 
 fancy, nor would give warmth to my hearth. Because, 
 as thou knowest well, Algar and I have ever been op- 
 
 Algav's daughter, and that douhle alliance could not have been 
 permitted. It was probably, therefore, some more distant kins- 
 woman of Oryffyth's that was united to Algar. 
 
HAKOLD. 206 
 
 posed, both in camp and in council; and I am not the 
 man who can sell my love, though I may stifle my anger. 
 Earl Harold needs no bride to bring spearmen to hia 
 back at his need ; and his lordships he will guard with 
 the shield of a man, not the spindle of a woman." 
 
 " Said in spite and in error," replied the old Earl 
 coolly. " Small pain had it given thee to forgive Algar 
 old quarrels, and clasp his hand as a father-in-law — if 
 thou hadst had for his daughter what the great are for- 
 bidden to regard save as a folly." 
 
 " Is love a folly, my father ? " 
 
 " Surely, yes," said the Earl, with some sadness — 
 " surely, yes, for those who know that life is made up of 
 business and care, spun out in long years, not counted by 
 the joys of an hour. Surely, yes ; thinkest thou that I 
 loved my first wife, the proud sister of Canute, or that 
 Edith, thy sister, loved Edward, when he placed the 
 crown on her head ? " 
 
 " My father, in Edith, my sister, our House hath sacri- 
 ficed enow to selfish power." 
 
 "I grant it, to selfish power," answered the eloquent 
 old man, "but not enow for England's safety. Look to 
 it, Harold ; thy years, and thy fame, and thy state, place 
 thee free from my control as a father, but not till thou 
 slecpest in thy cerements art thou free from that father — • 
 thy land I Ponder it in thine own wise mind — wiser 
 already than that which speaks to it under the hood of 
 grey hairs. Ponder it, and ask thyself if thy power, 
 when T am dead, is not necessary to the weal of England ; 
 
 I.— 18 
 
206 HAROLD. 
 
 and if aught that thy schemes can suggest, would so 
 strengthen that power, as to find in the heart of the king- 
 dom a host of friends lilie the Mercians ; — or if there 
 could be a trouble, and a bar to thy greatness, a wall in 
 thy path, or a thorn in thy side, like the hate or the 
 jealousy of Algar, the son of Leofric?" 
 
 Thus addressed, Harold's face, before serene and calm, 
 grew overcast ; and he felt the force of his father's words 
 when appealing to his reason — not to his affections. The 
 old man saw the advantage he had gained, and prudently 
 forbore to press it. Rising, he drew round him his sweep- 
 ing gonna lined with furs, and only when he reached the 
 door, he added : — 
 
 "The old see afar; they stand on the height of ex- 
 perience, as a warder on the crown of a tower ; and I 
 tell thee, Harold, that if thou let slip this golden occa- 
 sion, years hence — long and many — thou wilt rue the loss 
 of the hour. And that, unless Mercia, as the centre oi 
 the kingdom, be reconciled to thy power, thou wilt stand 
 high indeed — but on the shelf of a precipice. And if, as 
 I suspect, thou lovest some other, who now clouds thy 
 perception, and will then check thy ambition, thou wilt 
 break her heart with thy desertion, or gnaw thine own 
 with regret. For love dies in possession — ambition has 
 no fruition, and so lives for ever." 
 
 " That ambition is not mine, my father," exclaimed 
 Harold earnestly ; " I have not thy love of power, glori- 
 ous in thee, even in its extremes. I have not thy " 
 
 " Seventy years 1 " interrupted the old man, concluding 
 
HAROLD. 207 
 
 the sentence. "At seventy, all men who have been great 
 will speak as I do ; yet all will have known love. Thou 
 not ambitious, Harold ? Thou knowest not thyself, nor 
 knowest thou yet what ambition is. That which I see 
 far before me as thy natural prize, I dare not, or I will 
 not say. When time sets that prize within reach of thy 
 spear's point, say then, ' I am not ambitious I ' Ponder 
 and decide." 
 
 And Harold pondered long, and decided not as God- 
 win could have wished. For he had not the seventy 
 years of his father, and the prize lay yet in the womb of 
 the mountains; though the dwarf and the gnome were 
 already fashioning the ore to the shape of a crown. 
 
 CHAPTER TI. 
 
 While Harold mused over his father's words, Edith, 
 seated on a low stool beside the Lady of England, listened 
 with earnest but mournful reverence to her royal name- 
 sake. 
 
 The queen's * closet opened like the king's, on one 
 hand to an oratory, on the other to a spacious ante-room ; 
 the lower part of the walls was covered with arras, leav- 
 
 * The title of queen is employed in these pages, as one which 
 our historians have unhesitatingly given to the consorts of out 
 Saxon kings ; but the usual and correct designation of Edward'i 
 royal wife, in her own time, would be, Edith the Lady. 
 
208 HAROLD. 
 
 ing space for a niche that contained an image of the 
 Virgin. Near the doorway to the oratory, was the stoupe 
 or aspersorium for holy-water ; and in various cysts and 
 crypts, in either room, were caskets containing the relics 
 of saints. The purple light from the stained glass of a 
 high narrow window, shaped in the Saxon arch, streamed 
 rich and full over the queen's bended head like a glory, 
 and tinged her pale cheek, as with a maiden blush ; and 
 she might have furnished a sweet model for early artist, 
 in his dreams of St. Mary the Mother, not when, young 
 and blest, she held the divine Infant in her arms, but 
 when sorrow had reached even the immaculate bosom, 
 and the stone had been rolled over the Holy Sepulchre. 
 For beautiful the face still was, and mild beyond all 
 words ; but, beyond all words also, sad in its tender re- 
 signation. 
 
 And thus said the queen to her godchild. 
 
 " Why dost thou hesitate and turn away ? Thinkest 
 thou, poor child, in thine ignorance of life, that the world 
 ever can give thee a bliss greater than the calm of the 
 cloister ? Pause, and ask thyself, young as thou art, if 
 all the true happiness thou hast known is not bounded 
 to hope. As long as thou hopest, thou art happy." 
 
 Edith sighed deeply, and moved her young head in 
 ic'cluntary acquiescence. 
 
 "And what is life to the nun, but hope ? In that hope 
 she knows not the present, she lives in the future ; she 
 hears ever singing the chorus of the angels, as St. Dun- 
 
HAROLD. 209 
 
 Stan heard them sing at the birth of Edgar.* That hope 
 unfolds to her the heiligthum of the fuoure. On earth 
 her body, in heaven her soul I " 
 
 "And her heart, Lady of England ? » cried Edith, 
 with a sharp pang. 
 
 The queen paused a moment, and laid her pale hand 
 kindly on Edith's bosom. 
 
 "Not beating, child, as thine does now, with vain 
 thoughts, and worldly desires ; but calm, calm as mine. 
 It is in our power," resumed the queen, after a second 
 pause, " it is in our power to make the life within us all 
 soul, so that the heart is not, or is felt not ; so that grief 
 and joy have no power over us ; so that we look tranquil 
 on the stormy earth, as yon image of the Virgin, whom 
 we make our example, looks from the silent niche. Listen, 
 my godchild and darling. 
 
 " I have known human state and human debasement. 
 In these halls I woke Lady of England, and ere sunset, 
 my husband banished me, without one mark of honor, 
 without one word of comfort, to the convent of Wher- 
 well ; — my father, my mother, my kin, all in exile ; and 
 my tears falling fast for them, but not on a husband's 
 bosom." 
 
 "Ah, then, noble Edith," said the girl, coloring with 
 anger at the remembered wrong for her queen, " ah, then, 
 surely at least thy heart made itself heard." 
 
 " Heard, yea, verily," said the queen, looking up, and 
 
 * Ethel. De. Oen Reg. Aug. 
 18* 
 
210 HAROLD. 
 
 pressing her hands ; " heard, but the soul rebuked it. 
 And the soul said, 'Blessed are they that mourn ;' and 
 I rejoiced at the new trial which brought me nearer to 
 Ilim who chastens those He loves." 
 
 " But thy banished kin — the valiant, the wise ; they 
 who placed thy lord on the throne ? " 
 
 " Was it no comfort,'' answered the queen, simply, "to 
 think that in the House of God my prayers for them 
 would be more accepted than in the ball of kings ? Yes, 
 my child, I have known the world's honor, and the world's 
 disgrace, and I have schooled my heart to be calm in 
 both." 
 
 "Ah, thou art above human strength. Queen and Saint," 
 exclaimed Edith ; " and I have heard it said of thee, that 
 as thou art now, thou wert from thine earliest years ; * 
 ever the sweet, the calm, the holy — ever less on earth 
 than in heaven." 
 
 Something there was in the queen's eyes, as she raised 
 them towards Edith at this burst of enthusiasm, that gave 
 for a moment, to a face otherwise so dissimilar, the like- 
 ness to her father ; something, in that large pupil, of the 
 impenetrable unrevealing depth of a nature close and 
 secret in self-control. And a more acute observer than 
 Edith might long have been perplexed and haunted with 
 that look, wondering, if, indeed, under the divine and 
 spiritual composure, lurked the mystery of human passion. 
 
 " My child," said the queen, with the faintest smile 
 
 * AilKED, De Vit. Edward Confess. 
 
HAB^LD. 211 
 
 npon her lips, aud drawing Edith towards her, "there 
 are moments, when all that breathe the breath of life 
 feel, or have felt, alike. In my vain youth I read, I mused, 
 I pondered, but over worldly lore ; and what men called 
 the sanctity of virtue, was, perhaps, but the silence of 
 thought. Now I have put aside those early and childish 
 dreams and shadows, remembering them not, save (here 
 the smile grew more pronounced) to puzzle some poor 
 school-boy with the knots and riddles of the sharp gram- 
 marian : * but not to speak of myself have I sent for 
 thee. Edith, again and again, solemnly and sincerely, I 
 pray thee to obey the wish of my lord the king. And 
 now, while yet in all the bloom of thought, as of youth, 
 while thou hast no memory save the child's, enter on the 
 Realm of Peace." 
 
 " I cannot, I dare not, I cannot — ah, ask me not," said 
 poor Edith, covering her face with her hands. 
 
 Those hands the queen gently withdrew ; and looking 
 steadfastly in the changeful and half-averted face, she 
 said mournfully, " Is it so, my godchild ? and is thy heart 
 eiet on the hopes of earth — thy dreams on the love of 
 man ? " 
 
 " Nay," answered Edith, equivocating ; " but I have 
 promised not to take the veil." 
 
 "Promised to Hilda!" 
 
 ' Hilda," exclaimed Edith readily, " would never con- 
 sent to it. Thou knowest her strong nature, her distaste 
 to — to " 
 
 * Ingulfus. 
 
212 HAROLD. 
 
 " Tlie laws of our holy Church — I do ; and for that 
 reason it is, mainly, that I join with the King in seeking 
 to abstract thee from her influence : but it is not Hilda 
 that thou hast promised ? " 
 
 Edith hung her head. 
 
 " Is it to woman or to man ? " 
 
 Before Edith could answer, the door from the ante- 
 room opened gently, but without the usual ceremony, 
 and Harold entered. His quick, quiet eye, embraced 
 both forms, and curbed Edith's young impulse, which 
 made her start from her seat, and advance joyously to- 
 wards him as a protector. 
 
 " Fair day to thee, my sister," said the earl, advancing ; 
 " and pardon, if I break thus rudely on thy leisure ; for 
 few are the moments when beggar and Benedictine leave 
 thee free to receive thy brother." 
 
 "Dost thou reproach me, Harold?" 
 
 " No, Heaven forfend 1 " replied the earl, cordially, and 
 with a look at once of pity and admiration; "for thou 
 art one of the few, in this court of simulators, sincere 
 and true ; and it pleases thee to serve the Divine Power 
 in thy way, as it pleases me to serve Him in mine." 
 
 " Thine, Harold ? " said the queen, shaking her head, 
 bat with a look of some human pride and fondness in her 
 fair face. 
 
 " Mine : as I learned it from thee when I was thy pupil, 
 Edith ; when to those studies in which thou didst precede 
 me, thou first didst lure me from sport and pastime ; and 
 from thee I learned to glow over the deeds of Greek and 
 
HAROLD. 213 
 
 Roman, and say, ' They lived and died as men ; like tbem 
 may I live and die 1'" 
 
 " Oh, true — too true 1 " said the queen, with a sigh ; 
 " and I am to blame grievously that I did so pervert to 
 earth a mind that might otherwise have learned holier 
 examples; — nay, smile not with that hf jghty lip, my 
 brother ; for, believe me — yea, believe me — there is more 
 true valor in the life of one patient martyr than in the 
 victories of Caesar, or even the defeat of Brutus." 
 
 "It may be so," replied the earl, "but out of the same 
 oak we carve the spear and the cross ; and those not 
 worthy to hold the one, may yet not guiltily wield the 
 other. Each to his path of life — and mine is chosen." 
 Then, changing his voice, with some abruptness, he said: 
 "But what hast thou been saying to thy fair godchild, 
 th^t her cheek is pale, and her eyelids seem so heavy ? 
 Edith, Edith, my sister, beware how thou shapest the lot 
 of the martyr without the peace of the saint. Had 
 Algive the nun been wedded to Sweyn our brother, Sweyn 
 were not wending, barefooted and forlorn, to lay the 
 wrecks of desolated life at the Holy Tomb " 
 
 " Harold, Harold I " faltered the queen, much struck 
 with his words. 
 
 "But," the earl continued — and something of the 
 pathos which belongs to deep emotion vibrated in the 
 eloquent voice, accu,stomed to command and persuade — 
 "we strip not the green leaves for our yule-hearths — 
 we gather them up when dry and sere. Leave youth 
 on the bough — let the bird sing to it — let it play free 
 
214 HAKOLD. 
 
 in the airs of heaven. Smoke comes from the branch 
 which, cut in the sap, is east upon the fire, and regret 
 from the heart which is severed from the world while the 
 world is in its May." 
 
 The queen paced slowly, but in evident agitation, to 
 and fro the room, and her hands clasped convulsively the 
 rosary round her neck ; then, after a pause of thought, 
 she motioned to Edith, and, pointing to the oratory, said, 
 with forced composure, " Enter there, and there kneel ; 
 commune with thyself, and be still. Ask for a sign from 
 above — pray for the grace within. Go; I would speak 
 alone with Harold." 
 
 Edith crossed her arms on her bosom meekly, and 
 passed into the oratory. The queen watched her for a 
 few moments, tenderly, as the slight, child-like form 
 bent before the sacred symbol. Then she closed the 
 door gently, and coming with a quick step to Harold, 
 said, in a low, but clear voice, "Dost thou love the 
 maiden ? " 
 
 " Sister," answered the earl, sadly, " I love her as a 
 man should love woman — more than my life,- but less 
 than the ends life lives for." 
 
 " Oh, world, world, world I " cried the queen, passion- 
 ately, " not even to thine own objects art thou true. O 
 world ! world I thou desirest happiness below, and at 
 every turn, with every vanity, thou tramplest happiness 
 under foot I Tes, yes ; they said to me, ' For the sake 
 of our greatness, thou shalt wed King Edward.' And I 
 live in the eyes that loathe me — and — and " The 
 
HAKOLr 216 
 
 queen, as if conscience-stricken, paused aghast, kissed 
 devoutly the relic suspended to her rosary, and continued, 
 with such calmness, that it seemed as if two women were 
 blent in one, so startling was the contrast. "And I have 
 had my reward, but not from the world ! Even so, Harold 
 the Earl, and Earl's son, thou lovest yon fair child, and 
 she thee ; and ye might be happy, if happiness were 
 earth's end ; but, though high-born, and of fair temporal 
 possessions, she brings thee not lands broad enough for 
 her dowry, nor troops of kindred to swell thy lithsmen, 
 and she is not a mark-stone in thy march to ambition : 
 and so thou lovest her as man loves woman — 'less than 
 the ends life lives for 1 ' " 
 
 " Sister," said Harold, " thou speakest as I love to 
 hear thee speak — as my bright-eyed, rose-lipped sister 
 spoke in the days of old ; thou speakest as a woman with a 
 warm heart, and not as the mummy in the stiflF cerements 
 of priestly form ; and if thou art with me, and thou wilt 
 give me countenance, I will marry thy godchild, and save 
 her alike from the dire superstitions of Hilda, and the 
 grave of the abhorrent convent.'' 
 
 "But my father — my father ! " cried the queen ; " who 
 ever bended that soul of steel?" 
 
 " It is not my father I fear ; it is thee and thy monks. 
 Eorgettest thou that Edith and I are within the six- 
 banned degrees of the Church ? " 
 
 " True, most true," said the queen, with a look of 
 great terror; "I had forgotten. Avaunt, the very 
 
216 HAROLD. 
 
 thought ! Pray — fast — banish it — my poor, poor 
 brother 1 " and she kissed his brow. 
 
 " So, there fades the woman, and the mummy speaks 
 again I " said Harold, bitterly. "Be it so ; I bow to my 
 doom. Well, there may be a time, when Nature, on the 
 throne of England, shall prevail over Priestcraft ; and, 
 in guerdon for all my services, I will then ask a king who 
 hath blood in his veins, to win me the Pope's pardon and 
 benison. Leave me that hope, my sister, and leave thy 
 godchild on the shores of the living world." 
 
 The queen made no answer ; and Harold, auguring ill 
 from her silence, moved on aud opened the door of the 
 oratory. But the image that there met him, that figure 
 still kneeling, those eyes, so earnest in the tears that 
 streamed from them fast and unheeded, fixed on the holy 
 rood — awed his step and checked his voice. Nor till the 
 girl had risen, did he break silence ; then he said, gently, 
 "My sister will press thee no more, Edith — " 
 
 '; I say not that I " exclaimed the queen. 
 
 " Or if she doth, remember thy .plighted promise under 
 the wide cope of blue heaven, the old co- least holy 
 temple of our common Father I " 
 
 With these words he lef* the ro*?*!!. 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 ait 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Harold passed into the queen's ante-chamber. Hero 
 the attendance was small and select compared with the 
 crowds which we shall see presently in the ante-room to 
 the king's closet : for here came chiefly the more learned 
 ecclesiastics, attracted instinctively by the queen's own 
 mental culture, and few indeed were they at that day 
 (perhaps the most illiterate known in England since the 
 death of Alfred ; *) and here came not the tribe of im- 
 postors, and the relic-venders, whom the infantine sim- 
 plicity and lavish waste of the Confessor attracted. Some 
 four or five priests and monks, some lonely widow, some 
 orphan child, humble worth, or unprotected sorrow, made 
 the noiseless levee of the sweet sad queen. 
 
 The groups turned, with patient eyes, towards the earl 
 as he emerged from that chamber, which it was rare in- 
 deed to quit unconsoled, and marvelled at the flush in 
 his cheek, and the disquiet on his brow ; but Harold was 
 dear to the clients of his sister ; for, despite his supposed 
 indifference to the mere priestly virtues (if virtues we call 
 
 * The clergy (says Malmesbury), contented with a very alight 
 share of learning could scarcely stammer out the words of the 
 Baoraments; and a person wJio understood grammar was an object 
 of wonder and astonishment. Other authorities likely to be im- 
 partial, speak quite as strongly as to the prevalent ignorance of 
 the time. 
 
 1.-19 
 
213 HAROLD. 
 
 them) of the decrepit time, his intellect was respected by 
 yon learned ecclesiastics ; and his character, as the foe 
 of all injustice, and the fosterer of all that were desolate, 
 was known to yon pale-eyed widow, and yon trembling 
 orphan. 
 
 In the atmosphere of that quiet assembly, the eai" 
 seemed to recover his kindly temperament, and he paused 
 to address a friendly or a soothing word to each ; so that 
 when he vanished, the hearts there felt more light ; and 
 the silence, hushed before his entrance, was broken by 
 many whispers in praise of the good earl. 
 
 Descending a staircase without the walls — as even in 
 royal halls the principal staircases were then — Harold 
 gained a wide court, in which loitered several house 
 carles,* and attendants, whether of the king or the 
 visitors ; and reaching the entrance of the palace, took 
 his way towards the king's rooms, which lay near, and 
 round, what is now called "The Painted Chamber," 
 then used as a bed-room by Edward on state occasions. 
 
 And now he entered the ante-chamber of his royal 
 brother-in-law. Crowded it was, but rather seemed it 
 the hall of a convent than the ante-room of a king. 
 Monks, pilgrims, priests, met his eyes in every nook ; and 
 Tiot there did the earl pause to practise the arts of popular 
 
 * House carles in the royal court were the body-guard, mostly, 
 if not all, of Danish origin. They appear to have been first formed, 
 sr at least employed, in that capacity by Canute. With the great 
 earls, the house carles probably exercised the same functions, but 
 in the ordinary acceptation of the word in families of lower rank, 
 liou!?e carle was a domestic servant. 
 
HAROLD. 219 
 
 favor. Passing erect through the midst, he beckoned 
 forth the officer, in attendance at the extreme end, who, 
 after an interchange of whispers, ushered him into the 
 royal presence. The monks and the priests, gazing to- 
 wards the door which had closed on his stately form, said 
 to each other : — 
 
 " The king's Norman favorites at least honored the 
 Chnrch." 
 
 " That is true," said an abbot ; " and an' it were not 
 for two things, I should love the Norman better than the 
 Saxon." 
 
 " What are they, my father ?" asked an aspiring young 
 monk. 
 
 "Tnprinis," quoth the abbot, proud of the one Latin 
 word he thought he knew, but that, as we see, was an 
 error ; "they cannot speak so as to be understood, and I 
 fear me much they incline to mere carnal learning." 
 
 Here there was a sanctified groan : — 
 
 •' Count William himself spoke to me in Latin 1 " con- 
 tinued the abbot, raising his eyebrows. 
 
 "Did he? — Wonderful!" exclaimed several voices. 
 "And what did you answer, holy father?" 
 
 "Marry," said the abbot, solemnly, "I replied, 'In- 
 prinis.' " 
 
 " Good I " said the young monk, with a look of pro- 
 found admiration. 
 
 ""Whereat the good Count looked puzzled — as I meant 
 him to be : — a heinous fault, and one intolerant to the 
 clergy, that love of profane tongues I And the next 
 
220 HAROLD. 
 
 thing against your Norman is (added the abbot, with a 
 sly wink), that he is a close man, who loves not his 
 Rtoup : now, I say, that a priest never had more hold 
 over a sinner than when he makes the sinner open his 
 heart to hira." 
 
 " That's clear ! " said a fat priest, with a lubricate and 
 shining nose. 
 
 "And how," pursued the abbot triumphantly, "can a 
 sinner open his heavy heart until you have given him 
 something to lighten it ? Oh, many and many a wretched 
 man have I comforted spiritually over a flagon of stout 
 8.1e 1 and many a good legacy to the Church hath come 
 out of a friendly wassail between watchful shepherd and 
 strayed sheep I But what hast thou there?" resumed 
 the abbot, turning to a man, clad in the lay garb of a 
 burgess of London, who had just entered the room, 
 followed by a youth bearing what seemed a coffer, covered 
 with a fine linen cloth. 
 
 " Holy father I " said the burgess, wiping his forehead, 
 " it is a treasure so great, that I trow Hugoline, the ■ 
 king's treasurer, will scowl at me for a year to come, for 
 he likes to keep his own grip on the king's gold ! " 
 
 At this indiscreet observation, the abbot, the monks, 
 and all the priestly by-standers, looked grim and gloomy, 
 for each had his own special design upon the peace of 
 poor Hugoline, the treasurer, and liked not to see him 
 the prey of a layman. 
 
 "Inprinis!" quoth the abbot, puffing out the word 
 with great scorn ; " thinkest thou, son of Mammon, that 
 
HAROLi). 221 
 
 our good king sets his pious heart on gewgaws, and 
 gems, and such vanities ? Thou shonldst take the goods 
 to Count Baldwin of Flanders ; or Tostig, the proud 
 earl's proud son." 
 
 "Marry I" said the cheapman, with a smile; "my 
 treasure will find small price with Baldwin the scoffer, 
 and Tostig the vain 1 Nor need ye look at me so sternly, 
 my fathers ; but rather vie with each other who shall win 
 this wonder of wonders for his own convent ; know, in a 
 word, that it is the right thumb of St. Jude, which a 
 worthy man bought at Rome for me, for 3,000 lb. weight 
 of silver ; and I ask but 500 lb. over the purchase for my 
 pains and my fee."* 
 
 " Humph I " said the abbot. 
 
 "Humph!" said the aspiring young monk: the rest 
 gathered wiBtfully round the linen cloth. 
 
 A fiery exclamation of wrath and disdain was here 
 heard : and all turning, saw a tall, fierce-looking thegn, 
 who had found his way into that group, like a hawk in a 
 rookery. 
 
 "Dost thou tell me, knave," quoth the thegn, in a 
 dialect that bespoke him a Dane by origin, with the 
 broad burr still retained in the north; "Dost thou tell 
 uie that the king will waste his gold on such fooleries, 
 'while the fort built by Canute at the flood of the Humber 
 
 * This T?as cheap, for Agelnoth, Archbishop of Canterbury, gava 
 the Pope 6,000 lb. ■weight of silTer for the arm of St. Augustine. — 
 Maim'Esburt. 
 
 19* 
 
222 HAROLD. 
 
 is all fallen iuto ruiu, without a man in steel jacket to 
 keep watch on the war fleets of Swede and' Norwegian ?" 
 
 "Worshipful minister," replied the cheapman, with 
 some slight irony in his tone ; " these reverend fathers 
 will tell thee that the thumb of St. Jude is far better aid 
 against Swede and Norwegian than forts of stone and 
 jackets of steel : nathless, if thou wantest jackets of steel, 
 I have some to sell at a fair price, of the last fashion, 
 and helms with long nose-pieces, as are worn by the 
 Normans." 
 
 " The thumb of a withered old saint," cried the Dane, 
 not heeding the last words, " more defence at the mouth 
 of the Humber than crenellated castles, and mailed men 1 " 
 
 " Surely, naught son," said the abbot, looking shocked, 
 and taking part with the cheapman. " Dost thou not 
 remember that, in the pious and famous council of 1014, 
 it was decreed to put aside all weapons of flesh against 
 thy heathen countrymen, and depend alone on St. Michael 
 to fight for us ? Thinkest thou that the saint would ever 
 suffer his holy thumb to fall into the hands of the Gen- 
 tiles ? — never 1 Go to, thou art not fit to have conduct 
 of the king's wars. Go to, and repent, my son, or the 
 king shall hear of it." 
 
 "Ah, wolf in sheep's clothing!" muttered the Dane, 
 turning on his heel ; "if thy monastery were but built on 
 the other side of the Humber ! " 
 
 The cheapman heard him, and smiled. While such 
 the scene in the ante-room, we follow Harold into the 
 king''s presence. 
 
HAROLD. 223 
 
 On entering, he found there a man in the prime of life, 
 and, though richly clad, in embroidered gonna, and with 
 gilt ateghar at his side, still with the loose robe, the 
 long moustache, and the skin of the throat and right 
 hand punctured with characters and devices, which proved 
 his adherence to the fashions of the Saxon.* And 
 Harold's eye sparkled, for in this guest he recognized the 
 father of Aldyth, Earl Algar, son of Leofric. The two 
 nobles exchanged grave salutations, and each eyed the 
 other wistfully. 
 
 The contrast between the two was striking. The 
 Danish race were men generally of larger frame and 
 grander mould than the Saxon ; f and though in all else, 
 as to exterior, Harold was eminently Saxon, yet in 
 common with his brothers, he took from the mother's 
 side the lofty air and iron frame of the old kings of the 
 sea. But Algar, below the middle height, though well 
 set, was slight in comparison with Harold. His strength 
 was that which men often take rather from the nerve than 
 the muscle : a strength that belongs to quick tempers and 
 restless energies. His light-blue eye singularly vivid and 
 
 * William of Malmesbury says, that the English, at- the time of 
 the Conquest, loaded their arms with gold bracelets, and adorned 
 the > skins with punctured designs, i.e. a sort of tattooing. He 
 saya that they then wore short garments, reaching to the mid-knee ; 
 but that was a Norman fashion, and the loose robes assigned in the 
 text to Afgar, were the old Saxon fashion, which made but little 
 distinjtion between the dress of women and that of men. 
 
 f And in England, to this day, the descendants of the Anglo- 
 Panes, in Cumberland and Yorkshire, are still a taller and bonier 
 race than those of the Anglo-Saxons, as in Surrey and Sussex. 
 
224 3AE0LD. 
 
 glittering ; his qnivering lip ; the veins swelling at each 
 emotion, on the fair white temples ; the long yellow hair, 
 bright as gold, and resisting in its easy curls, all attempts 
 to curb it into the smooth flow most in fashion ; the 
 nervons movements of the gesture ; the somewhat sharp 
 and hasty tones of the voice ; all opposed, as much as if 
 the two men were of different races, the steady deep eyes 
 of Harold, his composed mien, sweet and majestic, his 
 decorous locks parted on the king-like front, with their 
 large single curl, where they touched the shonlder. In- 
 telligence and will were apparent in both the men ; but 
 the intelligence of one was acute and rapid, that of the 
 other profound and steadfast ; the will of one broke in 
 3ashes of lightning, that of the other was calm as the 
 summer sun at noon. 
 
 "Thou art welcome, Harold," said the king, with less 
 than his usual listlessness, and with a look of relief, as 
 the earl approached him. 
 
 " Our good Algar comes to us with a suit well worthy 
 consideration, though pressed somewhat hotly, and 
 evincing too great a desire for goods worldly; ccntrast- 
 ing in this his most laudable father, our well-beloved 
 Leofric, who spends his substance in endowing monas- 
 teries, and dispensing alms ; wherefor he shall receive a 
 hundred-fold in the treasure-house above." 
 
 " A good interest, doubtless, my lord the king," said 
 Algar, quickly, " but one that is not paid to his heirs ; 
 and the more need, if my father (whom I blame not for 
 doing as he lists with his own) gives all he hath to the 
 
HAROLD. 22^ 
 
 monks ^- the more need, I say, to take care that his sou 
 shall be enabled to follow his example. As it is, most 
 noble king, I fear me that Algar, son of Leofric, will have 
 nothing to give. In brief. Earl Harold,'' continued 
 Algar, turning to his fellow thegn — "in brief, thus 
 stands the matter. When our lord the king was first 
 graciously pleased to consent to rule in England, the two 
 chiefs who most assured his throne were thy father and 
 mine : often foes, they laid aside feu-d and jealousy for the 
 sake of the Saxon line. Now, since then, thy father hath 
 strung earldom to earldom, like links in a coat-mail. 
 And, save Northumbria and Mercia, well-nigh all Eng- 
 land falls to him and his sons ; whereas my father remains 
 what he was, and my father's son stands landless and 
 penceless. In thine absence the king was graciously 
 pleased to bestow on me thy father's earldom ; men say 
 that I ruled it well. Thy father returns, and though 
 (here Algar's eyes shot fir«, and his hand involuntarily 
 rested on his ateghar), I could have held it, methinks, by 
 the strong hand, I gave it up at my father's prayer, and 
 the king's best, with a free heart. Now, therefore, I 
 come to my lord, and I ask, 'What lands and what lord- 
 ships canst thou spare in broad England to Algar, once 
 Earl of Wessex, and son to the Leofric whose hand 
 smoothed the way to thy throne ? ' My lord the king is 
 pleaded to preach to me contempt of the world ; thou 
 dost not despise the world. Earl of the East Angles, — 
 what sayest thou to the heir of Leofric ? " 
 
 ]9» P 
 
226 HAROLD. 
 
 " That thy suit is just," answered Harold, calmly, " but 
 urged with small reverence." 
 
 Earl Algar bounded like a stag that the arrow hath 
 startled. 
 
 " It becomes thee, who hast backed thy suits with war- 
 ships and mail, to talk of reverence, and rebuke one 
 whose fathers reigned over earldoms,* when thine were 
 no doubt, ceorls at the plough. But for Edric's Streone, 
 the traitor and low-born, what had been Walnoth, thy 
 grand sire ?" 
 
 So rude and home an assault in the presence of the 
 king, who, though personally he loved Harold in his 
 lukewarm way, yet, like all weak men, was not displeased 
 to see the strong split their strength against each other, 
 brought the blood into Harold's cheek ; but he answered 
 calmly ; — 
 
 " We live in a land, son of Leofric, in which birth, 
 though not disesteemed, gives of itself no power in coun- 
 cil or camp. We belong to a land where men are valued 
 
 ♦Very few of the greater Saxon nobles could pretend to a 
 lengthened succession in their demesnes. The wars with the Danes, 
 the many revolutions which threw new families uppermost, the con- 
 fiscations and banishments, and the invariable rule of rejecting the 
 heir, if not of mature years at his father's death, caused rapid 
 changes of dynasty in the several earldoms; but the family of 
 Leofric had just claims to a very rare antiquity in their Mercian 
 lordship. Leofric was the sixth earl of Chester and Coventry, in 
 lineal descent from his namesake Leofric I. ; he extended the. 
 supremacy of his hereditary lordship over all Mercia. See Duo- 
 dale, Monaat. vol. iii. p. 102 ; and Palgkave's Commonwealth, 
 Proofs and lllualrations, p. 291. 
 
HAROLD 227 
 
 Tor what they are, not for what their dead ancestors 
 might have been. So has it been for ages in Saxon Eng- 
 land, where my fathers, through Godwin, as thou sayest, 
 might have been ceorls ; and so, I have heard, it is in the 
 land of the martial Danes, where my fathers, through 
 Githa, reigned on the thrones of the North." 
 
 "Thou dost well," said Algar, gnawing his lip, "to 
 shelter thyself on the spindle side, but we Saxons of pure 
 descent think little of your kings of the North, pirates 
 and idolators, and eaters of horse-flesh ; but enjoy wha.t 
 thou hast, and let Algar have his due." 
 
 "It is for the king, not his servant, to answer the 
 prayer of Algar," said Harold, withdrawing to the farther 
 end of the room. 
 
 Algar's eye followed him, and observing that the king 
 was fast sinking into one of the fits of religious reverie 
 in which he sought to be inspired with a decision, when- 
 ever his mind was perplexed, he moved with a light step 
 to Harold, put his hand on his shoulder, and whispered, — 
 
 "We do ill to quarrel with each other — I repent me 
 of hot words : — enough. Thy father is a wise man, and 
 sees far — thy father would have us friends. Be it so. 
 Hearken : my daughter Aldyth is esteemed not the least 
 faif of the maidens in England ; I will give her to thee 
 as thy wife, and as thy morgen gift, thou shalt win for 
 me from the king the earldom forfeited by thy brother 
 Sweyn, now parcelled out among sub-earls and thegns — 
 easv enow to control. By the shrine of St. Alban, dost 
 xhou hesitate, man?" 
 
228 HAROLD. 
 
 "No, not an instant," said Harold, stung to tie quick 
 " Not, couldst thou oifer me all Mercia as her dower, 
 would I wed the daughter of Algar ; and bend my knee 
 as a son to a wife's father, to the man who despises my 
 lineage, while he truckles to my power." 
 
 Algar's face grew convulsed with rage ; but without 
 baying a word to the earl he strode back to Edward, who 
 now with vacant eyes looked up from the rosary over 
 which he had been bending, and said abruptly — 
 ■ " My lord the king, I have spoken as I think it be- 
 comes a man who knows his own claims, and believes in 
 the gratitude of princes. Three days will I tarry in 
 London for your gracious answer ; on the fourth, I de- 
 part. May the saints guard your throne, and bring 
 around it its best defence, the thegn-born satraps whose 
 fathers fought with Alfred and Athelstan. All went 
 well with merrie England till the hoof of the Dane king 
 broke the soil, and mushrooms sprung up where the Oak- 
 trees fell." 
 
 When the son of Leofric had left the chamber, the 
 king rose wearily, and said in Norman-Prench, to which 
 language he always yearningly returned, when with those 
 who could speak it, — 
 
 " Beaufrire and Men aimS, in what trifles must a king 
 pass his life ! And, all this while, matters grave and 
 urgent demand me. Know that Eadmer, the cheapman, 
 waits without, and hath brought me, dear and good man, 
 the thumb of St. Jude I What 'hought of delight 1 And 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 this unmannerly son of strife, with his jay's voice and 
 wolf's eyes, screaming at me for earldoms I — oh the folly 
 of man I Kaught, naught, very naught 1 " 
 
 "Sir aiid king," said Harold, "it ill becomes me to 
 arraign j&ar pions desires, but these relics are of vast 
 cost ; our coasts are ill defended, and tbe Dane yet lays 
 claim to your kingdom. Three thousand pounds Of silver 
 and more does it need to repair even the old wall of 
 London and Southweorc," 
 
 "Three thousand pounds I" cried the king; "thou art 
 mad, Harold ! I have scarce twice that sum in the trea- 
 sury ; and besides the thumb of St. Jude, I daily expect 
 the tooth of St. Remigius — the tOoth of St. Remigius 1" 
 
 Harold sighed. " Vex not yourself, my lord ; I will see 
 to the defences of London. For, thanks to your grace, 
 my revenues are large, vrhile my wants are simple. I 
 seek you now to pray your leave to visit my earldom. 
 Mylithsmen murmur at my absence, and grievances, many 
 "and sore, have arisen in my exile." 
 
 The king starfed fn terror ; and his look was that of a 
 child when abOut to be Idft in the dark. 
 
 "Nay, na;y; I cannot spare thee, beau frlre. Thou 
 curbest all these stiff fhegris — thou leavest me time for 
 the devout ; moreover thy father, thy father, I will not 
 be Mt to thy father ! I love him not I " 
 
 "My father!" said Harold, niOurnfully, "returns to 
 his own earldom ; and of all our House, you will have but 
 the mild face of your queen by your sidel" 
 
 I. —20 
 
230 HAEOLD. 
 
 The king s lip writhed at that hinted rebuke, or implied 
 consolation. 
 
 " Edith, the queen," he said, after a slight pause, " is 
 Dious and good ; and she hath never gainsaid my will, 
 and she hath set before her as a model the chaste Susan- 
 uah, as I, unworthy man, from youth upward, have walked 
 in the pure steps of Joseph.* But," added the king, with 
 a lOuch of human feeling in his voice, "canst thou not 
 conceive, Harold, thou who art a warrior, what it would 
 be to see ever before thee the face of thy deadliest foe — 
 the one against whom all thy struggles of life and death 
 had turned into memories of hyssop and gall ? " 
 
 " My sister ! " exclaimed Harold, in indignant amaze, 
 " my sister thy deadliest foe 1 She who never once mur- 
 mured at neglect, disgrace — she whose youth hath been 
 consumed in prayers for thee and thy realm — my sister I 
 
 king, I dream I " 
 
 " Thou dreamest not, carnal man," said the kmg, 
 peevishly. " Dreams are the gifts of the saints, and are 
 not granted to such as thou ! Dost thou think that, in 
 the prime of my manhood, I could have youth and beauty 
 forced on my sight, and hear man's law and man's voice 
 say; ' They are thine, and thine only,' and not feel that 
 war was brought to my hearth, and a snare set on my 
 bed, and that the fiend had set watch on my soul ? Verily, 
 
 1 tell thee, man of battle, that thou hast known no stiife 
 
 * AiLRED, de Vii. Edw. 
 
HAROLD. 231 
 
 as awful as mine, and achieved no victory as bard and as 
 holy. And now, when ray beard is silver, and the Adam 
 of old is expelled at the precincts of death ; now, thinkest 
 thou, that I can be reminded of the strife and temptation 
 of yore, without bitterness and shame ; when days were 
 spent in fasting, and nights in fierce prayer; and in the 
 face of woman I saw the devices of Satan ? " 
 
 Edward colored as he spoke, and his voice trembled 
 with the accents of what seemed hate. Harold gazed on 
 him mutely, and felt that at last he had won the secret 
 that had ever perplexed him, and that in seeking to be 
 above the humanity of love, the would-be saint had in- 
 deed turned love into the hues of hate — a thought of 
 anguish and a memory of pain. 
 
 The king recovered himself in a few moments, and said, 
 with some dignity, " But God and his saints alone should 
 know the secrets of the household. What I have said 
 was wrung from me. Bury it in thy heart. Leave me, 
 then, Harold, sith so it must me. Put thine earldom in 
 order, attend to the monasteries and the poor, and return 
 soon. As for Algar, what sayest thou ? " 
 
 "I fear me," answered the large-souled Harold, with 
 a victorious effort of justice over resentment, " that if 
 you reject his suit, you will drive him into some perilous 
 extremes. Despite his rash and pround spirit, he is brave 
 against foes, and beloved by the ceorls, who oft like best 
 the frank and hasty spirit. Wherefore some power and 
 lordship it were wise to give, without dispossessing others, 
 
232 HAROLD. 
 
 and not more wise than due, for his father served you 
 well." 
 
 "And hath endowed more houses of God than any earl 
 in the kingdom. But Algar is no Leofric. We will con- 
 sider your words and heed them. Bless you, heau frire ! 
 and send in the cheapman. The thumb of St. Jude 
 What a gift to my new church of St. Peter ! The thumb 
 of St. Jude ! — Non nobis gloria ! Sancta Maria I The 
 thumb of St. Jude I " 
 
BOOK FIFTH. 
 
 DEATH AND LOVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IIarold, without waiting once more to see Edith, n3r 
 eren taking leave of his father, repaired to Dunwich,* 
 the capital of his earldom. In his absence, the king 
 wholly forgot Algar and his suit ; and in the meanwhile 
 the only lordships at his disposal, Stigand, the grasping 
 bishop, got from him without an effort. In much wrath, 
 Earl Algar, on the fourth day, assembling all the loose 
 men-at-arms he could find around the metropolis, and at 
 the head of a numerous disorderly band, took his way 
 into Wales, with his young daughter Aldyth, to whom 
 the crown of a Welch king was perhaps some comfort 
 for the loss of the fair earl ; though the rumor ran that 
 she had long since lost her heart to her father's foe. 
 
 Edith, after a long homily from the king, returned to 
 Hilda ; nor did her godmother renew the subject of the 
 
 * Dunwich, now swallowed up by the Bea. — Hostile element to 
 the house of Godwin ! 
 
 20* (233) 
 
234 ' HAROLD. 
 
 convent. All she said on parting was, " Even in youth 
 the silver cord may be loosened, and the golden bowl 
 may be broken ; and rather perhaps in youth than in age 
 when the heart has grown hard, wilt thou recall with a 
 sigh my counsels." 
 
 Godwin had departed to Wales ; all his sons were at 
 their several lordships ; Edward was left alone to his 
 monks and relic-venders. And so months passed. 
 
 Now it was the custom with the old kings of England 
 to hold state and wear their crowns thrice a-year, — at 
 Christmas, at Easter, and at Whitsuntide ; and in those 
 times their nobles came round them, and there was much 
 feasting and great pomp. 
 
 So, in the Easter month of the year of our Lord, 1053, 
 King Edward kept his court at Windshore,* and Earl 
 Godwin and his sons, and many others of high degree, 
 left their homes to do honor to the king. And Earl 
 Godwin came first to his house in London — near the 
 Tower Palatine, in what is now called the Fleet — and 
 Harold the Earl, and Tostig, and Leofwine, and Gurth, 
 were to meet him there, and go thence with the full state 
 of their sub-thegns, and cnehts, and house-carles, their 
 falcor.s, and their hounds, as became men of such rank, 
 to the court of King Edward. 
 
 Earl Godwin sate with his wife, Githa, in a room out 
 of the hall, which looked on the Thames — awaiting 
 Harold, who was expected to arrive ere nightfall. Gurth 
 
 * Windsor. 
 
HABOLS. 235 
 
 had ridden forth to meet his brother, and Leofwine ana 
 Tostig had gone over to Southwark, to try their band- 
 dogs on the great bear, which had been brought from the 
 North a few days before, and was said to have hugged 
 many good hounds to death, and a large train of thegna 
 and house-carles had gone with them to see the sport; 
 so that the old Earl and his lady the Dane sate alone. 
 And there was a cloud upon Earl Godwin's large fore- 
 head, and he sate by the fire, spreading his hands before 
 it, and looking thoughtfully on the flame, as it broke 
 through the smoke which burst out into the cover, or hole 
 in the roof. And in that large house there were no less 
 than three "covers," or rooms, wherein fires could be lit 
 in the centre of the floor ; and the rafters above were 
 blackened with the smoke ; and in those good old days, 
 ere chimneys, if existing, were much in use, " poses, and 
 rheumatisms, and catarrhs," were unknown — so whole- 
 some and healthful was the smoke. Earl Godwin's 
 favorite hound, old, like himself, lay at his feet, dream- 
 ing, for it whined and was restless. And the earl's old 
 hawk, with its feathers all stiff and sparse, perched on 
 the dossel of the earl's chair ; and the floor was pranked 
 tvith rushes and sweet herbs — the first of the spring; 
 and Githa's feet were on her stool, and she leaned her 
 proud face on the small hand which proved her descent 
 from the Dane, and rocked herself to and fro, and thought 
 of her son Wolnoth in the court of the Norman. 
 
 " Githa," at last said the earl, "thou hast been to me 
 a good wife and a true, and thou hast borne me tall and 
 
236 HA&OL0. 
 
 bold sons, some of whom have caused as sorrow, and 
 some joy ; and in sorrow and in joy we have but drawn 
 closer to each other. Yet when we wed, thou wert in 
 thy first youth, and the best part of my years was fled ; 
 and thou wert a Dane, and I a Saxon ; and thou a king's 
 niece, and now a king's sister, and I but tracing two 
 descents to thegn's rank." 
 
 Moved and marvelling at this touch of sentiment in 
 the calm earl, in whom indeed such sentiment was rare, 
 Githa roused herself from her musings, and said simply 
 and anxiously — 
 
 " I fear my lord is not well, that he speaks thus to 
 Githa I " 
 
 The earl smiled faintly. 
 
 "Thou art right with thy woman's wit, wife. And for 
 the last few weeks, though I said it not to alarm thee, I 
 have had strange noises in my ears, and a surge, as of 
 blood to the temples." 
 
 " Godwin I dear spouse," said Githa, tenderly, " and 
 I was blind to the cause, but wondered why there was 
 some change in thy manner I But I will go to Hilda to- 
 morrow ; she hath charms against all disease." 
 
 " Leave Hilda in peace, to give her charms to the 
 young 1 age defies Wigh and Wicca. Now hearken to 
 me. r feel that my thread is nigh spent, and, as Hilda 
 would say, my Fylgia forewarns me that we are about to 
 part. Silence, I say, and hear me. I have done proud 
 things in my day ; I have made kings and built thrones, 
 and I stand higher in England than ever thega or earl 
 
HAROLD. 231 
 
 stood before. I would not, Githa, that the tree of my 
 house, planted in the storm, and watered with lavish 
 blood, should wither away." 
 
 The old earl paused, and Githa said, loftily — 
 " Fear not that thy name will pass from the earth, oj" 
 thy race from power. For fame has been wrought by thy 
 hands, and sons have been born to thy embrace ; and the 
 boughs of the tree thou hast planted shall live in the sun- 
 light when we its roots, my husband, are buried in the 
 earth. " 
 
 " Githa," replied the earl, "thou speakest as the daugh- 
 ter of kings and the mother of men ; but listen to me, 
 for my soul is heavy. Of these our sons, our first-born, 
 alas 1 is a wanderer and outcast^^Sweyn, once the beau- 
 tiful and brave ; and Wolnoth, thy darling, is a guest in 
 the court of the Norman our foe. Of the rest, Gurth is 
 BO mild and so calm, that I predict without fear that he 
 vill be a warrior of fame, for the mildest in hall are ever 
 the boldest in field, but Gurth hath not the deep wit of 
 these tangled times ; and Leofwine is too light, and 
 Tostig too fierce. So wife mine, of these our six sons, 
 Harold alone, dauntless as Tostig, mild as Gurth, hath 
 his father's thoughtful brain. And, if the king remains 
 as aloof as now from his royal kinsman, Edward the 
 Atheling, who" — the earl hesitated and looked round — 
 " who so near to the throne when I am no more, as Ha- 
 rold, the joy of the ceorls, and the pride of the thegns ? 
 he — whose tongue never falters in the Witan, and whose 
 arm never yet hath known defeat in the field?" 
 
338 HAKOLD. 
 
 Gitba's heart swelled, and her cheek grew flushed. 
 
 " But what I fear the most," resumed the earl, " is, 
 not the enemy without, but the jealousy within. By the 
 Bide of Harold stands Tostig, rapacious to grasp, but 
 impotent to hold — able to ruin, strengthless to save." 
 
 "Nay, Godwin, my lord, thou wrongest our handsome 
 eon." 
 
 "Wife, wife," said the earl, stamping his foot, "hear 
 me and obey me : for my words on earth may be few, 
 and whilst thou gainsayest me the blood mounts to my 
 brain, and my eyes see through a cloud." 
 
 "Forgive me, sweet lord," said Githa, humbly. 
 
 " Mickle and sore it repents me that in their youth I 
 spared not the time from my worldly ambition to watch 
 over the hearts of my sons ; and thou wert too proud of 
 the surface without, to look well to the workings within, 
 and what was once soft to the touch is now hard to the 
 hammer. In the battle of life the arrows we neglect to 
 pick up. Fate, our foe, will store in her quiver ; we have 
 armed her ourselves with the shafts — the more need to 
 beware with the shield. Wherefore, if thou survivest me, 
 and if, as I forebode, dissension break out between Ha- 
 rold and Tostig, I charge thee by memory of our love, 
 and reverence for my grave, to deem wise and just all that 
 Harold deems just and wise. For when Godwin is in the 
 dust, his House lives alone in Harold. Heed me now, 
 and heed ever. And so, while the day yet lasts, I will 
 go forth into the marts and the guilds, and talk with the 
 
HAKOLD. 239 
 
 bargesses, and smile on their wives, and be, to the last, 
 Godwin the smooth and the strong." 
 
 So saying, the old earl arose, and walked forth with a, 
 firm step ; and his old hound sprang up, pricked its ears, 
 and followed him ; the blinded falcon turned its head to- 
 wards the clapping door, but did not stir from the dossel. 
 
 Then Githa again leant her cheek on her hand, and 
 again rocked herself to and fro, gazing into the red flame 
 of the fire, — red and fitful through the blue smoke — and 
 thought over her lord's words. It might be the third part 
 of an hour after Godwin had left the house, when the 
 door opened, and Githa expecting the return of her sons, 
 looked up eagerly, but it was Hilda, who stooped her 
 head under the vault of the door; and behind Hilda, 
 came two of her maidens, bearing a small cyst, or chest. 
 The Tala motioned to her attendants to lay the cyst at 
 the feet of Githa, and, that done, with lowly salutation 
 they left the room. 
 
 The superstitions of the Danes were strong in Githa ; 
 and she felt an indescribable awe when Hilda stood be- 
 fore her, the red light playing on the Vala's stern marKe 
 face, and contrasting robes of funereal black. But, with 
 all her awe, Githa, who, not educated like her daughter 
 Edith, had few feminine resources, loved the visits of her 
 mysterious kinswoman. She loved to live her youth over 
 again in discourse on the wild customs and dark rites of 
 the Dane ; and even her awe itself had the charm which 
 the ghost tale has to the child j — for the illiterate t.re 
 
240 HABOLB. 
 
 ever ihildren. So, recovering her surprise, and her first 
 pause, she rose to welcome the Vala, and said : — 
 
 " Hail, Hilda, and thrice hail I The day has been 
 v?arm and the way long ; and, ere thou takest food and 
 wine, let me prepare for thee the bath for thy form, or 
 the bath for thy feet. For as sleep to the young, is the 
 bath to the old." 
 
 Hilda shook her head. 
 
 " Bringer of sleep am I, and the baths I prepare are 
 in the halls of Valhalla. Offer not to the Yala the bath 
 for mortal weariness, and the wine and the food meet for 
 human guests. Sit thee down, daughter of the Dane, 
 and thank thy new gods for the past that hath been thine. 
 Not ours is the present, and the future escapes from our 
 dreams ; but the past is ours ever, and all eternity cannot 
 revoke a single joy that the moment hath known." 
 
 Then seating herself in Godwin's large chair, she. leant 
 over her seid-staff, and was silent, as if absorbed in her 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Githa," she said at last, " where is thy lord ? I came 
 to touch his hands and to look on his brow." 
 
 " He hath gone forth into the mart, and my sons are 
 from home : and Harold comes hither ere night, from his 
 earldom. " 
 
 A faint smile, as of triumph, broke over the lips of the 
 Vala, and then as suddenly yielded to an expression of 
 great sadness. 
 
 " Githa," she said, slowly, " doubtless thou remem 
 
HAROLD. 241 
 
 berest in thy young days to have seen or heara of the 
 terrible hell-maid Belsta ? " 
 
 "Ay, ay," answered Githa, shuddering; "I saw her 
 once in gloomy weather, driving before her herds of dark 
 grey cattle. Ay, ay; and my father beheld her ere hia 
 death, riding the air on a wolf, with a snake for a bridle. 
 Why askest thou ? " 
 
 "Is it not strange," said Hilda, evading the question, 
 "that Belsta, and Heida, and Hulla of old, the wolf- 
 riders, the meu-devourers, could win to the uttermost 
 secrets of galdra, though applied only to purposes the 
 direst and fellest to man, and that I, though ever in the 
 future, — I, though tasking the Normans not to afSict 
 a foe, but to shape the careers of those I love, — I find, 
 indeed, my predictions fulfilled ; but how often, alas ! 
 only in horror and doom 1 " 
 
 " How so, kinswoman, how so ? " said Githa, awed, yet 
 charmed in the awe, and drawing her chair nearer to the 
 mournful sorceress. " Didst thou not foretell our return 
 in triumph from the unjust outlawry, and, lo, it hath 
 come to pass ? and hast thou not (here Githa's proud 
 face flushed) "foretold also that my stately Harold shall 
 wear the diadem of a king ? " 
 
 " Truly, the first came to pass," said Hilda ; "but — " 
 ube paused, and her eye fell on the cyst ; then breaking 
 off she continued, speaking to herself rather than to 
 Githa — "And Harold's dream, what did that portend ? 
 the runes fail me, and the dead give no voice. And be- 
 
 I. — 21 Q 
 
242 HAROLD. 
 
 yond one dim day, in whicli his betrothed shall clasp him 
 with the arms of a bride, all is dark to my vision — dark 
 
 — dark. Speak not to me, Githa ; for a burthen, heavy 
 as the stone on a grave, rests on a weary heart ! " 
 
 A dead silence succeeded, till, pointing with her staff 
 to the fire, the Vala said, " Lo, where the smoke and the 
 flame contend ! — the smoke rises in dark gyres to the 
 air, and escapes, to join the wrack of clouds. Prom the 
 first to the last we trace its birth and its fall ; from the 
 heart of the fire to the descent in the rain, so is it with 
 human reason, which is not the light but the smoke; it 
 struggles but to darken us ; it soars but to melt in the 
 vapor and dew. Yet lo, the flame burns in our hearth 
 till the fuel fails, and goes at last, none know whither. 
 But it lives in the air though we see it not ; it lurks in 
 the stone and waits the flash of the steel ; it coils round 
 the dry leaves and sere stalks, and a touch re-illumines 
 it; it plays in the marsh — it collects in the heavens — it 
 appals us in the lightning — it gives warmth to the air 
 
 — life of our life, and element of all elements. O Githa, 
 the flame is the light of the soul, the element everlasting ; 
 and it liveth still, when it escapes from our view ; it 
 burneth in the shapes to which it passes ; it vanishes but 
 is never extinct." 
 
 So saying, the Vala's lips again closed ; and again 
 both the women sate silent by the great fire, as it flared 
 and flickered over the deep lines and high features of 
 Githa, the earl's wife, and the calm, unwrinkled, solemn 
 face of the melancholy Yala. 
 
HAKOLD. 243 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 While these conferences took place in the house (if 
 Godwin, Harold, on his way to London, dismissed his 
 train to precede him to his father's roof, and, striking 
 across the country, rode fast and alone towards the old 
 Roman abode of Hilda. Months had elapsed since he 
 had seen or heard of Edith. News at that time, I need 
 not say, was rare and scarce, and limited to public events, 
 either transmitted by special nuncius, or passing pilgrim, 
 or borne from lip to lip by the talk of the scattered multi- 
 tude. But even in his busy and anxious duties, Harold 
 had in vain sought to banish from his heart the imai^e 
 of that young girl, whose life he needed no Vala to pie- 
 dict to him was interwoven with the fibres of his own. 
 The obstacles which, wjiile he yielded to, he held unjast 
 and tyrannical, obstacles allowed by his reluctant reason 
 and his secret ambition — not sanctified by conscience — ■ 
 only inflamed the deep strength of the solitary passion 
 his life had known ; a passion that, dating from the very 
 childhood of Edith, had, often unknown to himself, 
 animated his desire of fame, and mingled with his visions 
 cf power. Nor, though hope was far and dim, was it 
 extinct. The legitimate heir of Edward the Confessor 
 was a prince living in the court of the Emperor, of fair 
 repute, and himself wedded ; and Edward's health, always 
 
244 HAROLD. 
 
 precarious, seemed to forbid any very prolonged existence 
 to the reigning king. Therefore, he thought, that 
 through the successor, whose throne would rest in safety 
 upon Harold's support, he might easily obtain that dis- 
 pensation from the Pope which he knew the present king 
 would never ask — a dispensation rarely indeed, if ever, 
 accorded to any subject, and which, therefore, needed all 
 a king's power to back it. 
 
 So in that hope, and fearful lest it should be quenched 
 for ever by Edith's adoption of the veil and the irrevoca- 
 ble vow, with a beating, disturbed, but joyful heart, he 
 rode over field and through forest to the old Roman 
 house. 
 
 He emerged at length to the rear of the villa, and the 
 sun, fast hastening to its decline, shone full upon the 
 rude columns of the Druid temple ; and there, as he had 
 Been her before, when he had first spoken of love and its 
 barriers, he beheld the young maiden. 
 
 He sprang from his horse, and leaving the well-trained 
 animal loose to browse on the waste land, he ascended 
 the knoll. He stole noiselessly behind Edith, and his 
 foot stumbled against the grave-stone of the dead Titan- 
 Saxon of old ; but the apparition, whether real or fancied, 
 and the dream that had followed, had long passed from 
 his memory, and no superstition was in the heart spring- 
 ing to the lips, that cried "Edith," once again. 
 
 The girl started, looked round, and fell upon his breast. 
 
 It was some moments before she recovered conscious- 
 
HABOLD. 24S 
 
 ness, and then, withdrawing herBelf gently from his arms, 
 she leant for support against the Teuton altar. 
 
 She was much changed since Harold had seen her last : 
 her cheek had grown pale and thin, and her rounded form 
 seemed wasted ; and sharp grief, as he gazed, shot 
 through the soul of Harold. 
 
 " Thou hast pined, thou hast suffered," said he mourn- 
 fully : " and I, who would shed my life's blood to take 
 one from thy sorrows, or add to one of thy joys, have 
 been afar, unable to comfort, perhaps only a cause of 
 thy woe." 
 
 "No, Harold," said Edith, faintly, "never of woe; 
 always of comfort, even in absence. I have been ill, and 
 Hilda hath tried rune and charm all in vain ; but I am 
 better, now that Spring hath come tardily forth, and I 
 look on the fresh flowers, and hear the song of the birds." 
 
 But tears were in the sound of her voice, while she 
 spoke. 
 
 "And they have not tormented thee again with the 
 thoughts of the convent ? " 
 
 "They? no; — but my soul, yes. Harold, release 
 me from my promise ; for the time already hath come 
 that thy sister foretold to me ; the silver cord is loosened, 
 and the golden bowl is broken, and I would fain take the 
 wings of the dove, and be at peace." 
 
 "Is it so? — Is there peace in the home where the 
 thought of Harold becomes a sin ? " 
 
 " STot sin then and there, Harold, not sin. Thy sister 
 21* 
 
246 HAROLD. 
 
 hailed the convent when she thought of prayer for those 
 she loved." 
 
 " Prate not to me of my sister ! " said Harold, through 
 his set teeth. " It is but a mockery to talk of prayer for 
 the heart that thou thyself rendest in twain. Where is 
 Uilda ? I would see her." 
 
 " She hath gone to thy father's house with a gift ; ami 
 it was to watch for her return that I sate on the green 
 knoll." 
 
 The earl then drew near and took her hand, and sate 
 by her side, and they conversed long. But Harold saw 
 with a fierce pang that Edith's heart was set upon the 
 convent, and that even in his presence, and despite his 
 soothing words, she was broken-spirited and despondent. 
 It seemed as if her youth and life had gone from her, 
 and the day had come in which she said, "There is no 
 pleasure." 
 
 Never had he seen her thus ; and, deeply moved as 
 well as keenly stung, he rose at length to depart ; her 
 hand lay passive in his parting clasp, and a slight shiver 
 went over her frame. 
 
 "Farewell, Edith; when I return from Windshore, I 
 shall be at my old home yonder, and we shall meet 
 again." 
 
 Edith's lips murmured inaudibly, and she bent her eyes 
 to the ground. 
 
 Slowly Harold regained his steed, and as he rode on, 
 he looked behind and waved oft his hand; but Edith 
 sate motionless, her eyes still on the ground, and he saw 
 
HAROLD. 247 
 
 not the tears that fell from them fast and burning ; nor 
 heard he the low voice that groaned amidst the heathen 
 ruins, " Mary, sweet mother, shelter me from my own 
 heart I " 
 
 The sun had set before Harold gained the long and 
 spacious abode of his father. All around it lay the roofs 
 and huts of the great earl's special tradesmen, for even 
 his goldsmith was but his freed ceorl. The house itself 
 stretched far from the Thames inland, with several low 
 courts built only of tinrber, rugged and shapeless, but 
 filled with bold men, then the great furniture of a noble's 
 halls. 
 
 Amidst the shouts of hundreds, eager to hold his 
 Btirrup, the earl dismounted, passed the swarming hall, 
 and entered the room, in which he found Hilda and 
 Githa — and Godwin, who had preceded his entry but a 
 few minutes. 
 
 In the beautiful reverence of son to father, which made 
 one of the loveliest features of the Saxon character * (as 
 the frequent want of it makes the most hateful of the 
 Norman vices), the all-powerful Harold bowed his knee 
 to the old earl, who placed his hand on his head in bene- 
 diction, and then kissed him on the cheek and brow. 
 
 " Thy kiss, too, dear mother," said the younger earl ; 
 and Githa's embrace, if more cordial than her lord's, 
 was not, perhaps, more fond. 
 
 * The chronicler, however, lameuts that the household ties, for- 
 merly so strong with the Anglo-Saxon, had been much weakened 
 in the age prior to the Conquest 
 
248 HAROLD. 
 
 "Greet Hilda, my son," said Godwin, "she hath 
 brought me a gift, and she hath tarried to place it under 
 thy special care. Thou alone must heed the treasure, 
 and open the casket. But when and where, my kins- 
 woman ?" 
 
 " On the sixth day after thy coming to the king's 
 hall," answered Hilda, not returning the smile with which 
 Godwin spoke — "on the sixth day, Harold, open the 
 chest, and take out the robe which hath been spun in 
 the house of Hilda for Godwin the Earl. And now, 
 Godwin, I have clasped thine hand, and I have looked 
 on thy brow, and my mission is done ; and I must wend 
 homeward." 
 
 " That shalt thou not, Hilda," said the hospitable earl ; 
 " the meanest wayfarer hath a right to bed and board in 
 this house for. a night and a day, and thou wilt not dis- 
 grace us by leaving our threshold, the bread unbroken, 
 and the couch unpressed. Old friend, we were young 
 together, and thy face is welcome to me as the memory 
 of former days." 
 
 Hilda shook her head, and one of those rare, and for 
 that reason, most touching, expressions of tenderness, of 
 which the calm and rigid character of her features, when 
 in repose, seemed scarcely susceptible, softened her eye, 
 and lelaxed the firm lines of her lips. 
 
 "Son of Wolnoth," said she, gently, "not under thy 
 roof-tree should lodge the raven of bode. Bread have I 
 not broken since yestere'en, and sleep will be far from 
 my eyes to-night. Fear not, for my people without are 
 
HAKOLS. 249 
 
 Btont and armed, and for the rest there lives not the man 
 whose arm can have power over Hilda." 
 
 She took Harold's hand as she spoke, and leading 
 him forth, whispered in his ear, " I would have a word 
 with thee ere we part." Then, reaching the threshold, 
 she waved her wand thrice over the floor, and muttered 
 in the Danish tongue a rude verse, which, translated, 
 ran somewhat thus : — 
 
 "AH free from the knot 
 
 Glide the thread of the Hkein, 
 And rest to the labor, 
 And peace to the pain !" 
 
 "It is a death-dirge," said Githa, with whitening lips; 
 but she spoke inly, and neither husband nor son heard 
 her words. 
 
 Hilda and Harold passed in silence through the hall, 
 and the Yala's attendants, with spears and torches, rose 
 from the settles, and went before to the outer court, 
 where snorted impatiently her black palfrey. 
 
 Halting in the midst of the court, she said to Harold 
 in a low voice — 
 
 "At sunset we part — at sunset we shall meet again. 
 
 And behold, the star rises on the sunset ; and the star, 
 
 broader and brighter, shall rise on the sunset then ! 
 
 When thy hand draws the robe from the chest, think on 
 
 Hilda, and know that at that hour she stands by the 
 
 grave of the Saxon warrior, and that from the gravo 
 
 dawns the future. Farewell to thee I " 
 
 Harold longed to speak to her of Edith, but a strange 
 2:» 
 
250 HAEOLD. 
 
 Hwe at his heart chained his lips ; so he stood silent by 
 the great wooden gates of the rude house. The torches 
 flamed round him, and Hilda's face seemed lurid in the 
 glare. There he stood musing long after torch and ceorl 
 had passed away, nor did he wake from his reverie till 
 Gurth, springing from his panting horse, passed his arm 
 round the earl's shoulder, and cried — 
 
 " How did I miss thee, my brother 1 and why didst 
 thou forsake thy train ? " 
 
 " I will tell thee anon. Gurth, has my father ailed ? 
 There is that in his face which I like not." 
 
 " He hath not complained of misease," said Gurth, 
 startled; "but now thou speakest of it, his mood hath 
 altered of late, and he hath wandered much alone, or 
 only with the old hound and the old falcon." 
 
 Then Harold turned back, and his heart was full, and 
 when he reached the house, his father was sitting in the 
 hall on his chair of state ; and Githa sate on his right 
 hand, and a little below her sate Tostig and Leofwine, 
 who had come in from the bear-hunt by the river-gate, 
 and were talking loud and merrily; and thegns and 
 cnehts sate all around, and there was wassail as Harold 
 entered ; but the earl looked only to his father, and he 
 saw that his eyes were absent from the glee, and that he 
 was bending his head over the old falcon, which sate oe 
 his wrist. 
 
HAEOLD. 
 
 251 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 No subject of England, since the race oi Cerdic sate 
 on the throne, ever entered the court-yard of Windshore 
 with such train and such state as Earl Godwin. Proud 
 of that first occasion, since his return, to do homage to 
 him with whose cause that of England against the 
 stranger was bound, all truly English at heart amongst 
 the thegns of the land swelled his retinue. Whether 
 Saxon or Dane, those who alike loved the laws and the 
 soil, came from north and from south to the peaceful 
 banner of the old earl ; but most of these were of the 
 past generation, for the rising race were still dazzled by 
 the pomp of the Norman ; and the fashion of English 
 manners, and the pride in English deeds, had gone out 
 of date with long locks and bearded chins. Nor there, 
 were the bishops and abbots and the lords of the Church, 
 — for dear to them already the fame of the Norman piety, 
 and they shared the distaste of their holy king to the 
 strong sense and homely religion of Godwin, who founded 
 no convents, and rode to war with no relics round his 
 neck ; but they with Godwin were the stout and the frank 
 and the free, in whom rested the pith and marrow of Eng- 
 lish manhood ; and they who were against him were the 
 blind and willing and fated fathers of slaves unborn. 
 Not then the stately castle we now behold, which is of 
 
252 HAROLD. 
 
 the masonry of a prouder race, nor on the same site, but 
 two miles distant on the winding of the river shore 
 (whence it took its name), a rude building partly of tim- 
 ber and partly of Roman brick, adjoining a large monas- 
 tery and surrounded by a small hamlet, constituted the 
 palace of the saint-king. 
 
 So rode the earl and his four fair sons, all abreast, info 
 the court-yard of Windshore.* Now when King Edward 
 heard the tramp of the steeds and the hum of the multi- 
 tudes, as he sate in his closet with his abbots and priests, 
 all in still contemplation of the thumb of St. Jude, the 
 king asked, — 
 
 " What army, in the day of peace, and the time of 
 Easter, enters the gates of our palace ? " 
 
 Then an abbot rose and looked out of the narrow win. 
 dow, and said with a groan, — 
 
 "Army thou may'st well call it, O king 1 — and foes to 
 us and to thee head the legions " 
 
 " Jnprinis," qnoth our abbot the scholar ; " thou speak- 
 est, I trow, of the wicked earl and his sons." 
 
 The king's face changed. " Come they," said he, " with 
 BO large a train ? This smells more of vaunt than of 
 loyalty: naught — very naught." 
 
 * Some authorities state Winchester as the scene of these memoi 
 alle festivities. Old Windsor Castle is supposed by Mr. Lysons tu 
 have occupied the site of a farm of Mr. Isherwood's, surroundeii 
 by a moat, about two miles distant from New Windsor. He coti- 
 joctures that it was still occasionally inhabited by the Norman 
 kings till 1110. The ville surrounding it only contained ninety- 
 five houses, paying gabel-taz, in the Norman survey. 
 
HAROLD. 253 
 
 "Alack I " said one of the conclaTe, " I fear me that 
 the men of Belial will work us harm ; the heathen are 
 mighty, and " 
 
 "Fear not," said Edward, with benign loftiness, ob 
 serving that his guests grew pale, and himself, though 
 often weak to childishness, and morally wavering and 
 irresolute, — still so far king and gentleman, that he knew 
 no craven fear of the body. " Fear not for me, my 
 fathers ; humble as I am, I am strong in the faith of 
 heaven and its angels." 
 
 The churchmen looked at each other, sly yet abashed ; 
 it was not precisely for the king that they feared. 
 
 Then spoke Alred,the good prelate and constant peace- 
 maker — fair column and lone one of the fast-crumbling 
 Saxon Church. " It is ill in you, brethren, to arraign 
 the truth and good meaning of those who honor your 
 king ; and in these days that lord should ever be the most 
 welcome who brings to the halls of his king the largest 
 number of hearts, stout and leal." 
 
 " By your leave, brother Aired," said Stigand, who, 
 though from motives of policy he had aided those who 
 besought the king not to peril his crown by resisting the 
 return of Godwin, benefited too largely by the abuses of 
 the Church to be sincerely espoused to the cause of the 
 strong-minded earl; "By your leave, brother Aired, to 
 every leal heart is a ravenous mouth ; and the treasures 
 of the king are well-nigh drained in feeding these hungry 
 and welcomeless visitors. Durst I counsel, my lord, I 
 would pray him, as a matter of policy, to baffie this astute 
 
 T. — 22 
 
254 HAROLD. 
 
 and proud earl. He would fain have the king feast iu 
 public, that he might daunt him and the Church with the 
 array of his friends." 
 
 " I conceive thee, my father," said Edward, with more 
 quickness than habitual, and with the cunning, sharp 
 though guileless, that belongs to minds undeveloped, " I 
 conceive thee ; it is good and most politic. This our 
 orgulous earl shall not have his triumph, and, so fresh 
 from his exile, brave his king with the mundane parade 
 of his power. Our health is our excuse for our absence 
 from the banquet, and, sooth to say, we marvel much 
 why Easter should be held a fitting time for feasting and 
 mirth. Wherefore, Hugoline, my chamberlain, advise 
 the earl, that to-day we keep fast till the sunset, when 
 temperately, with eggs, bread, and fish, we will sustain 
 Adam's nature. Pray him and his sons to attend us — 
 they alone be our guests." And with a sound that 
 seemed a laugh, or the ghost of a laugh, low and chuck- 
 ling — for Edward had at moments an innocent humor 
 which his monkish biographer disdained not to note,* — 
 he flung himself back in his chair. The priests took the 
 cue, and shook their sides heartily, as Hugoline left the 
 room, not ill pleased, by the way, to escape an invitation 
 to the eggs, bread, and fish. 
 
 Aired sighed ; and said, " For the earl and his sons, 
 this is honor ; but the other earls and the thegns, will 
 miss at the banquet him whom they design but to honor, 
 and " 
 
 * AitRED, de Vit. Edward, Confeaa 
 
HAROLD. 255 
 
 "I have said,'" interrupted Edward, dryly, and with a 
 look of fatigue. 
 
 "And," observed another churchman, with malice, " at 
 least the young earls will be humbled, for they will not 
 sit with the king and their father, as they would in the 
 Hall, and must serve my lord with napkin and wine." 
 
 "Inprinis," quoth our scholar the abbot, " that will be 
 rare ! I would I were by to see ; but this Godwin is r 
 man of treachery and wile, and my lord should beware ot 
 the fate of murdered Alfred his brother 1 " 
 
 The king started, and pressed his hands to his eyes. 
 
 " How darest thou. Abbot of Fatchere," cried Aired 
 indignantly; "How darest thou revive grief withou; 
 remedy, and slander without proof?" 
 
 "Without proof?" echoed Edward, in a hollow voice. 
 " He who could murder, could well stoop to forswear 1 
 Without proof before man ; but did he try the ordeals of 
 God ? — did his feet pass the plough-share ? — did his 
 hand grasp the seethin'g-iron ? Yerily, verily, thou didst 
 wrong to name to me Alfred my brother 1 I shall see 
 his sightless and gore-dropping sockets in the face of 
 Godwin, this day, at my board." 
 
 The king rose in great disorder ; and after pacing the 
 room some moments, disregardful of the silent and scared 
 looks of his churchmen, waved his hand, in sign to them 
 to depart. All took the hint at once save Aired ; but 
 he, lingering the last, approached the king with dignity 
 in his step and compassion in his eyes. 
 
 "Banish from thy breast, king and son, thoughts un 
 
256 HAROLD. 
 
 meet, and of doubtful charity I All that man could know 
 of Godwin's innocence or guilt — the suspicion of the 
 vulgar — the acquittal of his peers, — was known to thee 
 before thou didst seek his aid for thy throne, and didst 
 take his child for thy wife. Too late is it now to sus- 
 pect ; leave thy doubts to the solemn day, which draws 
 nigh to the old man, thy wife's father 1 " 
 
 " Ha 1 " said the king, seeming not to heed, or wilfully 
 to misunderstand the prelate, " Ha, leave him to God ; — ■ 
 I will!" 
 
 He turned away impatiently ; and the prelate reluct- 
 antly departed. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TosTiG chafed mightily at the king's message ; and, on 
 Harold's attempt to pacify him, grew so violent that 
 nothing short of the cold, stem command of his father, 
 who carried with him that weight of authority never 
 known but to those in whom wrath is still and passion 
 noiseless, imposed sullen peace on his son's rugged nature. 
 But the taunts heaped by Tostig upon Harold disquieted 
 the old earl, and his brow was yet sad with prophetic 
 care when he entered the royal apartments. He had been 
 introduced into the king's presence but a moment before 
 Hugoline led the way to the chamber of repast, and tlie 
 greeting between king and earl had been brief and formal 
 
HAROLD. 251 
 
 Under the canopy of state were placed but two chairs, 
 for the king and the queen's father ; and the four sons, 
 Harold, Tostig, Leofwine, and Gurth, stood behind. 
 Such was the primitive custom of ancient Teutonic kings i 
 and the feudal Norman monarchs only enforced, though 
 with more pomp and more rigor, the ceremonial of the 
 forest patriarchs — youth to wait on age, and the ministers 
 of the realm on those whom their policy had made chiefs 
 in council and war. 
 
 The earl's mind, already embittered by the scene with 
 his sons, was chafed yet more by the king's unloving 
 coldness ; for it is natural to man, however worldly, to 
 feel affection for those he has served, and Godwin had 
 won Edward his crown ; nor, despite his warlike though 
 bloodless return, could even monk or Norman, in count- 
 ing up the old earl's crimes, say that he had ever failed 
 in personal respect to the king he had made ; nor over- 
 great for subject, as the earl's power must be confessed, 
 will historian now be found to say that it had not been 
 well for Saxon England if Godwin had found more favor 
 with his king, and monk and Norman less.* 
 
 So the old earl's stout heart was stung, and he looked 
 
 * " Is it astonishing," asked the people (referring to Edward's 
 preference of the Normans), "that the author and support of 
 Edward's reign should be indignant at seeing new men from a 
 foreign nation raised above him, and yet never does he utter one 
 narsh word to the man whom he himself created king." — Hazlitt's 
 Thierry, vol. i. p. 126. 
 
 This is the English account (versus the Norman). There can b« 
 little doubt tbit it is the true one. 
 
 22* B 
 
258 HAROLD. 
 
 from thuse deep, impenetrable eyes, mournfully upon Ed- 
 ward's chilling brow. 
 
 And Harold, with whom all household ties were strong, 
 but to whom his great father was especially dear, watched 
 his face and saw that it was very flushed. But the 
 practised courtier sought to rally his spirits, and to smile 
 and jest. 
 
 From smile and jest, the king turned and asked for 
 wine. Harold, starting, advanced with the goblet ; as 
 he did so, he stumbled with one foot, but lightly re- 
 covered himself with the other; and Tostig laughed 
 scornfully at Harold's awkwardness. 
 
 The old earl observed both stumble and laugh, and 
 willing to suggest a lesson to both his sons, said — laugh- 
 ing pleasantly — "Lo, Harold, how the left foot saves 
 the right I — so one brother, thou seest, helps the other ! " * 
 
 King Edward looked up suddenly. 
 
 " And so, Godwin, also, had my brother Alfred helped 
 me, hadst thou permitted." 
 
 The old earl, galled to the quick, gazed a moment on 
 the king, and his cheek was purple, and his eyes seemed 
 bloodshot. 
 
 "0 Edward!" he exclaimed, "thou speakest ti me 
 hardly and unkindly of thy brother Alfred, and often hast 
 thou thus more than hinted that I caused his death." 
 
 The king made no answer. 
 
 "May this crumb of bread choke me," said the earl, 
 
 * Henry of Huntingdon, &o. 
 
HAROLD. 259 
 
 in great emotion, "if I am guilty of thy brother's 
 blood 1 " * 
 
 But scarcely had the bread touched his lips, when his 
 eyes fixed, the long warning symptoms were fulfilled. 
 And he fell to the ground, under the table, sudden and 
 heavy, smitten by the stroke of apoplexy. 
 
 Harold and Gurth sprang forward, they drew their 
 father from the ground. His face, still deep-red with 
 streaks of purple, rested on Harold's breast ; ' and the 
 son, kneeling, called in anguish on his father : the ear 
 was deaf. 
 
 Then said the king, rising, — 
 
 " It is the hand of God : remove him I " and he swept 
 from the room, exulting. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 For five days and five nights did Godwin lie speech- 
 less, f And Harold watched over him night and day. 
 And the leaches J would not bleed him, because the 
 season was against it, in the increase of the moon and 
 the tides, but they bathed his temples with wheat flour 
 boiled in milk, according to a prescription which an 
 
 * Henry of Huntingdon ; Bromt. Chron. &c. -j- Hoveden. 
 
 J The origin of the word leach (physician), which has puzzled 
 some inquirers, is from lich, or leac, a body Leich is the old Saxon 
 word for surgeon. 
 
260 HAROLD. 
 
 angel in a dream * had advised to another patient ; and 
 they placed a plate of lead on his breast, marked with 
 five crosses, saying a paternoster over each cross ; to- 
 gether V7ith other medical specifics in great esteem, f 
 But, nevertheless, five days and five nights did Godwia 
 lie speechless ; and the leaches then feared that hnman 
 skill was in vain. 
 
 The effect produced on the court, not more by the 
 earl's death-stroke than the circumstances preceding it, 
 was such as defies description. With Godwin's old com- 
 rades in arms, it was simple and honest grief; but with 
 all those under the influence of the priests, the event was 
 regarded as a direct punishment from Heaven. The 
 previous words of the king, repeated by Edward to hia 
 monks, circulated from lip to lip, with sundry exaggera- 
 tions as it travelled : and the superstition of the day had 
 the more excuse, inasmuch as the speech of Godwin 
 touched near upon the defiance of one of the most popular 
 ordeals of the accused, — viz. that called the "corsned," 
 in which a piece of bread was given to the supposed 
 criminal : if he swallowed it with ease, he was innocent r, 
 if it stuck in his throat, or choked him, nay, if he shook 
 and turned pale, he was guilty. Godwin's words had 
 appeared to invite the ordeal, God had heard and stricken 
 down the presumptuous perjurer ! 
 
 Unconscious, happily, of these attempts to blacken the 
 name of his dying father, Harold, towards the grey dawn 
 
 * Sharon Turner, vol. i. p. 472. -f Fosbrooko 
 
HAEOLD. 261 
 
 succeeding the fifth night, thought that he heard Godwin 
 stir in his bed. So he put aside the curtain, and bent 
 over him. The old earl's eyes were wide open, and the 
 red color had gone from his cheeks, so that he was pale 
 as death. 
 
 "How fares it, dear father?" asked Harold. 
 
 Godwin smiled fondly, and tried to speak, but hia 
 voice died in a convulsive rattle. Lifting himself up, 
 however, with an effort, he pressed tenderly the hand 
 that clasped his own, leant his head on Harold's breast, 
 and so gave up the ghost. 
 
 When Harold was at last aware that the struggle was 
 over, he laid the grey head gently on the pillow ; he closed 
 the eyes, and kissed the lips, and, knelt down and prayed. 
 Then, seating himself at a little distance, he covered hia 
 face with his mantle. 
 
 At this time his brother Gurth, who had chiefly shared 
 watch with Harold, — for Tostig, foreseeing his father's 
 death, was busy soliciting thegn and earl to support his 
 own claims to the earldom about to be vacant ; and 
 Leofwine had gone to London on the previous day to 
 summon Gitba, who was hourly expected — Gurth, I say, 
 entered the room on tiptoe, and seeing his brother's 
 attitude, guessed that all was over. He passed on to the 
 table, took up the lamp, and looked long on his father's 
 face. That strange smile of the dead, common alike to 
 innocent and guilty, bad already settled on the serene 
 lips ; and that no less strange transformation from age to 
 youth, when the wrinkles vanish, and the features come 
 
262 HAROLD. 
 
 out clear and sharp from the hollows of care and jearis 
 had already begun. And the old man seemed sleeping 
 in his prime. 
 
 Bo Gurth kissed the dead, as Harold had done before 
 him, and came up and sate himself by his brother's feet, 
 and rested his head on Harold's knee ; nor would he 
 speak till, appalled by the long silence of the earl, he 
 drew away the mantle from his brother's face with a 
 gentle hand, and the large tears were rolling down 
 Harold's cheeks. 
 
 "Be soothed, my brother," said Gurth; "our father 
 has lived for glory, his age was prosperous, and his years 
 more than those which the Psalmist allots to man. Come 
 and look on his face, Harold ; its calm will comfort thee." 
 
 Harold obeyed the hand that led him like a child ; in 
 passing towards the bed, his eye fell upon the cyst which 
 Hilda had given to the old earl, and a chill shot through 
 his veins. 
 
 " Gurth," said he, "is not this the morning of the sixth 
 day in which we have been at the king's court ? " 
 
 "It is the morning of the sixth day." 
 
 Then Harold took forth the key which Hilda had given 
 him, and unlocked the cyst, — and there lay the white 
 winding-sheet of the dead, and a scroll. Harold took 
 the scroll, and bent over it, reading by the mingled light 
 of the lamp and the dawn : — 
 
 "All hail, Harold, heir of Godwin the great, and Githa 
 the king-born 1 Thou hast obeyed Hilda, and thou inow- 
 est now that Hilda's eyes read the future, and her lips 
 
HAEOLD. 263 
 
 speak the dark words of truth. Bow thy heart to the 
 Vala, and mistrust the wisdom that sees only the things 
 of the day-light. As the valor of the warrior and the 
 song of the scald, so is the lore of the prophetess. Tt 
 is not of the body, it is soul within soul ; it marshals 
 events and men, like the Vala — it moulds the air into 
 substance, like the song. Bow thy heart to the Yala. 
 Flowers bloom over the grave o^' the dead. And the 
 young plant soars high, when the king or tne woodland 
 'ies low 1 " 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 The sun rose, and the stairs and passages without were 
 fiUed with the crowds that pressed to hear news of the 
 earl's health. The doors stood open, and Gurth led in 
 the multitude to look their last on the hero of council 
 and camp, who had restored with strong hand and wise 
 brain the race of Cerdic to the Saxon throne. Harold 
 stood by the bed-head silent, and tears were shed and sobs 
 were heard. And many a thegn who had before half 
 believed in the guilt of Godwin as the murderer of Al 
 fred, whispered in gasps to his neighbor, — 
 
 " There is no weregeld for man-slaying on the head of 
 him, who smiles so in death on his old comrades in life I " 
 
 Last of all lingered Leofrie, the great earl of Mercia ; 
 d,nd when the rest had departed, he took the pale hand, 
 that lay heavy on the coverlid, in his own, and said — 
 
264 HAKOLD. 
 
 " Old foe, often stood we in Witan and field against 
 each other; but few are the friends for whom Leofric 
 would mourn as he mourns for thee. Peace to thy soul I 
 Whatever its sins, England should judge thee mildly, for 
 England beat in each pulse of thy heart, and with thy 
 greatness was her own ! " 
 
 Then Harold stole round the bed, and put his arms 
 round Leofric's neck, and embraced him. The good old 
 earl was touched, and he laid his tremulous hands on 
 Harold's brown locks and blessed him. 
 
 " Harold," he said, " thou succeedest to thy father's 
 power : let thy father's foes be thy friends. Wake from 
 thy grief, for thy country now demands thee, — the honor 
 of thy House, and the memory of the dead. Many even 
 now plot against thee and thine. Seek the king, demand 
 as thy right thy father's earldom, and Leofric will back 
 thy claim in the Witan." 
 
 Harold pressed Leofric's hand, and raising it to his 
 lips replied — ^"Be our houses at peace henceforth and 
 for ever 1 " 
 
 Tostig's vanity indeed misled him, when he dreamed 
 that any combination of Godwin's party could meditate 
 supporting his claims against the popular Harold — nor 
 less did the monks deceive themselves, when they sup- 
 posed, that with Godwin's death, the power of his family 
 would fall. 
 
 There was more than even the unanimity of the chiefs 
 of the Witan, in favor of Harold ; there was that nniver- 
 sal noiseless impression throughout all England, Danish 
 
HAROLD. 265 
 
 and Saxoa, tbat Harold was now the sole man on whom 
 rested the state — which, whenever it so favors one indi- 
 vidual, is irresistible. Nor was Edward himself hostile 
 to Harold, whom alone of that House, as we have before 
 said, he esteemed and loved. 
 
 Harold was at once named Earl of Wessex ; and re- 
 linquishing the earldom he held before, he did not hesi- 
 tate as to the successor to be recommended in his place. 
 (Conquering all jealousy and dislike for Algar, he united 
 the strength of his party in favor of the son of Leofric, 
 and the election fell upon him. With all his hot errors, 
 the claims of no other earl, whether from his own capa- 
 cities or his father's services, were so strong ; and his 
 election probably saved the state from a great danger, in 
 the results of that angry mood and that irritated ambi- 
 tion with which he had thrown himself into the arms of 
 England's most valiant aggressor, Gryffyth, king of North 
 Wales. 
 
 To outward appearance, by this election, the House 
 of Leofric — uniting in father and son the two mighty 
 districts of Mercia and the East Anglians — became more 
 powerful than that of Godwin ; for, in that last House, 
 Harold was now only the possessor of one of the great 
 earldoms, and Tostig and the other brothers had no other 
 provision beyond the comparatively insignificant lordships 
 they held before. But if Harold had ruled no earldom 
 at all, he had still been immeasurably the first man in 
 England — so great was the confidence reposed in his 
 
 I. —23 
 
266 HAROLD. 
 
 valor and wisdom. He was of that height in himself, 
 that he needed no pedestal to stand on. 
 
 The successor of the first great founder of a House 
 succeeds to more than his predecessor's power, if he but 
 know how to wield and maintain it ; for who makes his 
 way to greatness without raising foes at every step ? and 
 who ever rose to power supreme, without grave cause for 
 blame ? But Harold stood free from the enmities his 
 father had provoked, and pure from the stains that slan- 
 der or repute cast upon his father's name. The sun of 
 the yesterday had shone through cloud ; the sun of the 
 day rose in a clear firmament. Even Tostig recognized 
 the superiority of his brother ; and, after a strong strug- 
 gle between baffled rage and covetous ambition, yielded 
 to him, as to a father. He felt that all Godwin's house 
 was centered in Harold alone ; and that only from his 
 brother (despite his own daring valor, and despite his 
 alliance with the blood of Charlemagne and Alfred, 
 through the sister of Matilda, the Norman duchess), 
 could his avarice of power be gratified. 
 
 "Depart to thy home, my brother," said Earl Harold 
 to Tostig, " and grieve not that Algar is preferred to 
 thee ; for, even had his claim been less urgent, ill would 
 it have beseemed us to arrogate the lordships of all Eng- 
 land as our dues. Rule thy lordship with wisdom : gain 
 the love of thy lithsmen. High claims hast thou in our 
 father's name, and moderation now will but strengthen 
 thee in the season to come. Trust on Harold somewhat, 
 on thyself more. Thou hast but to add temper and judg> 
 
HAROLD. 26T 
 
 nicnt to valor and zeal, to be worthy mate of the first earl 
 in England. Over my father's corpse I embraced my 
 father's foe. Between brother and brother shall there 
 not be love, as the best bequest of the dead?" 
 
 "It shall not be my fault, if there be not," answered 
 Tostig, humbled though chafed. And he summoned his 
 men and returned to his domains. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Fair, broad, and calm set the sun over the western 
 woodlands ; and Hilda stood on the mound, and looked 
 with undazzled eyes on the sinking orb. Beside her, 
 Edith reclined on the sward, and seemed, with idle hand, 
 tracing characters in the air. The girl had grown paler 
 still, since Harold last parted from her on the same spot, 
 and the same listless and despondent apathy stamped her 
 smileless lips and her bended head. 
 
 " See, child of my heart," said Hilda, addressing Edith, 
 while she still gazed on the western luminary, " see, the 
 sun goes down to the far deeps, where Rana and Mgir * 
 watch over the worlds of the sea ; but with morning he 
 
 *^gir, the Scandinavian god of the ocean. Not one of the Aser, 
 or Asas (the celestial race), but sprang from the giants. Ran or 
 Rana, his wife, a more malignant character, -who caused ship- 
 wrecks, and drew to herself, by a net, all that fell into the sea. 
 The offspring of this marriage were nine daughters, who becams 
 the Billows, the Currents, and the Storms. 
 
268 HAROLD. 
 
 comes from the halls of Asas — the golden gates of the 
 East — and joy comes in his train. And yet thou thinkest, 
 sad child, whose years have scarce passed into wom.tn, 
 that the sun, once set, never comes back to life 1 But 
 even while we speak, thy morning draws near, and the 
 dunness of cloud takes the hues of the rose 1 " 
 
 Edith's hand paused from its vague employment, and 
 fell droopingly on her knee ; — she turned with an unquiet 
 and anxious eye to Hilda, and after looking some mo- 
 ments wistfully at the Vala, the color rose to her cheek, 
 and she said in a voice that had an accent half of anger — 
 
 "Hilda, thou art cruel!" 
 
 " So is Fate ! " answered the Yala. " But men call 
 not Fate cruel when it smiles on their desires. Why 
 callest thou Hilda cruel, when she reads in the setting 
 sun the runes of thy coming joy I " 
 
 " There is no joy for me," returned Edith, plaintively ; 
 "and I have that on my heart," she added, with a sudden 
 and almost fierce change of tone, " which at last I will 
 dare to speak. I reproach thee, Hilda, that thou hast 
 marred all my life, that thou hast duped me with dreams, 
 and left me alone in despair." 
 
 " Speak on," said Hilda, calmly, as a nurse to a fro- 
 ward child. 
 
 " Hast thou not told me, from the first dawn of my 
 wondering reason, that my life and lot were inwoven with 
 — with (the word, mad and daring, musx out) with rhose 
 of Harold the peerless ? But for that, which my infancy 
 took from thy lips as a law, I had never been so vain and 
 
HABOIiD. 269 
 
 SO tr&'xtic 1 I had never watched each play of bis face, 
 and treasured each word from his lips ; I had never made 
 my life but a part of his life — all my soul but the shadow 
 of his sun. But for that, I had hailed the calm of the 
 cloister — but for that, I had glided in peace to my grave. 
 And now — now, O Hilda — " Edith paused, and that 
 break had more eloquence than any words she could com- 
 mand. "And," she resumed quickly, "thou knowest 
 that these hopes were but dreams — that the law ever 
 stood between him and me — and that it was guilt to love 
 him." 
 
 "I knew the law," answered Hilda, "but the law of 
 fools is to the wise as the cobweb swung over the brake 
 to the wing of the bird. Te are sibbe to each other, 
 some five times removed ; and, therefore, an old maa at 
 Kome saith, that ye ought not to wed. When the shave- 
 lings obey the old man at Rome, and put aside their own 
 wives and frillas,* and abstain from the wine-cup, and 
 the chase, and the brawl, I will stoop to hear of their 
 laws, — with disrelish it may be, but without scorn. -j- It 
 is no sin to love Harold ; and no monk and no law shall 
 
 * Frilla, the Danish word for a lady who, often with the wife's 
 consent, was added to the domestic circle by the husband. The 
 word is here used by Hilda in a general sense of reproach. Both 
 marriage and concubinage were common amongst the Anglo-Saxon 
 priesthood, despite the unheeded canons ; and so, indeed, they were 
 with the French clergy. 
 
 •|- Hilda, not only as a heathen, but as a Dane, would be r-- favorer 
 of monks. Xhey were unknown in Denmark at that time, and the 
 Danes held them in odium. — Ord. Vital, lib. vii. 
 
 23* 
 
270 HAROLD. 
 
 prevent your union on the day appointed to bring ye 
 together, form and heart." 
 
 " Hilda 1 Hilda 1 madden me not with joy," cried 
 Edith, starting up in rapturous emotion, her young face 
 dyed with blushes, and all her renovated beauty so leles- 
 tial that Hilda herself was almost awed, as if by the vision 
 of Freya, the northern Venus, charmed by a spoil from 
 the halls of Asgard. 
 
 " But that day is distant," renewed the Vala. 
 
 " What matters ! what matters I " cried the pure child 
 of Nature ; " I ask but hope. Enough, — oh! enough, 
 if we were but wedded on the borders of the grave 1 " 
 
 "Lo, then," said Hilda, "behold, the sun of thy life 
 dawns again 1 '' 
 
 As she spoke, the Vala stretched her arm, and, through 
 the intersticed columns of the fane, Edith saw the large 
 shadow of a man cast over the still sward. Presently into 
 the space of the circle came Harold, her beloved. His 
 face was pale with grief yet recent ; but, perhaps, more 
 than ever, dignity was in his step and command on his 
 brow, for he felt that now alone with him rested the might 
 of Saxon England. And what royal robe so invests with 
 imperial majesty the form of man as the grave sense :t 
 power responsible, in an earnest soul ? 
 
 " Ihou comest," said Hilda, "in the hour I predicted ; 
 at the setting of the sun and the rising of the star.'' 
 
 " Vala," said Harold, gloomily, " I will not oppose my 
 sense to thy prophecies ; for who shall judge of that 
 power of which he knows not the elements-? or despise 
 
HAEOLD. 271 
 
 the marvel of which he cannot detect the imposture ? 
 But leave me, I pray thee, to walk in the broad light of 
 the common day. These hands are made to grapple with 
 things palpable, and these eyes to measure the forms that 
 front my way. In my youth, I turned in despair or dis- 
 gust from the subtleties of the schoolmen, which split 
 upon hairs the brains of Lombard and Frank ; in my 
 busy and stirring manhood, entangle me not in the meshes 
 which confuse all my reason, and sicken my waking 
 thoughts into dreams of awe. Mine be the straight path 
 and the plain goal 1 " 
 
 The Vala gazed on him with an earnest look, that par- 
 took of admiration, and yet more of gloom ; but she 
 spoke not, and Harold resumed. — 
 
 "Let the dead rest, Hilda — proud names with glory 
 on earth, and shadows escaped from our ken, submissive 
 to mercy in heaven. A vast chasm have my steps over- 
 leapt since we met, O Hilda — sweet Edith ; — a vast 
 chasm, but a narrow grave." His voice faltered a mo- 
 ment, and again he renewed : — " Thou weepest, Edith ; 
 ah, how thy tears console me I Hilda, hear me I I love 
 thy grandchild — loved her by irresistible instinct since 
 her blue eyes first smiled on mine. I loved her in her 
 childhood, as in her youth — in the blossom as in the 
 flosver; and thy grandchild loves me. The laws of the 
 Church proscribe our marriage, and therefore we parted ; 
 but I feel, and thine Edith feels, that the love remains as 
 strong in absence : no other will be her wedded lord, no 
 other my wedded wife. Therefore, with a heart made 
 
212 HAROLD. 
 
 soft by sorrow, and, in my father's death, sole lord of my 
 fate, I return, and say to thee in her presence, ' Suffer us 
 to hope still ! ' The day may come, when under some 
 king less enthralled than Edward by formal Church laws, 
 we may obtain from the Pope absolution for our nuptials, 
 — a day, perhaps, far off; but we are both young, and 
 love is strong and patient: we can wait." 
 
 "0 Harold," exclaimed Edith, "we can wait 1 " 
 " Have I not told thee, son of Godwin," said the Yala, 
 solemnly, " that Edith's skein of life was enwoven with 
 thine ? Dost thou deem that my charms have not ex- 
 plored the destiny of the last of my race ? Know that 
 it is in the decrees of the fates that ye are to be united, 
 never more to be divided. Know that there shall come 
 a day, though I can see not its morrow, and it lies dim 
 and afar, which shall be the most glorious of thy life, 
 and on which Edith and fame shall be thine, — the day of 
 thy nativity, on which hitherto all things have prospered 
 with thee. In vain against the stars preach the mone 
 and the priest : what shall be, shall be. Wherefore, take 
 hope and joy, O Children of Time ! And now, as I join 
 your hands, I betroth your souls." 
 
 Rapture unalloyed and unprophetic, born of love deep 
 and pure, shone in the eyes of Harold, as he clasped the 
 hand of his promised bride. But an involuntary and 
 mysterious shudder passed over Edith's frame, and she 
 leant close, close, for support upon Harold's breast. 
 And, as if by a vision, there rose distinct in her memory, 
 a stern brow, a form of power and terror — the brow and 
 
HAROLD. 273 
 
 the form of him who but onoe again in her waking life 
 the Prophetess had told her she should behold. The 
 vision passed away in the warm clasp of those protect- 
 ing arms ; and looking up into Harold's face, she there 
 beheld the mighty and deep delight that transfused itself 
 at once into her" own soul. 
 
 Then Hilda, placing one hand over their heads, and 
 raising the other towards heaven, all radiant with burst- 
 ing stars, said in her deep and thrilling tones, — 
 
 "Attest the betrothal of these young hearts, ye 
 Powers that draw nature to nature by spells which no 
 galdra can trace, and have wrought in the secrets of 
 creation no mystery so perfect as love, — Attest it, thou 
 temple, thou altar ! — attest it, sun and air 1 While 
 the forms are divided, may the souls cling together — sor- 
 row with sorrow, and joy with-joy. And when, at length, 
 bride and bridegroom are one, — stars, may the trouble 
 with which ye are charged have exhausted its burthen ; 
 may no danger molest, and no malice disturb, but, over 
 the marriage-bed, shine in peace, ye stars 1 " 
 
 "Up rose the moon. May's nightingale called its mate 
 from the breathless boughs ; and so Edith and Harold 
 were betrothed by the grave of the son of Cerdic. And 
 from the line of Cerdic had come, since Ethelbert, all the 
 Saxon kings who with sword and with sceptre had reigned 
 over Saxon England. 
 
 23* 
 
BOOK SIXTH. 
 
 AMBITION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 There was great rejoicing in England. King Edward 
 had been induced to send Aired the prelate * to the court 
 of the German Emperor, for his kinsman and namesake, 
 Edward Atheling, the son of the great Ironsides. In his 
 childhood, this prince, with his brother Edmund, had 
 been committed by Canute to the charge of his vassal, 
 the King of Sweden ; and it has been said (though with- 
 out sufBcient authority), that Canute's design was, that 
 they should be secretly made away with. The King of 
 Sweden, however, forwarded the children to the court of 
 Hungary ; they were there honorably reared and received. 
 Edmund died young, without issue. Edward married a 
 daughter of the German Emperor, and during the com- 
 mctions h England, and the successive reigns of Harold 
 Harefoot, Hardicanute, and the Confessor, had remained 
 orgotten in his exile, until now suddenly recalled to 
 
 * Chron. Knyghton. 
 
 (274) 
 
HAROLD. 215 
 
 England as the heir presumptive of his childless name- 
 sake. He arrived with Aejatha his wife, one infant son. 
 Edgar, and two daughters, Margaret and Christina. 
 
 Great were the rejoicings. The vast crowd that had 
 followed the royal visitors in their procession to the old 
 London palace (not far from St. Paul's), in which they 
 were lodged, yet swarmed through the streets, when two 
 thegns who had personally accompanied the Atheliug 
 from Dover, and had just taken leave of him, now emerged 
 from the palace, and with some difEculty made their way 
 thiough the crowded streets. 
 
 The one in the dress and short hair imitated from the 
 Norman, was our old friend Godrith, whom the reader 
 may remember as the rebuker of Taillefer, and the friend 
 of Mallet de Graville ; the other, in a plain linen Saxon 
 tunic, and the gonna worn on state occasions, to which 
 he seemed unfamiliar, but with heavy gold bracelets on 
 his arms, long haired and bearded, was Vebba, the 
 Kentish thegn, who had served as nuncius from Godwin 
 to Edward. 
 
 " Troth and faith I " said Vebba, wiping his brow, 
 "this crowd is enow to make plain man stark wode. I 
 would not live in London for all the gauds in the gold- 
 smiths' shops, or all the treasures in King Edward's 
 vaults. My tongue is as parched as a hay-field in the 
 weyd-month.* Holy Mother be blessed I I see a cwmen- 
 huif open ; let us in and refresh ourselves with a horn 
 of ale." 
 
 * Wei/d month. Meadow-month, June. ■[• Cumen-hus. ravern. 
 
216 HAEOLD. 
 
 " Nay, friend," quoth Godrith, with a slight disdain, 
 " snch are not the resorts of men of our rank. Tarry 
 yet awhile, till we arrive near the bridge by the river 
 side ; there, indeed, you will find worthy company and 
 dainty cheer." 
 
 "Well, well, I am at your hest, Godrith," said tlie 
 Kent n;an sighing : "my wife and my sons will be sure 
 to ask me what sights I have seen, and I may as well 
 know from thee the last tricks and ways of this hurly- 
 burly town." 
 
 Godrith, who was master of all the fashions in the 
 reign of our lord King Edward, smiled graciously, and 
 the two proceeded in silence, only broken by the sturdy 
 Kent man's exclamations ; now of anger when rudely 
 jostled, now of wonder and delight when, amidst the 
 throng, he caught sight of a glee-man, with his bear or 
 monkey, who took advantage of some space near con- 
 vent garden, or Roman ruin, to exhibit his craft; till 
 they gained a long low row of booths, most pleasantly 
 situated to the left of this side London bridge, and which 
 was appropriated to the celebrated cook-shops, that even 
 to the time of Fitzstephen retained their fame and their 
 fashion. 
 
 Between the shops and the river, was a space of grass 
 worn brown and bare by the feet of the customers, with 
 a few clipped trees with vines trained from one to the 
 other in arcades, under cover of which were set tables 
 and settles. The place was thickly crowded, and but for 
 Godrith's popularity amongst the attendants, they might 
 have found it difficult to obtain accommodation. How- 
 
HAEOLD. 217 
 
 ever, a new table was soon brought forth, placed close 
 by the cool margin of the water, and covered in a tricft 
 with tankards of hippocras, pigment, ale, and some Gas- 
 con, as well as British wines ; varieties of the delicions 
 cake-bread for which England was then renowned ; whi le 
 via ids strange to the honest eye and taste of the wealthy 
 Kent man, were served on spits. 
 
 " What bird is this ? " said he, grumbling. 
 
 " Oh, enviable man, it is a Phrygian attagen * that 
 thou art about to taste for the first time ; and when thou 
 hast recovered that delight, I commend to thee a Moorish 
 compound, made of eggs and roes of carp from the old 
 Southweorc stewponds, which the cooks here dress no- 
 tably." 
 
 "Moorish! — Holy Virgin I" cried Vebba, with his 
 mouth full of the Phrygian attagen, " how came anything 
 Moorish in our Christian island?" 
 
 Godrith laughed outright. 
 
 " Why, OUT cook here is Moorish ; the best singers in 
 London are Moors. Look yonder ! see those grave 
 comely Saracens ? " 
 
 " Comely, quotha, burnt and black as a charred pine- 
 pole!" grunted Yebba ; "well, who are they?" 
 
 "Wealthy traders ; thanks to whom, our pretty maids 
 have risen high in the market, "f 
 
 * Fitzstephen. 
 
 •j- William of Malmesbury speaks with just indignation of the 
 Anglo-Saxon custom of selling female servants, either to public 
 prostitution or foreign slavery. 
 
 L— 24 
 
a78 HAEOLD 
 
 "More the shame," said the Kent man ; "that selling 
 of English youth to foreign masters, whether male or 
 female, is a blot on the Saxon name." 
 
 " So saith Harold our Earl, and so preach the monks," 
 returned Godrith. " But thou, my good friend, who art 
 fond of all things that our ancestors did, and hast sneered 
 more than once at my Norman robe and cropped hair. 
 thou shouldst not be the one to find fault with what our 
 fathers have done since the days of Cerdic." 
 
 "Hem," said the Kent man, a little perplexed, "cer- 
 tainly old manners are the best, and I suppose there is 
 some good reason for this practice, which I, who never 
 trouble myself about matters that concern me not, do not 
 see." 
 
 " Well, Vebba, and how likest thou the Atheling ? he 
 IS of the old line," said Godrith. 
 
 Again the Kent man looked perplexed, and had re- 
 course to the ale, which he preferred to all more delicate 
 liquor, before he replied — 
 
 " Why, he speaks English worse than King Edward I 
 and as for his boy Edgar, the child can scarce speak Eng- 
 lish at all. And then their German carles and cnehts ! 
 — An' I had known what manner of folk they were, I had 
 not spent my mancuses in running from my homestead to 
 give them the welcome. But they told me that Harold 
 the good Earl had made the king send for them ; and 
 whatever the earl counselled, must I thought be wise, and 
 to the weal of sweet England." 
 
 " That is true," said Godrith with earnest emphasis. 
 
HAROLD. 2?9 
 
 for, with all his affectation of Norman manners, he was 
 thoroughly English at heart, and was now among the 
 staunchest supporters of Harold, who had become no less 
 the pattern and pride of the young nobles than the dar- 
 ling of the humbler population, — "that is true — and 
 Harold showed us his noble English heart when he so 
 urged the king to his own loss." 
 
 As Godrith thus spoke, nay, from the first mention of 
 Harold's name, two men richly clad, but with their bon- 
 nets drawn far over their brows, and their long gonnas 
 so worn as to hide their forms, who were seated at a table 
 behind Godrith and had thus escaped his attention, had 
 paused from their wine-cups, and they now listened with 
 much earnestness to the conversation that followed. 
 
 " How to the earl's loss ? " asked Vebba. 
 
 "Why, simple thegn," answered Godrith, "why, sup- 
 pose that Edward had refused to acknowledge the Athel- 
 ing as his heir, suppose the Atheling had remained in the 
 German court, and our good king died suddenly, — who, 
 thinkest thou, could succeed to the English throne ?" 
 
 "Marry, I have never thought of that at all," said thn 
 Kent man, scratching his head. 
 
 " No, nor have the English generally ; yet whom could 
 we choose but Harold ? " 
 
 A sudden start from one of the listeners was checked 
 by the warning finger of the other ; and the Kent man 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " Body o' me I But we have never chosen king (save 
 the Danes") out of the line of Cerdic. These be new 
 
280 HAROLD. 
 
 cranks, with a \ ingeance : we shall be choosing German, 
 or Saracen, or Norman next." 
 
 " Out of the line of Cerdic 1 but that line is gone, 
 root and branch, save the Atheling, and he, thou seest, 
 is more German than English. Again I say, failing the 
 Atheling, whom could we choose but Harold, brother-in- 
 law to the king ; descended through Githa from the royal- 
 ties of the Norse, the head of all armies under the Herr- 
 ban, the chief who has never fought without victory, yet 
 who has always preferred conciliation to conquest — the 
 Arst counsellor in the Witan — the first man in the realm 
 — who but Harold? answer me, staring Vebba." 
 
 " I take in thy words slowly," said the Kent man, 
 shaking his head, " and after all, it matters little who is 
 king, so he be a good one. Tes, I see now that the earl 
 was a just and generous man when he made the king 
 send for the Atheling. Drink-hsel ! long life to them 
 both 1 " 
 
 " Was-hael," answered Godrith, draining his hippocras 
 to Yebba's more potent ale. " Long life to them both 1 
 may Edward the Atheling reign, but Harold the Earl 
 rule ! Ah, then, indeed, we may sleep without fear of 
 fierce Algar and still fiercer Gryifyth the Walloon — who 
 BOW, it is true, are stilled for the moment, thanks Id 
 Harold — but not more still than the smooth -vaters in 
 Gwyned, that lie just above the rash of a torrent." 
 
 " So little news hear I," said Vebba, " and in Kent so 
 little are we plagued with the troubles elsewhere (for 
 there Harold governs us, and the hawks come not wherfl 
 
- HAROLD. 281 
 
 the eagles hold eyrie I) — that I will thank thee to tell m« 
 Bomothing about our old earl for a year,* Algar the rest- 
 less, and this Gryffyth the Welch king, so that I may 
 Beem a wise man when I go back to my homestead." 
 
 " Why, thou knowest at least that Algar and Harold 
 were ever opposed in the Witan, and hot words thou hast 
 heard pass between them?" 
 
 " Marry, yes 1 But Algar was as little match for Earl 
 Harold in speech as in sword-play." 
 
 Now again one of the listeners started (but it was not 
 the same as the on: I)efore), and muttered an angry ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 "Yet is he a troublesome foe," said Godrith, who did 
 not hear the sound Yebba had provoked, "and a thorn 
 in the side both of the earl and of England ; and sorrow 
 ful for both England and earl was it, that Harold refused 
 to marry Aldyth, as it is said his father, wise Godwin, 
 counselled and wished." 
 
 "Ah I but I have heard scops and harpers sing pretty 
 songs that Harold loves Edith the Fair, a wondrous 
 proper maiden, they say 1 " 
 
 " It is true ; and for the sake of his love, he played ill 
 for his ambition." 
 
 " I like him the better for that," said the honest Kent 
 man : " why does he not marry the girl at once ? she 
 hath broad lands I know, for they run from the Sussex 
 shore into Kent." 
 
 * It will be remembered that Algar governed Wessex, whicli 
 principality included Kent, during the year of Godwin's outlawry 
 24* 
 
'.J82 HAROLD. ■ 
 
 " But they are cousins five times removed, and the 
 Church forbids the marriage ; nevertheless Harold lives 
 only for Edith ; they have exchanged the true-lofa,* and 
 it is whispered that Harold hopes the Atheling, when he 
 comes to be king, will get him the pope's dispensation. 
 But to return to Algar ; in a day most unlucky he gave 
 his daughter to Gryflfyth, the most turbulent sub-king the 
 land ever knew, who, it is said, will not be content till he 
 has won all Wales for himself without homage or service, 
 and the Marches to boot. Some letters between him and 
 Earl Algar, to whom Harold had secured the earldom 
 of the Bast Angles, were discovered, and in a Witan at 
 Winchester thou wilt doubtless have heard (for thou 
 didst not, I know, leave thy lands to attend it), that 
 Algar f was outlawed. " 
 
 * Trulofa, from which comes our popular corruption " true 
 Uver's knot," d. veieri Danico trulofa, i. e. fidem do, to pledge faith. 
 — HiCKEs' Thesaur. 
 
 " A knot, among the ancient northern nations, seems to have 
 been the emblem of love, faith, and friendship." — Brande's Pop. 
 Antiq. 
 
 f The Saxon Chronicle contradicts itself as to Algar's outlawry, 
 stating in one passage that he was outlawed without any kind of 
 guilt, and in another that he was outlawed as swike, or traitor, and 
 that he made a confession of it before all the men there gathered. 
 His treason, however, seems naturally occasioned by his close con- 
 nection with Grytfyth, and proved by his share in that king's re- 
 bellion. Some of our historians have unfairly assumed that his out- 
 lawry was at Harold's instigation. Of this there is not only no 
 proof, but one of the best authorities among the chroniclers says 
 just the contrary, — that Harold did all he could to intercede for 
 him ; and it is certain that he was fairly tried and condemned by 
 a Witan, and afterwards restored by the concurrent articles of 
 
HAROLD. 283 
 
 " Oh, yes, these are stale tidings ; I heard thus much 
 from a palmer — and then Algar got ships from the 
 Irish, sailed to North Wales, and beat Rolf, the Norman 
 Earl, at Hereford. Oh yes, I heard that, and," added the 
 Kent man laughing, "I was not sorry to hear that my old 
 Earl Algar, since he is a good and true Saxon, beat the 
 cowardly Norman, — more shame to the king for giving 
 a Norman the ward of the Marches ! " 
 
 " It was a sore defeat to the king and to England," 
 said Godrith, gravely. " The great Minster of Hereford, 
 built by King Athelstan, was burned and sacked by the 
 Welch ; and the Crown itself was in danger, when Harold 
 came up at the head of the Fyrd. Hard is it to tell the 
 distress and the marching and the camping, and the 
 travail, and destruction of men, and also of horses, which 
 the English endured * till Harold came ; and then, 
 luckily, came also the good old Leofric, and Bishop 
 Aired, the peace-maker, and so strife was patched up — 
 Gryffyth swore oaths of faith to King Edward, and Algar 
 was inlawed ; and there for the nonce rests the matter 
 now. But well I ween that Gryffyth will never keep 
 troth with the English, and that no hand less strong than 
 Harold's can keep in check a spirit as fiery as Algar's : 
 herefore did I wish that Harold might be king." 
 
 "Well," quoth the honest Kent man, "I hope, never- 
 
 agreement between Harold and Leofric. Harold's policy with hig 
 own countrymen stands out very markedly prominent in the annals 
 of the time ; it "waa invariably that of conciliation. 
 * Saxon Chron., verbatim. 
 
284 HAROLD. 
 
 theless, that Algar will sow his wild oats, and leave the 
 Walloons to grow the hemp for their own halters ; for, 
 though he is not of the height of our Harold, he is a true 
 Saxon, and we liked him well enow when he ruled us. 
 And how is our earl's brother, Tostig, esteemed by the 
 Northmen ? It must be hard to please those who had 
 Siward of the strong arm for their earl before." 
 
 "Why, at first, when (at Siward's death in the wars 
 for young Malcolm) Harold secured to Tostig the North- 
 umbrian earldom, Tostig went by his brother's counsel 
 and ruled well and won favor. Of late I hear that the 
 Northmen murmur. Tostig is a man indeed dour and 
 haughty." 
 
 After a few more questions and answers on the news 
 of the day, Vebba rose and said, — 
 
 " Thanks for thy good fellowship ; it is time for me 
 now to be jogging homeward. I left my ceorls and 
 horses on the other side the river, and must go after 
 them And now forgive me my bluntness, fellow thegn, 
 but ye young courtiers have plenty of need for your 
 mancuses, and when a plain countryman like me comes 
 sight-seeing, he ought to stand payment ; wherefore," 
 here he took from his belt a great leathern purse, " where- 
 fore, as these outlandish birds and heathenish puddings 
 must be dear fare " 
 
 "Howl" said Godrith, reddening, "thinkest thou so 
 meanly of us thegns of Middlesex, as to deem we cannot 
 entertain thus humbly a friend from a distance ? Ye 
 
HAROLD. 285 
 
 Kent men I know are rich. But keep yonr pennies to 
 buy stuffs for your wife, my friend." 
 
 The Kent man, seeing he had displeased his compan- 
 ion, did not press his liberal offer, — put up his purse, 
 and suffered Godrith to pay the reckoning. Then, as the 
 two thegns shook hands, he said, — 
 
 "But I should like to have said a kind word or so to 
 Earl Harold — for he was too busy and too great for me 
 to come across him in the old palace yonder. I have a 
 mind to go back and look for him at his own house." 
 
 " Tou will not find him there," said Godrith, " for I 
 know that as soon as he hath finished his conference with 
 the Atheling, he will leave the city ; and I shall be at his 
 own favorite manse over the water at sunset, to take 
 orders for repairing the forts and dykes on the Marches. 
 You can tarry awhile and meet us ; you know his old 
 lodge in the forest land ? " 
 
 " Nay, I must be back and at home ere night, for all 
 things go wrong when the master is away. Yet, indeed, 
 my good wife will scold me for not having shaken hand.s 
 with the handsome earl." 
 
 "Thou shalt not come under that sad infliction," said 
 the good-natured Godrith, who was pleased with the 
 thegn's devotion to Harold, and who, knowing the great 
 weight which Vebba (homely as he seemed) carried in 
 his important county, was politically anxious that the 
 earl should humor so sturdy a friend, — " Thou shalt not 
 Bour thy wife's kiss, man. For look you, as you ride 
 
286 HAROLD. 
 
 back you will pass by a large old house, with broken 
 columns at the back." 
 
 '' I have marked it well," said the thegn, " when I have 
 gone that way, with a heap of queer stones, on a little 
 hillock, which they say the witches or the Britons heaped 
 together." 
 
 " The same. When Harold leaves London, I trow 
 well towards that house will his road wend ; for there 
 lives Edith the swan's neck, with her awful grandma, the 
 Wicca. If thou art there a little after noon, depend on 
 it thou wilt see Harold riding that way." 
 
 " Thank thee heartily, friend Godrith," said Vebba, 
 taking his leave, " and forgive my bluntness if I laughed 
 at thy cropped head, for I see thou art as good a Saxon 
 as ere a frankling of Kent — and so the saints keep thee." 
 
 Yebba then strode briskly over the bridge ; and God- 
 rith, animated by the wine he had drunk, turned gaily 
 on his heel to look amongst the crowded tables for some 
 chance friend, with whom to while away an hour or so, 
 at the games of hazard then in vogue. 
 
 Scarce had he turned, when the two listeners, wbo, 
 having paid their reckoning, had moved under shade of 
 one of the arcades, dropped into a boat which they had 
 summoned to the margin, by a noiseless signal, and were 
 rowed over the water. They preserved a silence which 
 seemed thoughtful and gloomy until they reached the 
 opposite shore : then, one of them, pushing back his 
 bonnet, showed the sharp and haughty features of Algar. 
 
 " Well, friend of Gryffyth," said he, with a bitter ac- 
 
HAROLD. 287 
 
 cent, " thou hearest that Earl Harold counts s 5 little on 
 the oaths of thy king, that he intends to fortify the 
 Marches against him ; and thou hearest also, that nought 
 save a life, as fragile as the reed which thy feet are 
 trampling, stands between the throne of England and 
 the only Englishman who could ever have humbled my 
 Bon-in-law to swear oath of service to Edward." 
 
 " Shame upon that hour," said the other, whose speech, 
 as well as the gold collar round his neck, and the peculiar 
 fashion of his hair, betokened him to be Welch. " Little 
 did I think that the great son of Llewellyn, whom our 
 bards had set above Roderic Mawr, would ever have ac- 
 knowledged the sovereignty of the SaxoTi over the hills 
 of Cymry." 
 
 " Tut, Meredydd," anwered Algar, " thou knowest well 
 that no Cymrian ever deems himself dishonored by break- 
 ing faith with the Saxon ; and we shall yet see the lious 
 of Gryffyth scaring the sheep-folds of Hereford." 
 
 " So be it," said Meredydd, fiercely. "And Harold 
 shall give to his Atheling the Saxon land, shorn at least 
 of the Cymrian k-ingdom." 
 
 " Meredydd," said Algar, with a seriousness that 
 seemed almost solemn, "no Atheling will live to rule 
 these realms 1 Thou knowest that I was one of the first 
 to hail the news of his coming — I hastened to Dover to 
 meet him. Methought I saw death writ on his counte- 
 nance, and I bribed the German leach who attends him 
 to answer my questions; the Atheling knows it not, but 
 he bears within him the seeds of a mortal complaint. 
 
288 HAROID. 
 
 Thou wottest well what cause I have to hate Earl Ha- 
 rold ; and were I the only man to oppose his way to the 
 throne, he should not ascend it but over my corpse. But 
 when Godrith, his creature, spoke, I felt that he spoko 
 the truth ; and, the Atheliog dead, on no head but Ha- 
 rold's can fall the crown of Edward." 
 
 "Hal" said the Cymrian chief, gloomily; "thinkest 
 thou so indeed ?" 
 
 "I think it not; I know it. And for that reason, 
 Meredydd, we must wait not till he wields against us all 
 the royalty of England. As yet, while Edward lives, 
 there is hope. For the king loves to spend wealth on 
 relics and priests, and is slow when the mancuses are 
 wanted for fighting-men. The king too, poor man ! is 
 not so ill pleased at my outbursts as he would fain have 
 it thought 1 he thinks, by pitting earl against earl, that 
 he himself is the stronger.* While Edward lives, there- 
 fore, Harold's arm is half-crippled ; wherefore, Meredydd, 
 ride thou, with good speed, back to King Gryfifyth, and 
 tell him all I have told thee. Tell him that our time to 
 strike the blow and renew the war will be amidst the 
 dismay and confusion that the Atheling's death will occa- 
 sion. Tell him, that if we can entangle Harold himself 
 in the Welch defiles, it will go hard but what we shall 
 ind some arrow or dagger to pierce the heart of the in- 
 vader. And were Harold but slain — who then would be 
 king in England ? The line of Cerdic gone — the house 
 
 * Hume. 
 
•HAROLD. 289 
 
 of Godwin lost in Earl Harold, (for Tostig is hated in 
 his own domain, Leofwine is too light, and Gurth is too 
 saintly for such ambition) — who then, I say, can be king 
 in England but Algar, the heir of the great Leofric ? 
 And I, as king of England, will set all Cymry free, and 
 restore to the realm of Gryifyth the shires of Hereford 
 and Worcester. Ride fast, Meredydd, and heed well 
 all I have said." 
 
 " Dost thou promise and swear, that wert thou king 
 of England, Cymry should be free from all service ? " 
 
 " Free as air, free as under Arthur and Uther ; I swear 
 it. And remember well how Harold addressed the Cym- 
 rian chiefs, when he accepted Gryffyth's oaths of ser- 
 vice.'' 
 
 " Remember it — ay," cried Meredydd, his face lighting 
 up with intense ire and revenge ; " the stern Saxon said, 
 ' Heed well, ye chiefs of Cymry, and thou Gryfifyth the 
 king, that if again ye force, by ravage and rapine, by 
 sacrilege and murther, the majesty of England to enter 
 your borders, duty must be done : God grant that your 
 Cymrian lion may leave us in peace — if not, it is mercv 
 to human life that bids us cut the talons and draw the 
 fangs.' " 
 
 "Harold, like all calm and mild men, ever says less 
 than he means," returned Algar; "and were Harold 
 king, small pretext would he need for cutting the talons, 
 and drawing the fangs." 
 
 " It is well," said Meredydd, with a fierce smile. " I 
 
 I. —25 T 
 
290 HAROLD. 
 
 will noTV go to my men who are lodged yonder ; and it is 
 better that thou shouldst not be seen with me." 
 
 " Right ; so St. David be with you — and forget not a 
 word of my message to Gryffyth, my son-in-law." 
 
 " Not a word," returned Meredydd, as with a wave 
 of his hand he moved towards an hostelry, to which, as 
 kept by one of their own countrymen, the Welch habit- 
 ually resorted in the visits to the capital which the va- 
 rious intrigues and dissensions in their unhappy land 
 made frequent. 
 
 The chief's train, which con,sisted of ten men, all of 
 high birth, were not drinking in the tavern — for sorry 
 customers to mine host were the abstemious Welch. 
 Stretched on the grass under the trees of an orchard that 
 backed the hostelry, and utterly indifferent to all the 
 rejoicings that animated the population of Southwark 
 and London, they were listening to a wild song of the 
 old hero-days from one of their number ; and round them 
 grazed the rough shagged ponies which they had used 
 for their journey. Meredydd, approaching, gazed round, 
 and seeing no stranger was present, raised his hand to 
 hush the song, and then addressed his countrymen briefly 
 in Welch, — briefly, but with a passion that was evident 
 in his flashing eyes and vehement gestures. The passion 
 was contagious ; they all sprang to their feet with a low 
 but fierce cry, and in a few moments they had caught and 
 saddled their diminutive palfreys, while one of the band, 
 who seemed singled out by Meredydd, sallied forth alone 
 from the orchard, and took his way, on foot, to the bridge. 
 
HAROLD. 291 
 
 He did not tarry there long ; at the sight of a single 
 horseman, whom a shout of welcome, on that swarming 
 thoroughfare, proclaimed to be Earl Harold, the Welch- 
 man turned, and with a fleet foot regained his com- 
 panions. 
 
 Meanwhile Harold, smilingly, returned the greetings 
 he received, cleared the bridge, passed the suburbs, and 
 soon gained the wild forest land that lay along the 
 great Kentish road. He rode somewhat slowly, for he 
 was evidently in deep thought ; and he had arrived about 
 halt-way towards Hilda's house, when he heard behind 
 quick pattering sounds, as of small unshod hoofs : he 
 turned and saw the Welchmen at the distance of some 
 fifty yards. But at that moment there passed, along the 
 road in front, several persons bustling into London to 
 share in the festivities of the day. This seemed to dis- 
 concert the Welch in the rear ; and, after a few whispered 
 words, they left the high road and entered the forest 
 land. Various groups from time to time continued to 
 pass along the thoroughfare. But still, ever through the 
 glades, Harold caught glimpses of the riders : now dis- 
 tant, now near. Sometimes he heard the snort of their 
 small horses, and saw a fierce eye glaring through the 
 bushes ; then, as at the sight or sound of approaching 
 passengers, the riders wheeled, and shot off through the 
 brakes. 
 
 The Earl's suspicions were aroused; for (though he 
 knew of no enemy to apprehend, and the extreme sevtrity 
 of the laws against robbers made the high-roads much 
 
292 HAEOLD. 
 
 safer in the latter days of the Saxon domination than 
 they were for centuries under that of the subsequent 
 dynasty, when Saxon thegns themselves had turned kings 
 of the greenwood,) the various insurrections in Edward's 
 reign had necessarily thrown upon society many turbulent 
 disbanded mercenaries. 
 
 Harold was unarmed, save the spear which, even on 
 occasions of state, the Saxon noble rarely laid aside, and 
 the ateghar in his belt ; and, seeing now that the road 
 had become deserted, he set spurs to his horse, and was 
 just in sight of the Druid Temple, when a javelin whizzed 
 close by his breast, and another transfixed his horse, 
 which fell head-foremost to the ground. 
 
 The earl gained his feet in an instant, and that haste 
 was needed to save his life ; for while he rose ten swords 
 flashed around him. The Welchmen had sprung from 
 their palfreys as Harold's horse fell. Fortunately for 
 him, only two of the party bore javelins (a weapon which 
 the Welch wielded with deadly skill) and, those already 
 wasted, they drew their short swords, which were pro- 
 bably imitated from the Romans, and rushed upon him 
 in simulfaineous onset. Versed in all the weapons of the 
 time, with his right hand seeking by his spear to keep 
 off the rush, with the ateghar in his left parrying the 
 strokes aimed at him, the brave earl transfixed the first 
 assailant, and sore wounded the next ; but his tunic was 
 dyed red with three gashes, and his sole chance of life 
 was in the power yet left him to force his way through 
 the ring. Dropping his spear, shifting his ateghar into 
 
HAROLD. 293 
 
 the right hand, wrapping round his left arm his gonna as 
 a shield, he sprang fiercely on the onslaught, and on the 
 flashing swords. Pierced to the heart fell one of his 
 foes — dashed to the earth another — from the hand of a 
 third (dropping his own ateghar) he wrenched the sword. 
 Loud rose Harold's cry for aid, and swiftly he strode 
 towards the hillock, turning back, and striking as he 
 turned ; and again fell a foe, and again new blood oozed 
 through his own. garb. At that moment his cry was 
 echoed by a shriek so sharp and so piercing that it 
 startled the assailants, it arrested the assault ; and, ere 
 the unequal strife could be resumed, a woman was in the 
 midst of the fray ; — a woman stood dauntless between 
 the earl and his foes. 
 
 " Back ! Edith. Oh, God 1 Back, back 1 " cried the 
 earl, recovering "all his strength in the sole fear which 
 that strife had yet stricken into his bold heart ; and draw- 
 ing Edith aside with his strong arm, he again confronted 
 the assailants 
 
 " Die 1 " cried, in the Cymrian tongue, the fiercest of 
 the foes, whose sword had already twice drawn the earl's 
 blood; "die, that Cymry may be free I" 
 
 Meredydd sprang, with him sprang the survivors of 
 his band ; and, by a sudden movement, Edith had thrown 
 herself on Harold's breast, leaving his right arm free, but 
 sheltering his form with her own. 
 
 At that sight every sword rested still in air. These 
 Cymrians, hesitating not at the murder of the man whose 
 death seemed to their false virtue a sacrifice due to their 
 25* 
 
294 HAROLD. 
 
 hopes of freedom, were still the descendants of Heroes, 
 and the children of noble Song, and their swords were 
 harmless against a woman. The same pause which saved 
 the life of Harold, saved that of Meredydd, for the 
 Cymrian's lifted sword had left his breast defenceless, 
 and Harold, despite his wrath, and his fears for Edith' 
 touched by that sudden forbearance, forbore himself the 
 blow. 
 
 " Why seek ye my life ? " said he. " Whom in broad 
 England hath Harold wronged?" 
 
 That speech broke the charm, revived the suspense of 
 vengeance. With a sudden aim, Meredydd smote at 
 the head which Edith's embrace left unprotected. The 
 sword shivered on the steel of that which parried the 
 stroke, and the next moment, pierced to the heart, Mere- 
 dydd fell to the earth, bathed in his gcfre. Even as he 
 fell, aid was at hand. The ceorls in the Roman house 
 had caught the alarm, and were hurrying down the knoll, 
 with arms snatched in haste, while a loud whoop broke 
 from the forest land hard by ; and a troop of horse, 
 headed by Vebba, rushed through the bushes and brakes. 
 Those of the Welch still surviving, no longer animated 
 by their fiery chief, turned on the instant, and fled with 
 that wonderful speed of foot which characterized their 
 active race ; calling, as they fled, to their Welch pigmy 
 steeds, which, snorting loud, and lashing out, came at 
 once to the call. Seizing the nearest at hand, the fugi- 
 tives sprang to selle, while the animals unchosen, paused 
 by he corpses of their former riders, neighing piteously, 
 
HAROLD. 295 
 
 and shaking their long manes. And then, after wheeling 
 round and round the coming horsemen, with many a 
 plunge, and lash, and savage cry, they darted after their 
 companions, and disappeared amongst the bush-wood. 
 Some of the Kentish men gave chase to the fugitives, 
 but in vain ; for the nature of the ground favored flight. 
 Vebba, and the rest, now joined by Hilda's lithsmen, 
 gained the spot where Harold, bleeding fast, yet strove 
 to keep his footing, and, forgetful of his own wounds, 
 was joyfuUy assuring himself of Edith's safety. Yebba 
 dismounted, and recognizing the earl, exclaimed : — 
 
 " Saints in heaven I are we in time ? You bleed — you 
 faint I — Speak, Lord Harold. How fares it ? " 
 
 " Blood enow yet left here for our merrie England I " 
 said Harold, with a smile. But as he spoke, his head 
 drooped, and he was borne senseless into the house of 
 Hilda. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Vala met them at the threshold, and testified so 
 little surprise at the sight of the bleeding and uncon- 
 scious earl, that Vebba, who had heard strange tales of 
 Hilda's unlawful arts, half-suspected that those wild-look- 
 ing foes, with their uncanny diminutive horses, were imps 
 conjured by her to punish a wooer to her grandchild — 
 who had been perhaps too successful in the wooing. And 
 
296 HAROLD 
 
 fears so reasonable were not a little increased when 
 Hilda, after leading the way up the steep ladder to the 
 chamber in which Harold had dreamed his fearful dream, 
 bade them all depart, and leave the wounded man to her 
 care. 
 
 " Not so," said Vebba, bluffly. " A life like this is not 
 to be left in the hands of woman, or wicca. I shall go 
 back to the great town, and summon the earl's own leach. 
 And I beg thee to heed, meanwhile, that every head in 
 this house shall answer for Harold's." 
 
 The great Yala, and high-born Hleafdian, little ac- 
 customed to be accosted thus, turned round abruptly, 
 with so stern an eye and so imperious a mien, that even 
 the stout Kent man felt abashed. Shn pointed to the 
 door opening on the ladder, and said, briefly : — 
 
 " Depart I Thy lord's We hatli bep.i\ «aved already, 
 and by woman. Depart I " 
 
 "Depart, and fear not f^^ the earl, '.ave and true 
 friend in need," said Edith, looking up aym Harold's 
 pale lips, over which she beivl'. ; and hor st\ iot voice so 
 touched the good thegn, thi*i\, murmuring a X'essing ou 
 her fair face, he turned and ilepartod. 
 
 Hilda then proceeded with a light and skilfu. hand, to 
 examine the wounds of her patient. She op-) -ed the 
 tunic, and washed away the blood from fouv p;aping 
 orifices on the breast and shoulders. And as she Oid so, 
 Edith uttered a faint cry, and, falling on her knees, 
 bowed her head over the drooping hand, and kiss(d it 
 with stifling emotions, of which perhaps grateful joy ft-as 
 
HAHOLB. 297 
 
 the strongest ; for over the heart of Harold was panc- 
 tured, after the fashion of the Saxons, a device — and 
 that device was the knot of betrothal, and in the centre 
 of the knot was graven the word "Edith." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Whether owing to Hilda's runes, or to the merely 
 human arts which accompanied them, the earl's recovery 
 was rapid, though the great loss of blood he had sus- 
 tained left him awhile weak and exhausted. But, per- 
 haps, he blessed the excuse which detained him still in 
 the house of Hilda, and under the eyes of Edith. 
 
 He dismissed the leach sent to him by Vebba, and 
 confided, not without reason to the Vala's skill. And 
 how happily went his hours beneath the old Roman roof 1 
 
 It was not without a superstition, more characterized, 
 however, by tenderness than awe, that Harold learned 
 that Edith had been undefinably impressed with a fore- 
 boding of danger to her betrothed, and all that morning 
 she had watched his coming from the old legendary hill. 
 Was it not in that watch that his good Fylgia had saved 
 his life ? 
 
 Indeed, there seemed a strange truth in Hilda's asser- 
 tions, that in the form of his betrothed, his tutelary spirit 
 lived and guarded. For smooth every step, and bright 
 every day, in his career, since their troth had been 
 25 » 
 
298 HAROLD. 
 
 plighted. And gradually the sweet superstition had 
 miogled with human passion to hallow and refine it. 
 There was a purity and a depth in the love of these two, 
 which, if not uncommon in women, is most rare in men. 
 
 Harold, in sober truth, had learned to look on Edith 
 as on his better angel ; and, calming his strong manly 
 heart in the hour of temptation, would have recoiled, as 
 a sacrilege, from aught that could have sullied that image 
 of celestial love. With a noble and sublime patience, of 
 which perhaps only a character so thoroughly English in 
 its habits of self-control and steadfast endurance could 
 have been capable, he saw the months and the years glide 
 away, and still contented himself with hope ; — hope, the 
 sole god-lilce joy that belongs to man 1 
 
 As the opinion of an age influences even those who 
 affect to despise it, so, perhaps, this holy and unselfish 
 passion was preserved and guarded by that peculiar 
 veneration for purity which formed the characteristic 
 fanaticism of the last days of the Anglo-Saxons, — when 
 still as Aldhelm had previously sung in Latin less barba- 
 rous than perhaps any priest in the reign of Edward 
 could command, — 
 
 "Virginitas oastam serrans sine crimine carnem 
 Cjetera virtutem vinoit prseoonia laadi — 
 Spiritus altithroni templum sibi vindicat almus ; " * 
 
 * " The chaste who blameless keep unsullied fame, 
 Transcend all other worth, all other praise. 
 The Spirit, high enthroned, has made their hearts 
 His sacred temple.'' 
 
HAROLD, 299 
 
 when, amidst a great dissoluteness of manners, alike com- 
 mon to Church and lait}', the opposite virtues were, as is 
 iDvariable in such epochs of society, carried by the few 
 purer natures into heroic extremes. "And as gold, the 
 adorner of the world, springs from the sordid bosom of 
 earth, so chastity, the image of gold, rose bright and un- 
 sullied from the clay of human desire."* 
 
 And Edith, though yet in the tenderest flush of beauti- 
 ful youth, had, under the influence of that sanctifying and 
 scarce earthly affection, perfected her full nature as 
 woman. She had learned so to live in Harold's life, that 
 — less, it seemed, by study than intuition — a knowledge 
 graver than that which belonged to her sex and her time, 
 seemed to fall upon her soul — fall as the sunlight falls on 
 the blossoms, expanding their petals, and brightening the 
 glory of their hues. 
 
 Hitherto, living under the shade of Hilda's dreary 
 creed, Edith, as we have seen, had been rather Christian 
 by name and instinct than acquainted with the doctrines 
 of the Gospel, or penetrated by its faith. But the soul 
 of Harold lifted her own out of the Valley of the Shadow 
 up to the Heavenly Hill. For the character of their love 
 was so pre-eminently Christian, so, by the circumstances 
 that surrounded it — so by hope and self-denial, elevated 
 out of the empire, not only of the senses, but even of that 
 
 Sharon Toener's Translation of Aldhelm, vol. iii. p. 366. It is 
 curious to see how, even in Latin, the poet preserves the alliiera- 
 'dons that characterized the Saxon muse. 
 
 * Slightly altered from Aldheim, 
 
300 HAROIiD. 
 
 sentiment which springs from them, and which made the 
 sole refined and poetic element of the heathen's love, that 
 but for Christianity it would have withered and died. It 
 required all the aliment of prayer ; it needed that patient 
 endurance which comes from the soul's consciousness of 
 immortality ; it could not have resisted earth, but from 
 the forts and armies it won from heaven. Thus from 
 Earold might Edith be said to have taken her very soul. 
 And with the soul, and through the soul, woke the mind 
 from the mists of childhood. 
 
 In the intense desire to be worthy the love of the fore- 
 most man of her land ; to be the companion of his mindi 
 as well as the mistress of his heart, she had acquired, she 
 knew not how, strange stores of thought, and intelligence, 
 and pure, gentle wisdom. In opening to her confidence 
 his own high aims and projects, he himself was scarcely 
 conscious how often he confided but to consult — how 
 often and how insensibly she colored his reflections and 
 shaped his designs. "Whatever was highest and purest, 
 that, Edith ever, as by instinct, beheld as the wisest. She 
 grew to him like a second conscience, diviner than hia 
 own. Each, therefore, reflected virtue on the other, as 
 planet illumines planet. 
 
 All these years of probation, then, which might .avo 
 soured a love less holy, changed into weariness a love 
 less intense, had only served to wed them more intimately 
 soul to soul ; and in that spotless union what happiness 
 there was I what rapture in word and glance, and the 
 slight, restrained, caress of innocence, beyond all the 
 transports love only human can bestow I 
 
HABOLD. 301 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 It w as a bright still summer noon, when Harold sate 
 with Edith amidst the columns of the Druid temple, aid 
 in the shade which those vast and mournful relics of a 
 faith departed cast along the sward. And there, con- 
 versing over the past, and planning the future, they had 
 sate long, when Hilda approached from the house, and 
 entering the circle, leant her arm upon the altar of the 
 war-god, and gazing on Harold with a calm triumph in 
 her aspect, said, — 
 
 " Did I not smile, son of Godwin, when, with thy short- 
 sighted wisdom, thou didst think to guard thy land and 
 secure thy love, by urging the monk-king to send over 
 the seas for the Atheling ? Did I not tell thee, ' Thou 
 dost right, for in obeying thy judgment thou art but the 
 instrument of fate ; and the coming of the Atheling shall 
 speed thee nearer to the ends of thy life, but not from 
 the Atheling shalt thou take the crown of thy love, and 
 not by the Atheling shall the throne of Athelstan be 
 filled ? ' " 
 
 "Alas," said Harold, rising in agitation, "let me not 
 hear of mischance to that noble prince. He seemed sick 
 and feeble when I parted from him ; but joy is a great 
 restorer, and the air of the native land gives quick health 
 to the exile." 
 
 I. —26 
 
302 HAEOLD. 
 
 " Havk ! " said Hilda, " you hear the passing bell for 
 the soul of the son of Ironsides 1 " 
 
 The mournful knell, as she spoke, came dull from the 
 roofs of the city afar, borne to their ears by the exceed- 
 ing stillness of the atmosphere. Edith crossed herself, 
 and murmured a prayer according to the custom of the 
 age ; then raising her eyes to Harold, she murmured, as 
 she clasped her hands, — 
 
 "Be not saddened, Harold; hope still." 
 
 " Hope I " repeated Hilda, rising proudly from her re- 
 cumbent position, " Hope I in that knell from St. Paul's, 
 dull indeed is thine ear, Harold, if thou hearest not 
 the joy-bells that inaugurate a future king 1 " 
 
 The earl started ; his eyes shot fire ; his breast heaved. 
 
 " Leave us, Edith," said Hilda, in a low voice ; and 
 after vratching her grandchild's slow reluctant steps de- 
 scend the knoll, she turned to Harold, and leading him 
 towards the grave-stone of the Saxon chief, said, — 
 
 " Rememberest thou the spectre that rose from this 
 mound ? — rememberest thou the dream that followed it ? " 
 
 " The spectre, or deceit of mine eye, I remember well," 
 answered the earl ; " the dream, not ; — or only in confused 
 and jarring fragments." 
 
 " I told thee then, that I could not unriddle the dream 
 by the light of the momeni ; and that the dead who slept 
 below never appeared to men, save for some portent of 
 doom to the house of Cerdic. The portent is fulfilled ; 
 the Heir of Cerdic is no more. To whom appeared tha 
 
HAROLD. 303 
 
 great Scin-lseca, but to him who shall lead a new race 
 of kings to the Saxon throne I " 
 
 Harold breathed hard, and the color mounted bright 
 and glowing to his cheek and brow. 
 
 "I cannot gainsay thee, Yala. Unless, despite all 
 conjecture, Edward should be spared to earth till the 
 Atheling's infant son acquires the age when bearded men 
 will acknowledge a chief,* I look round in England for 
 the coming king, and all England reflects but mine own 
 image." 
 
 His head rose erect as he spoke, and already the brow 
 seemed august, as if circled by the diadem of the Basileus. 
 
 "And if it be so," he added, "I accept that solemn 
 trust, and England shall grow greater in my greatness." 
 
 "The flame breaks at last from the smouldering fuel," 
 cried the Vala, " and the hour I so long foretold to thee 
 hath come 1 " 
 
 * It is impossible to form any just view of the state of parties, 
 and the position of Harold in the latter portions of this work, un- 
 less the reader will bear constantly in mind the fact that, from the 
 earliest period, minors were set aside as a matter of course, by the 
 Saxon customs. Henry observes that, in the whole history of the 
 Heptarchy, there is but one example of a minority, and that a short 
 and unfortunate one ; so, in the later times, the great Alfred takes 
 the throne, to the exclusion of the infant son of his elder brother. 
 Only under very peculiar circumstances, backed, as in the case of 
 Edmund Ironsides, by precocious talents and manhood on the part 
 of the minor, were there exceptions to the general laws of succes- 
 sion. The same rule obtained with the earldoms ; the fame, power, 
 and popularity of Siward could not transmit his Northumbrian 
 earldom to his infant son Waltheof, so gloomily renowned in a 
 subsequent reign. 
 
304 HAROLD. 
 
 Harold answered not, for high and kindling emotions 
 deafened him to all but the Toice of a grand ambition, 
 and the awakening joy of a noble heart. 
 
 " And then — and then," he exclaimed, "I shall need 
 no mediator between nature and monkcraft ; — then, 
 Edith, the life thou hast saved will indeed be thine 1 " 
 He paused, and it was a sign of the change that au 
 ambition long repressed, but now rushing into the vent 
 legitimately open to it, had already begun to work in the 
 character hitherto so self-reliant, when he said in a low 
 voice, "But that dream which hath so long lain locked, 
 not lost, in my mind ; that dream of which I recall only 
 vague remembrances of danger yet defiance, trouble yet 
 triumph, — canst thou unriddle it, Vala, into auguries 
 of success ? " 
 
 "Harold," answered Hilda, "thou didst hear at the 
 close of thy dream, the music of the hymns that are 
 chaunted at the crowning of a king, — and a crowned 
 king shalt thou be ; yet fearful foes shall assail thee — ■ 
 foreshown in the shapes of the lion and raven, that came 
 in menace over the blood-red sea. The two stars in the 
 heaven betoken that the day of thy birth was also the 
 birth-day of a foe, whose star is fatal to thine ; and they 
 warn thee against a battle-field, fought on the day when 
 those stars shall meet. Farther than this the mystery 
 of thy dream escapes from my lore ; — wouldst thou learn 
 thyself, from the phantom that sent the dream ; — stand 
 by my side at the grave of the Saxon hero, and I will 
 summon the Scin-laeca to counsel the living. For what 
 
HAROLD. 30& 
 
 to the Vala the dead may deny, the soul of the brave on 
 the brave may bestow 1 " 
 
 Harold listened with a serious and musing attention, 
 which his pride or his reason had never before accorded 
 to the warnings of Hilda. But his sense was not yet 
 fascinated by the voice of the charmer, and he answered 
 with his wonted smile, so sweet yet so haughty, — 
 
 " A hand outstretched to a crown should be armed for 
 the foe ; and the eyie that would guard the living should 
 not be dimmed by the vapors that encircle the dead " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 But from that date changes, slight, yet noticeable and 
 important, were at work both in the conduct and cha- 
 racter of the great earl. 
 
 Hitherto he had advanced on his career without calcu- 
 lation ; and nature, not policy, had achieved his power. 
 Bat henceforth he began thoughtfully to cement the 
 foundations of his house, to extend the area, to strengthen 
 the props. Policy now mingled with the justice that 
 had made him esteemed, and the generosity that had won 
 hia: love. Before, though by temper conciliatory, yet, 
 through honesty, indifferent to the enmities he provoked, 
 in his adherence to what his conscience approved, he now 
 laid himself out to propitiate all ancient feuds, soothe all 
 26* D 
 
306 HAROLD. 
 
 jealousies, and convert foes into friends. He opened 
 constant and friendly communication with his uncle 
 . Sweyn, King of Denmark ; he availed himself sedulously 
 of all the influence over the Anglo-Danes which his 
 mother's birth made so facile. He strove also, and 
 wisely, to conciliate the animosities which the Church 
 had cherished against Godwin's house ; he concealed hv\ 
 disdain of the monks and monk-ridden ; he showed him- 
 self the Church's patron and friend ; he endowed largely 
 the convents, and especially one at Waltham, which had 
 fallen into decay, though favorably known for the piety 
 of its brotherhood. But if in this he played a part not 
 natural to his opinions, Harold could not, even in simula- 
 tion, administer to evil. The monasteries he favored 
 were those distinguished for purity of life, for benevolence 
 to the poor, for bold denunciation of the excesses of the 
 great. He had not, like the Norman, the grand design 
 of creating in the priesthood a college of learning, a 
 school of arts ; such notions were unfamiliar in homely 
 unlettered England. And Harold, though for his time 
 and his land no mean scholar, would have recoiled from 
 favoring a learning always made subservient to Rome ; 
 always at once haughty and scheming, and aspiring to 
 complete domination over both the souls of men and the 
 thrones of kings. But his aim was, out of the elements 
 he found in the natural kindliness existing between Saxon 
 priest and Saxon flock, to rear a modest, virtuous, homely 
 clergy, not above tender sympathy with an ignorant 
 population. He selected as examples for his monastery 
 
HAROLD. 307 
 
 at Waltham, two low-born humble brothers, Osgood and 
 Ailred ; the one known for the courage with which he 
 had gone through the land, preaching to abbot and thegn 
 the emancipation of the theowes, as the most meritorious 
 act the safety of the soul could impose ; the other, who, 
 originally a clerk, had, according to the common custom 
 of the Saxon clergy, contracted the bonds of marriage, 
 and with some eloquence had vindicated that custom 
 against the canons of Rome, and refused the offer of 
 large endowments and thegn's rank to put away his wife. 
 But on the death of that spouse, he had adopted the 
 cowl, and while still persisting in the lawfulness of mar- 
 riage to the unmonastic clerks, had become famous for 
 denouncing the open concubinage which desecrated the 
 holy ofBce, and violated the solemn vows, of many a proud 
 prelate and abbot. 
 
 To these two men (both of whom refused the abbacy 
 of Waltham) Harold committed the charge of selecting 
 the new brotherhood established there. And the monks 
 of Waltham were honored as saints throughout the neigh- 
 boring district, and cited as examples to all the Church. 
 
 But though in themselves the new politic arts of 
 Harold seemed blameless enough, arts they were, and as 
 such Ihey corrupted the genuine simplicity of his earlier 
 nature. He had conceived for the first time an ambition 
 apart from that of service to his country. It was no 
 longer only to serve the land, it was to serve it as its 
 ruler, that animated his heart and colored his thoughts. 
 Expediencies began to dim to his conscience the health- 
 
308 HAROLD. 
 
 ful loveliness of Truth. And now, too, gradually, that 
 empire which Hilda had gained over his brother Sweyn, 
 began to sway this man, heretofore so strong in his 
 sturdy sense. The future became to him a dazzling 
 mystery, into which his conjectures plunged themselves 
 more and more. He had not yet stood in the Runic 
 circle and invoked the dead; but the spells were around 
 his heart, and in his own soul had grown up the familiar 
 demon. 
 
 Still Edith reigned alone, if not in his thoughts, at 
 least in his affections ; and perhaps it was the hope of 
 conquering all obstacles to his marriage that mainly 
 induced him to propitiate the Church, through whose 
 agency the object he sought must be attained ; and still 
 that hope gave the brightest lustre to the distant crown. 
 But he who admits Ambition to the companionship of 
 Love, admits a giant that outstrides the gentler footsteps 
 of its comrade. 
 
 Harold's brow lost its benign calm. He became 
 thoughtful and abstracted. He consulted Edith less, 
 Hilda more. Edith seemed to him now not wise enough 
 to counsel. The smile of his Pylgia, like the light of 
 the star upon a stream, lit the surface, but could not 
 pierce to the deep. 
 
 Meanwhile, however, the policy of Harold throve and 
 prospered. He had already arrived at that height, that 
 the least effort to make power popular redoubled its 
 extent. Gradually all voices swelled the chorus in hia 
 praise ; gradually men became familiar to the question, 
 
HAROLD. 309 
 
 "If Edward dies before Edgar, the grandbon of Iron- 
 sides, is of age to succeed, where can we find a king like 
 Harold ? " 
 
 In the midst of this quiet but deepening sunshine of 
 his fate, there burst a storm, which seemed destined 
 either to darken his day or to disperse every cloud from 
 the horizon. Algar, the only possible rival to his power 
 — the only opponent no arts could soften — Algar, whose 
 hereditary name endeared him to the Saxou laity, whose 
 father's most powerful legacy was the love of the Saxon 
 Church, whose martial and turbulent spirit had only the 
 more elevated him in the esteem of the warlike Danes in 
 East Anglia, (the earldom in which he had succeeded 
 Harold,) by his father's death, lord of the great princi- 
 pality of Mercia — availed himself of that new power to 
 break out again into rebellion. Again he was outlawed, 
 again he leagued with the fiery Gryffyth. All Wales was 
 in revolt ; the Marches were invaded and laid waste. 
 Rolfe, the feeble Earl of Hereford, died at this critical 
 juncture, and the Normans and hirelings under him 
 mutinied against other leaders ; a fleet of vikings from 
 Norway ravaged the western coasts, and sailing up the 
 Menai, joined the ships of Gfyffyth, and the whole empire 
 seemed menaced with dissolution, when Edward issued 
 his Herrbann, and Harold at the head of the royal armies 
 marched on the foe. 
 
 Dread and dangerous were those defiles of Wales ; 
 amidst them had been foiled or slaughtered all the 
 warriors under Rolf the Norman ; no Saxon armies had 
 
310 HAROLD. 
 
 won laurels in the Cymrian's own mountain home witbin 
 the memory of man ; nor had any Saxon ships borne 
 the palm from the terrible vikings of Norway. Fail, 
 Harold, and farewell the crown I — succeed, and thou 
 hast on thy side the ultimam raiionem regum (the last 
 argument of kings), the heart of the army over which 
 tliou art chief. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It was one day in the height of summer that two 
 horsemen rode slowly, and conversing with each other in 
 friendly wise, notwithstanding an evident difference of 
 rank and of nation, through the lovely country which 
 formed the Marches of Wales. The younger of these 
 men was unmistakably a Norman ; his cap only partially 
 covered the head, which was shaven from the crown to 
 the nape of the neck,* while in front the hair, closely 
 cropped, curled short and thick round a haughty but 
 inielligent brow. His dress fitted close to his shape, and 
 was worn without mantle ; his leggings were curiously 
 crossed in the fashion of a tartan, and on his heels were 
 spurs of gold. He was wholly unarmed ; but behind 
 him and his companion, at a little distance, his war 
 horse, completely caparisoned, was led by a single squire, 
 mounted on a good Norman steed; while six Saxon 
 
 * Bayeux tapestry. 
 
HARCtD. 811 
 
 theowes, taeruselves on foou, conducted three sumpter- 
 mules, somewhat heavily laden, not only with the armor 
 of the Norman knight, but panniers containing rich 
 robes, wines, and provender. At a few paces farther 
 behind, marched a troop, light-armed, in tough hides, 
 curiously tanned, with axes swung over their shoulders, 
 and bows in their hands. 
 
 The companion of the knight was as evidently a Saxon 
 as the knight was unequivocally a Norman. His square, 
 short features, contrasting the oval visage and aquiline 
 profile of his close-shaven comrade, were half concealed 
 beneath a bushy beard and immense moustache. His 
 tunic, also, was of hide, and, tightened at the waist, fell 
 loose to his knee ; while a kind of cloak, fastened to the 
 right shoulder by a large round button, or broach, flowed 
 behind and in front, but left both arms free. His cap 
 differed in shape from the Norman's, being round and full 
 at the sides, somewhat in shape like a turban. His bare, 
 brawny throat was curiously punctured with sundry de- 
 vices, and a verse from the Psalms. 
 
 His countenance, though without the high and haughty 
 brow, and the acute, observant eye of his comrade, had a 
 pride and intelligence of its own — a pride somewhat sul- 
 len, and an intelligence somewhat slow. 
 
 " My good friend, Sexwolf," quoth the Norman in very 
 tolerable Saxon, "I pray you not so to misesteem us. 
 After all, we Normans are of your owp, race : our fathers 
 spoke the same language as yours." 
 
 " That may be," said the Saxon, bluntly, " and so did 
 
312 HAEOLD 
 
 llie Danes, with little difference, when they burned our 
 houses and cut our throats." 
 
 " Old tales, those," replied the knight, " and I thank 
 thee for the comparison ; for the Danes, thou seest, are 
 now settled amongst ye, peaceful subjects and quiet men, 
 and in a few generations it will be hard to guess who 
 comes from Saxon, who from Dane." 
 
 "We waste time, talking such matters," returned tho 
 Saxon, feeling himself instinctively no match in argument 
 for his lettered companion ; and seeing, with his native 
 strong sense, that some ulterior object, though he guessed 
 not what, lay hid in the conciliatory language of his com- 
 panion ; " nor do I believe. Master Mallet or Gravel — 
 forgive me if I miss of the right forms to address you — 
 that Norman will ever love Saxon, or Saxon Norman ; 
 so let us cut our words short. There stands the convent, 
 at which you would like to rest and refresh yourself." 
 
 The Saxon pointed to a low, clumsy building of tim- 
 ber, forlorn and decayed, close by a rank marsh, over 
 which swarmed gnats, and all foul animalcules. 
 
 Mallet de Graville, for it was he, shrugged his shoul- 
 ders, and said, with an air of pity and contempt, — 
 
 " I would, friend Sexwolf, that thou couldst but see the 
 houses we build to God and his saints in our Normandy; 
 fabrics of stately stone, on the fairest sites. Our Countess 
 Matilda hath a notable taste for the masonry ; and our 
 workmen are the brethren of Lombardy, who know all 
 the mysteries thereof" 
 
 " I pray thee, Dan-Norman," cried the Saxon, " not to 
 
HAROLD. 313 
 
 put such ideas into the soft head of King Edward. We 
 pay enow for the Church, though built but of timber ; 
 saints help us indeed, if it were builded of stone 1 " 
 
 The Norman crossed himself, as if he had heard some 
 signal impiety, and then said, — 
 
 " Thou lovest not Mother Church, worthy Sexwolf !"' 
 
 "I was brought up," replied the sturdy Saxon, "to 
 work and sweat hard, and I love not the lazy who de- 
 vour my substance, and say, 'the saints gave it them.' 
 Knowest thou not. Master Mallet, that one-third of all 
 the lands of England is in the hands of the priests ? " 
 
 " Hem ! " said the acute Norman', who, with all his de- 
 votion, could stoop to wring worldly advantage from each 
 admission of his comrade ; •" then in this merrie England 
 of thine, thou hast still thy grievances and cause of com- 
 plaint ? " 
 
 " Yea, indeed, and I trow it," quoth the Saxon, even 
 in that day a grumbler ; " but I take it, the main differ- 
 ence between thee and me is, that I can say what mis 
 likes me out like a man ; and it would fare ill with thy 
 limbs or thy life if thou wert as frank in the grim land 
 of thy heretogh." 
 
 "Now, Notre Dame stop thy prating," said the Nor- 
 man, in high disdain, while his brow frowned and his eye 
 Bparsled. " Strong judge and great captain as is Wil- 
 liam the Norman, his barons and knights hold their heads 
 high in his presence, and not a grievance weighs on the 
 heart that we give not out with the lip." 
 
 " So have I heard," said the Saxon, chuckling ; " I 
 
 I — 27 
 
314 HAROLD. 
 
 Lave heard, indeed, that ye thegns, or great men, are 
 free enow, and plain-spoken. But what of the commons 
 — the sixhaendmen, and the ceorls, master Norman ? Dare 
 they speak as we speak of king and of law, of thegn and 
 of captain ? " 
 
 The Norman wisely curbed the scornful "No, indeed," 
 that rushed to his lips, and said, all sweet and debon- 
 nair, — 
 
 " Each land hath its customs, dear Sexwolf ; and if the 
 Norman were king of England, he would take the laws 
 as he finds them, and the ceorls would be as safe with 
 William as Edward." 
 
 " The Norman, king of England I " cried the Saxon, 
 reddening to the tips of his great ears, "What dost thou 
 babble of, stranger? The Norman ! — How could that 
 ever be ? " 
 
 "Nay, I did but suggest — but suppose such a case,'' 
 replied the knight, still smothering his wrath. "And 
 why thinkest thou the conceit so outrageous ? Thy king 
 is childless ; William is his next of kin, and dear to him 
 as a brother ; and if Edward did leave him the throne — " 
 
 "The throne is for no man to leave," almost roared 
 the Saxon. " Thinkest thou the people of England are 
 like cattle and sheep, and chatties and theowes, to be 
 left by will, as man fancies ? The king's wish has its 
 weight, no doubt, but the Witan hath its yea or its nay, 
 and the Witan and Commons are seldom at issue thereon. 
 Thy duke king of England ! Marry ! Ha ! ha 1 " 
 
 " Brute ! " muttered the knight to himself; then adding 
 
HAROLD. 315 
 
 aioud, with his old tone of irony (now much habitually 
 subdued by years and discretion), " Why takest thou so 
 the part of the ceorls ? thou a captain, and well-nigh a 
 thogn 1 " 
 
 •' I was born a ceorl, and my father before me," re- 
 turned Sexwolf, " and I feel with my class ; though my 
 grandson may rank with the thegns, and, for aught I 
 know, with the earls." 
 
 The Sire de Grraville involuntarily drew off from the 
 Saxon's side, as if made suddenly aware that he had 
 grossly demeaned himself in such unwitting familiarity 
 with a ceorl, and a ceorl's son ; and he said, with a much 
 more careless accent and lofty port than before, — 
 
 " Good man, thou wert a ceorl, and now thou leadest 
 Earl Harold's men to the war 1 How is this ? I do not 
 quite comprehend it." 
 
 "How shouldst thou, poor Norman," replied the Saxon 
 compassionately. " The tale is soon told. Know that 
 when Harold our earl was banished, and his lauds taken, 
 we his ceorls helped with his sixhaendman, Clapa, to 
 purchase his land, nigh by London, and the house wherein 
 thou didst find me, of a stranger, thy countryman, to 
 whom they were lawlessly given. And we tilled the land, 
 we tended the herds, and we kept the house till the eail 
 came back." 
 
 " Ye had moneys then, moneys of your own, ye ceorls I" 
 said the Norman avariciously. 
 
 " How else could we buy our freedom ? Every ceorl 
 nath some hours to himself to employ to his profit, and 
 
316 HAROLD. 
 
 pan lay by for his own ends. These savings we gave np 
 for our earl, and when the earl came back, he gave the 
 sixhaendman hydes of land enow to make him a thegn ; 
 and he gave the ceorls who had holpen Clapa, their free- 
 dom and broad shares of his boc-land, and most of them 
 now hold their own ploughs and feed their own herds. 
 But I loved the earl (having no wife) better than swine 
 and glebe, and I prayed him to let me serve him in arms. 
 And so I have risen, as with us ceorls can rise." 
 
 " I am answered," said Mallet de Graville thoughtfully 
 and still somewhat perplexed. " But these theowes (they 
 are slaves) never rise. It cannot matter to them whether 
 shaven Norman or bearded Saxon sit on the throne ? " 
 
 " Thou art right there," answered the Saxon ; "it mat- 
 ters as little to them as it doth to thy thieves and felons, 
 for many of them are felons and thieves, or the children 
 of such ; and most of those who are not, it is said, are 
 not Saxons, but the barbarous folks whom the Saxons 
 subdued. No, wretched things, and scarce men, they 
 care nought for the land. Howbeit, even they are not 
 without hope, for the Church takes their part ; and that, 
 at least, I for one, think Church-worthy," added the 
 Saxon with a softened eye. "And every abbot is bound 
 to set free three theowes on his lands, and few who own 
 theowes die without freeing some by their will ; so that 
 the sons of theowes may be thegns, and thegns some of 
 them are at this day." 
 
 " Marvels 1 " cried the Norman. " But surely they 
 
HAROLD. 3lt 
 
 bear a staia and stigma, and their fellow-thegns flout 
 them " 
 
 "Not a whit — why so? land is land, money money. 
 Little, I trow, care we what a man's father may have 
 been, if the man himself hath his tea hydes or more of 
 good boe-land." 
 
 "Ye value land and the moneys," said the Norman, 
 "so do we, but we value more name and birth." 
 
 " Ye are still in your leading-strings, Norman," replied 
 the Saxon, waxing good-humored in his contempt. " We 
 have an old saying and a wise one, 'All come from Adam 
 except Tib the ploughman ; but when Tib grows rich, all 
 call him 'dear brother.'" 
 
 " With such pestilent notions," quoth the Sire de Gra- 
 ville, no longer keeping temper, "I do not wonder that 
 our fathers of Norway and Daneland beat ye so easily. 
 The love for things ancient — creed, lineage, and name, is 
 better steel against the stranger, than your smiths ever 
 welded." 
 
 Therewith, and not waiting for Sexwolfs reply, he 
 clapped spurs to his palfrey, and soon entered the court- 
 yard of the convent. 
 
 A monk of the order of St. Benedict, then most in 
 favor,* ushered the noble visitor into the cell of the 
 abbot; who, after gazing at him a moment in wonder 
 and delight, clasped him to his breast and kissed him 
 heartily on brow and cheek. 
 
 * Indeed, apparently the only monastic order in England. 
 27* 
 
318 HAROLD. 
 
 "Ah, Guillaume," he exclaimed in the Norman tongue, 
 " this is indeed a grace for which to sing Jubilate. Thon 
 canst not guess how welcome is the face of a countryman 
 in this horrible land of ill-cooking and exile." 
 
 " Talking of grace, my dear father, and food," said De 
 Graville, loosening the cincture of the tight vest which 
 gave him the shape of a wasp — for even at that early 
 period, small waists were in vogue with the warlike fops 
 of the Trench continent — " talking of grace, the sooner 
 thou say'st it over some friendly refection, the more will 
 the Latin sound unctuous and musical. I have journeyed 
 since daybreak, and am now hungered and faint." 
 
 "Alack, alack I " cried the abbot, plaintively, " thou 
 knowest little, my son, what hardships we endure in these 
 parts, how larded our larders, and how nefarious our fare. 
 The flesh of swine salted — " 
 
 "The flesh of Beelzebub," cried Mallet de Graville 
 aghast. " But comfort thee, I have stores on my sump- 
 ter- mules — poulardes and fishes, and other not despicable 
 comestibles, and a few flasks of wine, not pressed, laud 
 the saints I from the vines of this country : wherefore, 
 wilt thou see to it, and instruct thy cooks how to season 
 the cheer ? " 
 
 " No cooks have I to trust to," replied the abbot ; " of 
 cooking know they here as much as of Latin ; natheless, 
 I will go and do my best with the stew-pans. Mean- 
 while, thou wilt at least have rest and the bath. For the 
 Saxons, even in their convents, are a clean race, and 
 learned the bath from the Dane." 
 
HAHOLD. 319 
 
 " That I have noted," said the knight, " for even a 
 the smallest house at which I have lodged in my way 
 from London, the host hath courteously offered me the 
 bath, and the hostess linen curious and fragrant ; and to 
 say truth, the poor people are hospitable and kind, de- 
 spite their uncouth hate- of the foreigner ; nor is their 
 meat to be despised, plentiful and succulent ; but pardex, 
 as thou sayest, little helped by the art of dressing. 
 Wherefore, my father, I will while the time till the pou' 
 lardes be roasted, and the fish broiled or stewed, by the 
 ablutions thou profferest me. I shall tarry vith thee sowe 
 hours, for I have much to learn." 
 
 The abbot then led the Sire de Graville by the hand to 
 the cell of honor and guestship, and having seen that the 
 bath prepared was of warmth sufficient, for both Norman 
 and Saxon (hardy men as they seem to us from afar) so 
 shuddered at the touch of cold water, that a bath of 
 natural temperature (as well as a hard bed) was some- 
 times imposed as a penance, — the good father went his 
 way, to examine the sumpter-mules, and admonish the 
 much-suffering and bewildered lay-brother who officiated 
 as cook, — and who, speaking neither Norman nor Latin, 
 scarce made out one word in ten of his superior's elaborate 
 exhortations. 
 
 Mallet's squire, with a change of raiment, and goodly 
 coffers of soaps, unguents, and odors, took his way to tlie 
 knight, for a Norman of birth was accustomed to much 
 personal attendance, and had all respect for the body : 
 and it was nearly an hour befjre, in a long gown of fur, 
 
320 HAROLD. 
 
 reshaven, dainty, and decked, the Sire de Graville bowed, 
 and sighed, and prayed before the refection set out in the 
 abbot's cell. 
 
 The two Normans, despite the sharp appetite of the 
 layman, ate with great gravity and decorum, drawing 
 forth the morsels served to them on spits with silent 
 examination ; seldom more than tasting, with looks of 
 patient dissatisfaction, each of the comestibles ; sipping 
 rather than drinking, nibbling rather than devouring, 
 washing their fingers in rose-water with nice care at the 
 close, and waving them afterwards gracefully in the air, 
 to allow the moisture somewhat to exhale before they 
 wiped off the lingering dews with their napkins. Then 
 they exchanged looks and sighed in concert, as if recall- 
 ing the polished manners of Normandy, still retained in 
 that desolate exile. And their temperate meal thus con- 
 cluded, dishes, wines, and attendants vanished, and their 
 talk commenced. 
 
 " How earnest thou in England ? " asked the abbot 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Sauf your reverence," answered De Graville, "not 
 wholly for reasons different from those that bring thee 
 hither. When, after the death of that truculent and 
 orgulous Godwin, King Edward entreated Harold to let 
 him have back some of his dear Norman favorites, thou, 
 then little pleased with the plain fare and sharp discipline 
 of the convent of Bee, didst pray Bishop William of 
 London to accompany such train as Harold, moved by 
 his poor king's supplication, was pleased to permit. The 
 
HAHOLD. 321 
 
 bishop consented, and thou wert enabled to change 
 monk's cowl for abbot's mitre. In a word, ambition 
 brought thee to England, and ambition brings me hither." 
 
 "Hem! and how? Mayst thou thrive better thaa I 
 iu this swine-sty I " 
 
 "You remember," renewed De Graville, "that Lan- 
 frauc, the Lombard, was pleased to take interest in my 
 fortunes, then not the most flourishing, and after his re- 
 turn from Rome, with the pope's dispensation for Count 
 William's marriage with his cousin, he became William's 
 most trusted adviser. Both William and Lanfranc were 
 desirous to set an example of learning to our Latinless 
 nobles, and therefore my scholarship found grace in their 
 eyes. In brief— since then I have prospered and thriven. 
 I have fair lands by th« Seine, free from clutch of mer- 
 chant and Jew. I have founded a convent, and slain 
 some hundreds of Breton marauders. Need I say that I 
 am in high favor ? Now it so chanced that a cousin of 
 mine, Hugo de Magnaville, a brave lance and franc-rider, 
 chfinced to murder his brother in a little domestic affray, 
 and, being of conscience tender and nice, the deed preyed 
 on him, and he gave his lands to Odo of Bayeux, and set 
 off to Jerusalem. There, having prayed at the Tomb 
 (Ihe knight crossed himself), he felt at once miraculously 
 cheered and relieved ; but,' journeying back, mishaps 
 befell him. He was made slave by some infidel, tooae 
 of whose wives he sought to be gallant, par amours, and 
 only escaped at last by setting fire to paynim and prison. 
 Now, by the aid of the Tirgin, he has got back to Rouen, 
 27* V 
 
322 HAROLD. 
 
 and holds his own land again in fief from proud Odo, as 
 a knight of the bishop's. It so happened that, passing 
 homeward through Lycia, before these misfortunes befell 
 him, he made friends with a fellow-pilgrim who had just 
 returned, like himself, from the Sepulchre, but not light- 
 ened, like him, of the load of his crime. This poor palm- 
 er lay broken-hearted and dying in the hut of an eremite, 
 where my cousin took shelter ; and, learning that Hugo 
 was on his way to Normandy, he made himself known as- 
 Sweyn, the once fair and proud Earl of England, eldest 
 son to old Godwin, and father to Haco, whom our count 
 still holds as a hostage. He besought Hugo to intercede 
 with the count for Haco's speedy release and return, if 
 King Edward assented thereto ; and charged my cousin, 
 moreover, with a letter to Harold, his brother, which 
 Hugo undertook to send over. By good luck, it so 
 chanced that, through all his sore trials, cousin Hugo 
 kept safe round his neck a leaden effigy of the Virgin. 
 The infidels disdained to rob him of lead, little dreaming 
 the worth which the sanctity gave to the metal. To the 
 back of the image Hugo fastened the letter, and so, 
 though somewhat tattered and damaged, he had it still 
 with him on arriving in Rouen. 
 
 "Knowing then, my grace with the count, and not, 
 despite absolution and pilgrimage, much wishing to trust 
 himself in the presence of William, who thinks gravely 
 of fratricide, he prayed me to deliver the message, and 
 ask leave to send to England the letter." 
 
 "It is a long tale," quoth the abbot. 
 
HAROLD. 323 
 
 "Patience, my father 1 I am nearly at the end. No- 
 thing more iu season could chance for my fortunes. Know 
 that Willianc has been long moody and anxious as to 
 matters in England. The secret accounts he receives 
 from the Bishop of London make him see that Edward!s 
 heart is much alienated from him, especially since the 
 count has had daughters and sons ; for, as thou knowest, 
 William and Edward both took vows of chastity in 
 youth,* and William got absolved from his, while Edward 
 hath kept firm to the plight. Not long ere my cousin 
 came back, William had heard that Edward had ac- 
 knowledged his kinsman as natural heir to his throne. 
 Grieved and troubled, at this, William had said in my 
 hearing, 'Would that amidst yon statues of steel, there 
 were some cool head and wise tongue I could trust with 
 my interests in England 1 and would that I could devise 
 fitting plea and excuse for an envoy to Harold the Earl I ' 
 Much had I mused over these words, and a light-hearted 
 man was Mallet de Graville when, with Sweyn's letter in 
 hand, he went to Lanfranc the Abbot and said, ' Patron 
 and father ! thou knowest that I, almost alone of the Nor- 
 man knights, have studied the Saxon language. And if 
 the duke wants messenger and plea, here stands the mes- 
 senger, and in this hand is the plea.' Then I told my 
 tale. Lanfranc went at once to Duke William. By this 
 time, news of the Atheling's death had arrived, and things 
 looked more bright to my liege. Duke William was 
 pleased to summon me straightway, and give me his in- 
 
 * See Note to Robert of Gloucester, vol. ii. p. 372. 
 
324 HAROLD. 
 
 structions. So over the sea I came alone, save a single 
 squire, reached London, learaed the king and his court 
 were at "Winchester (but with them I had little to do), 
 and that Harold the Earl was at the head of his forces 
 in Wales against Gryffyth the Lion King. The earl had 
 (ient in haste for a picked and chosen band of his own re- 
 tainers, on his demesnes near the city. These I joined, 
 and learning thy name at the monastery at Gloucester, I 
 stopped here to tell thee my news and hear thine." 
 
 " Dear brother," said the abbot, looking enviously on 
 the knight, " would that, like thee, instead of entering 
 the Church, I had taken up arms I Alike once was our 
 lot, well-born and penniless. Ah me ! — Thou art now as 
 the swan on the river, and I as the shell on the rock." 
 
 "But," quoth the knight, "though the canons, it is 
 true, forbid monks to knock people- on the head, except 
 in self-preservation, thou knowest well that, even in 
 l^ormandy (which, I take it, is the sacred college of all 
 priestly lore, on this side the Alps), those canons are 
 deemed too rigorous for practice ; and, at all events, it is 
 not forbidden thee to look on the pastime with sword or 
 mace by thy side in case of need. Wherefore, remember- 
 ing thee in times past, I little counted on finding thee— . 
 like a slug in thy cell ! No ; but with mail on thy back, 
 the canons clean forgotten, and helping stout Harold to 
 bliver and brain these turbulent Welchmen." 
 
 "Ah me ! ah me I No such good fortune ! " sighed 
 the tall abbot. "Little, despite thy former sojourn in 
 London, and thy lore of their tongue, knowest thou of 
 
HAROLD. 325 
 
 these unmannerly Saxons. Rarely indeed do abbot and 
 prelate ride to the battle ;* and were it not for a huge 
 Danish monk, who took refuge here to escape mutilation 
 for robbery, and who mistakes the Virgin for a Valkyr, 
 and St. Peter for Thor, — were it not, I say, that we now 
 and then have a bout at sword-play together, my arm 
 would be quite out of practice." 
 
 " Cheer thee, old friend," said the knight, pityingly ; 
 " better times may come yet. Meanwhile, now to affairs 
 For all I hear strengthens all William has heard, that 
 Harold the Earl is the first man in England. Is it not 
 so?" 
 
 "Truly, and without dispute." 
 
 " Is he married or celibate ? For that is a question 
 which even his own men seem to answer equivocally." 
 
 " Why, all the wandering minstrels have songs, I am 
 told by those who comprehend this poor barbarous 
 tongue, of the beauty of Editha pulchra, to whom it is 
 said the earl is betrothed, or it may be worse. But he is 
 certainly not married, for the dame is akin to him within 
 the degrees of the Church." 
 
 " Hem, not married 1 that is well ; and this Algar, or 
 Elgar, he is not now with the Welch, I hear ? " 
 
 * The Saxon priests -were strictly forbidden to bear arms. — 
 Spelm. Ooncil. p. 238. 
 
 It is mentioned in the English Chronicles, as a very extraordi- 
 nary circumstance, that a bishop of Hereford, who had been Ha- 
 rold's chaplain, did actually take sword and shield against the 
 Welch. Unluckily, this valiant prelate was slain so soon, that it 
 Has no encouraging example. 
 
 I. — 28 
 
326 HAKOLD. 
 
 " No ; sore ill at Chester with wounds and much 
 chafing, for he hath sense to see that his cause is lost. 
 The Norwegian fleet have been scattered over the seas 
 by the earl's ships, like birds in a storm. The rebel 
 Saxons who joined Gryfifyth under Algar have been so 
 beaten, that those who survive have deserted their chief, 
 and Gryffyth himself is penned up in his last defiles, and 
 cannot much longer resist the stout foe, who, by valor- 
 ous St. Michael, is truly a great captain. As soon as 
 Gryffyth is subdued, Algar will be crushed in his retreat, 
 like a bloated spider in his web ; and then England will 
 have rest, unless our liege, as thou hintest, set her to 
 work again." 
 
 The Norman knight mused a few moments, before he 
 said, — 
 
 " I understand, then, that there is no man in the land 
 who is peer to Harold : — not, I suppose, Tostig his 
 brother ? " 
 
 " Not Tostig, surely, whom nought but Harold's re- 
 pute keeps a day in his earldom. But of late — for he is 
 brave and skilful in war — he hath done much to command 
 the respect, though he cannot win back the love, of his 
 fierce Northumbrians, for he hath holpen the earl gal- 
 lantly in this invasion of Wales, both by sea and by land. 
 But Tostig shines only from his brother's light ; and if 
 Gurth were more ambitious, Gurth alone could be Ha- 
 rold's rival." 
 
 The Norman, much satisfied with the information thus 
 gleaned from the abbot, who, despite his ignorance of 
 
HAROLD. 32* 
 
 the Saxon tongue, was, like all his countrymen, acuta 
 and curious, now rose to depart. The abbot, detaining 
 him a few moments, and looking at him wistfully, said in 
 a low voice, — 
 
 " What thickest thou are Count William's chances of 
 England ? " 
 
 " Good, if he have recourse to stratagem ; sure, if he 
 can win Harold." 
 
 " Yet, take my word, the English love not the Nor- 
 mans, and will fight stiffly." 
 
 " That I believe. Bat if fighting must be, I see that 
 it will be the fight of a single battle, for there is neither 
 fortress nor mountain to admit of long warfare. And 
 look you, my friend, everything here is worn out ! The 
 royal line is extinct with Edward, save in a child, whom 
 I hear no man name as a successor ; the old nobility are 
 gone ; there is no reverence for old names ; the Church 
 is as decrepit in the spirit as thy lath monastery is de- 
 cayed in its timbers ; the martial spirit of the Saxon is 
 half rotted away in the subjugation to a clergy, not 
 brave and learned, but timid and ignorant ; the desire 
 for money eats up all manhood ; the people have been 
 accustomed to foreign monarchs under the Danes ; and 
 William, once victor, would have but to promise to re- 
 tain the old laws and liberties, to establish himself as 
 firmly as Canute. The Anglo-Danes might trouble him 
 somewhat, but rebellion would become a weapon in the 
 hands of a schemer like William. He would bristle all 
 tne land with castles and forts, and hold it as a camp. 
 
328 H A B L B . 
 
 My poor friend, we shall live yet to exchange gratula 
 tions, — thou prelate of some fair English see, and 1 baron 
 of broad English lands." 
 
 " I think thou art right," said the tall abbot, cheerily, 
 "and marry, when the day comes, I will at least fight 
 for the duke. Yea — thou art right," he continued, 
 looking round the dilapidated walls of the cell; "all 
 here is worn out, and nought can restore the realm, save 
 the Norman William, or " 
 
 "Or who?" 
 
 " Or the Saxon Harold. But thou goest to see him — 
 judge for thyself. " 
 
 " I will do so, and heedfuUy," said the Sire de Graville ; 
 and embracing his friend, he renewed his journey. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Messire Mallet de Graville possessed in perfection 
 that cunning astuteness which characterized the Nor- 
 mans, as it did all the old pirate races of the Baltic ; 
 and if, O reader, thou, peradventure, shouldst ever in 
 this remote day have dealings with the tall men of Ebor 
 or Yorkshire, there wilt thou yet find the old Dane- 
 father's wit — it may be to thy cost — more especially if 
 treating for those animals which the ancestors ate, and 
 which the sons, without eating, still manage to fatten oa. 
 
HAROLD. 329 
 
 Bat though the crafty knight did his best, during his 
 progress from London into Wales, to extract from Sex- 
 wolf all such particulars respecting Harold and his 
 brethren as he had reasons for wishing to learn, he found 
 the stubborn sagacity or caution of the Saxon more than 
 a match for him. Sexwolf had a dog's instinct in all 
 that related to his master ; and he felt, though he scarce 
 knew why, that the Norman cloaked some design upon 
 Harold in all the cross-questionings so carelessly ven- 
 tured. And his stiff silence, or bluff replies, when Harold 
 was mentioned, contrasted much the unreserve of his talk 
 when it turned upon the general topics of the day, or the 
 peculiarities of Saxon manners. 
 
 By degrees, therefore, the knight, chafed and foiled, 
 drew into himself; and seeing no farther use could be 
 made of the Saxon, suffered his own national scorn of 
 villein companionship to replace his artificial urbanity. 
 He therefore rode alone, and a little in advance of the 
 rest, noticing with a soldier's eye the characteiistics of 
 the country, and marvelling, while he rejoiced, at the 
 insignificance of the defences which, even on the marches, 
 guarded the English country from the Cymrian ravager. 
 In musings of no very auspicious and friendly nature 
 towards the land he thus visited, the Norman, on the 
 second day from that in which he had conversed with the 
 abbot, found himself amongst the savage defiles of North 
 Wales. 
 
 Pausing there in a narrow pass overhung with wild 
 and desolate rocks, the knight deliberately summoned hig 
 28* 
 
330 HAROLD. 
 
 squires, clad himself in his ring-mail, and mounted his 
 great destrier. 
 
 " Thou dost wrong, Norman," said Sexwolf, " thou 
 fatiguest thyself in vain — heavy arms here are needless. 
 I have fought in this country before ; and as for thy 
 steed, thou wilt soon have to forsake it, and march on 
 foot." 
 
 "Know, friend," retorted the knight, "that I come not 
 here to learn the horn-book of war; and, for the rest, 
 know also, that a noble of Normandy parts with his life 
 ere he forsakes his good steed." 
 
 " Ye outlanders and Frenchmen," said Sexwolf, show- 
 ing the whole of his teeth through his forest of beard, 
 "love boast and big talk; and, on my troth, thou 
 mayest have thy belly full of them yet ; for we are still 
 in the track of Harold, and Harold never leaves behind 
 him a foe. Thou art as safe here as if singing psalms in 
 a convent." 
 
 " For thy jests, let them pass, courteous sir," said the 
 Norman ; " but I pray thee only not to call me French- 
 man.* I impute it to thy ignorance in things comely 
 
 * The Normans and French detested each other; and it was the 
 Norman who taught to the Saxon his own animosities against the 
 Frank. A very eminent antiquary, indeed, De la Rue, considered 
 that the Bayeux tapestry could not he the work of Matilda, or her 
 age, because in it the Normans are called French; but that is a 
 gross blunder on his part; for William, in his own charters, calls 
 the Normans " Franci." Wace, in his "Roman de Rou," often 
 styles the Normans " French ;" and William of Poitiers, a contem- 
 porary of the Conqueror, gives them also in one passage the same 
 
HAROLD. 331 
 
 and martial, and not to thy design to insult me. Though 
 my own mother was French, learn that a Norman despises 
 a Frank only less than he doth a Jew." 
 
 "Crave your grace," said the Saxon, "but I thought 
 all ye outlanders were the same, rib and rib, sibbe and 
 sibbe." 
 
 " Thou wilt know better one of these days. Marth 
 on, Master Sexwolf." 
 
 The pass gradually opened on a wide patch of rugged 
 and herbless waste ; and Sexwolf, riding up to the knight, 
 directed his attention to a stone, on which was inscribed 
 the words, "Eic victor fuit Haroldus." — Here Harold 
 conquered. 
 
 " In sight of a stone like that, no Walloon dare come," 
 said the Saxon. 
 
 "A simple and classical trophy," remarked the Nor- 
 man, complacently, " and saith much. I am glad to see 
 thy lord knows the Latin." 
 
 " I say not that he knows Latin," replied the prudent 
 Saxon ; fearing that that could be no wholesome infor- 
 mation on his lord's part, which was of a kind to give 
 gladness to the Norman — " Ride on while the road lets 
 ye — in God's name." 
 
 On the confines of Caernarvonshire, the troop halted 
 at a small village, round which had been newly dug a 
 deep military trench, bristling with palisades, and within 
 
 name. Still, it is true that the Normans were generally ■very 
 tenacious of their distinction from their gallant but hostile neigh- 
 bors. 
 
332 HAROLD. 
 
 its confines might be seen — some reclined on the grass, 
 some at dice, some drinking — many men, whose garbs 
 of tanned hide, as well as a pennon waving from a little 
 mound in the midst, bearing the tiger-heads of Earl 
 Harold's insignia, showed them to be Saxons. 
 
 "Here we shall learn," said Sexwolf, "what the earl 
 h about — and here, at present, ends my journey." 
 
 "Are these the earl's head-quarters then ? — no castle, 
 even of wood — no wall, nought but ditch and palisades ?" 
 asked Mallet de Graville in a tone between surprise and 
 contempt. 
 
 " Norman," said Sexwolf, " the castle is there, though 
 you see it not, and so are the walls. The castle is Harold's 
 name, which no Walloon will dare to confront ; and the 
 walls are the heaps of the slain which lie in every valky 
 around." So saying, he wound his horn, which was 
 speedily answered, and led the way over a plank which 
 admitted across the trench. 
 
 " Not even a drawbridge I " groaned the knight. 
 
 Sexwolf exchanged a few words with one who seemed 
 the head of the small garrison, and then regaining the 
 Norman, said, " the earl and his men have advanced into 
 the mountainous regions of Snowdon ; and there, it is 
 said, the blood-lusting Gryffyth is at length driven to bay. 
 Harold hath left orders that, after as brief a refreshment 
 as may be, I and my men, taking the guide he hath left 
 for us, join him on foot. There may now be danger : for, 
 though Gryffyth himself may be pinned to his heights, he 
 may have yet some friends in these parts to start up from 
 
HAROID 332 
 
 crag and combe. The way on horse is impassable • 
 wherefore, master Norman, as our quarrel is not thine nor 
 thine our lord, I commend thee to halt here in peace and 
 in safety, with the sick and the prisoners." 
 
 "It is' a merry companionship, doubtless," said the 
 Norman ; " but one travels to learn, and I would fain see 
 somewhat of thine uncivil skirmishings with these men 
 of the mountains ; wherefore, as I fear my poor mules 
 are light of the provender, give me to eat and to drink. 
 And then shalt thou see, should we come in sight of the 
 enemy, if a Norman's big words are the sauce of small 
 deeds." 
 
 " Well spoken, and better than I reckftned on,'' said 
 Sexwolf, heartily. 
 
 While De Graville, alighting, sauntered about the 
 village, the rest of the troop exchanged greetings with 
 tli-eir countrymen. It was, even to the warrior's eye, a 
 mournful scene. Here and there, heaps of ashes and ruin 
 — ^houses riddled and burned— the small, humble church, 
 untouched indeed by war, but looking desolate and for- 
 lorn — with sheep grazing on large recent mounds thrown 
 over the brave dead, who slept in the ancestral spot they 
 bad defended. 
 
 The air was fragrant with the spicy smells of the gale 
 or bog-myrtl€ ; and the village lay sequestered in a scene 
 wild indeed and savage; but prodigal of a stem beauty 
 to which the Norman, poet by race, and scholar by cul- 
 ture, was not insensible. Seating himself on a rude stone, 
 apart from all the warlike and murmuring groups, he 
 
334 HAROLD. 
 
 looked forth on the dim and vast mountain-peaks, and 
 the rivulet that rushed below, intersecting the village, and 
 lost amidit copses of mountain-ash. From these more 
 refined contemplations, he was roused by Sexwolf, who, 
 with greater courtesy than was habitual to him, accom- 
 panied the theowes who brought the knight a repast, con- 
 sisting of cheese, and small pieces of seethed kid, with a 
 large horn of very indifferent mead. 
 
 " The earl puts all his men on Welch diet," said the 
 captain apologetically ; " for, indeed, in this lengthy war- 
 fare, nought else is to be had I " 
 
 The knight curiously inspected the cheese, and bent 
 earnestly over the kid. 
 
 "It sufficeth, good Sexwolf," said he, suppressing a 
 natural sigh : " but instead of this honey-drink, which is 
 more fit for bees than for men, get me a draught of fresh 
 water: water is your only safe drink before fighting." 
 
 " Thou hast never drunk ale, then I " said the Saxon ; 
 "but thy foreign tastes shall be heeded, strange man." 
 
 A little after noon the horns were sounded, and the 
 troop prepared to depart. But the Norman observed 
 that they had left behind all their horses ; and his squire 
 approaching, informed him that Sexwolf had positively 
 forbidden the knight's steed to be brought forth. 
 
 "Was it ever heard before," cried Sire Mallet de Gra- 
 ville, " that a Norman knight was expected to walk, and 
 to walk against a foe too ! Call hither the villein, — that 
 is, the captain." 
 
 But Sexwolf himself here appeared, and to him De 
 
HAROLD 335 
 
 Grarille addressed his indignant remonstrance. The 
 Saxon stood firm, and to each argument replied simply, 
 " It is the earl's orders ; " and finally wound up with a 
 bluff — "Go, or let alone ; stay here with thy horse, or 
 march with us on thy feet." 
 
 "My horse is a gentleman," answered the knight, 
 " and, as such, would be my more fitting companion ; but, 
 as it is, I yield to compulsion — I bid thee solemnly ob- 
 serve, by compulsion ; so that it may neyer be said of 
 William Mallett de Grarille, that he walked, bon gre, to 
 battle." With that, he loosened hiS' sword in the sheath, 
 and, still retaining his ring-mail, fitting close as a shirt, 
 strode on with the rest. 
 
 A Welch guide, subject to one of the under-kings (who 
 was in allegiance to England, and animated, as many of 
 those petty chiefs were, with a vindictive jealousy against 
 the rival tribe of Gryffyth, far more intense than his dis- 
 like of the Saxon), led the way. 
 
 The road wound for some time along the course of the 
 river Conway ; Penmaen-mawr loomed before them. 
 Not a human being came in sight, not a goat was seen 
 on the distant ridges, not a sheep on the pastures. The 
 solitude in the glare of the broad August sun was op- 
 pressive. Some houses they passed — if buildings of 
 rough stones, containing but a single room, can be called 
 houses — but they were deserted. Desolation preceded 
 their way, for they were on the track of Harold the 
 Victor. At length, they passed the old Conovinm, now 
 Caer-hSn, lying near the river. There were still (not as 
 
336 HAROLD. 
 
 we now scarcely discern them, after centuries of liavoc) 
 the mighty ruins of the Romans, — vast shattered walls, 
 a tower half demolished, visible remnants of gigantic 
 baths, and, proudly rising near the present ferry of Tal- 
 y-Cafn, the fortress, almost unmntilated, of Castell-y- 
 Bryn. On the castle waved the pennon of Harold. 
 Many large flat-bottomed boats were moored to the 
 river-side, and the whole place bristled with spears and 
 javelins. 
 
 Much comforted (for, — though he disdained to mur- 
 mur, and rather than forego his mail, would have died 
 therein a martyr, — M allett de Graville was mightily 
 wearied by the weight of his steel), and hoping now to 
 see Harold himself, the knight sprang forward with a 
 spasmodic effort at liveliness, and found himself in the 
 midst of a group, among whom he recognized at a glance 
 his old acquaintance, Godrith. Doffing his helm with its 
 long nose-piece, he caught the thegn's hand, and ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 " Well met, ventre de Guillaume ! well met, Godree, 
 the debonnair 1 Thou rememberest Mallett de Graville, 
 and in this unseemly guise, on foot, and with villeins, 
 sweating under the eyes of plebeian Phoebus, thou be- 
 holdest that much-suffering man I " 
 
 "Welcome, indeed,'' returned Godrith, with some em- 
 barrassment; "hut how camest thou hither, and whom 
 seekest thou ? " 
 
 " Harold, thy count, man — and I trust he is here." 
 
 "Not so, but not far distant — at a place by the moutb 
 
HAROLD. 337 
 
 of the river called Caer Gyffin * Thou shalt take boat, 
 and be there ere the sunset." 
 
 "Is a battle at hand? Yon churl disappointed and 
 tricked me ; he promised me danger, and not a soul have 
 we met." 
 
 "Harold's besom sweeps clean," answered Godrith, 
 Bmiling ; " but thou art like, perhaps, to be in at the 
 death. We have driven this Welch lion to bay at last — 
 he is ours, or grim Famine's. Look yonder ; " and God- 
 rith pointed to the heights of Penmaen-mawr. " Even 
 at this distance you may yet descry something grey and 
 dim against the sky." 
 
 "Deemest thou my eye so ill practised in siege, as not 
 to see towers? Tall and massive they are, though they 
 seem here as airy as masts, and as dwarfish as landmarks." 
 
 " On that hill-top, and in those towers, is Gryifyth, the 
 Welch king, with the last of his force. He cannot escape 
 ns ; our ships guard all the coasts of the shore ; our 
 troops, as here, surround every pass. Spies, night and 
 day, keep watch. The Welch moels (or beacon-rocks, 
 are manned by our warders ; and, were the Welch king 
 to descend, signals would blaze from . post to post, and 
 gird him with fire and sword. From land to land, from 
 hill to hill, from Hereford to Caerleon, from Caerleon to 
 Milford, from Milford to Snowdon, through Snowdon to 
 yonder fort, built, they say, by the fiends or the giants, 
 — through defile and through forest, over rock, through 
 
 * The present town and castle of Conway. 
 I —29 W 
 
338 HAROLD. 
 
 morass, we have pressed on his heels. Battle and foray 
 alike have drawn the blood from his heart; and thoD 
 wilt have seen the drops yet red on the way, where the 
 stone tells that Harold was victor." 
 
 "A brave man and true king, then, this Gryfifyth," said 
 the Norman, with some admiration ; " but," he added in 
 a colder tone, " I confess, for my own part, that though 
 I pity the valiant man beaten, I honor the brave man 
 who wins ; and though I have seen but little of this rough 
 land as yet, I can well judge from what I have seen, that 
 no captain, not of patience unwearied, and skill most con- 
 summate, could conquer a bold enemy in a country where 
 every rock is a fort." 
 
 "So I fear," answered Godrith, "that my countryman 
 Rolf found ; for the Welch beat him sadly, and the reason 
 was plain. He insisted on using horses where no horses 
 could climb, and attiring men in full armor to fight 
 against men light and nimble as swallows, that skim the 
 earth, then are lost in the clouds. Harold, more wise, 
 turned our Saxons into Welchmen, flying as they flew, 
 climbing where they climbed ; it has been as a war of the 
 birds. And now there rests but the eagle, in his last 
 lonely eyrie." 
 
 'Thy battles have improved thy eloquence much, 
 Messire Godree," said the Norman condescendingly, 
 "Nevertheless, I cannot but think a few light horse " 
 
 "Could scale yon mountain brow?" said Godrith, 
 laughing, and pointing to Penmaen-mawr. 
 
 " The Norman looked and was silent, though he thought 
 to himself, " That Sexwolf was no such dolt after all I " 
 
BOOK SEVENTH. 
 
 THE WELCH KING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The sun had just cast its last beams over the breadth 
 of water into which Conway, or rather Cyn-wy, "the 
 great river," emerges its winding waves. Not at that 
 time existed the matchless castle, which is now the mo- 
 nument of Edward Plantagenet, and the boast of Wales. 
 But besides all the beauty the spot took from nature, it 
 had even some claim from ancient art. A rude fortress 
 rose above the stream of Gyffin, out of the wrecks of 
 some greater Roman hold,* and vast ruins of a former 
 town lay round it ; while opposite the fort, on the huge 
 and ragged promontory of Gogarth, might still be seen, 
 forlorn and grey, the wrecks of the imperial city, de- 
 stroyed ages before by lightning. 
 
 All these remains of a power and a pomp that Rome 
 m vain had bequeathed to the Briton, were full of pa- 
 
 * See Camden's Britannia, " Caernarvonshirt." 
 
 (339) 
 
340 HAROLD. 
 
 thetic and solemn interest, when blent with the thought, 
 that on yonder steep, the brave prince of a race of 
 heroes, whose line transcended, by ages, all the other 
 royalties of the North, awaited, amidst the ruins of man, 
 and in the stronghold which nature yet gave, the hour 
 of his doom. 
 
 But these were not the sentiments of the martial and 
 observant Norman, with the fresh blood of a new race 
 of conquerors. 
 
 " In this land," thought he, " far more even than in 
 that of the Saxon, there are the ruins of old ; and when 
 the present can neither maintain nor repair the past, its 
 future is subjection or despair." 
 
 Agreeably to the peculiar usages of Saxon military 
 skill, which seems to have placed all strength in dykes 
 and ditches, as being perhaps the cheapest and readiest 
 outworks, a new trench had been made round the fort, 
 on two sides, connecting it on the third and fourth with 
 the streams of G-yflSn and the Conway. But the boat 
 was rowed up to the very walls, and the Norman, spring- 
 ing to land, was soon ushered into the presence of the 
 earl. 
 
 Harold was seated before a rude table, and bending 
 over a rough map of the great mountain of Penmaen ; 
 a lamp of iron stood beside the map, though the air was 
 yet clear. 
 
 The earl rose, as De Graville, entering with the proud 
 but easy grace habitual to his countrymen, said, in his 
 best Saxon, — 
 
HAROLD. 341 
 
 " Hail to Earl Harold 1 William Mallet de Graville, 
 the Norman, greets him, and brings him news from be- 
 yond the seas." 
 
 There was only one seat in that bare room — the seat 
 from which the earl had risen. He placed it with simple 
 courtesy before his visitor, and, leaning himself against 
 the table, said, in the Norman tongue, which he spoke 
 fluently, — 
 
 " It is no slight thanks that I owe to the Sire de Gra- 
 ville, that he hath undertaken voyage and journey on my 
 behalf ; but before you impart your news, I pray you to 
 take rest and food." 
 
 " Rest will not be unwelcome ; and food, if unrestricted 
 to goats' cheese, and kid-flesh, — luxuries, new to my 
 palate, — will not be untempting ; but neither food nor 
 rest can I take, noble Harold, before I excuse myself, as 
 a foreigner, for thus somewhat infringing your laws by 
 which we are banished, and acknowledging gratefully the 
 courteous behavior I have met from thy countrymen not- 
 withstanding." 
 
 " Fair Sir," answered Harold, " pardon us if, jealous 
 of our laws, we have seemed inhospitable to those who 
 would meddle with them. But the Saxon is never more 
 pleased than when the foreigner visits him only as the 
 friend : to the many who settle amongst us for commerce 
 — Fleming, Lombard, German, and Saracen — we proffer 
 shelter and welcome ; to the few who, like thee, Sir Nor- 
 man, venture over the seas but to serve us, we give frarfc 
 cheer and free hand." 
 29* 
 
342 HAROLD. 
 
 Agreeably surprised at this gracious reception from 
 the son of Godwin, the Norman pressed the hand ex- 
 tended to him, and then drew forth a small case, and 
 related accurately, and with feeling, the meeting of his 
 cousin with Sweyn, and Sweyn's dying charge. 
 
 The earl listened, with eyes bent on the ground, ani 
 face turned from the lamp ; and, when Mallet had con- 
 cluded his recital, Harold said, with an emotion he strug- 
 gled in vain to repress, — 
 
 " I thank you cordially, gentle Norman, for kindness 
 kindly rendered 1 I — I — " The voice faltered. " Sweyn 
 was very dear to me in his sorrows I We heard that he 
 had died in Lycia, and grieved much and long. So, after 
 
 he had thus spoken to your cousin, he — he Alas 1 O 
 
 Sweyn, my brother ! " 
 
 "He died," said the Norman, soothingly ; "but shriven 
 and absolved ; and my cousin says, calm and hopeful, as 
 they die ever who have knelt at the Savior's tomb I " 
 
 Harold bowed his head, and turned' the ease that held 
 the letter again and again in his hand, but would not 
 venture to open it. The knight himself, touched by a 
 grief so simple and manly, rose with the delicate instinct 
 that belongs to sympathy, and retired to the door, with- 
 out which yet waited the officer who had conducted him. 
 
 Harold did not attempt to detain him, but followed 
 him across the threshold, and briefly commanding the 
 officer to attend to his guest as to himself, said — "With 
 the morning. Sire de Graville, we shall meet again ; I see 
 
HAROLD. 343 
 
 that yea are one to whom I need not excuse man's na- 
 tural emotions." 
 
 "A noble presence 1 " muttered the knight, as he de- 
 scended the stairs ; " but he hath Norman, at least Norse 
 blood in his veins on the distaff side. — Fair Sir 1 " — (this 
 aloud to the officer) — " any meat save the kid-flesh, I 
 pray thee ; and any drink save the mead 1 " 
 
 "Fear not, guest," said the officer; "for Tostig the 
 earl hath two ships in yon bay, and hath sent us supplies 
 that would please Bishop William of London ; for Tostig 
 the Earl is a toothsome man." 
 
 " Commend me, then, to Tostig the Earl," said the 
 knight; "he is an earl after my own heart" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 On re-entering the room, Harold drew the large bolt 
 across the door, opened the case, and took forth the dis- 
 tained and tattered scroll : — 
 
 " When this comes to thee, Harold, the brother of thy 
 childish days will sleep in the flesh, and be lost to men's 
 judgment and earth's woe in the spirit. I have knelt at 
 the Tomb ; but no dove hath come forth from the cloud, 
 — no stream of grace hath re-baptized the child of wrath ! 
 They tell me, now — monk and priest tell me — that I 
 have atoned all my sins ; that the dread weregeld is 
 paid ; that I may enter the Torld of men with a spirit 
 
344 HAROLD. 
 
 free from the load, and a name redeemed from the stain. 
 Thiuk so, brother! — Bid my father (if he still lives, 
 the dear old man !) think so ; — tell Githa to think it ; 
 and oh, teach Haco, mj son, to hold the belief as a truth ! 
 Harold, again I commend to thee my son ; be to him as 
 a father ! My death surely releases him as a hostage. 
 Let kim not grow up in the court of the stranger, in the 
 land of our foes. Let his feet, in his youth, climb the 
 green holts of England ; — ^let his eyes, ere sin dims them, 
 drink the blue of her skies ! When this shall reach thee, 
 thon, in thy calm, effortless strength, will be more great 
 than Godwin onr father. Power came to him with 
 travaU and through toil, the geld of craft and of force. 
 Power is born to thee as strength to the strong man ; it 
 gathers around thee as thou moTest ; it is not thine aim, 
 it is thy nature to be great. Shield my child with thy 
 might ; lead him forth from the prison-house by thy 
 serene right hand ! I ask not for lordships and earl- 
 doms, as the appanage of his father ; train him not to be 
 rival to thee : — I ask but for freedom, and English air I 
 So counting on thee, O Harold, I turn my face to the 
 wall, and hush my wild heart to peace I " 
 
 The scroll dropped noiseless from Harold's hand. 
 
 "Thus," said he, mournfully, "hath passed away less 
 a life than a dream ! Yet of Sweyn, in our childhood, 
 was Godwin most proud ; who so lorely in peace, and so 
 terrible iu wrath ? My mother taught him the songs of 
 the Baltic, and Hilda led his steps through the woodland 
 with tales of hero and scald. Alone of our House, he 
 
n A R L D . 845 
 
 had the gift of the Dane in the flow of fierce song, and 
 for him things lifeless had being. Stately tree, from 
 which all the birds of heaven sent their carol ; where the 
 falcon took roost, whence the mavis flew forth in its glee, 
 — how art thou blasted and seared, bough and core I — 
 smit by the lightning and consumed by the worm ! " 
 
 He paused, and, though none were by, he long shaded 
 his brow with his hand. 
 
 " Now," thought he, as he rose and slowly paced the 
 chamber, "now to what lives yet on earth — his son I 
 Often hath my mother urged me in behalf of these hos- 
 tages ; and often have I sent to reclaim them. Smooth 
 and false pretexts have met my own demand, and even 
 the remonstrance of Edward himself. But surely, now 
 that William hath permitted this Norman to bring over 
 the letter, he will assent to what it hath become a wrong 
 and an insult to refuse ; and Haco will return to his 
 father's land, and Wolnoth to his mother's arms." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Messihe Mallet de Gravillk (as becomes a man 
 bred up to arms, and snatching sleep with quick grasp 
 whenever that blessing be his to command) no sooner 
 laid his head on the pallet to which he had been con- 
 Rigr.ed, than his eyes closed, and his senses were deaf 
 Qvtfii to dreams. But at the dead of the midnight he was 
 
 21) • 
 
346 HAROLD. 
 
 wakened by sounds that might have roused the Seveu 
 Sleepers — shouts, cries, and yells, the blast of horns, the 
 tramp of feet, and the more distant roar of hurrying 
 multitudes. He leaped from his bed, and the whole 
 chamber was filled with a lurid blood-red air. His first 
 thought was that the fort was on fire. But springing 
 upon the settle along the wall, and looking through the 
 loophole of the tower, it seemed as if not the fort but the 
 whole land was one flame, and through the glowing 
 atmosphere he beheld all the ground, near and far, 
 swarming with men. Hundreds were swimming the 
 rivulet, clambering up dyke mounds, rushing on the 
 levelled spears of the defenders, breaking through line 
 and palisade, pouring into the enclosures ; some in half- 
 armor of helm and corslet — others in linen tunics — many 
 almost naked. Loud sharp shrieks of " Alleluia i " * 
 blended with those of " Out 1 out 1 Holy crosse 1 " f He 
 divined at once that the Welch were storming the Saxon 
 hold. Short time indeed sufficed for that active knight 
 
 * When (a. d. 220) the bishops, Germanicus and Lupus, headed 
 ^he Britons against the Picts and Saxons, in Easter week, fresh 
 from their baptism in the Alyn, Germanicus ordered them to 
 attend to his war-cry, and repeat it, he gave " Alleluia." The 
 hills so loudly re-echoed the cry, that the enemy caught panic, and 
 fled with great slaughter. Maes Garmon, in Flintshire, was the 
 scene of the victory. 
 
 ■|- The cry of the English at the onset of battle was " Holy Crosse, 
 God Almighty;" afterwards in fight, "Ouct, ouct," out, out, — 
 Hbaknb's Disc. Antiquity of Motis. 
 
 The latter cry probably, originated in the habit of defending 
 their standard and central posts with barricades and closed shields,' 
 and thus, idiomatically and vulgarly, signified " get out." 
 
HAROLD. 847 
 
 to case himself in his mail ; and, sword in hand, he burst 
 through the door, cleared the stairs, and gained the hall 
 below, which was filled with men arming in haste. 
 " Where is Harold ? " he exclaimed. 
 " On the trenches already," answered Sexwolf, buck- 
 ling his corslet of hide. " This Welch hell hath broke 
 loose." 
 
 "And yon are their beacon-fires ? Then the whole 
 land is upon us 1 " 
 
 " Prate less," quoth Sexwolf; " those are the hills now 
 held by the warders of Harold : our spies gave them 
 notice, and the watchfires prepared us ere the fiends came 
 in sight, otherwise we had been lying here limbless or 
 fleadless. Now, men, draw up, and march forth." 
 
 " Hold I hold 1 " cried the pious knight, crossing him- 
 self, " is there no priest here to bless us ? first a prayer 
 and a psalm ! " 
 
 " Prayer and psalm 1 " cried Sexwolf, astonished, " an' 
 thou hadst said ale and mead, I could have understood 
 thee. — Out 1 Out I — Holyrood, Holyrood I " 
 
 " The godless paynims I " muttered the Norman, borne 
 away with the crowd. 
 
 Once in the open space, the scene was terrific. Brief 
 as had been the onslaught, the carnage was already an- 
 speakable. By dint of sheer physical numbers, animated 
 by a valor that seemed as the frenzy of madmen or the 
 hunger of wolves, hosts of the Britons had crossed trench 
 and stream, seizing with their hands the points of the 
 spears opposed to them, bounding over the corpses of 
 
348 HAROLD. 
 
 iheir countrymen, and with yells of wild joy rushing upon 
 the close serried lines drawn up before the fort. The 
 stream seemed literally to run gore ; pierced by javelins 
 and arrows, corpses floated and vanished, while numbers 
 undeterred by the havoc, leaped into the waves from the 
 opposite banks. Like bears that surround the ship of a 
 sea-king beneath the polar meteors, or the midnight sua 
 of the north, came the savage warriors through that 
 glaring atmosphere. 
 
 Amidst all, two forms were pre-eminent : the one, tall 
 and towering, stood by the trench, and behind a banner, 
 that now drooped round the stave, now streamed wide 
 and broad, stirred by the rush of men — for the night in 
 itself was breezeless. With a vast Danish axe wielded 
 by both hands, stood this man, confronting hundreds, and 
 at each stroke rapid as the levin, fell a foe. All round 
 him was a wall of his own — the dead. But in the centre 
 of the space, leading on a fresh troop of shouting 
 Welchmen who had forced their way from another part, 
 was a form which seemed charmed against arrow and 
 spear. For the defensive arms of this chief were as 
 slight as if worn but for ornament ; a small corslet of 
 gold covered only the centre of his breast, a gold collar 
 of twisted wires circled his throat, and a gold bracelet 
 adorned his bare arm, dropping gore, not his own, from 
 the wrist to the elbow. He was small and slight shaped 
 — below the common standard of men — but he seemed 
 as one made a giant by the subhrae inspiration of war. 
 He wore no helmet, merely a golden circlet ; and his 
 
HAROLD. 349 
 
 hair, of deep red (longer than was usual with the Welch), 
 hung like the mane of a lion over his shonlders, tossing 
 loose with each stride. His eyes glared like the tiger's 
 at night, and he leaped on the spears with a bound. 
 Lost a moment amidst hostile ranks, save by the swift 
 glitter of his short sword, he made, amidst all, a path for 
 himself and his followers, and emerged from the heart 
 of the steel unscathed and loud breathing ; while, round 
 the line he had broken, wheeled and closed his wild men, 
 striking, rushing, slaying, slain. 
 
 "P.ardex, this is war worth the sharing," said the 
 knight. "And now, worthy Sexwolf, thou shalt see if 
 the Norman is the vaunter thou deemest him. Dieu 
 nous aide ! Notre Dame ! — Take the foe in the rear. " 
 But turning round, he perceived that Sexwolf had already 
 led his men towards the standard, which showed them 
 where stood the earl, almost alone in his peril. The 
 knight, thus left to himself, did not hesitate : — a minute 
 more and he was in the midst of the Welch force, headed 
 by the chief with the golden panoply. Secure in his 
 ring-mail against the light weapons of the Welch, the 
 sweep of the Norman sword was as the scythe of Dec th. 
 Right and left he smote through the throng which he 
 took in the flank, and had almost gained the small 
 phalanx of Saxons, that lay firm in the midst, when the 
 Cymrian chief's flashing eye was drawn to this new and 
 strange foe, by the roar and the groan round the Nor- 
 man's way ; and with the half-naked breast against the 
 shirt of mail, and the short Roman sword against the 
 
 I. — 30 
 
850 HAROLD. 
 
 long Norman falchion, the Lion King of Wales fronted 
 the knight. 
 
 Unequal as seems the encounter, so quick was the 
 spring of the Briton, so pliant his arm, and so rapid his 
 weapon, that that good knight (who rather from skill 
 and valor than brute physical strength, ranked amongst 
 the prowest of William's baud of martial brothers) wculd 
 willingly have preferred to see before him Fitzosborne or 
 Montgomraeri, all clad in steel and armed with mace and 
 lance, than parried those dazzling strokes, and fronted 
 the angry majesty of that helmless brow. Already the 
 strong rings of his mail had been twice pierced, and his 
 blood trickled fast, while his great sword had but smitten 
 the air in its sweeps at the foe ; when the Saxon pha- 
 lanx, taking advantage of the breach in the ring that 
 girt them, caused by this diversion, and recognizing with 
 fierce ire the gold torque and breast-plate of the Welch 
 king, made their desperate charge. Then for some 
 minutes the pele mile was confused and indistinct — blows 
 Mind and at random — death coming no man knew whence 
 or how ; till discipline and steadfast order, (which the 
 Saxons kept, as by mechanism, through the discord) 
 obstinately prevailed. The wedge forced its way ; and, 
 though reduced in numbers and sore wounded, the Saxon 
 troop cleared the ring, and joined the main force drawn 
 up by the fort, and guarded in the rear by its wall. 
 
 Meanwhile Harold, supported by the band under Sex- 
 wolf, had succeeded at length in repelling farther rein- 
 forcements of the Welch at the more accessible part of 
 
HAKOLD. 
 
 861 
 
 the trenches ; and casting now his practised eye over the 
 field, he issued orders for some of the men to regain the 
 fort, and open from the battlements, and from every loop- 
 hole, tne batteries of stone and javelin, which then (with 
 the Saxons, unskilled in sieges) formed the main artillery 
 of forts. These orders given, he planted Sexwolf and 
 most of his band to keep watch round the trenches ; and 
 shading his eye with his hand, and looking towards the 
 moon, all waning and dimmed in the watch-fires, he said 
 calmly, " Now patience fights for us. Ere the moon 
 reaches yon hill-top, the troops at Aber and Caer-hen 
 will be on the slopes of Penmaen, and cut off the retreat 
 of the Walloons. Advance my flag to the thick of yon 
 strife." 
 
 But as the earl, with his axe swung over his shoulder, 
 and followed but by some half-score or more with his 
 banner, strode on where the wild war was now mainly 
 concentered, just midway between trench and fort, Gryf- 
 fyth caught sight both of the banner and the earl, and 
 left the press at the very moment when he had gained 
 the greatest advantage ; and when indeed, but for the 
 Norman, who, wounded as he was, and unused to fight 
 on foot, stood resolute in the van, the Saxons, wearied 
 out by numbers, and falling fast beneath the javelins, 
 would have fled into their walls, and so sealed their fate, 
 — for the Welch would have entered at their heels. 
 
 But it was the misfortune of the Welch heroes never 
 to learn that war is a science ; and instead of now cen- 
 ering all force on the point most weakened, the whole 
 
352 HAROLD. 
 
 field vanished from the fierce eye of the Welch king, whec 
 he saw the banner and form of Harold. 
 
 The earl beheld the coming foe, wheeling round, as the 
 hawk on the heron ; halted, drew up his few men in a 
 serai-circle, with their large shields as a rampart, and 
 their levelled spears as a palisade ; and before them all, 
 as a tower, stood Harold with his axe. In a minute 
 more he was surrounded ; and through the rain of javelins 
 that poured upon him, hissed and glittered the sword of 
 Gryffyth. But Harold, more practised than the Sire de 
 Graville in the sword-play of the Welch, and unencum- 
 bered by other defensive armor (save only the helm, which 
 was shaped like the Norman's), than his light coat of 
 hide, opposed quickness to quickness, and suddenly drop- 
 ping his axe, sprang upon his foe, and clasping him round 
 with the left arm, with the right hand griped at his 
 throat, — 
 
 " Yield, and quarter I — yield, for thy life, son of Llew- 
 ellyn 1 " 
 
 Strong was that embrace, and death-like that gripe ; 
 yet, as the snake from the hand of the dervise — as a ghost 
 from the grasp of the dreamer, the lithe Cymrian glided 
 away, and the broken torque was all that remained in the 
 clutch of Harold. 
 
 At this moment a mighty yell of despair broke from 
 the Welch near the fort : stones and javelins rained upon 
 thera from the walls, and the fierce Norman was in the 
 midst, with his sword drinking blood ; but not for javelin, 
 Btone, and sword, shrank and shouted the Welchmen. On 
 
HAROLD. S53 
 
 the other side of the trenches were marching against tnem 
 their own countrymen, the rival tribes that helped the 
 stranger to rend the land ; and far to the right were seen 
 the spears of the Saxon from Aber, and to the left was 
 heard the shout of the forces under Godrith from Caer- 
 hen ; and they who had sought the leopard in his lair 
 were now themselves the prey caught in the toils. With 
 new heart, as they beheld these reinforcements, the Saxons 
 pressed on ; tumult, and flight, and indiscriminate slaugh- 
 ter, wrapped the field. The Welch rushed to the stream 
 and the trenches ; and in the bustle and hurlabaloo, Gryf- 
 fyth was swept along, as a bull by a torrent ; still facing 
 the foe, now chiding, now smiting his own men, now rush- 
 ing alone on the pursuers, and halting their onslaught, 
 he gained, still unwounded, the stream, paused a moment, 
 laughed loud, and sprang into the wave. A hundred 
 javelins hissed into the sullen and bloody waters. 
 " Hold 1 " cried Harold the earl, lifting his hand on high, 
 " No dastard dart at the brave 1 " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The fugitive Britons, scarce one-tenth of the number 
 
 that had first rushed to the attack, — performed their flight 
 
 with the same Parthian rapidity that characterized the 
 
 assault ; and escaping both Welch foe and Saxon, though 
 
 30* X 
 
854 HAROLD. 
 
 the former broke ground to pursue them, they regained 
 the steeps of Penmaen. 
 
 There was no further thought of slumber that night 
 within the walls. While the wounded were tended, and 
 the dead were cleared from the soil, Harold, with three 
 of his chiefs, and Mallet de Graville, whose feats rendered 
 it more than ungracious to refuse his request that he 
 might assist in the council, conferred upon the means of 
 terminating the war with the next day. Two of the 
 thegns, their blood hot with strife and revenge, proposed 
 to scale the mountain with the whole force the reinforce- 
 ments had brought them, and put all they found to the 
 sword. 
 
 The third, old and prudent, and inured to Welch war- 
 fare, thought otherwise. 
 
 " None of us," said he, " know what is the true strength 
 of the place which ye propose to storm. Not even one 
 Welchman have we found who hath ever himself gained 
 the summit, or examined the castle which is said to exist 
 there."* 
 
 " Said 1 " echoed de Graville, who, relieved of his mail, 
 and with his wounds bandaged, reclined on his furs on 
 the floor " Said, noble sir 1 Cannot our eyes perceive 
 the towers 1 " 
 
 The old thegn shook his head. "At a distance, and 
 through mists, stones loom large, and crags themselves 
 
 * Certain high places in Wales, of which this might well be one, 
 were held so sacred, that even the dwellers in the immediate neigh- 
 borhood never presumed to approach them. 
 
HAROLD. 355 
 
 take strange shapes. It may be castle, may be rock, may 
 be old roofless temples of heathenesse that we see. But 
 to repeat (and, as I am slow, I pray not again to be put 
 out in my speech) — none of us know what, there, exists 
 of defence, man-made or Nature-built. Not even thy 
 Welch spies, son of Godwin, have gained to the heights. 
 In the midst lie the scouts of the Welch king, and those 
 on the top can see the bird fly, the goat climb. Pew of 
 thy spies, indeed, have ever returned with life ; their 
 heads have been left at the foot of the hill, with the scroll 
 in their lips, — ' Die ad inferos — quid in superis novisti.' 
 Tell to the shades below what thou hast seen in the 
 heights above." 
 
 "And the Walloons know Latin I " muttered the knight ; 
 " I respect them 1 " 
 
 The slow thegn frowned, stammered, and renewed — 
 " One thing at least is clear ; that the rock is well-nigh 
 insurmountable to those who know not the passes ; that 
 strict watch, baffling even Welch spies, is kept night and 
 day; that the men on the summit are desperate and 
 fierce ; that our own troops are awed and terrified by 
 the belief of the Welch, that the spot is haunted and 
 the towers fiend-founded. One single defeat may lose ua 
 two years of victory. Gryffyth may break from the eyrie, 
 regain what he hath lost, win back our Welch allies, ever 
 faithless and hollow. Wherefore, I say, go on as we have 
 begun. Beset all the country round ; cut off all supplier, 
 and let the foe rot by famine — or waste, as he hath done 
 this night, his strength by vain onslaught and sally." 
 
356 HAROLD. 
 
 " Thy counsel is good," said Harold, " but there is yet 
 something to add to it, which may shorten the strife, and 
 gain the end with less sacrifice of life. The defeat of 
 to-night will have humbled the spirits of the Welch ; take 
 them yet in the hour of despair and disaster. I wish, 
 therefore, to send to their outposts a nuncius, with these 
 terms — ' Life and pardon to all who lay down arms and 
 surrender.' " 
 
 "What, after such hayoc and gore ?'' cried one of the 
 thegns. 
 
 " They defend their own soil," replied the earl simply ; 
 "had not we done the same?" 
 
 " But the rebel Gryffyth ? " asked the old thegn, " thou 
 canst not accept him again as crowned sub-king of Ed- 
 ward ? " 
 
 "No," said the earl, "I propose to exempt Gryffyth 
 alone from the pardon, with promise, natheless, of life, 
 if he give himself up as prisoner, and count, without 
 further condition, on the king's mercy." There was a 
 prolonged silence. None spoke against the earl's pro- 
 posal, though the two younger thegns misliked it much. 
 
 At last said the elder, " But hast thou thought who 
 will carry this message ? Fierce and wild are yon blood- 
 dogs ; and man must needs shrive soul and make will, if 
 he go to their kennel." 
 
 " I feel sure that my bode will be safe," answered 
 Harold ; " for Gryffyth has all the pride of a king, and, 
 spaiing neither man nor child in the onslaught, will re- 
 
HAROLD. 357 
 
 spect what the Roman taught his sires to respect — envoy 
 from chief to chief — as a head scatheless and sacred." 
 
 " Choose whom thou wilt, Harold," said one of the 
 young thegns, laughing, "but spare thy friends; and 
 whomsoever thou choosest, pay his widow the weregeld." 
 
 "Fair sirs," then said De Graville, "if ye think that 
 I, though a stranger, could serve you as nuncius, it would 
 be a pleasure to me to undertake this mission. First, 
 because, being curious as concerns forts and castles, I 
 would fain see if mine eyes have deceived me in taking 
 yon towers for a hold of great might. Secondly, because 
 that same wild-cat of a king must have a court rare to 
 visit. And the only reflection that withholds my pressing 
 the offer as a personal suit is, that though I have some 
 words of the Breton jargon at my tongue's need, I can- 
 not pretend to be a Tully in Welch ; howbeit, since it 
 seems that one, at least, among them knows something 
 of Latin, I doubt not but what I shall get out my mean- 
 ing 1 " 
 
 " Nay, as to that, Sire de Graville," said Harold, who 
 seemed well pleased with the knight's offer, " there shall 
 be no hindrance or let, as I wiU make clear to you; and 
 in spite of what you have just heard, Gryffyth shall harm 
 you not in limb or in life. But, kindly and courteous sir, 
 will your wounds permit the journey, not long, but steep 
 and laborious, and only to be made on foot ? " 
 
 " On foot 1 " said the knight, a little staggered, " Par' 
 dex! well and truly, I did not count upon that I" 
 
358 HAROLD. 
 
 " Enough," said Harold, turning away in evident dis- 
 appointment, "think of it no more." 
 
 "Nay, by your leave, what I have once said I stand 
 to," returned the knight ; " albeit, you may as well cleave 
 in two one of those respectable centaurs of which we 
 have read in our youth, as part Norman and horse. I 
 will forthwith go to my chamber, and apparel myself be- 
 comingly — not forgetting, in case of the worst, to wear 
 my mail under my robe. Vouchsafe me but an armorer, 
 just to rivet up the rings through which scratched so 
 felinely the paw of that well-appelled Griffin." 
 
 " I accept your offer frankly," said Harold, " and all 
 shall be prepared for you, as soou as you yourself will 
 re-seek me here." 
 
 The knight rose, and though somewhat stiff and smart- 
 ing with his wounds, left the room lightly, summoned his 
 armorer and squire, and Tiaving dressed with all the care 
 and pomp habitual to a Norman, his gold chain round 
 bis neck, and his vest stiff with broidery, he re-entered 
 the apartment of Harold. The earl received him alone, 
 and came up to him with a cordial face. " I thank thee 
 more, brave Norman, than I ventured to say before my 
 thegns, for I tell thee frankly, that my intent and aim are 
 to save the life of this brave king ; and thou canst well 
 understand that every Saxon amongst us must have his 
 blood warmed by contest, and his eyes blind with national 
 hate. You alone, as a stranger, see the valiant warrior 
 and hunted prince, and as such you ca i feel for him the 
 noble pity of manly foes." 
 
HAROIiD. 369 
 
 "That is true," said De Graville, a little surprised, 
 "though we Normans are at least as fierce as you Saxons, 
 when we have once tasted blood ; and I own nothing 
 would please me better than to dress that catamaran in 
 mail, put a spear in its claws, and a horse under its legs, 
 and thus fight out my disgrace at being so clawed and 
 mauled by its griffes. And though I respect a brave 
 knight in distress, I can scarce extend my compassion to 
 a thing that fights against all rule, martial and kingly." 
 The earl smiled gravely. " It is the mode in which 
 his ancestors rushed on the spears of C^sar. Pardon 
 him." 
 
 "I pardon him, at your gracious request," quoth the 
 knight, with a grand air, and waving his hands ; " say 
 on." 
 
 " You will proceed with a Welch monk — whom, though 
 not of the faction of Gryffyth, all Welchmen respect — to 
 the mouth of a frightful pass, skirting the river ; the 
 monk will bear aloft the holy rood in signal of peace 
 Arrived at that pass, you will doubtless be stopped. The 
 monk here will be spokesman ; and ask safe-conduct to 
 Oryffyth to deliver my message ; he will also bear cer- 
 tain tokens, which will no doubt win the way for you. 
 
 "Arrived before Gryffyth, the mqnk will accost him ; 
 mark and heed well his gestures, since thou wilt know 
 not the Weclh tongue he employs. And when he raises 
 the rood, thou, — in the meanwhile, having artfully ap- 
 proached close to Gryfiyth, — wilt whisper in Saxon, which 
 he well understands, and pressing the ring I now give 
 
360 HAROLD. 
 
 thee into his hand, ' Obey by this pledge ; thou knowsBt 
 Harold is true, and thy head is sold by thine own people.' 
 If he asks more, thou knowest nought. " 
 
 "So far, this is as should be from chief to chief," said 
 the Norman, touched, " and thus had Fitzosborne done 
 to his foe. I thank thee for this mission, and the more 
 that thou hast not asked me to note the strength of the 
 bulwark, and number the men that may keep it." 
 
 Again Harold smiled. " Praise me not for this, noble 
 Norman — we plain Saxons have not your refinements. 
 If ye are led to the summit, which I think ye will not be, 
 the monk at least will have eyes to see, and tongue to 
 relate. But to thee I confide this much; — I know, 
 already, that Gryfifth's strong-holds are not his walls and 
 his towers, but the superstition of our men, and the 
 despair of his own. I could win those heights, as I have 
 won heights as cloud-capt, but with fearful loss of my 
 own troops, and the massacre of every foe. Both I would 
 spare, if I may." 
 
 " Yet thou hast not shown such value for life, in the 
 solitudes I passed," said the knight, bluntly. 
 
 Harold turned pale, but said firmly, " Sire de Graville, 
 a stern thing is duty, and resistless is its voice. These 
 Welchmen, unless curbed to their mountains, eat into 
 the strength of England, as the tide gnaws into a shore. 
 Merciless were they in their ravages on our borders, and 
 ghastly and torturing their fell revenge. But it is one 
 thing to grapple with a foe fierce and strong, and another 
 to smite when his power is gone, fang and talon. And 
 when I see before me the fated king of a great race, and 
 
HAROLD. 36i 
 
 the last band of doomed heroes, too few and too feeble 
 to make head ageinst my arms — when the land is already 
 my own, and the sword is that of the deathsman, not of 
 the warrior — verily, Sir Norman, duty releases its iron 
 tool, and man becomes man again." 
 
 "I go," said the Norman, inclining his head low a.s to 
 bis own great duke, and turning to the door ; yet there 
 he paused, and looking at the 'ring which he had placed 
 ou his finger, he said, " But one word more, if not indis- 
 creet — your answer may help argument, if argument be 
 needed. What tale lies hid in this token?" 
 
 Harold colored and paused a moment, then answered : 
 
 " Simply this. Gryffyth's wife, the lady Aldyth, a 
 Saxon by birth, fell into my hands. We were storming 
 Rliadlan, at the farther end of the isle ; she was there. 
 We war not against women ; I feared the license of my 
 own soldiers, and I sent the lady to Gryffyth. Aldyth 
 gave me this ring on parting ; and I bade her tell Gryffyth 
 that whenever, at the hour of his last peril and sorest 
 need, I sent that ring back to him, he might hold it the 
 pledge of his life." 
 
 "Is this lady, think yon, in the strong-hold with her 
 lord ? " 
 
 " I am not sure, but I fear yes," answered Harold. 
 
 "Yet one word. And if Gryffyth refuse, despite all 
 warning ? " 
 
 Harold's eyes drooped. 
 
 " If so, he dies ; but not by the Saxon sword. God 
 and our Lady speed you I " 
 
 I. —31 
 
362 HABOLI>. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 On the height called Pen-y-Dinas (or " Head of the 
 City"), formiDg one of the summits of Penmaen-mawr, 
 and in the heart of that supposed fortress which no eye 
 in the Saxon camp had surveyed, reclined Gryffyth, the 
 hunted king. Nor is it marvellous that at that day there 
 should be disputes as to the nature and strength of the 
 supposed bulwark, since, in times the most recent, and 
 among antiquaries the most learned, the greatest dis- 
 crepancies exist, not only as to theioretical opinion, but 
 plain matter of observation, and simple measurement. 
 The place, however, I need scarcely say, was not as we 
 see it now, with its foundations of gigantic ruin, afford- 
 ing ample space for conjecture ; yet, even then a wreck 
 as of Titans, its date and purpose were lost in remote 
 antiquity. 
 
 The central area (in which the Welch king now re- 
 clined) formed an oval barrow of loose stones : whether 
 80 left from the origin, or the relics of some vanished 
 building, was unknown even to bard or diviner. Round 
 this space were four strong circumvallations of loose 
 stones, with a space about eighty yards between each ; 
 the walls themselves generally about eight feet wide, but 
 of various height, as the stones had fallen by time and 
 
HAEOLD. 363 
 
 blast. Along these walls rose numerous and almost 
 countless circular buildings, ■which might pass for towers, 
 though only a few had been recently and rudely roofed 
 n. To the whole of this quadruple enclosure there was 
 out one narrow entrance, now left open as if in scorn of 
 issault; and a winding narrow pass down the mountain, 
 i\rith innumerable curves, alone led to the single threshold. 
 Par down -the hill, walls again were visible ; and the 
 whole surface of the steep soil, more than half-way in 
 the descent, was heaped with vast loose stones, as if the 
 bones of a dead city. But beyond the innermost en- 
 closure of the fort (if fort, or sacred enclosure, be the 
 correcter name), rose thick and frequent, other mementos 
 of the Briton ; many cromlechs, already shattered and 
 shapeless ; the ruins of stone houses ; and high over all, 
 those upraised, mighty amber piles, as at Stonehenge, 
 once reared, if our dim learning be true, in honor to 
 Bel, or Bdl-Huan, the idol of the sun. All, in short, 
 showed that the name of the place, " the Head of the 
 City," told its tale ; all announced that, there, once the 
 Celt had his home, and the gods of the Druid their wor- 
 ship. And musing amidst these skeletons of the past, 
 lay the doomed son of Pen Dragon. 
 
 Beside him a kind of throne had been raised with 
 stones, and over it was spread a tattered and faded vjlvet 
 pall. On this throne sat Aldyth the queen ; and about 
 the royal pair was still that mockery of a court which 
 the jealous pride of the Celt king retained amidst all tho 
 horrors of carnage and famine. Most of the officers, 
 
364 HAKOLD. 
 
 indeed (origmally in tinmljer twenty-fout), whose duties 
 attached them to the king and queen of the Cymry, were 
 already feeding the crow or the worm. But still, with 
 gaunt hawk on his wrist, the penhebogydd (grand fal- 
 coner) stood at a distance ; still, with beard sweeping 
 his breast, and rod in hand, leaned against a projecting 
 shatt of the wall, the noiseless gosdegwr, whose duty it 
 was to command silence in the king's hall ; and still the 
 penbard bent over his bruised harp, which once had 
 thrilled, through the fair vaults of Caerleon and Rhadlan, 
 in high praise of God, and the king, and the Hero Dead. 
 In the pomp of gold dish and Tessel * the board was 
 spread on the stones for the king and queen ; and on the 
 dish was the last fragment of black bread, and in the 
 vessel, full and clear, the water from the spring that 
 bubbled up everlastingly through the bones of the dead 
 city. 
 
 Beyond this innermost space, round a basin of rock, 
 
 * The Welch seem to have had a profusion of the precious 
 metals, very disproportioned to the scarcity of their coined money. 
 To eay nothing of the torques, bracelets, and even breast-platea 
 of gold, common with their nnmereus chiefs, their laws affix to 
 offences penalties which attest the prevalent waste both of gold 
 and silver. Thus, an insult to a sub-king of ittierfraw, is atoned 
 by a silver rod as thick as the king's little finger, which is in length 
 to reach from the ground to his mouth when sitting; and a gold 
 cup, with a cover as broad as the king's face, and the thickness of 
 a ploughman's nail, or the shell of a goose's egg. I suspect that 
 it was precisely because the Welch coined little or no money, thai 
 the metals they possessed became thus common in domestic use. 
 Gold would have been more rarely seen, even amongst the Penj- 
 vians, had they coined it into money. 
 
II A HOLD. 866 
 
 through which the stream overdowod as IVom au artificial 
 conduit, lay the wounded and uxhuustcd, crawling, tuva 
 by turn, to the lips of the basin, and happy that the 
 thirst of fever saved them from the gnawin;^ desire of 
 food. A wan and spectral figure glided listlessly to aud 
 fro amidst those mangled, aud parched, aud dying groups 
 This personage, in happier times, filled the oflice of phy- 
 sician to the court, and was placed twelfth in rank amidst 
 the chiefs of the household. And for cure of the " three 
 deadly wounds," the cloveu skull, or the gaping viscera, 
 or the broken limb (all three classed alike), large should 
 have been his fee.* But fee-less went be now from man 
 to man, with his red ointment and his muttered charm ; 
 and those over whom ho shook his loan face and matted 
 locks, smiled ghastly at that sign that release and death 
 were near. Within the enclosures, either lay supine, or 
 stalked restless, the withered remains of the wild army. 
 A sheep, and a horse, and a dog, were yet left them all 
 to share for the day's meal. Aud the fire of flieVcring 
 and crackling brushwood burned bright from a hollow 
 amidst the loose stones ; but the animals were yet unslain, 
 and the dog crept by the fire, winking at it with dim 
 oyes. 
 
 But over the lower part of the wall nearest to the 
 barrow, leant three men. Tlio wall there was so broken, 
 that they could gaze over it on tliat grotesque yet dismal 
 court ; and the eyes of the three men,, with a fierce and 
 wolfish glare, were bent on Gryffyth, 
 
 •Logos Wttllioto. 
 31* 
 
866 HAROLD. 
 
 Three princes were they of the great old line ; far as 
 G-ryffyth they traced the fabulous honors of their race, 
 to Hu-Gadarn and Prydain, and each thought it shame 
 that G-ryffyth should be lord over him I Each had had 
 throne and court of his own ; each his "white palace" 
 of peeled willow wands — poor substitutes, O kings, for 
 the palaces and towers that the arts of Rome had be- 
 queathed your fathers I And each had been suV)jugated 
 by the son of Llewyllyn, when, in his day of might, he 
 reunited under his sole sway all the multiform principali- 
 ties of Wales, and regained, for a moment's splendor, 
 the throne of Roderic the Great. 
 
 "Is it," said Owain, in a hollow whisper, "for yon 
 man, whom Heaven hath deserted, who could not keep 
 his very torque from the gripe of the Saxon, that we are 
 to die on these hills, gnawing the flesh from our bones ? 
 Think ye not the hour is come?" 
 
 " The hour will come, when the sheep, and the horse, 
 and the dog are devoured," replied Modred, " and when 
 the whole force, as one man, will cry ^o Gryflfyth, ' Thou 
 a king ! — give us bread ! ' " 
 
 " It is well," said the third, an old man, leaning on a 
 wand of solid silver, while the mountain wind, sweeping 
 between the walls, played with the rags of his robe, — 
 "it is well that the night's sally, less of war than of 
 I'-inger, was foiled even of forage and food. Had the 
 iaints been with Gryffyth, who had dared to keep faith 
 ff-ilh Tostig the Saxon ? " 
 
 Owain laughed, a laugh hollow and false. 
 
HAROIiD. 367 
 
 "Art thou Cymrian, and talkest of faith with a Saxon f 
 Faith with the spoiler, the ravisher, and butcher ? But 
 a Cymrian keeps faith with revenge ; and Gryffyth's trunk 
 should be still crownless and headless, though Tostig had 
 never proffered the barter of safety and food. Hist I 
 Gryffyth wakes from the black dream, and his eyes glow 
 from under his hair." 
 
 And indeed at this moment the king raised himself on 
 his elbow, and looked round with a haggard and fierce 
 despair in his glittering eyes. 
 
 " Play to us, harper ; sing some song of the deeds of 
 old 1 " 
 
 The bard mournfully strove to sweep the harp, but the 
 chords were broken, and the note came discordant and 
 shrill as the sigh of a wailing fiend. 
 
 " king 1 " said the bard, " the music hath left the 
 harp." 
 
 " Ha 1 " murmured Gryffyth, " and hope the earth ! 
 Bard, answer the son of Llewyllyn. Oft in my halls hast 
 thou sung the praise of the men that have been. In the 
 halls of the race to come, will bards yet unborn sweep 
 their harps to the deeds of thy king ? Shall they tell of 
 the 3ay of Torques, by Llyn-Afange, when the princes 
 of Powys fled from his sword as the clouds from the blast 
 of the wind ? Shall they sing, as the Hirlas goes round, 
 o( his steeds of the sea, when no flag came in sight of 
 h prows between the dark isle of the Draid * and the 
 
 * Mona, or Anglesea. 
 
3G8 H A R I, D*. 
 
 green pasiure^j of Huerdan ? * Or the towns that he 
 lired, on the lands of the Saxon, when Rolf and the 
 Northmen ran fast from his javelin and spear ? Or say, 
 Child of Truth, if all that is told of Gryffyth thy king 
 shall be hia woe and his shame ? " 
 
 The bard swept his hand over his eyes and answered, — 
 
 "Bards unborn shall sing of GryflFyth the son of 
 Llewyllyn. But the song shall not dwell on the pomp 
 of his power, when twenty sub-kings knelt at his throne, 
 and his beacon was lighted in the holds of the Norman 
 and Saxon. Bards shall sing of the hero, who fought 
 every inch of crag and morass in the front of his men, — 
 and on the heights of Penmaen-mawr, Fame recovers thy 
 crown ! " 
 
 " Then I have lived as my fathers in life, and, shall live 
 with their glory in death I " said Gryffyth ; " and so the 
 shadow hath passed from my soul." Then turning round, 
 still propped upon his elbow, he fixed his proud eye upoa 
 Aldyth, and said, gravely, " Wife, pale is thy face, and 
 gloomy thy brow : mournest thou the throne or the 
 man ?" 
 
 Aldyth cast on her wild lord a look of more terror 
 than compassion, a look without the grief that is gentle, 
 or the love that reveres; and answered, — 
 
 " What matter to thee my thoughts or my sufferings ? 
 The sword or the famine is the doom thou hast chosen. 
 Listening to vain dreams from thy bard, or thine c wn 
 
 * Ireland. 
 
HAROLD. 869 
 
 pride as idle, thou disdainest life for us both : be it so ; 
 let us die 1 " 
 
 A strange blending of fondness and wrath troubled 
 the pride on Gryffyth's features, uncouth and half-savage 
 as they were, but still noble and kingly. 
 
 " And what terror has death, if thou lovest me ? " 
 said he. 
 
 Aldyth shivered and turned aside. The unhappy king 
 gazed hard on that face, which, despite sore trial and 
 recent exposure to rough wind and weather, still retained 
 the proverbial beauty of the Saxon women — but beauty 
 without the glow of the heart, as a landscape from which 
 sun-light has vanished ; and as he gazed, the color went 
 and came fitfully over his swarthy cheeks, whose hue con- 
 trasted the blue of his eye, and the red tawny gold of his 
 shaggy hair. 
 
 " Thou wouldst have me," he said at length, "send to 
 Harold thy countryman ; thou wouldst have me, me — 
 rightful lord of all Britain — beg for mercy, and sue for 
 life. Ah, traitress, and: child of robber-sires, fair as 
 Rowena art thou; but no Vortimer am I ! Thou turnest 
 in loathing from the lord whose marriage-gift was a 
 crcwn ; and the sleek form of thy Saxon Harold rises up 
 through the clouds of the carnage." 
 
 All the fierce and dangerous jealousy of man's most 
 human passion — when man loves and hates in a breath- 
 trembled in the Cymrian's voice, and fired his troubled 
 eye ; for Aldyth 's pale cheek blushed like the rose, but 
 
 31* T 
 
370 HAROLD. 
 
 she folded her arms haughtily on her breast, and made 
 no reply. 
 
 " No," said Gryffyth, grinding teeth, white * and strong 
 as those of a young hound. " No, Harold in vain sent 
 me the casket ; the jewel was gone. In vain thy form 
 returned to my side ; thy heart was away with thy cap- 
 tor : and not to save my life (were I so base as to seek 
 it), but to see once more the face of him to whom this 
 cold hand, in whose veins no pulse answers my own, had 
 been given, if thy House had consulted its daughter, 
 wouldst thou have me crouch like a lashed dog at the 
 feet of my foe ? Oh shame 1 shame ! shame I Oh worst 
 perfidy of all ! Oh sharp — sharper than Saxon sword 
 or serpent's tooth, is — is " 
 
 Tears gushed to those fierce eyes, and the proud king 
 dared not trust to his voice. 
 
 Aldyth rose coldly. " Slay me if thou wilt — not insult 
 me. I have said, ' Let us die 1 ' " 
 
 With these words, and vouchsafing no look on her 
 lord, she moved away towards the largest tower or cell, 
 in which the single and rude chamber it contained had 
 been set apart for her. 
 
 Gryffyth's eye followed her, softening gradually as her 
 form receded, till lost to his sight. And then that pecu- 
 liar household love, which in uncultivated breasts often 
 survives trust and esteem, rushed back on his rough 
 
 * The Welch were then, and still are, remarkable for the beauty 
 of their teeth. Giraldus Cambrensis observes, as somethiug veiy 
 extraordinary, that they cleaned them 
 
HAROLD. ill 
 
 heart, and weakened it, as woman only can weaken the 
 strong' to whom Death is a thought of scorn. 
 
 He signed to his bard, who, during the conference be- 
 tween wife and lord, had retired to a distance, and said, 
 with a writhing attempt to smile — 
 
 " Was there truth, thinkest thou, in the legend, that 
 Gnenever was false to King Arthur?" 
 
 " No," answered the bard, divining his lord's thought, 
 " for Guenever survived not the king, and they were 
 buried side by side in the vale of Avallon." 
 
 " Thou art wise in the lore of the heart, and love hath 
 been thy study from youth to grey hairs. . Is it love, is 
 it hate, that prefers death for the loved one, to the 
 thought of her life as another's ? " 
 
 A look of the tenderest compassion passed over the 
 bard's wan face, but vanished in reverence, as he bowed 
 his head and answered — 
 
 " king, who shall say what note the wind calls from 
 the harp, or what impulse love wakes in the soul — now 
 soft and now stern ? But," he added, raising his form, 
 and with a dread calm on his brow, "but the love of a 
 king brooks no thought of dishonor, and she who hath 
 laid her head on his breast should sleep in his grave." 
 
 " Thou wilt outlive me," said Gryffyth, abruptlj. 
 " This cam be my tomb 1 " 
 
 "And if so," said the bard, "thou shalt sleep not 
 alone. In this cam what thou lovest best shall be buried 
 by thy side ; the bard shall raise his song over thy grave, 
 »nd the bosses of shields shall be placed at intervals, as 
 
372 HAROLD. 
 
 rises and falls the sound of song. Over the grave of 
 two shall a new mound arise, and we vcill bid the monnd 
 speak to others in the far days to come. But distant yet 
 be the hour when ^e mighty shall be laid low I and the 
 tongue of thy bard may yet chant the rush of the lion 
 from the toils and the spears. Hope still I " 
 
 Gryffyth, for answer, leant on the harper's shoulder, 
 and pointed silently to the sea, that lay lake-like at the 
 distance, dark — studded with the Saxon fleet. Then 
 turning, his hand stretched over the forms that, hollow- 
 eyed and ghost-like, flitted between the walls, or lay 
 dying, but mute, around the water-spring. His hand 
 then dropped, and rested on the hilt of his sword. 
 
 At this moment there was a sudden commotion at the 
 outer entrance of the wall ; the crowd gathered to one 
 spot, and there was a loud hum of voices. In a few mo- 
 ments one of the Welch scouts came into the enclosure, 
 and the chiefs of the royal tribes followed him to the 
 cam on which the king stood. 
 
 " Of what tellest thou ?" said Gryffyth, resuming on 
 the instant all the royalty of his bearing. 
 
 "At the mouth of the pass," said the scout, kneeling, 
 •' there are a monk bearing the holy rood, and a chief, 
 unarmed. And the monk is Evan, the Cymrian, of 
 G wentland ; and the chief, by his voice, seemeth not to 
 be Saxon. The monk bade me give thee these tokens " 
 (and the scout displayed the broken torque which the 
 king had left in the grasp of Harold, together with a live 
 falcon belled and blinded), " and bade me say thus to thn 
 
HAaOLD. 373 
 
 king — Harold the Earl greets Gryfifyth, son of Llewellyn, 
 and sends him, in proof of good-will, the richest prize 
 he hath ever won from a foe ; and a hawk, from Llan- 
 dudno J — that bird which chief and equal give to equal 
 and chief. And he prays Gryffyth, son of Llewellyn, for 
 the sake of his realm and his people, to grant hearing 
 to his nuncius." 
 
 A murmur broke from the chiefs — a murmur of joy 
 and surprise from all, save the three conspirators, who 
 interchanged anxious and fiery glances. Gryfiyth's hand 
 had already closed, while he uttered a cry that seemed 
 of rapture, on the collar of gold; for the loss of that 
 collar had stung him, perhaps, more than the loss of the 
 crown of all Wales. And bis heart, so generous and 
 large, amidst all its rude passions, was touched by the 
 speech and the tokens that honored the fallen outlaw, 
 both as foe and as king. Yet in his face there was still 
 seen a moody and proud struggle ; he paused before he 
 turned to the chiefs. 
 
 "What counsel ye — ye strong in battle, and wise in 
 debate ? " said he. 
 
 With one voice all, save the Fatal Three, exclaimed : 
 
 " Hear the monk, O king 1 " 
 
 " Shall we dissuade ? " whispered Modred to the old 
 chief, his accomplice. 
 
 "No ; for so doing, we shall offend all: — and we musl 
 win all." 
 
 Then the bard stepped into the ring. And the ring 
 
 L— 32 
 
Sli HAROLD. 
 
 was hashed, for wise is ever the counsel of him whose 
 book is the human heart. 
 
 " Hear the Saxons," said he, briefly, and with an air 
 of command when adressing others, which contrasted 
 strongly his tender respect to the king ; " hear the 
 Saxons, but not in these walls. Let no man from the 
 foe see our strength or our weakness. We are still 
 mighty and impregnable, while our dwelling is in the 
 realm of the Unknown. Let the king, and his officers 
 of state, and his chieftains of battle, descend to the pass. 
 And behind, at the distance, let the spearsmen range 
 from cliff to cliff, as a ladder of steel ; so will their 
 numbers seem the greater." 
 
 " Thou speakest well," said the king. 
 
 Meanwhile, the knight and the monk waited below at 
 that terrible pass,* which then lay between mountain 
 and river, and over which the precipices frowned, with a 
 sense of horror and weight. Looking up, the knight 
 murmured — 
 
 " With those stones and crags to roll down on a 
 marching army, the place well defies storm and assault ; 
 and a hundred on the height would overmatch thousands 
 below." 
 
 He then turned to address a few words, with all the 
 far-famed courtesy of Norman and Frank, to the Welch 
 guards at the outpost. They were . picked men ; the 
 strongest and best armed and best fed of the group. But 
 
 * I believe it was not till the last century that a good road took 
 the place of this pass 
 
HAROLD. 37S 
 
 they shook their heads and answered not, gazing at him 
 fiercely and showing their white teeth, as dogs at a bear 
 before they are loosened from the band. 
 
 " They understand me not, poorlanguageless savages I" 
 said Mallet de Graville, turning to the monk, who stood 
 by with the lifted rood ; " speak to them in their own 
 jargon." 
 
 " Nay,'' said the Welch monk, who, though of a rival 
 tribe from South Wales, and at the service of Harold, 
 was esteemed throughout the land for piety and learning, 
 " they will not open mouth till the king's orders come to 
 receive, or dismiss us unheard." 
 
 " Dismiss us unheard I " repeated the punctilious Nor- 
 man ; " even this poor barbarous king can scarcely be so 
 strange to all comely and gentle usage, as to put such 
 insult on Guillaume Mallet de Graville. But," added 
 the knight, coloring, " I forgot that he is not advised of 
 my name and land ; and, indeed, sith thou art to be 
 spokesman, I marvel why Harold should have prayed my 
 service at all, at the risk of subjecting a Norman knight 
 to affronts contumelious." 
 
 " Peradventure," replied Evan, " perad venture thou 
 hast something to whisper apart to the king, which, as 
 stranger and warrior, none will venture to question ; but 
 which from me, as countryman and priest, would excite 
 the jealous suspicions of those around him." 
 
 "I conceive thee," said De Graville. "And see, 
 spears are gleaming down the path ; and, per pedes 
 Domini, yon chief with the iliantle, and circlet of gold 
 
376 HAKOLD. 
 
 on liis heart, is the cat-king that so spitted and scratched 
 i». the melee last night." 
 
 "Heed well thy tongue," said Evan, alarmed; "no 
 jests with the leader of men." 
 
 " Knowest thou, good monk, that a facete and raofst 
 gcntil Roman (if the saintly writer, from whom I take 
 the citation, reports aright — for alas 1 I know not whero 
 myself tc purchase, or to steal, one copy of Horatius 
 Flaccus) hath said, ' Dulce est desipere in loco.' It is 
 sweet to jest, but not within reach of claws, whether of 
 kaisars or cats." 
 
 Therewith the knight drew up his spare but stately 
 figure ; and, arranging his robe with grace and dignity, 
 awaited the coming chief. 
 
 Down the pass, one by one, came first the chiefs, 
 privileged by birth to attend the king ; and each, as he 
 reached the mouth of the pass, drew on the upper side, 
 among the stones of the rough ground. Then a banner, 
 tattered and torn, with the lion ensign that the Welch 
 princes had substituted for the old national dragon, 
 which the Saxons of Wessex had appropriated to them- 
 selves,* preceded the steps of the king. Behind tim 
 
 * The Saxons of Wessex seem to iiave adopted the dragoii for 
 their ensign, from an early period. It was probably for this reason 
 that it was assumed by Edward Ironsides, as the hero of the Saxons ; 
 the principality of Wessex forming the most important portion of 
 the pure Saxon race, while its founder was the ancestor of the 
 imperial house of Basileus of Britain. The dragon seems also to 
 have been a Norman ensign. The lions or leopards, popularly 
 assigned to the Conqueror, are fcertainly a later invention. There 
 
HAROLD. 371 
 
 came his falconer and bard, and the rest of his scanty 
 household. The king halted in the pass, a few steps 
 from the Norman, knight ; and Mallet de Graville, thoagh 
 accustomed to the majestic mien of Duke William, and 
 the practised state of the princes of France and Flan- 
 ders, felt an involuntary thrill of admiration at the bear- 
 ing of the great child of Nature with his foot on his 
 fathers' soil. 
 
 Small and slight as was his stature, worn and ragged 
 his mantle of state, there was that in the erect mien and 
 steady eye of the Cymrian hero, which showed one con- 
 scious of authority, and potent in will ; and the wave of 
 his hand to the knight was the gesture of a prince on his 
 throne. Nor, indeed, was that brave and ill-fated chief 
 without some irregular gleams of mental cultivation, 
 which, under happier auspices, might have centered into 
 steadfast light. Though the learning which had once ex- 
 isted in Wales (the last legacy of Rome) had long since 
 expired in broil and blood, and youths no longer flocked 
 to the colleges of Caerleon, and priests no longer adorned 
 the casuistical theology of the age, Gryffyth himself, the 
 
 IS no appearance of them on the banners and shields of the Norman 
 army in the Bayeux tapestry. Armorial bearings were in use 
 amongst the Welch, and even the Saxons, long before heraldry was 
 reduced to a science by the Franks and Normans ; and the dragon, 
 •which is supposed by many critics to be borrowed from the east, 
 through the Saracens, certainly existed as an armorial ensign with 
 the Cymrians before they could have had any obligation to the 
 songs and legends of that people. 
 
 32* 
 
318 HA BOLD. 
 
 son of a wise and famous father,* had received an eduea 
 tion beyond the average of Saxon kings. But, intensely 
 national, his mind had turned from all other literature, 
 to the legends, and songs, and chronicles of his land ; and 
 if he is the best scholar who best understands his own 
 tongue and its treasures, Gryffyth was the most erudite 
 prince of his age. His natural talents, for war especially, 
 were considerable ; and judged fairly — not as mated with 
 an empty treasury, without other army than the capri- 
 cious will of his subjects afforded ; and, amidst his bitter- 
 est foes in the jealous chiefs of his own country, against 
 the disciplined force and comparative civilization of the 
 Saxon — but as compared with all the other princes of 
 Wales, in warfare, to which he was habituated, and in 
 which chances were even, the fallen son of Llewellyn had 
 been the most renowned leader that Cymry had known 
 since the death of the great Roderic. 
 
 So there he stood ; his attendants ghastly with famine, 
 drawn up on the unequal ground ; above, on the heights, 
 and rising from the stone crags, long lines of spears art- 
 fully placed ; and, watching him with deathful eyes, some- 
 what in his rear, the Traitor Three. 
 
 " Speak, father, or chief," said the Welch king in hia 
 native tongue ; " what would Harold the earl, of Gryffyth 
 the king ? " 
 
 Then the monk took up the word and spoke. 
 
 * " In whose time the earth brought forth double, and there waa 
 neither beggar nor poor man from the North to the South Sea." — 
 Powell's Eiai. of Wales, p. 83. 
 
HAROLD. 37& 
 
 " Health to GryfFyth-ap-LlewellyD, his chiefs and his 
 people ! Thus saith Harold, King Edward's thegn : — 
 By land, all the passes are watched ; by sea, all the waves 
 are our own. Our swords rest in our sheaths ; but Famine 
 marches each hour to gride and to slay. Instead of sure 
 death from the hunger, take sure life from the foe. Free 
 pardon to all, chiefs and people, and safe return to their 
 homes, — save GryfFyth alone. Let him come forth, not 
 as victim and outlaw, not with bent form and clasped 
 hands, but as chief meeting chief, with his household of 
 state. Harold will meet him, in honor, at the gates of 
 the fort. Let GryfFyth submit to King Edward, and ride 
 with Harold to the Court of the Basileus. Harold 
 promises him life, and will plead for his pardon. And 
 though the peace of this realm, and the fortune of war, 
 forbid Harold to say, ' Thou shalt yet be a king ; ' yet thy 
 crown, son of Llewellyn, shall at least be assured in the 
 line of thy fathers, and the race of Cadwallader shall still 
 reign in Cymry." 
 
 The monk paused, and hope and joy were in the faces 
 of the famished chiefs ; while two of the Traitor Three 
 suddenly left their post, and sped to tell the message to 
 the spearmen and multitudes above. Modred, the third 
 conspirator, laid his hand on his hilt, and stole near to 
 see the face of the king ; the face of the king was dark 
 and angry, as a midnight of storm. 
 
 Then, raising the cross on high, Evan resumed. 
 
 "And T, though of the people of Gwentland, which the 
 arms of Gryffyth have wasted, and whose prince fell her 
 
380 HAAOLD, 
 
 ueath Gryffyth's &word on the hearth of his hall — I, as 
 God's servant, the brother of all I behold, and, as son of 
 the soil, mourning over the slaughter of its latest defend- 
 ers, — I, by this symbol of love and command, which I 
 raise to the heaven, adjure thee, king, to give ear to 
 the mission of peace, — to cast down the grim pride of 
 earth. Apd, instead of the crown of a day, fix thy hopes 
 on the crown everlasting. For much shall be pardoned 
 to thee in thine hour of pomp and of conquest, if now 
 thou savest from doom and from death the last lives over 
 which thou art lord." 
 
 It was during this solemn appeal, that the knight, 
 marking the sign announced to him, and, drawing eloso 
 to Gryffyth, pressed the ring into the king's hand, and 
 whispered, — 
 
 " Obey by this pledge. Thou knowest Harold is true, 
 and thy head is sold by thine own people." 
 
 The king cast a haggard eye at the speaker, and then 
 at the ring, over which his hand closed with a convulsive 
 spasm. And, at that dread instant, the man prevailed 
 over the king ; and far away from people and monk, from 
 adjuration and duty, fled his heart on the wings of the 
 storm — fled to the cold wife he distrusted ; and the pledge 
 that should assure him of life, seemed as a love-token 
 insulting his fall : — Amidst all the roar of roused pas- 
 sions, loudest of all was the hiss of the jealous fiend. 
 
 As the monk ceased, the thrill of the audience was 
 perceptible, and a deep silence was followed by a general 
 murmur, as if to constrain the king. 
 
HAROLD. S81 
 
 Tben the pride of tbe despot chief rose np to seconCi 
 the wrath of the suspecting man. The red spot flushed 
 the dark cheek, and he tossed the neglected hair from his 
 brow. 
 
 He made one stride towards the monk, and said, in a 
 voice loud, and deep, and slow, rolling far up the hill, — 
 
 " Monk, thou hast said ; and now hear the reply of the 
 son of Llewellyn, the true heir of Roderic the Great, who 
 from the heights of Eryri saw all the lands of the Cym- 
 rian sleeping under the dragon of TJther. King was I 
 born, and king will I die. I will not ride by the side of 
 the Saxon to the feet of Edward, the son of the spoilei'. 
 I will not., to purchase base life, surrender the claim, vain 
 before men and the hour, but solemn before God and 
 posterity — the claim of my line and my people. All 
 Britain is ours — all the Island of Pines. And the child- 
 ren of Hengist are traitors and rebels — not the heirs of 
 Ambrosins and TJther. Say to Harold the Saxon, Ye 
 have left us but the tomb of the Druid and the hills of 
 the eagle ; but freedom and royalty are ours, in life and 
 in death — not for you to demand them, not for us to be- 
 tray. Nor fear ye, my chiefs, few, but unmatched in 
 glory and truth ; fear not ye to perish by the hunger thus 
 denounced as our doom, on these heights that command 
 the frnita of our own fields 1 No, die we may, but not 
 mute and revengeless. Go back, whispering warrior; 
 go back, false son of Cymry — and tell Harold to look 
 well to his walls and his trenches. We will vouchsafe 
 him grace for his grace — we will not take him by sur* 
 
882 HAROLD. 
 
 prise, nor under cloud of the night. With the glfam of 
 ur spears and the clash of our shields, we will come from 
 the hill ; and, famine-worn as he deems us, hold a feast 
 in his walls which the eagles of Snowdon spread their 
 pinions to share 1 " 
 
 "Rash man and unhappy!" cried the monk; "what 
 curse drawest thou down on thy head ! Wilt thou be the 
 murtherer of thy men, in strife unavailing and vain ? 
 Heaven holds thee guilty of all the blood thou shalt 
 cause to be shed." 
 
 "Be dumb I — hush thy screech, lying raven!" ex- 
 claimed Gryffyth, his eyes darting fire, and his slight form 
 dilating. " Once, priest and monk went before us to in- 
 spire, not to daunt ; and our cry, Allelulia I was taught 
 us by the saints of the Church, on the day when Saxons, 
 fierce and many as Harold's, fell on the field of Maes- 
 Garmon. No, the curse is on the head of the invader, 
 not on those who defend hearth and altar. Yea, as the 
 song to the bard, the curse leaps through my veins, and 
 rushes forth from my lips. By the land they have 
 ravaged ; by the gore they have spilt ; on these crags, our 
 last refuge ; below the earn on yon heights, where the 
 Dead stir to hear me, — I launch the curse of the wronged 
 and the doomed on the children of Hengist ! They in 
 turn shall know the steel of the stranger — their crown 
 shall be shivered as glass, and their nobles be as slaves 
 in the land. And the line of Hengist and Cerdic shall 
 be rased from the roll of empire. And the ghosts of our 
 fathers shall glide, appeased, over the grave of their 
 
HAROLD. 383 
 
 nation. But we — we, though weak in the body, in the 
 Boul shall be strong to the last ! The ploughshare may 
 pass over our cities, but the soil shall be trod by our 
 Bteps, and our deeds keep our language alive in the songs 
 of our bards. Nor, in the great Judgment Day, shall 
 any race but the race of Cymry rise from their graves 
 in this corner of earth, to answer for the sins of the 
 brave I ' * 
 
 So impressive the voice, so grand the brow, and sub- 
 lime the wild gesture of the king, as he thus spoke, that 
 not only the monk himself was awed ; not only, though 
 he understood not the words, did the Norman knight 
 bow his head, as a child when the lightning he fears as 
 by instinct, flashes out from the cloud, — but even the 
 sullen and wide-spreading discontent at work among most 
 of the chiefs was arrested for a moment. But the spear- 
 men and multitude above, excited by the tidings of safety 
 to life, and worn out by repeated defeat, and the dread 
 
 * " During the military expeditions made in our days against 
 South Wales, an old Welchman at Penoadair, who had faithfully 
 adhered to him (Henry II.), being desired to give his opinion about 
 the royal army, and whether he thought that of the rebels would 
 make resistance, and what he thought would be the final event of 
 this war, replied : ' This nation, king, may now, as in former 
 times, be harassed, and, in a great measure, be weakened and de- 
 stroyed by you and other powers; and it will often prevail by ita 
 laudable exertions, but it can never be totally subdued by the 
 wrath of man, unless the wrath of God shall concur. Nor do I 
 think that any other nation than this of Wales, or any other language 
 (whatever may hereafter come to pass), shall in the day of severe ex- 
 amination before the Supreme Judge answer for this corner of titf. 
 tarth!'" — Hoare's Giraldus Cambremie, vol. i. p. 361. 
 
384 H A U L P . 
 
 fear of famine, too remote to hear the king, were listening 
 eagerly to the Insidious addresses of the two stealthy con- 
 spirators, creeping from rank to rank ; and already they 
 began to sway and move, and sweep slowly down towards 
 the king. 
 
 Recovering his surprise, the Norman again neared 
 GryfFyth, and began to re-urge his mission of peace. But 
 the chief waved him back sternly, and said aloud, though 
 in Saxon : — 
 
 " No secrets can pass between Harold and me. This 
 much alone, take thou back as answer: — I thank the 
 earl, for myself, my queen, and my people. Noble have 
 been his courtesies, as foe ; as foe I thank him — as king, 
 defy. The torque he hath returned to my hand, he shall 
 see again ere the sun set. Messengers, ye are answered. 
 Withdraw, and speed fast, that we may pass not your 
 steps on the road." 
 
 The monk sighed, and cast a look of holy compassion 
 over the circle ; and a pleased man was he to see in the 
 faces of most there, that the king was alone in his fierce 
 defiance. Then lifting again the rood, he turned away, 
 an 3 with him went the Norman. 
 
 The retirement of the messengers was the signal for 
 one burst of remonstrance from the chiefs — the signal for 
 the voice and the deeds of the Fatal Three. Down from 
 the heights sprang and rushed the angry and turbulent 
 muldtudes ; round the king came the bard and the 
 falconer, and some faithful few. 
 
 The great uproar of many voices caused the monk 
 
HAROLD. 385 
 
 and the knight to pause abruptly in their descent, and 
 turn to look behind. They could see the crowd rushing 
 down from the higher steeps ; but on the spot itself which 
 they had so lately left, the nature of the ground only per- 
 mitted a confused view of spear-points, lifted swords, anti 
 heads crowned with shaggy locks, swaying to and fro. 
 
 "What means all this commotion ?" asked the knight, 
 with his hand on his sword. 
 
 " Hist ! " said the monk, pale as ashes, and leaning for 
 support upon the cross. 
 
 Suddenly, above the hubbub, was heard the voice of 
 the king, in accents of menace and wrath, singularly dis- 
 tinct and clear ; it was followed by a moment's silence — 
 a moment's silence followed by the clatter of arms, a yell, 
 and a howl, and the indescribable shock of men. 
 
 And suddenly again was heard a voice that seemed 
 that of the king, but no longer distinct and r]e&v I — was 
 it laugh ? — was it gruat f 
 
 All was hushed ; the monk was on his knees in prayer ; 
 the knight's sword was bare in his hand. All was hushed 
 ■ — and the spears stood still in the air; when there was 
 again a cry, as multitudinous but less savage than before. 
 And the Welch came down the pass, and down the crags. 
 
 The knight placed his back to a rock. "They have 
 orders to mnrther us," he murmured ; " but woe to the 
 first who come within reach of my swor4 I " 
 
 Down swarmed the Welchmen, nearer and nearer ; and 
 in the midst of them three chiefs— the Fatal Three. And 
 the old chief bore in his hand a pole or spear, and on tne 
 
 I. — 33 z 
 
386 HAROLD. 
 
 top of that spear, trickling gore step by step, was the 
 trunkless head of Gryffyth the king. 
 
 " This," said the old chief, as he drew near, " this is 
 our answer to Harold the earl. We will go with ye." 
 
 " Food I food 1 " cried the multitude. 
 
 And the three chiefs (one on either side the trunkless 
 head that the third bore aloft) whispered, "We are 
 avenged I " 
 
 ■ KD 01' THS rilSX VOIiVMI. 
 
HAROLD 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
HAROLD, 
 
 THE LAST OF THE SAXON KIFGS. 
 BOOK EIGHTH. 
 
 FATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Some days after the tragical event with which the last 
 chapter closed, the ships of the Saxons were assembled 
 in the wide waters of Conway ; and on the small fore- 
 deck of the stateliest vessel, stood Harold, bare-headed, 
 before Aldyth the widowed queen. For the faithful bard 
 had fallen by the side of his lord ; . . . . the dark pro- 
 mise was unfulfilled, and the mangled clay of the jealous 
 Gryffyth slept alone in the narrow bed. A chair of state, 
 with dossell and canopy, was set for the daughter of 
 Algar, and behind, stood maidens of Wales, selected in 
 haste for her attendants. 
 
 But Aldyth had not seated herself; and, side by side 
 with her dead lord's great victor, thus she spoke : — 
 
 " Woe worth the day and the hour when Aldyth left 
 I* (5) 
 
6 HAROLD. 
 
 the hall of her fathers, and the land of her birth I Her 
 robe of a queen has been rent and torn over an aching 
 heart, and the air she has breathed has reeked as with 
 blood. I go forth, widowed, and homeless, and lonely ; 
 but my feet shall press the soil of my sires, and my lips 
 draw the breath which came sweet and pure to my child- 
 hood. And thou, Harold, standest beside me, like the 
 shape of my own youth, and the dreams of old come back 
 at the sound of thy voice. Fare thee well, noble heart, 
 and true Saxon. Thou hast twice saved the child of thy 
 foe — first from shame, then from famine. Thou wouldst 
 have saved my dread lord from open force, and dark 
 murder ; but the saints were wroth, the blood of my 
 kinsfolk, shed by his hand, called for vengeance, and the 
 shrines he had pillaged and burned murmured doom from 
 their desolate altars. Peace be with the dead, and peace 
 with the living I I shall go back to my father and 
 brethren ; and if the fame and life of child and sister be 
 dear to them, their swords will never more leave their 
 sheaths against Harold. So thy hand, and God guard 
 thee ! " 
 
 Harold raised to his lips the hand which the queen 
 extended to him ; and to Aldyth now seemed restored 
 (he rare beauty of her youth ; as pride and sorrow gave 
 her the charm of emotion, which love and duty had failed 
 to bestow. 
 
 " Life and health to thee, noble lady," said the earl 
 " Tell thy kindred from me, that for thy sake, and thy 
 grandsire's, I would fain be th^ir brother and friend ; 
 
HAROLD. 7 
 
 were they but united with me, all England were now safe 
 against every foe, and each peril. Thy daughter already 
 awaits thee in the halls of Morcar ; and when time haa 
 Bcarred the wounds of the past, may the joys re-bloom 
 in the face of thy child. Farewell, noble Aldyth I " 
 
 He dropped the hand he had held till then, turned 
 slowly to the side of the vessel, and re-entered his boat. 
 As he was rowed back to shore, the horn gave the signal 
 for raising anchor, and the ship righting itself, moved 
 majestically through the midst of the fleet. But Aldyth 
 still stood erect, and her eyes followed the boat that bore 
 away the secret love of her youth. 
 
 As Harold reached the shore, Tostig and the Norman, 
 who had been conversing amicably together on the beach, 
 advanced towards the earl. 
 
 " Brother," said Tostig smiling, " it were easy for thee 
 to console the fair widow, and bring to our House all the 
 force of East Anglia and Mercia." Harold's face slightly 
 changed, but he made no answer. 
 
 "A marvellous fair dame," said the Norman, " notwith- 
 standing her cheek be somewhat pinched, and the hue 
 sunburnt. And I wonder not that the poor cat-king kept 
 her so close to his side." 
 
 " Sir Norman," said the earl, hastening to change the 
 (subject, " the war is now over, and, for long years, Wales 
 will leave our marches in peace. — This eve I propose to 
 ride nence towards London, and we will converse by the 
 way. " 
 
 " Go y Du so soon ? " cried the knight, surprised. " Shall 
 
» HAROLP. 
 
 you not take means utterly to subjugate this troublesome 
 race, parcel out the lands among your thegns, to hold as 
 martial fiefs at need, build towers and forts on the heights, 
 and at the river-mouths ? — where a site, like this, for 
 some fair castle and vawmure ? In a word, do you Saxons 
 merely overrun, and neglect to hold what you win ? " 
 
 " We fight in self-defence, not for conquest. Sir Nor- 
 man. We have no skill in building castles ; and I pray 
 you not to hint to my thegns the conceit of dividing a 
 land, as thieves would their plunder. King Gryflfyth is 
 dead, and his brothers will reign in his stead. England 
 has guarded her realm, and chastised the aggressors. 
 What need England do more ? We are not like our first 
 barbarous fathers, carving out homes with the scythe of 
 their ssexes. The wave settles after the flood, and the 
 races of men after lawless convulsions." 
 
 Tostig smiled, in disdain, at the knight, who mused a 
 little over the strange words he had heard, and then 
 silently followed the earl to the fort. 
 
 But when Harold gained his chamber, he found there 
 an express, arrived in haste from Chester, with the news, 
 that Algar, the sole enemy and single rival of his power, 
 was no more. Fever, occasioned by neglected wounds, 
 had stretched him impotent on a bed of sickness, and his 
 fierce passions had aided the march of disease ; the rest- 
 less and profitless race was run. 
 
 The first emotion which these tidings called forth, was 
 that of- pain. The bold sympathize with the bold ; and 
 in great hearts, there is always a certain friendship for a 
 
HAROLD. S 
 
 gallant foe. But recovering the shock of that first im« 
 pression, Harold could not but feel that England was 
 freed from its most dangerous subject — himself from the 
 only obstacle apparent to the fulfilment of his luminous 
 career. 
 
 " Now, then, to London," whispered the voice of his 
 ambition. " Not a foe rests to trouble the peace of that 
 empire which thy conquests, O Harold, have made more 
 secure and compact than ever yet has been the realm of 
 the Saxon kings. Thy way through the country that 
 thou hast henceforth delivered from the fire and sword 
 of the mountain ravager, will be one march of triumph, 
 like a Roman's of old ; and the voice of the people will 
 echo the hearts of the army ; those hearts are thine own. 
 Verily Hilda is a prophetess ; and when Edward rests 
 with the saints, from what English heart will not burst 
 the cry, 'Long live Harold the King?'" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Norman rode by the side of Harold, in the rear 
 of the victorious armament. The ships sailed to their 
 havens, and Tostig departed to his northern earldom. 
 
 "And now," said Harold, " I am at leisure to thank 
 thee, brave Norman, for more than thine aid In council 
 and war — at leisure now to turn to the last prayer of 
 Sweyp, and the often-shed tears of Githa my mother, for 
 
10 HAEOLD. 
 
 Wolnoth the exile. Thou seest with thine own eyes that 
 there is no longer pretext or plea for thy count to detain 
 these hostages. Thou shalt hear from Edward himself 
 that he no longer asks sureties for the faith of the House 
 of Godwin ; and I cannot think that Duke "William would 
 have suffered thee to bring me over this news from the 
 dead if he were not prepared to do justice to the living." 
 
 " Your speech, Earl of Wessex, goes near to the truth. 
 But, to speak plainly and frankly, I think William, my 
 lord, hath a keen desire to welcome in person a chief so 
 illustrious as Harold, and I guess that he keeps the host- 
 ages to make thee come to claim them." The knight, as 
 he spoke, smiled gaily ; but the cunning of the Normau 
 gleamed in the quick glance of his clear hazel eye. 
 
 " Fain must I feel pride at such wish, if you flatter me 
 not," said Harold; "and I would gladly myself, now the 
 land is in peace, and my presence not needful, visit a 
 court of such fame. I hear high praise from cheapman 
 and pilgrim of Count William's wise care for barter and 
 trade, and might learn much from the ports of the Seine 
 that would profit the marts of the Thames. Much, too, 
 I hear of Count William's zeal to revive the learning of 
 the Church, aided by Lanfranc the Lombard ; much I 
 hear of the pomp of his buildings, and the grace of his 
 court. All this would I cheerfully cross the ocean to 
 see ; but all this would but sadden my heart if I returned 
 .without Haco and Wolnoth." 
 
 "I dare not speak so as to plight faith for the duke," 
 said the Norman, who, though sharp to deceive, had that 
 
HAKOLD. 11 
 
 rein on his conscience that it did not let him openly lie ; 
 "but this I do know, that there are few things in hie 
 countdom which my lord would not give to clasp the 
 right hand of Harold, and feel assured of his friendship." 
 
 Though wise and far-seeing, Harold was not suspicious ; 
 — no Englishman, unless it were Edward himself, knew 
 the secret pretensions of William to the English throne ; 
 and he answered simply : — 
 
 " It were well, indeed, both for Normandy and Eng- 
 land, both against foes and for trade, to be allied and 
 well-liking. I will think over your words. Sire de Gra- 
 ville, and it shall not be my fault if old feuds be not for- 
 gotten, and those now in thy court be the last hostages 
 ever kept by the Norman for the faith of the Saxon." 
 
 With that he turned the discourse ; and the aspiring 
 ind able envoy, exhilarated by the hope of a successful 
 mission, animated the way by remarks — alternately lively 
 and shrewd — which drew the brooding earl from those 
 musings which had now grown habitual to a mind once 
 clear and open as the day. 
 
 Harold had not miscalculated the enthusiasm his vic- 
 tories had excited. Where he passed, all the towns poured 
 forth their populations to see and to hail him ; and on 
 arriving at the metropolis, the rejoicings in his honor 
 seemed to equal those which had greeted, at the acces- 
 sion of Edward, the restoration of the line of Cerdic. 
 
 According to the barbarous custom of the age, thfl 
 head of the unfortunate sub-king, and the prow of his 
 special war-ship, had been sent to Edward as the trophies 
 
12 HAROLD 
 
 of conquest : but Harold's uniform moderation respected 
 the living. The race of Gryffyth * were re-established 
 on the tributary throne of that hero, iu the persons of his 
 brothers, Blethgent and Rigwatle, " and they swore 
 oaths," says the graphic old chronicler, "and delivered 
 hostages to the king and the earl that they would be 
 faithful to him in all things, and be everywhere ready for 
 him, by water and by land, and make snch renders from 
 the land as had been done before to any other king." 
 Not long after this, Mallet de Graville returned to Nor- 
 mandy, with gifts for William from King Edward, and 
 special requests from that prince, as well as from the earl, 
 to restore the hostages. But Mallet's acuteness readily 
 perceived, that in much, Edward's mind had been alienated 
 from William. It was clear, that the duke's marriage, 
 and the pledges that had crowned the union, were dis- 
 tasteful to the asceticism of the saint-king : and with 
 Godwin's death, and Tostig's absence from the court, 
 seemed to have expired all Edward's bitterness towards 
 that powerfu. family of which Harold was now the head. 
 Still, as no subject out of the house of Cerdic had ever 
 yet been elected to the Saxon throne, there was no ap- 
 prehension on Mallet's mind that in Harold was the true 
 rival to William's cherished aspirations. Though Ed- 
 ward the Athehng was dead, his son Edgar lived, the 
 natural heir to the throne ; and the Norman (whose liege 
 had succeeded to the duchy at the age of eight) was not 
 
 * Gryffyth left a son, Caradoo ; but he was put aside as a minor, 
 according to the Saxon customs. 
 
HAROLD. 18 
 
 sufficiently cognizant of the invariaole custom of the 
 Anglo-Saxons, to set aside, whether for kingdoms or for 
 earldoms, all claimants unfitted for rule by their tender 
 years. He could indeed perceive that the young Athel 
 ing's minority was in favor of his Norman liege, and 
 wonld render him but a weak defender of the realm, and 
 Uiat there seemed no popular attachment to the infant 
 orphan of the Germanized exile : his name was never 
 mentioned at the court, nor had Edward acknowledged 
 him as heir, — a circumstance which he interpreted aus- 
 piciously for William. Nevertheless, it was clear that, 
 both at court and amongst the people, the Norman in- 
 fluence in England was at the lowest ebb ; and that the 
 only man who could restore it, and realize the cherished 
 dreams of his grasping lord, was Harold the all-powerful. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Tkusting, for the time, to the success of Edward's 
 urgent demand for the release of his kinsmen, as well as 
 his own, Harold was now detained at the court by all 
 those arrears of business which had accumulated fast 
 under the inert hands of the monk-king during the pro- 
 longed campaigns against the Welch ; but he had leisure 
 at least for frequent visits to the old Roman house ; and 
 those visits were not more grateful to his love than to the 
 harder and more engrossing passion which divided hia 
 heart. 
 
 II.— 2 
 
l4 HAROLD. 
 
 The nearer he grew to the dazzh'ng object, to the pos- 
 session of which Pate seemed to have shaped all circum- 
 Btances, the more he felt the charm of those mystic in- 
 fluences which his colder reason had disdained. He who 
 is ambitious of things afar, and uncertain, passes at once 
 into the Poet-Land of Imagination; to aspire and to 
 imagine are yearnings twin-born. 
 
 When in his fresh youth and his calm lofty manhood, 
 Harold saw action, how adventurous soever, limited to 
 the barriers of noble duty ; when he lived but for his 
 country, all spread clear before his vision in the sunlight 
 of day ; but as the barriers receded, while the horizon 
 extended, his eye left the Certain to rest on the Vague. 
 As self, though still half concealed from his conscience, 
 gradually assumed the wide space love of country had 
 filled, the maze of delusion commenced ; he was to shape 
 fate out of circumstance, — no longer defy fate through 
 virtue ; and thus Hilda became to him as a voice that 
 answered the questions of his own restless heart. He 
 needed encouragement from the Unknown to sanction 
 his desires and confirm his ends. But Edith, rejoicing in 
 the fair fame of her betrothed, and content in the pure 
 rapture of beholding him again, reposed in the divine 
 credulity of the happy hour ; she marked not, in Harold's 
 visits, that, on entrance, the earl's eye sought first the 
 stern face of the Vala — she wondered not why those two 
 conversed in whispers together, or stood so often at 
 moonlight by the Runic grave. Alone, of all woman- 
 kind, she felt that Harold loved her,— that that love had 
 
HAKOLD. 15 
 
 braved time, absence, change, and hope deferred ; — and 
 she knew not that what love has most to dread in the 
 wild heart of aspiring man, is not persons, but things, — 
 is not things, but their symbols. 
 
 So weeks and months rolled on, and Duke William re- 
 turned no answer to the demands for his hostages. And 
 Harold's heart smote him, that he neglected his brother's 
 prayer and his mother's accusing tears. 
 
 Now Githa, since the death of her husband, had lived 
 in seclusion and apart from town ; and one day Harold 
 was surprised by her unexpected arrival at the large tim- 
 bered house in London, which had passed to his posses- 
 sion. As she abruptly entered the room in which he sate, 
 he sprang forward to welcome and embrace her ; but she 
 waved him back with a grave and mournful gesture, and, 
 sinking on one knee, she said thus : — 
 
 " See, the mother is a suppliant to the son for the son. 
 No, Harold, no — I will not rise till thou hast heard me. 
 Four years, long and lonely, have I lingered and pined, 
 — long years I Will my boy know his mother again? 
 Thou hast said to me, 'Wait till the messenger returns.' 
 1 have waited. Thou hast said, ' This time the count 
 cannot resist the demand of the king.' I bowed my head 
 and submitted to thee as I had done to Godwin my lord. 
 And Ihavenottillnowclaimed thy promise ; for I allowed 
 thy country, thy king, and thy fame to have claims more 
 strong than a mother. Now I tarry no more ; now no 
 more will I be amused and deceived. Thine hours are 
 thine own — free thy coming and thy going. Harold, I 
 
16 HAROLD. 
 
 claim thine oath. Harold, I touch thy right hand. Ha. 
 rold, I remind thee of thy troth and thy plight, to croas 
 the seas thyself, and restore the child to the mother." 
 
 " Oh, rise, rise I " exclaimed Harold, deeply moved. 
 " Patient hast thou been, my mother, and now I will 
 linger no more, nor hearken to other voice than your 
 own. I will seek the king this day, and ask his leave to 
 cross the sea to Duke William." 
 
 Then Githa rose, and fell on the earl's breast weeping. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It so chanced, while this interview took place between 
 Githa and the earl, that Gurth, hawking in the wood- 
 lands round Hilda's house, turned aside to visit his 
 Danish kinswoman. The prophetess was absent, but he 
 was told that Edith was within ; and Gurth, about to be 
 united to a maiden who had long won his noble affec- 
 tions, cherished a brother's love for his brother's fair 
 betrothed. He entered the gynoecium, and there still, as 
 when we were first made present in that chamber, sate 
 the maids, employed on a work more brilliant to the eye, 
 and more pleasing to the labor, than that which had then 
 tasked their active hands. They were broidering into a 
 tissue of the purest gold the eflBgy of a fighting warrior, 
 designed by Hilda for the banner of Earl Harold ; and, 
 removed from the awe of their mistress, as they worked, 
 
HAKOLD. i1 
 
 their tongues sang gaily, and it was in the midst of ^ong 
 and laughter that the fair young Saxon lord entered the 
 chamber. The babble and the mirth ceased at his en- 
 trance ; each voice was stilled, each eye cast down de- 
 murely. Edith was not amongst them, and, in answer to 
 his inquiry, the eldest of the maidens pointed towards 
 the peristyle without the house. 
 
 The winning and kindly thegn paused a few moments, 
 to admire the tissue and commend the work, and then 
 sought the peristyle. 
 
 Near the water-spring that gushed free and bright 
 through the Roman fountain, he found Edith, seated in 
 an attitude of deep thought and gloomy dejection. She 
 started as he approached, and, springing forward to meet 
 him, exclaimed : — 
 
 " O Gurth, Heaven hath sent thee to me, I know well, 
 though I cannot explain to thee why, for I cannot ex- 
 plain it to myself; but know I do, by the mysterious 
 bodements of my own soul, that some great danger is at 
 this moment encircling thy brother Harold. Go to him, 
 I pray, I implore thee, forthwith ; and let thy clear sense 
 and warm heart be by his side." 
 
 " I will go instantly," said Gurth, startled. " But do 
 not suffer, I adjure thee, sweet kinswoman, the supersti- 
 tion that wraps this place, as a mist wraps a marsh, to 
 inf^;; thy pure spirit. In my early youth I submitted to 
 the influence of Hilda ; I became man, and outgrew it. 
 Much, secretly, has it grieved me of late, to see that our 
 kinswoman's Danish lore has brought even the strong 
 2* 2a 
 
18 HAROLD. 
 
 heart cf Harold under its spell ; and where once he only 
 spoke of duty, I now hear him speak of fateJ" 
 
 "Alas! alas 1 " answered Edith, wringing her hands: 
 " when the bird hides its head in the brake, doth it shut 
 out the track of the hound ? Can we baffle fate by re- 
 fusing to heed its approaches ? But we waste precious 
 moments. Go, Gurth, dear Gurth 1 Heavier and darker, 
 while we speak, gathers the cloud on my heart" 
 
 Gurth said no more, but hastened to remount his steed ; 
 and Edith remained alone by the Roman fountain, mo- 
 tionless and sad, as if the Nymph of the old Religion 
 stood there to see the lessening stream well away from 
 uhe shattered stone, and know that the life of the nymph 
 was measured by the ebb of the stream. 
 
 Gurth arrived in London just as Harold was taking 
 boat for the palace of Westminster, to seek the king ; 
 and after interchanging a hurried embrace with his mo- 
 ther, he accompanied Harold to the palace, and learned 
 his errand by the way. While Harold spoke, he did not 
 foresee any danger to be incurred by a friendly visit to 
 the Norman court ; and the interval that elapsed between 
 Harold's communication and their entrance into the 
 king's chamber, allowed no time for mature and careful 
 reflection. 
 
 Edward, on wnom years and infirmity had increased 
 of late with rapid ravage, heard Harold's request with a 
 grave and deep attention, which he seldom vouchsafed to 
 earthly affairs. And he remained long silent after his 
 brother-in-law had finished ; so long silent, that the earl, 
 
HAKOLD. Id 
 
 at first, deemed that he was absorbed in one of those 
 mystic and abstracted reveries, in which, more and more 
 as he grew nearer to the borders of the "World Unseen, 
 Edward so strangely indulged. But, looking more close, 
 both he and Gurth were struck by the evident dismay on 
 the king's face, while the collected light of Edward's cold 
 eye showed that his mind was awake to the human world. 
 In truth, it is probable that Edward, at that moment, 
 V as recalling rash hints, if not promises, to bis rapacious 
 cousin of Normandy, made during his exile. And sensi- 
 ble of his own declining health, and the tender years of 
 the young Edgar, he might be musing over the terrible 
 pretender to the English throne, whose claims his earlier 
 indiscretion might seem to sanction. Whatever his 
 thoughts, they were dark and sinister, as at length he 
 said, slowly — 
 
 " Is thine oath indeed given to thy niother, and doth 
 she keep thee to it ? " 
 
 " Both, O king," answered Harold, briefly. 
 
 "Then I can gainsay thee not. And thou, Harold, 
 art a man of this living world ; thou playest here the 
 part of a centurion ; thou sayest, ' Come,' and men come 
 — ' Go,' and men move at thy will. Therefore thou 
 mayest well judge for thyself. I gainsay thee not, nor 
 interfere between man and his vow. But think not," 
 continued the king, in a more solemn voice, and with 
 increasing emotion, "think not that I will charge my 
 soul that I counselled or encouraged this errand. Yea, 
 
20 HAROLD. 
 
 I foresee that thy journey will lead but to great evil to 
 England, and sore grief or dire loss to thee."* 
 
 "How so, dear lord and king ?" said Harold, startled 
 by Edward's unwonted earnestness, though deeming it 
 but one of the visionary chimeras habitual to the saint. 
 " How so ? William thy cousin hath ever borne the 
 name of one fair to friend, though fierce to foe. And 
 foul indeed his dishonor, if he could meditate harm to a 
 man trusting his faith, and sheltered by his own roof- 
 tree." 
 
 " Harold, Harold," said Edward, impatiently, "I know 
 William of old. Nor is he so simple of mind, that he 
 will cede aught for thy pleasure, or even to my will, unless 
 it bring some gain to himself.f I say no more. — Thou 
 art cautioned, and I leave the rest to Heaven." 
 
 It is the misfortune of men little famous for worldly 
 lore, that on those few occasions when, in that sagacity 
 caused by their very freedom from the strife and passion 
 of those around, they seem almost prophetically inspired 
 — it is their misfortune to lack the power of conveying 
 to others their own convictions ; they may divine, but 
 they cannot reason ; and Harold could detect nothing to 
 deter his purpose, in a vague fear, based on no other 
 argument than as vague a perception of the duke's 
 general character. But Gurth, listening less to his reason 
 than his devoted love for his brother, took alarm, and 
 said, after a pause : 
 
 * Bromtou Chron. : Knyghton, Walsingham, Hovedeo, &c. 
 ■j- Bromton, Knyghton, &o. 
 
HAROLD. 21 
 
 " Thinkest thou, good my king, that the same danger 
 ■were incurred if Gurth, instead of Harold, crossed the 
 seas to denaand the hostages ? " 
 
 " No," said Edward, eagerly, " and so would I counsel. 
 William would not have the same objects to gain in 
 practising his worldly guile upon thee. " No ; methinks 
 that were the prudent course." 
 
 "And the ignoble one for Harold," said the elder 
 brother, almost indignantly. " Howbeit, I thank thee 
 gratefully, dear king, for thy affectionate heed and care ; 
 and so the saints guard thee ! " 
 
 On leaving the king, a warm discussion between the 
 brothers took place ; but Gurth's arguments were stronger 
 than those of Harold, and the earl was driven to rest his 
 persistence on his own special pledge to Githa. As soon, 
 however, as they had gained their home, that plea was 
 taken from him ; for the moment Gurth related to his 
 mother Edward's fears and cautions, she, ever mindful 
 of Godwin's preference for the earl, and his last com- 
 mands to her, hastened to release Harold from his 
 pledge ; and to implore him at least to suffer Gurth to 
 be his substitute to the Norman court. "Listen dis- 
 passionately," said Gurth; "rely upon it that Edward 
 has reasons for his fears, more rational than those he has 
 given to ns He knows William from his youth upward, 
 and hath loved him too well to hint doubts of his good 
 faith without just foundation. Are there no reasons why 
 danger from 'William should be special against thyself 
 While the Normans abounded in the court, there were 
 
22 H A E LD . 
 
 rumors that the dnke had some designs on England, 
 which Edward's preference seemed to sanction : such 
 designs now, in the altered state of England, were absurd 
 • — too frantic for a prince of William's reputed wisdom 
 to entertain ; yet, he may not unnaturally seek to regain 
 the former Norman influence in these realms. He knows 
 that in you he receives the most powerful man in 
 England ; that your detention alone would convulse the 
 country from one end of it to the other ; and enable him, 
 perhaps, to extort from Edward some measures dishonor- 
 able to us all ; but against me, he can harbor no ill 
 design — my detention would avail him nothing. And, 
 iu truth, if Harold be safe in England, Gurth must be 
 safe in Rouen. Thy presence here at the head of our 
 armies guarantees me from wrong. But reverse the case, 
 and with Gurth in England, is Harold safe in Rouen ? 
 I, but a simple soldier, and homely lord, with slight in- 
 fluence over Edward, no command in the country, and 
 little practised of speech in the stormy Witan — I am 
 just so great that Wiljiam dare not harm me, but not so 
 great that he should even wish to harm me." 
 
 " He detains our kinsmen, why not thee ? " said Harold. 
 
 '' Because with our kinsmen he has at least the pretext 
 that they were pledged as hostages ; because I go simply 
 as guest and envoy. No, to me danger cannot come : be 
 ruled, dear Harold." 
 
 "Be ruled, my son," cried Githa, clasping the earl's 
 knees, " and do not let me dread, in the depth of the 
 
HAROLD. 23 
 
 nigtt, to see the shade of Godwin, and hear his voice 
 say, ' Woman, where is Harold ? " 
 
 It was impossible for the earl's strong understanding 
 to resist the arguments addressed to it ; and, to say truth, 
 he had been more disturbed than he liked to confess, by 
 Edward's sinister forewarnings ; yet, on the other hand, 
 there were reasons against his acquiescence in Gurth'a 
 proposal. The primary, and, to do him justice, the 
 strongest, was in his native courage and his generous 
 pride. Should he, for the first time in his life, shrink 
 from a peril in the discharge of his duty — a peril, too, so 
 uncertain and vague ? Should he suffer Gurth to fulfil 
 the pledge he himself had taken ? And granting even 
 that Gurth were safe from whatever danger he individu- 
 ally might incur, did it become him to accept the proxy ? 
 Would Gurth's voice, too, be as potent as his own in 
 effecting the return of the hostages ? 
 
 The next reasons that swayed him were those he could 
 not avow. In clearing his way to the English throne, it 
 would be of no mean importance to secure the friendship 
 of the Norman duke, and the Norman acquiescence in his 
 pretensions ; it would be of infinite service to remove 
 those prepossessions against his House which were still 
 rife with the Normans, who retained a bitter remembrance 
 of their countrymen decimated,* it was said, with the 
 
 * The word " decimated " is the one generally applied by the 
 historians to the massacre in question ; and it is therefore retained 
 here ; but it is not correctly applied ; for that butchery was perpe- 
 trated, not upon one out of ten, but nine out of ten. 
 
24 HAROLD. 
 
 concurreuce if not at the order of Godwin, when they ac 
 companied the ill-fated Alfred to the English shore, and 
 who were yet sore with their old expulsion from the 
 English court at the return of his father and himself. 
 
 Though it could not enter into his head that William, 
 possessing no party in England, could himself aspire to 
 the English crown, yet at Edward's death, there might be 
 pretenders whom the Norman arms could find ready 
 excuse to sanction. There was the boy Atheling, on the 
 one side ; there was the valiant Norwegian King Har- 
 drada on the other, who might revive the claims of his 
 predecessor Magnus as heir to the rights of Canute. So 
 near and so formidable a neighbor as the count of the 
 Normans, every object of policy led him to propitiate ; 
 and Gurth, with his unbending hate of all that was 
 Norman, was not, at least, the most politic envoy he 
 could select for that end. Add to this, that despite their 
 present reconciliation, Harold could never long count 
 upon amity with Tostig ; and Tostig's connection with 
 William, through their marriages into the House of 
 Baldwin, was full of danger to a new throne, to which 
 Tostig would probably be the most turbulent subject ; 
 the influence of this connection how desirable to counter, 
 act I* 
 
 * The above reasons for Harold's memorable expedition are 
 Bketched at this length, because they suggest the most probabla 
 motives which induced it, and furnish, in no rash and inconsiderate 
 policy, that key to his visit, which is not to be found in chronicler 
 QT historian 
 
HAROLD. 25 
 
 Nor eould Harold, who, as patriot and statesman, felt 
 deeply the necessity of reform and regeneration in the 
 decayed edifice of the English monarchy, willingly lose 
 an occasion to witness all that William had done to raise 
 BO high in renown and civilization, in martial fame and 
 commercial prosperity, that petty duchy, which he had 
 placed on a level with the kingdom of the Teuton and the 
 Frank. Lastly, the Normans were the special darlings 
 of the Roman church. William had obtained the dis- 
 pensation to his own marriage with Matilda ; and might 
 not the Norman iuflueuce, duly conciliated, back the 
 prayer which Harold trusted one day to address to the 
 pontiff, and secure to him the hallowed blessing, without 
 which ambition lost its charm, and even a throne its 
 splendor ? 
 
 All these considerations, therefore, urged the earl to 
 persist in his original purpose ; but a warning voice in 
 his heart, more powerful than all, sided with the prayer 
 of Githa, and the arguments of Gurth. In this state of 
 irresolution, Gurth said seasonably, — 
 
 "Bethink thee, Harold, if menaced but with peril to 
 thyself, thou wouldst have a brave man's right to resist 
 ns ; but it was of ' great evil to England ' that Edward 
 spoke, and thy reflection must tell thee, that in this 
 crisis of our country, danger to thee is evil to England 
 — evil to England thou hast no right to incur." 
 
 "Dear mother, and generous Gurth," said Harold, 
 then joining the two in one embrace, "ye have well-nigh 
 •ionquered. Give me but two days to ponder well, and 
 
 ir. — 3 
 
26 HAROLD. 
 
 tie assured that I will not decide from the rash prompt- 
 ings of an ill-considered judgment." 
 
 Farther than this they could not then move the earl ; 
 but Gurth was pleased shortly afterwards to see him de- 
 part to Edith, whose fears, from whatever source they 
 sprang, would, he was certain, come in aid of his own 
 pleadings. 
 
 But as the earl rode alone towards the once stately 
 home of the perished Roman, and entered at twilight the 
 darkening forest-land, his thoughts were less on Edith 
 than on the Vala, with whom his ambition had more and 
 more connected his soul. Perplexed by his doubts- and 
 left dim in the waning lights of human reason, never 
 more involuntarily did he fly to some guide to interpret 
 the future, and decide his path. 
 
 As if fate itself responded to the cry of his heart, he 
 suddenly came in sight of Hilda herself, gathering leaves 
 from elm and ash amidst the woodland. 
 
 He sprang from his horse and approached her. 
 
 "Hilda," said he, in a low but firm voice, "thou hast 
 often told me that the dead can advise the living. Raise 
 thou the Sein-laeca of the hero of old — raise the Ghost, 
 which mine eye, or my fancy, beheld before, vast and dim 
 by the silent bautastein, and I will stand by thy side. 
 Fain would I know if thou hast deceived me and thyself; 
 or if, in truth, to man's guidance Heaven doth vouchsafe 
 saga aad rede from those who have passed into the secret 
 Bhores of eternity." 
 
 " The dead," answered Hilda, " will not reveal them- 
 
HAROLD. 27 
 
 selves to eyes nninitiate, save at their own will, uncom 
 pelled by charm and rune. To me their forms can appear 
 distinct through the airy flame ; to me, duly prepared by 
 spells that purge the eye of the spirit, and loosen the 
 walls of the flesh. I cannot say that what I see in the 
 traice and the travail of my soul, thou also wilt behold ; 
 for even when the vision hath passed from my sight, and 
 the voice from my ear, only memories, confused and dim, 
 of what I saw and heard, remain to guide the waking 
 and common life. But thou shalt stand by my side while 
 I invoke the phantom, and hear and interpret the words 
 which rush from my lips, and the runes that take meaning 
 from the sparks of the charmed fire. I knew ere thou 
 earnest, by the darkness and trouble of Edith's soul, that 
 some shade from the ash-tree of life had fallen upon 
 thine." 
 
 Then Harold related what had passed, and placed 
 before Hilda the doubts that beset him. 
 
 The prophetess listened with earnest attention ; but 
 her mind, when not under its most mystic influences, 
 being strongly biassed by its natural courage and ambi- 
 tion, she saw at a glance all the advantages towards 
 securing the throne predestined to Harold, which might 
 he effected by his visit to the Norman court, and she held 
 in too great disdain both the worldly sense and the mystic 
 reveries of the monkish king (for the believer in Odin 
 was naturally incredulous of the visitation of the Christian 
 saints), to attach much weight to his dreary predictions. 
 
 The short reply she made was therefore not calculated 
 
28 HAROLD. 
 
 to deter Harold from the expedition in dispute ; but she 
 deferred till the following night, and to wisdom more 
 dread than her own, the counsels that should sway hia 
 decision. 
 
 With a strange satisfaction at the thought that he 
 should, at least, test personally the reality of those as- 
 sumptions of preternatural power which had of late 
 colored his resolves and oppressed his heart, Harold then 
 took leave of the Vala, who returned mechanically to her 
 employment ; and, leading his horse by the rein, slowly 
 continued his musing way towards the green knoll and 
 its heathen ruins. But ere he gained the hillock, and 
 while his thoughtful eyes were bent on the ground, he 
 felt his arm seized tenderly — turned — and beheld Edith's 
 face full of unutterable and anxious love. 
 
 With that love, indeed, there was blended so much 
 wistfulness, so much fear, that Harold exclaimed, — 
 
 " Soul of my soul, what hath chanced ? what affects 
 thee thus ? " 
 
 " Hath no danger befallen thee ? " asked Edith, falter- 
 ingly, and gazing on his face with wistful, searching eyes. 
 
 " Danger ! none, sweet trembler," answered the earl, 
 evasively. 
 
 Edith dropped her eager looks, and clinging to his 
 arm, drew him on silently into the forest land. She paused 
 at last, where the old fantastic trees shut out the view of 
 the ancient ruins ; and when, looking round, she saw not 
 those grey gigantic shafts which mortal hand seemed 
 never to have piled together, she breathed more freely. 
 
HAROLD. 29 
 
 " Speak to me," then said Harold, bending his face to 
 ners ; " why this silence ? " 
 
 "Ah, Harold 1 " answered his betrothed, " thou kuowest 
 that ever since we have loved one another, my existence 
 hath been but a shadow of thine ; by some weird and 
 strange mystery, which Hilda would explain by the stars 
 or the fates, that have made me a part of thee, I know 
 by the lightness or gloom of my own spirit when good 
 or ill shall befall thee. How often, in thine absence, hath 
 a joy suddenly broke upon me I and I felt by that joy, as 
 by the smile of a good angel, that thou hadst passed safe 
 through some peril, or triumphed over some foe I And 
 now thou askest me why I am so sad ; — I can only an- 
 swer thee by saying, that the sadness is cast upon me by 
 some thunder-gloom on thine own destiny." 
 
 Harold had sought Edith to speak of his meditated 
 journey, but seeing her dejection he did not dare ; so he 
 drew her to his breast, and chid h«r soothingly for her 
 vain apprehensions. But Edith would not be comforted ; 
 there seemed something weighing on her mind and strug- 
 gling to her lips, not accounted for merely by sympathetic 
 forebodings ; and at length, as he pressed her to tell all, 
 she gathered courage and spoke, — 
 
 "Do not mock me," she said, "but what secret, whe- 
 ther of vain folly or of meaning fate, should I hold from 
 thee ? Al. this day I struggled in vain against the heavi- 
 ness of my forebodings. How I hailed the sight of Gnith 
 thy brother I I besonght him to seek thee — thou hast 
 seen him." 
 3* 
 
80 HAROLD. 
 
 " i have 1 " said Harold. " But thou wert about to 
 ■tell me of something more than this dejection." 
 
 " Well," resumed Edith, " after Gurth left me, my feet 
 sought involuntarily the hill on which vi^e have met so 
 often. I sate down near the old tomb, a strange weari- 
 ness crept on my eyes, and a sleep that seemed not wholly 
 sleep fell over me. I struggled against it, as if conscious 
 of some coming terror ; and as I struggled, and ere I 
 slept, Harold, — yes, ere I slept, — I saw distinctly a pale 
 and glimmering figure rise from the Saxon's grave. I 
 saw — I see it still 1 Oh, that livid front, those glassy 
 eyes 1 " 
 
 "The figure of a warrior?" said Harold, startled. 
 
 " Of a warrior, armed as in the ancient days, armed 
 like the warrior that Hilda's maids are working for thy 
 banner. I saw it ; and in one hand it held a spear, and 
 in the other a crown." 
 
 "A crown ! — Say on, say on." 
 
 " I saw no more ; sleep, in spite of myself, fell on me, 
 a sleep full of confused and painful — rapid and shapeless 
 images, till at last this dream rose clear. I beheld a 
 bright and starry shape, that seemed as a spirit, yet wore 
 thine aspect, standing on a rock ; and an angry torrent 
 rolled between the rock and the dry, safe land. The 
 waves began to invade the rock, and the spirit unfurled 
 its wings as to flee. And then foul things climbed up 
 from the slime of the rock, and descended from the mists 
 of the troubled skies, and they coiled round the wings 
 and clogged them. 
 
HAROLD. ■ 81 
 
 " Then a voice cried in my ear, — ' Seest thou not on 
 the perilous rock the Soul of Harold the Brave ? — seest 
 thou not that the waters engulf it, if the wings fail to 
 flee ? Up, Truth, whose strength is in purity, whose 
 image is woman, and aid the soul of the brave I ' I 
 sought to spring to thy side ; but I was powerless, and, 
 behold, close beside me, through my sleep and through a 
 veil, appeared the shafts of the ruined temple in which I 
 lay reclined. And, methought, I saw Hilda sitting alone 
 by the Saxon's grave, and pouring from, a crystal vessel 
 black drops into a human heart which she held in her 
 hands : and out of that heart grew a child, and out of 
 that child a youth, with dark mournful brow. And the 
 youth stood by thy side and whispered to thee : and 
 from his lips there came a reeking smoke, and in that 
 smoke as in a blight the wings withered up. And I 
 heard the Voice say, — ' Hilda, it is thou that hast de- 
 stroyed the good angel, and reared from the poisoned 
 heart the loathsome tempter ? ' And I cried aloud, but 
 it was too late ; the waves swept over thee, and above 
 the waves there floated an iron helmet, and on the helmet 
 was a golden crown — the crown I had seen in the hand 
 of the spectre ! " 
 
 " But this is no evil dream, my Edith," said Harold 
 
 gaily. 
 
 Edith, unheeding him, continued, — 
 
 " I started from my sleep. The sun was still high — 
 the air lulled and windless. Then through the shafts 
 and down the hill there glided in that clear waking day- 
 
82 HAROLD. 
 
 light, a grisly shape like that which I have heard our 
 maidens say the witch-hags, sometimes seen in the forest, 
 assume ; yet in trnth, it seemed neither of man nor wo- 
 man. It turned its face once towards me, and on that 
 hideous face were the glee and hate of a triumphant 
 fiend. Oh, Harold, what should all this portend ?" 
 
 " Hast thou not asked thy kinswoman, the diviner of 
 dreams ?" 
 
 " I asked Hilda, and she, like thee, only murmured 
 ' The Saxon crown 1 ' But if there be faith in those airy 
 children of the night, surely, O adored one, the vision 
 forebodes danger, not to life, but to soul ; and the words 
 I heard seemed to say that thy wings were thy valor, and 
 the Fylgia thou hadst lost was, — no, that were impossi- 
 ble—" 
 
 " That my Fylgia was Truth, which losing, I were in- 
 deed lost to thee. Thou dost well," said Harold loftily, 
 " to hold that among the lies of the fancy. All else may, 
 perchance, desert me, but never mine own free soul. 
 Self-reliant hath Hilda called me in mine earlier days, 
 and — wherever fate casts me, — in my truth, and my love, 
 and ray dauntless heart, I dare both man and the fiend." 
 
 Edith gazed a moment in devout admiration on the 
 mien of her hero-lover, then she drew close and closer to 
 his breast, consoled and believing. 
 
HAROLD. 83 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WiTU all her persuasion of her own powers in pene- 
 irating the future, we have seen that Hilda had never 
 consulted her oracles on th« fate of Harold, without a 
 dark and awful sense of the ambiguity of their responses. 
 That fate, involving the mightiest interests of a great 
 race, and connected with events operating on the farthest 
 times and the remotest lands, lost itself to her prophetic 
 ken amidst omens the most contradictory, shadows and 
 lights the most conflicting, meshes the most entangled. 
 Her human heart, devoutly attached to the earl through 
 her love for Edith, — her pride obstinately bent on se- 
 curing to the last daughter of her princely race that 
 throne, which all her vaticinations, even when most 
 gloomy, assured her was destined to the man with whom 
 Edith's doom was interwoven, combined to induce her to 
 the most favorable interpretation of all that seemed 
 flinister and doubtful. But according to the tenets of 
 that peculiar form of magic cultivated by Hilda, the 
 comprehension became obscured by whatever partook of 
 human sympathy. It was a magic wholly distinct from 
 the malignant witchcraft more popularly known fo us, 
 and which was equally common to the GermanL and 
 Scandinavian heathens. 
 
 3* 2r 
 
34 HAEOLD. 
 
 The magic of Hilda was rather akin to the old Cim- 
 brian Alirones, or sacred prophetesses ; and, as with 
 them, it demanded the priestess, — that is, the person 
 without human ties or emotions, a spirit clear as a mirror, 
 upon which the great images of destiny might be cast 
 untroubled. 
 
 However the natural gifts and native character of 
 Hilda might be perverted by the visionary and delusive 
 studies habitual to her, there was in her very infirmities a 
 grandeur, not without its pathos. In this position which 
 she had assumed between the earth and the heaven, she 
 stood so solitary and in such chilling air, — all the doubts 
 that beset her lonely and daring soul came in such 
 gigantic forms of terror and menace ! — On the verge of 
 the mighty Heathenesse sinking fast into the night of 
 ages, she towered amidst the shades, a shade herself; 
 and round her gathered the last demons of the Dire Be- 
 lief, defying the march of their luminous foe, and con- 
 centering round their mortal priestess, the wrecks of their 
 horrent empire over a world redeemed. 
 
 All the night that succeeded her last brief conference 
 with Harold, the Vala wandered through the wild forest 
 land, seeking haunts or employed in collecting herbs, 
 hallowed to her dubious yet solemn lore ; and the last 
 stars were receding into the cold grey skies, when, re- 
 turning homeward, she beheld within the circle of the 
 Druid temple a motionless object, stretched on the 
 ground near the Teuton's grave ; she approached, and 
 perceived what seemed a corpse, it was so still and stiff 
 
HAROLD. 85 
 
 iu its repose, and the face upturned to t\ie stars was so 
 haggard and death-like ; — a face horrible to behold ; the 
 evidence of extreme age was wriwen on the shrivelled 
 livid skin and the deep furrows, but the expression re- 
 tained that intense malignity which belongs to a power 
 of life that extreme age rarely knows. The garb, which 
 was that of a remote fashion, was foul and ragged, and 
 neither by the garb, nor by the face, was it easy to guess 
 what was the sex of this seeming corpse. But by a 
 strange and peculiar odor that rose from the form, and a 
 certain glistening on the face, and the lean folded hands, 
 Hilda knew that the creature was one of those witches, 
 esteemed of all the most deadly and abhorred, who, by 
 the application of certain ointments, were supposed to 
 possess the art of separating soul from body, and, leaving 
 the last as dead, to dismiss the first to the dismal orgies 
 of the Sabbat. It was a frequent custom to select for 
 the place of such trances, heathen temples and ancient 
 graves. And Hilda seated herself beside the witch to 
 await the waking. The cock crowed thrice, heavy mists 
 began to arise from the glades, covering the gnarled 
 roots of the forest trees, when the dread face on which 
 Hilda calmly gazed, showed symptoms of returning life 1 
 a. strong convulsion shook the vague indefinite form under 
 Its huddled garments, the eyes opened, closed, — opened 
 again ; and what had a few moments before seemed a 
 dead thing, sate up and looked round. 
 
 "Wicca," said the Danish prophetess, with an accent 
 between contempt and curiosity, "for what mischief to 
 
86 HAEOLD. 
 
 beast or man hast thou followed the noiseless path of the 
 Dreams through the airs of Night 'I " 
 
 The creature gazed hard upon the questioner, from its 
 bleared but fiery eyes, and replied slowly, " Hail, Hilda, 
 the Morthwyrtha 1 why art thou not of us ; why comest 
 thou not to our revels ? Gay sport have we had to-night 
 with Faul and Zabulus ; * but gayer far shall our sport 
 bo in the wassail hall of Senlac, when thy grand-child 
 shall come in the torchlight to the bridal bed of her lord. 
 A buxom bride is Edith the Pair, and fair looked her 
 face in her sleep on yester noon, when I sate by her side, 
 and breathed on her brow, and murmured the verse that 
 blackens the dream ; but fairer still shall she look in her 
 sleep by her lord. Ha 1 ha I Ho 1 we shall be there, 
 with Zabulus and Faul ; we shall be there 1 " 
 
 " How ! " said Hilda, thrilled to learn that the secret 
 ambition she cherished was known to this loathed sister 
 in the art. " How dost thou pretend to that mystery of 
 the future, which is dim and clouded even to me ? Canst 
 thou tell when and where the daughter of the Norse 
 kings shall sleep on the breast of her lord ? " 
 
 A sound that partook of laughter, but was so unearthly 
 in its malignant glee that it seemed not to come from a 
 human lip, answered the Vala ; and as the laugh died 
 the witch rose, and said, 
 
 " Go and question thy dead, Morthwyrtha I Thou 
 
 * Faul was an evil spirit much dreaded by the Saxons. Zabulus 
 Rnd Diabolus (the Devil) seem to have been the same. 
 
HAROLD. 31 
 
 deemest thyself wiser than we are ; we wretched hags, 
 whom the ceorl seeks when his herd has the murrain, or 
 the girl when her false love forsakes her ; we, who have 
 no dwelling known to man, but are found at need in the 
 wold or the cave, or the side of dull slimy streams where 
 the murderess-mother hath drowned her babe. Askest 
 thou, Hilda, the rich and the learned, askest thou 
 counsel and lore from the daughter of Faul?" 
 
 " No," answered the Vala haughtily, "not to such as 
 thou, do the great Nomas unfold the future. What 
 knowest thou of the runes of old, whispered by the trunk- 
 less skull to the mighty Odin ? runes that control the 
 elements, and conjure up the Shining Shadows of the 
 grave. Not with thee will the stars confer; and thy 
 dreams are foul with revelries obscene, not solemn and 
 haunted with the bodements of things to come I Only I 
 marvelled, while I beheld thee on the Saxon's grave, 
 what joy such as thou can find in that life above life, 
 which draws upward the soul of the true Vala." 
 
 " The joy," replied the Witch, " the joy which comes 
 from wisdom and power, higher than you ever won with 
 your spells from the rune or the star. Wrath gives the 
 venom to the slaver of the dog, and death to the curse 
 of the Witch. When wilt thou be as wise as the hag 
 th ju despisest ? When will all the clouds that beset thee 
 roll away from thy ken ? When thy hopes are all crushed, 
 when thy passions lie dead, when thy pride is abased, 
 ji'lien thou art but a wreck, like the shafts of this temple, 
 through which the star-light can shine. Then only, thy 
 
 II. —4 
 
38 HAROLD. 
 
 soul will see clearly the sense of tbe runes, and then, 
 thou and I will meet on the verge of the Black Shore- 
 less Sea 1 " 
 
 So, despite all her haughtiness and disdain, did these 
 words startle the lofty Prophetess, that she remained 
 gazing into space long after that fearful apparition had 
 vanished, and up from the grass, which those obscene 
 steps had profaned, sprang the lark carolling. 
 
 But ere the sun had dispelled the dews on the forest 
 sward, Hilda had recovered her wonted calm, and, locked 
 within her own secret chamber, prepared the seid and the 
 runes for the invocation of the dead. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Resolving, should the auguries consulted permit him 
 to depart, to entrust Gurth with the charge of informing 
 Edith, Harold parted from his betrothed, without hint of 
 his suspended designs ; and he passed the day in making 
 all preparations for his absence and his journey, promis- 
 ing Gurth to give his final answer on the morrow, — when 
 either himself or his brother should depart for Rouen ; 
 bul more and more impressed with the arguments of 
 Gurth, and his own sober reason, and somewhat perhaps 
 influenced by the forebodings of Edith (for that mind, 
 once so constitutionally firm, had become tremulously 
 alive to such airy influences), he had almost prc.dcter- 
 
HAROLD. 39 
 
 mined to assent to his brother's prayer, when he departed 
 to keep his dismal appointment with the Morthwyrtha. 
 The night was dim, but not dark ; no moon shone, but 
 the stars, wan though frequent, gleamed pale, as from the 
 farthest deeps of the heaven ; clouds grey and fleecy 
 rolled slowly across the welkin, veiling and disclosing, by 
 turns, the melancholy orbs. 
 
 The Morthwyrtha, in her dark dress, stood within the 
 circle of stones. She had already kindled a fire at the 
 foot of the bautastein, and its glare shone redly on the 
 grey shafts ; playing through their forlorn gaps upon the 
 sward. By her side was a vessel, seemingly of pure 
 water, filled from the old Roman fountain, and its clear 
 surface flashed blood-red in the beams. Behind them, in 
 a circle round both fire and water, were fragments of 
 bark, cut in a peculiar form, like the head of an arrow, 
 and inscribed with the mystic letters ; nine were the frag- 
 ments, and on each fragment were graved the runes. In 
 her right hand the Morthwyrtha held her scid staff; her 
 feet were bare, and her loins girt by the Hnnnish belt, 
 inscribed with mystic letters ; from the belt hung a pouch 
 or gipsire of bear-skin, with plates of silver. Her face, 
 as Harold entered the circle, had lost its usual calm — it 
 was wild and troubled. 
 
 She seemed unconscious of Harold's presence, and her 
 eye, fixed and rigid, was as that of one in a trance.. 
 Slowly, as if constrained by some power not her own, 
 she began to move round the ring with a measured pace, 
 and at last her voice broke low, hollow, and internal, into 
 
40 HAKOLD. 
 
 a rugged chaunt, which may be thus imperfectly trans- 
 lated : — 
 
 " By the Urdar-fount dwelling. 
 
 Day by day from the rill, 
 The Nomas besprinkle 
 
 The ash Tgg-drassill.* 
 The hart bites the buds, 
 
 And the snake gnaws the root, 
 But the eagle all-seeing 
 
 Keeps watch on the fruit. 
 
 These drops on thy tomb 
 
 From the fountain I pour; 
 With the rune I invoke thee, 
 
 With flame I restore. 
 Dread Father of men 
 
 In the land of thy graye. 
 Give voice to the Vala, 
 
 And light to the Brave." 
 
 As she thus chanted, the Morthwyrtha now sprinkled 
 the drops from the vessel over the bautastein, — now one 
 by one cast the fragments of bark scrawled with runes on 
 the fire. Then, whether or not some glutinous or other 
 chemical materia^ had been mingled in the water, a pale 
 gleam broke from the grave-stone thus besprinkled, and 
 the whole tomb glistened in the light of the leaping fire. 
 From this light a mist of tbin smoke gradually rose, and 
 took, though vaguely, the outline of a vast human form ; 
 but so indefinite was the outline to Harold's eye, that 
 gazing on it steadily, and stilling with strong effort his 
 
 * Tgg-drassill, the mystio Ash-tree of Life, or symbol of the 
 earth, watered by the Fates. 
 
HAaOLS. 4t 
 
 loud heart, he knew not whether it was a phantom or a 
 vapor that he beheld. 
 
 The Vala paused, leaning on her staff, and gazing in 
 awe on the glowing stone, while the earl, with his arms 
 folded on his broad breast, stood hushed and motionless. 
 The sorceress recommenced — 
 
 "Mighty Bead, I revere thee, 
 Dim-shaped from the cloud, 
 With the light of thy deeds 
 For the web of thy shroud; 
 
 "As Odin consulted 
 
 Mimir's skull hollow-eyed,* 
 Odin's heir comes to seek 
 In the Phantom a guide." 
 
 As the Morthwyrtha ceased, the fire crackled loud, £.nd 
 from its flame flew one of the fragments of bark to the 
 feet of the sorceress : — the runic letters all indented with 
 sparks. ^ 
 
 The sorceress uttered a loud cry, which, despite his 
 courage and his natural strong sense, thrilled through the 
 earl's heart to his marrow and bones, so appalling was it 
 with wrath and terror ; and while she gazed aghast on 
 the blazing letters, she burst forth — 
 
 •'No warrior art thou, 
 
 And no child of the tomb ; 
 I know thee, and shudder, 
 Great Asa of Doom. 
 
 * Mimir, the most celebrated of the giants. The Vaner, with 
 whom he was left as a hostage, cut off his head. Odin embalmed 
 it by his seid, or magie art, pronounced over it mystic runes, and, 
 ever after, consulted it on critical occasions. 
 
 4* 
 
42 HAROLD. 
 
 "Thou constrainest my lips, 
 
 And thou crusbest my 
 
 Bright Son of the Giant — 
 
 Dark Father of Hell ! " * 
 
 •The whole form of the Morthwyrtha then became con- 
 vulsed and agitated, as if with the tempest of frenzy ; 
 the foam gathered to her lips, and her voice rang forth 
 like « shriek — 
 
 " In the Iron Wood rages 
 The Weaver of Harm, 
 The giant Blood-drinker 
 Hag-born Manaqaiim.-|- 
 
 "A keel nears the shoal; 
 
 From the slime and the mud 
 Crawl the newt and the adder, 
 The spawn of the flood. 
 
 " Thou stand'st on the rock 
 
 Where the dreamer beheld thee. 
 soul, spread thy wings, 
 Ere the glamour hath spell'd thee. 
 
 *Asa-Lok or Loke — (distinct from Utgard-Lok, the demon of 
 khe Infernal Regions) — descended from the Giants, but received 
 among the celestial deities ; a treacherous and malignant Power 
 fond of assuming disguises and plotting evil; — corresponding in 
 his attributes with our "Lucifer." — One of his progeny was Hela, 
 the queen of Hell. 
 
 ■)■ "A hag dwells in a wood called Jamvid, the Iron Wood, the 
 mother of many gigantie sous, shaped like wolves ; there is one 
 of a race more fearful than all, named 'Managarm.' He will be 
 filled with the blood of men who draw near their end, and will 
 swallow up the moon and stain the heavens and the earth with 
 blood." — From the Prose Udda. In the Scandinavian poetry, 
 Managarm is sometimes the symbol of war, and the " Iron Wood " 
 a metaphor for spears. 
 
HAROLD. 43 
 
 "Oh, dread is the tempter, 
 And strong the control ; 
 But conquer'd the tempter, 
 If firm be the soul 1 " 
 
 The Vala paused ; and though it was evident that in 
 her frenzy she was still unconscious of Harold's presence, 
 and seemed but to be the compelled and passive voice to 
 some Power, real or imaginary, beyond her own exist- 
 ence, the proud man approached, and said — 
 
 " Firm shall be my soul ; nor of the dangers which be- 
 set it would I ask the dead or the living. If plain 
 answers to mortal sense can come from these airy shadows 
 or these mystic charms, reply, O interpreter of fate ; reply 
 but to the questions I demand. If I go to the court of 
 the Norman, shall I return unscathed ? " 
 
 The Vala stood rigid as a shape of stone while Harold 
 thus spoke, and her voice came so low and strange as if 
 forced from her scarce-moving lips — 
 
 "Thou shalt return unscathed." 
 
 " Shall the hostages of Godwin, my father, be re- 
 leased ? " 
 
 " The hostages of Godwin shall be released," answered 
 the same voice ; "the hostage of Harold be retained." 
 
 " Wherefore hostage from me ? " 
 
 "In pledge of alliance .with the Norman." 
 
 " Ha I then the Norman and Harold shall plight 
 friendship and troth?" 
 
 " Yes ; " answered the Yala ; but this time a visible 
 shudder passed over her rigid form. 
 
a HAROLD. 
 
 " Two questions more, and I have done. The Norman 
 priests have the ear of the Roman pontiff. Shall my 
 league with William the Norman avail to win me my 
 bride?" 
 
 " It will win thee the bride thou wouldst never have 
 wedded but for thy league with William the Norman. 
 Peace with thy questions, peace 1 " continued the voice, 
 trembling as with some fearful struggle ; " for it is the 
 Demon that forces my words, and they wither my soul to 
 speak them." 
 
 "But one question more remains ; shall I live to wear 
 the crown of England ; and if so, when shall I be a king ? " 
 
 At these words the face of the prophetess kindled, the 
 fire suddenly leapt up higher and brighter ; again, vivid 
 sparijs lighted the runes on the fragments of bark that 
 were shot from the flame ; over these last the Morth- 
 wyrtha bowed her head, and then, lifting it, triumphautiy 
 burst once more into song. 
 
 " When the Wolf Month,*, grim and still, 
 Heaps the snow-mass on the hill; 
 When, through white air sharp and bitter. 
 Mocking sun-beams freeze and glitter; 
 When the ice-gems bright and barbed. 
 Deck the boughs the leaves have garbed ; 
 Then the measure shall be meted. 
 And the circle be completed. 
 Cerdic's race the Thor-descended, 
 In the Monk-king's tomb be ended; 
 And no Saxon brow but thine 
 Wear the crown of Woden's line. 
 
 * Wolf Month, January. 
 
HAHOLD 4S 
 
 "Where thou -wendest, wend unfearing, 
 Every step thy throne is nearing. 
 Fraud may plot, and force assail thee, — 
 Shall the soul thou trustest fail thee? 
 If it fail thee, scornful hearer. 
 Still the throne shines near and nearer 
 Guile with guile oppose, and never 
 Crown and brow shall Force dissever: 
 Till the dead men unforgiving 
 Loose the war-steeds on the living. 
 Till a sun whose race is ending 
 Sees the rival stars contending. 
 Where the dead men unforgiving. 
 Wheel the war-steeds round the living 
 
 "Where thou wendest, wend unfearing; 
 Every step thy throne is nearing. 
 Never shall thy House decay, 
 Nor thy sceptre pass away. 
 While the Saxon name endureth 
 In the laud thy throne secureth; 
 Saxon name and throne together, 
 Leaf and root, shall wax and wither; 
 So the measure shall be meted. 
 And the circle close completed. 
 
 "Art thou answered, dauntless seeker? 
 Go, thy bark shall ride the breaker — 
 Every billow high and higher, 
 Waft thee up to thy desire; 
 And a force beyond thine own, 
 Drift and strand thee on the throne. 
 
 "When the Wolf Month, grim and still, 
 Kles the snow-mass on the hill, 
 In the white air sharp and bitter 
 Shall thy kingly sceptre glitter: 
 When the ice-gems barb the bough, 
 Shall the jewels clasp thy brow ; 
 
46 HAROLD. 
 
 Winter- wind, the oak uprending; 
 With the altar-anthem blending, 
 Wind shall howl, and mone shall sing, 
 'Hail to Harold — Hail the Kino I ' " 
 
 An exultation that seemed more than human, so in- 
 tense it was, and so solemn, — thrilled, in the voice which 
 thus closed predictions that seemed signally to belie the 
 more vague and menacing warnings with which the 
 dreary incantation had commenced. The Morthwyrtha 
 stood erect and stately, still gazing on the pale blue flame 
 that rose from the burial stone, till slowly the flame waned 
 and paled, and at last died with a sudden flicker, leaving 
 the grey tomb standing forth all weather-worn and deso- 
 late, while a wind rose from the north, and sighed through 
 the roofless columns. Then, as the light over the grave 
 expired, Hilda gave a deep sigh, and fell to the ground 
 senseless. 
 
 Hafbld lifted his eyes towards the stars, and mur- 
 mured — 
 
 " If it be a sin, as the priests say, to pierce the dark 
 walls which surround us here, and read the future in the 
 dim world beyond, why gavest thou, Heaven, the 
 reason, never resting, save when it explores ? Why hast 
 thou set in the heart the mystic Law of Desire, ever 
 toiling to the High, ever grasping at the Tar ? " 
 
 Heaven answered not the unquiet soul. The clouds 
 passed to and fro in their wanderings, the wind still sighed 
 through the hollow stones, the fire shot with vain sparka 
 
HAROLD. 47 
 
 towards the distant stars. In the cloud and the wind 
 and the fire couldst thou read no answer from Heaven, 
 unquiet soul ? 
 
 The next day, with a gallant company, the falcon on 
 his wrist,* the sprightly hound gambolling l/efore his 
 Bteed, blithe of Leart and high in hope, Ei.rl Harold 
 took his way to the Norman court. 
 
 * Bayeuz tapestry. 
 
BOOK NINTH. 
 
 THE BONES OF THE DEAD 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Wrr-LiAM, count of the Normans, sate in a fair cham- 
 ber of his palace of Rouen ; and on the large table be- 
 fore him were ample evidences of the various labors, as 
 warrior, chief, thinker, and statesman, which filled the 
 capacious breadth of that sleepless mind. 
 
 There, lay a plan of the new port of Cherbourg, and 
 beside it an open MS. of the duke's favorite book, the 
 Commentaries of Csesar, from which, it is said, he bor- 
 rowed some of the tactics of his own martial science ; 
 marked, and dotted, and interlined with his large bold 
 hand-writing, were the words of the great Roman. A 
 score or so of long arrows, which had received aome 
 skilful improvement in feather or bolt, lay carelessly scat- 
 tered over some architectural sketches of a new abbey 
 church, and the proposed charter for its endowment. An 
 open cyst, of the beautiful workmanship for which the 
 English goldsmiths were then pre-eminently renowned. 
 
 (48) 
 
HAROLD. 49 
 
 that had been among the parting gifts of Edward, con- 
 tained letters from the various potentates near and far, 
 ■who sought his alliance or menaced his repose. 
 
 On a perch behind him sate his favorite Norway falcon, 
 unhooded, for it had been taught the finest polish in its 
 dainty education, — viz., "to face company undisturbed." 
 A t a kind of easel at the farther end of the hall, a dwarf, 
 misshapen in limbs, but of a face singularly acute and 
 intelligent, was employed in the outline of that famous 
 action at Val des Dunes, which had been the scene of 
 one of the most brilliant of William's feats in arms — an 
 outline intended to be transferred to the notable " stitch- 
 work" of Matilda the Duchess. 
 
 Upon the floor, playing with a huge boar hound of 
 English breed, that seemed but ill to like the play, and 
 every now and then snarled and showed his white teeth, 
 was a young boy, with something of the duke's features, 
 but with an expression more open and less sagacious ; 
 and something of the duke's broad build of chest and 
 shoulder, but without promise of the duke's stately 
 stature, which was needed to give grace and dignity to a 
 strength otherwise cumbrous and graceless. And indeed, 
 since William's visit to England, his athletic shape had 
 lost much of its youthful symmetry, though not yet de- 
 formed by that corpulence which was a disease almost as 
 rare in the Norman as the Spartan. Nevertheless, what 
 is a defect in the gladiator is oftec but a beauty in the 
 prince ; and the duke's large proportions filled the eye 
 with a sense both of regal majesty and physical power. 
 
 II. — 5 20 
 
50 HAROL '. 
 
 His countenance, yet more than his form, showed the 
 work of time ; the short dark hair was worn into partial 
 baldness at the temples by the habitual friction of the 
 casque, and the constant indulgence of wily stratagem 
 and ambitious craft had deepened the wrinkles round the 
 plotting eye and the firm mouth : so that it was only by 
 an effort like that of an actor, that his aspect regained 
 the knightly and noble frankness it ha.d once worn. The 
 accomplished prince was no longer, in truth, what the 
 bold warrior had been, — he was greater in state and less 
 in soul. And already, despite all his grand qualities as 
 a ruler, his imperious nature had betrayed signs of what 
 he (whose constitutional sternness the Norman freemen, 
 not without effort, curbed into the limits of justice) might 
 become, if wider scope were afforded to his fiery passions 
 and unsparing will. 
 
 Before the duke, who was leaning his chin on his hand, 
 stood Mallet de Graville, speaking earnestly, and his dis- 
 course seemed both to interest and please his lord. 
 
 " Eno' I " said William, " I comprehend the nature ci 
 the land and its men, — a land that, untaught by experi- 
 ence and persuaded that a peace of twenty or thirty years 
 must last till the crack of doom, neglects all its defences, 
 and has not one fort, save Dover, between the coast and 
 the capita], — a land which must be won or lost by a single 
 battle, and men [here the duke hesitated] — and men," 
 he resumed with a sigh, " whom it will be so hard to con- 
 quer, that, pardex, I don't wonder they neglect their for- 
 tresses. Enough, I say, of them. Let us .'etni'n to 
 
HAROLD. SI 
 
 Harold, —thou thiiikest, then, that he is worthy of his 
 fame ? " 
 
 " He is almost the only Englishman I have seen," 
 answered De Graviile, " who hath received scholarly rear- 
 ing and nurture ; and all his faculties are so evenly 
 balanced, and all accompanied by so composed a calm, 
 that methinks, when I look at and hear him, I contem- 
 plate some artful castle, — the strength of which can 
 never be known at the first glance, nor except by those 
 who assail it." 
 
 " Thou art mistaken, Sire de Graville," said the duke, 
 with a shrewd and canning twinkle of his luminous dark 
 eyes. "For thou tellest me that he hath no thought of 
 my pretensions to the English throne, — that he inclines 
 willingly to thy suggestions to come himself to my court 
 for the hostages, — ^that, in a word, he is not suspicious." 
 
 " Certes, he is not suspicious," returned Mallet. 
 
 "And thinkest thou that an artful castle were worth 
 much without warder or sentry, — or a cultivated mind 
 strong and safe, without its watchman, — Suspicion ?" 
 
 " Truly, my lord speaks well and wisely," said the 
 knight, startled : "but Harold is a man thoroughly Eng- 
 lish, and the English are a gens the least suspecting of 
 any created thing between an angel and a sheep." 
 
 William laughed aloud. But his laugh was checked 
 suddenly ; for at that moment a fierce yell smote his ears, 
 and looking hastily up, he saw his hound and his son 
 rolling together on the ground, in a grapple that seemed 
 deadly 
 
52 HAEOLD. 
 
 William sprang to the spot ; but the boy, who was 
 then under the dog, cried out, — " Laissez oiler! Laissez 
 aller! no rescue ! I will master my own foe;" and so 
 saying, with a vigorous effort he gained his knee, and 
 with both hands griped the hound's throat, so that the 
 beast twisted in Tain, to and fro, with gnashing jaws, and 
 in another minute would have panted out its last. 
 
 " I may save my good hound now,'' said William, with 
 the gay smile of his earlier days, and, though not without 
 some exertion of his prodigious strength, he drew the dog 
 from his son's grasp. 
 
 " That was ill done, father," said Robert, surnamed 
 even then the Gourthose, " to take part with thy son'c 
 foe." 
 
 " But my son's foe is thy father's property, my vaillant," 
 said the duke ; " and thou must answer to me for treason 
 in provoking quarrel and feud with my own four-footed 
 vavasour." 
 
 " It is not thy property, father ; thou gavest the dog 
 to me when a whelp." 
 
 " Fables, Monseigneur de Gourthose ; I lent it to thee 
 but for a day, when thou hadst put out thine ankle-bone 
 in jumping off the rampire ; and all maimed as thou wert, 
 thou hadst still malice enow in thee to worry the poor 
 beast into a fever." 
 
 " Gave or lent, it is the same thing, father ; what I 
 have once, that will I hold, as thou didst before me, in 
 thy cradle." 
 
 Then the great duke, who in his awn house was the 
 
HAROLD. 53 
 
 fondest and weakest of men, was so doltish and doting 
 as to take the boy in his arms and kiss him, — nor, with 
 all his far-sighted sagacity, deemed he that in that kiss 
 lay the seed of the awful curse that grew up from a 
 father's agony, to end in a son's misery and perdition. 
 
 Even Mallet de Graville frowned at the sight of the 
 sire's infirmity, — even Turold the dwarf shook his head. 
 At that moment an officer entered, and announced that 
 an English nobleman, apparently in great haste (for his 
 horse had dropped down dead as he dismounted), had 
 arrived at the palace, and craved instant audience of the 
 duke. William put down the boy, gave the brief order 
 for the stranger's admission, and, punctilious in ceremo- 
 nial, beckoning De Graville to follow him, passed at once 
 into the next chamber, and seated himself in his chair 
 of state. 
 
 In a few moments one of the seneschals of the palace 
 ushered in a visitor, whose long moustache at once pro- 
 claimed him Saxon, and in whom De Graville with sur- 
 prise recognized his old friend, Godrith. The young 
 thegn, with a reverence more hasty than that to which 
 William was accustomed, advanced to the foot of the 
 dais, and, using the Norman language, said, in a voice 
 thick with emotion — 
 
 " Erom Harold the earl, greeting to thee, Monseigneur. 
 Most foul and unchristian wrong hath been done the earl 
 by thy liegeman, Guy, Count of Ponthieu. Sailing hither 
 :n two barks from England, with intent to visit thy court, 
 Storm and wind drove the earl's vessels towards the mouth 
 5* 
 
54 HAROLD. 
 
 ■jf ohu yomme ; * there landing, and without fear, as in 
 no hostile country, he and his train were seized by the 
 count himself, and cast into prison in the Castle of Bel- 
 rera.f A dungeon fit but for malefactors, holds, while I 
 speak, the first lord of England, and brother-in-law to its 
 king. Nay, hints of famine, torture, and death itself, 
 have been darkly thrown out by this most disloyal count, 
 whether in earnest, or with the base view of heightening 
 ransom. At length, wearied perhaps by the earl's firm- 
 ness and disdain, this traitor of Ponthieu hath permitted 
 me in the earl's behalf to bear the message of Harold. 
 He came to thee as to a prince and a friend : sufiferait 
 thou thy liegeman to detain him as a thief or a foe ? " 
 
 " Noble Englishman," replied William, gravely, " this 
 is a matter more out of my cognizance than thou seemest 
 to think. It is true that Guy, Count of Ponthieu, holds 
 fief under me, but I have no control over the laws of his 
 realm. And by those laws, he hath right of life and 
 death over all stranded and waifed on his coast. Much 
 grieve I for the mishap of your famous earl, and what I 
 can do I will : but I can only treat in this matter with 
 G-uy, as prince with prince, not as lord to vassal. Mean- 
 while I pray you to take rest and food ; and I will seek 
 prompt counsel as to the measures to adopt." 
 
 The Saxon's face showed disappointment and dismay 
 ftt this answer, so different from what he had expected ; 
 
 * Eoman de Rou. See Part ii. 1078. 
 
 •j- Belrem, the present Beaurain, near Montreuil 
 
HAROLD. 56 
 
 and he replied with the natural honest bluntness which 
 all his younger affection of Norman manners had never 
 eradicated — 
 
 " Food will I not touch, nor wine drink, till thou, Lord 
 Count, hast decided what help, as noble to noble. Chris- 
 tian to Christian, man to man, thou givest to him who 
 has come into this peril, solely from his trust in thee." 
 
 "Alas I " said the grand dissimulator, " heavy is the 
 responsibility with which thine ignorance of our land, 
 laws, and men, would charge me. If I take but one 
 false step in this matter, woe indeed to thy lord 1 Guy 
 is hot and haughty, and in his droits ; he is capable of 
 sending me the earl's head in reply to too dure a request 
 for his freedom. Much treasure and broad lands will it 
 cost me, I fear, to ransom the earl. But be cheered ; 
 half my duchy were not too high a price for thy lord's 
 safety. Go, then, and eat with a good heart, and drink 
 to the earl's health with a hopeful prayer." 
 
 "An' it please you, my lord," said De Graville, "I 
 know this gentle thegn, and will beg of you the grace 
 to see to his entertainment, and sustain his spirits." 
 
 " Thou shalt, but later ; so noble a guest none but my 
 chief seneschal should be the first to honor." Then, 
 turning to the officer in waiting, he bade him lead the 
 Saxon to the chamber tenanted by William Fitzosborne 
 (who then lodged within the palace), and committed"him 
 to that count's care. 
 
 As the Saxon sullenly withdrew, and as the door closed 
 
56 HAROLD. 
 
 on bim, William rose and strode to and fro the room 
 exultingly. 
 
 " I have him ! I have him ! " he cried aloud ; " not as 
 free guest, but as ransomed captive. I have him — the 
 earl ! — I have him I Go Mallet, my friend, now seek 
 this sour-looking Englishman ; and, hark thee 1 fill his 
 cars with all the tales thou canst think of, as to Guy's 
 cruelty and ire. Enforce all the difiSculties that lie in my 
 way towards the earl's delivery. Great make the danger 
 of the earl's capture, and vast all the favor of release. 
 Comprehendest thou?" 
 
 "I am Norman, Monseigneur," replied De Graville, 
 with a slight smile ; "and we Normans can make a short 
 mantle cover a large space. You will not be displeased 
 with my address." 
 
 "Go, then- — go," said William, "and send me forth- 
 with — Lanfranc — no, hold — not Lanfranc, he is too 
 scrupulous; Fitzosborne — no, too haughty. Go, first 
 to my brother, Odo of Bayeux, and pray him to seek me 
 on the instant." 
 
 The kuight bowed and vanished, and William con- 
 tinued to pace the re om, with sparkling eyes and mur- 
 muring lips. 
 
HAROLD. 67 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Not till after repeated messages, at first without talh 
 of ransom, and in high tone, affected, no doubt, by 
 William to spin out the negotiations, and augment the 
 value of his services, did Guy of Ponthieu consent to 
 release his illustrious captive — the guerdon, a large sum 
 aud un hel manier * on the river E'aulne. But vfhether 
 that guerdon were the fair ransom-fee, or the price for 
 concerted snare, no man now can say, and sharper than 
 ours the wit that forms the more likely guess. These 
 stipulations effected, Guy himself opened/ the doors of 
 the dungeon ; and affecting to treat the whole matter a^ 
 one of law and right, now happily and fairly settled, was 
 as courteous and debonnair as he had before been dark 
 and menacing. 
 
 He even himself,' with a brilliant train, accompanied 
 Harold to the Chateau d''Eu,\ whither William journeyed 
 to give him the meeting ; and laughed with a gay grace 
 at the earl's short and scornful replies to his compliments 
 and excuses. At the gates of this chateau, not famous, 
 in after times; for the good faith of its lords, William 
 himself, laying aside all the pride of etiquette which he 
 
 * Roman de Rou. Part ii. 1079. 
 
 \ William of Poitiers, " apud Aucense Castrum " 
 
 5* 
 
58 HAROLD. 
 
 had established at his court, came to receive his visitor ; 
 and, aiding him to dismount, embraced him cordially, 
 amidst a loud fanfaron of fifes and trumpets. 
 
 The flower of that glorious nobility, which a few 
 generarions had sufficed to rear out of the lawless pirates 
 of the Baltic, had been selected to do honor alike to 
 guest and host. 
 
 There were Hugo de Montfort, and Roger de Beau- 
 mont, famous in council as in the field, and already grey 
 with fame. There was Henri, Sire de Ferrers, whose 
 name is supposed to have arisen from the vast forges that 
 burned around his castle, on the anvils of which were 
 welded the arms impenetrable in every field. There was 
 Raoul de Tancarville, the old tutor of William, heredi- 
 tary Chamberlain of the Norman Counts ; and Geoffroi 
 de Mandeville, and Tonstain the Fair, whose name still 
 preserved, amidst the general corruption of appellations, 
 the evidence of his Danish birth ; and Hugo de Grrant- 
 nesnil, lately returned from exile ; and Humphrey de 
 Bohun, whose old castle in Carcutan may yet be seen ; 
 and St. John, and Lacie, and D'Ainconrt, of broad lands 
 between the Maine and the Oise ; and William de Mont- 
 fichet; and Roger, nicknamed "Bigod," and Roger de 
 Mortemer ; and many more, whose fame lives in another 
 land than that of Neustria I There, too, were the chief 
 prelates and abbots of a church, that since William's 
 accession had risen into repute with Rome and with 
 Learning, unequalled on this side the Alps ; their white 
 aubes over their gorgeous robes; Lanfranc, and the 
 
HAROLD. 59 
 
 Bishop of Coutanee, and the Abbot of Bee, and foremost 
 of all in rank, but not in learning, Odo of Bayeux. 
 
 So great the assemblage of quens and prelates, that 
 there was small room in the court-yard for the lesser 
 knights and chiefs, who yet hustled each other, with loss 
 of Norman dignity, for a sight of the lion which guarded 
 England. And still, amidst all those men of mark and 
 might, Harold, simple and calm, looked as he had looked 
 on his war-ship in the Thames, the man who could lead 
 them all 1 
 
 From those indeed, who were fortunate enough to see 
 him as he passed up by the side of William, as tall as 
 the Duke, and no less erect — of far slighter bulk, but 
 with a strength almost equal, to a practised eye, in his 
 compacter symmetry and more supple grace — from those 
 who saw him thus, an admiring murmur rose ; for no 
 men in the world so valued and cultivated personal 
 advantages as the Norman knighthood. 
 
 Conversing easily with Harold, and well watching him 
 while he conversed, the duke led his guest into a private 
 shamber in the third floor * of the castle, and in that 
 chamber were Haco and Wolnoth. 
 
 " This, I trust, is no surprise to you," said the duke, 
 smiling ; "and now I shall but mar your commune." So 
 saying, he left the room, and Wolnoth rushed to his 
 
 * As soon as the rude fort of the middle ages admitted some- 
 thing of magnificence and display, the state-rooms were placed in 
 the third story of the inner court, as being the most secure. 
 
60 HAROLD, 
 
 brotlier's arms, while Haco, more timidly, drew near and 
 touched the earl's robe. 
 
 As soon as the first joy of the meeting was over, the 
 earl said to Haco, whom he had drawn to his breast with 
 an embrace as fond as that bestowed on Wolnoth : — 
 
 " Remembering thee a boy, I came to say to thee, 'Be 
 ray son ;' but seeing thee a man, I change the prayer; 
 — supply thy father's place, and be my brother I And 
 thou, Wolnoth, hast thou kept thy word to me ? Norman 
 is thy garb, in truth ; is thy heart still English ? " 
 
 " Hist 1 " whispered Haco ; " hist 1 We have a pro- 
 verb, that walls have ears." 
 
 " But Norman walls can hardly understand our broad 
 Saxon of Kent, I trust," said Harold, smiling, though 
 with a shade on his brow. 
 
 " True ; continue to speak Saxon," said Haco, " and 
 we are safe." 
 
 "Safe I" echoed Harold. 
 
 " Haco's fears are childish, my brother," said Wolnoth,, 
 "and he wrongs the Duke." 
 
 " Not the Duke, but the policy which surrounds him 
 like an atmosphere," exclaimed Haco. " Oh, Harold, 
 generous indeed wert thou to come hither for thy kins- 
 folk — generous I But for England's weal, better that 
 we had rotted out our lives in exile, ere thou, hope and 
 prop of England, set foot in these webs of wile." 
 
 "Tutl" said Wolnoth, impatiently; "good is it for 
 Rngland that the Norman and Saxon should be friends." 
 
 Harold, who had lived to grow as wise in men's hearta 
 
HABOLI). 61 
 
 as his father, save when the natural trustfulness that lay 
 under his calm reserve lulled his sagacity, turned his eye 
 steadily on the faces of his two kinsmen ; and he saw at 
 the first glance that a deeper intellect and a graver temper 
 than Wolnoth's, fair face betrayed, characterized the dar]£ 
 eye and gerious brow of Haco. He, therefore, drew his 
 uephew a little aside, and said to him, — 
 
 " Forewarned is forearmed. Deemest thou that this 
 fair-spoken duke will dare aught against my life ? " 
 
 "Life, no; liberty, yes." 
 
 Harold started, and those strong passions native to his 
 breast, but usually curbed beneath, his majestic will, heaved 
 in his bosom, and flashed in his eye. 
 
 " Liberty I — let him dare 1 Though all his troops paved 
 the way from his Qourt to his coasts, I would hew my way 
 through their ranks." 
 
 " Deemest thou that I am a coward ? " said Haco, 
 simply ; " yet contrary to all law and justice, and against 
 King Edward's well-known remonstrance, hath not the 
 count detained me years, yea, long years, in his land? 
 Kind are his, word^, wily his deeds. Pear not force ; fear 
 fraud," 
 
 " I fear neither," apswered Harold, drawing himself 
 up, "nor do, I repent me one moment — No 1 nor did I 
 lepent in the dungeon of that felon count, whom God 
 grant me life to repay with fire and sword for his treason, 
 — that I myself have come hither to demand my kinsmen. 
 I come in the name of England, strong in her might, and 
 sacred in her majesty." 
 
 IL— 6 
 
62 HAROLD. 
 
 Before Haco could reply, the door opened, and Raoul 
 de Tancarville, as grand chamberlain, entered, with all 
 Harold's Saxon train, and a goodly number of Norman 
 squires and attendants, bearing rich vestures. 
 
 The noble bowed to the earl with his country s polished 
 courtesy, and besought leave to lead him to the bath, 
 while his own squires prepared his raiment for the ban- 
 quet to be held in his honor. So all further conference 
 with his young kinsmen was then suspended. 
 
 The duke, who affected a state no less regal than that 
 of the court of France, permitted no one, save his own 
 family and guests, to sit at his own table. His great 
 officers (those imperious lords) stood beside his chair ; 
 and William Fitzosborne, " the Proud Spirit,'' placed on 
 the board with his own hand the dainty dishes for which 
 the Norman cooks were renowned. And great men were 
 those Norman cooks ; and often for some " delicate," 
 more ravishing than wont, gold chain and gem, and even 
 " bel maneir," fell.to their guerdon.* It was worth being 
 a cook in those days I 
 
 The most seductive of men, was William in his fair 
 moods ; and he lavished all the witcheries at his control 
 upon his guest. If possible, yet more gracious was 
 Matilda the Duchess. This woman, eminent for mental 
 culture, for personal beauty, and for a spirit and an am- 
 bition no less great than her lord's, knew well how to 
 
 * A manor (but not, alas ! in Normandy) was held by one of his 
 cooks, on the tenure of supplying William with a dish of dille- 
 grout. 
 
HAROLD. 63 
 
 choose such subjects of discourse as might most flatter 
 an English ear. Her eonnectiou with Harold, througn 
 her sister's marriage with Tostig, warranted a familiarity 
 almost caressing, which she assumed towards the comely 
 earl ; and she insisted, with a winning smile, that all the 
 hours the duke would leave at his disposal, he must spend 
 with her. 
 
 The banquet was enlivened by the song of the great 
 Taillefer himself, who selected a theme that artfully flat- 
 tered alike the Norman and the Saxon, viz., the aid given 
 by Rolfganger to Athelstan, and the alliance between the 
 English king and the Norman founder. He dexterously 
 introduced into the song, praises of the English, and the 
 value of their friendship ; and the countess significantly 
 applauded each gallant compliment to the land of the 
 famous guest. If Harold was pleased by such poetic 
 courtesies, he was yet more surprised by the high honor 
 in which duke, baron, and prelate, evidently held the 
 poet : for it was among the worst signs of that sordid 
 spirit, honoring only wealth, which had crept over the 
 original character of the Anglo-Saxon, that the bard, or 
 scop, with them, had sunk into great disrepute, and it 
 was even forbidden to ecclesiastics * to admit such land- 
 less vagrants to their company. 
 
 Much, indeed, theie was in that court which, even on 
 the first day, Harold saw to admire — that stately tem- 
 perance, so foreign to English excesses (but which, alas, 
 
 * The council of Cloveshoe forbade the clergy to harboi' poets, 
 barpers, musicians, and buffoons. 
 
64 HAROLD. 
 
 the Norman kept not long when removed to another soil) 
 — that methodical state and noble pomp which charac- 
 terized the Feudal system, linking so harmoniously prince 
 to peer, and peer to knight — the easy grace, the polished 
 wit of the courtiers — the wisdom of Lanfranc, and the 
 higher ecclesiastics, blending worldly lore with decorous, 
 not pedantic, regard to their sacred calling — the en- 
 lightened love of music, letters, song, and art, which 
 colored the discourse both of duke and duchess and the 
 younger courtiers, prone to emulate high example, whe- 
 ther for ill or good — all impressed Harold with a sense 
 of civilization and true royalty, which at once saddened 
 and inspired his musing mind — saddened him when he 
 thought how far behindhand England was In much, with 
 this comparatively petty principality — inspired him when 
 he felt what one great chief can do for his native land. 
 
 The unfavorable impressions made upon his thoughts 
 by Haco's warnings, could scarcely fail to yield beneath 
 the prodigal courtesies lavished upon him, and the frank 
 openness with which William laughingly excused himself 
 for having so long detained the hostages, " in order, my 
 guest, to make thee come and fetch them ; and, by St. 
 Valery, now thou art here, thou sbalt not depart, till, at 
 least, thou hast lost in gentler memories, the recollection 
 of the scurvy treatment thou hast met from that barbar- 
 ous count ; nay, never bite thy lip, Harold, my friend, 
 leave to me thy revenge upon Guy. Sooner or later, 
 I ho very maneir he hath extorted from me shall give ex- 
 cuse for sword and lance, and then, pardex, thou shalt 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 65 
 
 com6 and cross steel in tbine own quarrel. How I rejoice 
 that I can show to the beaufrire of my dear cousin and 
 seigneur some return for all the courtesies the English 
 king and kingdom bestowed upon me 1 To-morrow we 
 will ride to Kouen ; there, all knightly sports shall be 
 held to grace thy coming ; and, by St. Michael, knight- 
 saint of the Norman, nought less will content me than to 
 have thy great name in the list of my chosen chevaliers. 
 But the night wears now, and thou sure must need sleep ;" 
 and, thus talking, the duke himself led the way to Ha- 
 rold's chamber, and insisted on removing the ouche from 
 his robe of state. As he did so, he passed his hand, as 
 if carelessly, along the earl's right arm. " Ha I " said 
 he suddenly, and in his natural tone of voice, which was 
 short and quick, "these muscles have known practice i 
 Dost think thou couldst bend my bow ? " 
 
 " Who could bend that of — Ulysses ? " returned the 
 earl, fixing his deep-blue eye upon the Norman's. Wil- 
 liam unconsciously changed color, for he felt that he was 
 at that moment more Ulysses than Achilles. 
 
 CHAPTER III, 
 
 Side by side, William and Harold entered 'the fair city 
 
 of Rouen, and there, a succession of the brilliant pageants 
 
 and knightly entertainments (comprising those " rare 
 
 feats of honor," expanded, with the following age, into 
 
 6* 2d 
 
66 H A E L D . 
 
 the more gorgeous display of joust and tourney), was 
 designed to dazzle the eyes and captivate the fancy of 
 the earl. But though Harold won, even by tne confession 
 of the chronicles most in favor of the Norman, golden 
 opinions in a court more ready to deride than admire the 
 Saxon — though not only the " strength of his body," and 
 "the boldness of his spirit," as shoven in exhibitions 
 unfamiliar to Saxon warriors, but his "manners," his 
 "eloquence, intellect, and other good qualities,"* were 
 loftily conspicuous amidst those knightly courtiers, that 
 sublimer part of his character, which was found in its 
 simple manhood and intense nationality, kept him un- 
 moved and serene amidst all intended to exercise that 
 fatal spell which Normanized most of those who came 
 within the circle of Norman attraction. 
 
 These festivities were relieved by pompous excursions 
 and progresses from town to town, and fort to fort, 
 throughout the duchy, and, according to some authori- 
 ties, even to a visit to Philip, the French king, at Com- 
 peigne. On the return to Rouen, Harold, and the six 
 thogus of his train, were solemnly admitted into that 
 peculiar band of warlike brothers which William had 
 instituted, and to which, following the chronicles of the 
 after century, we have given the name of knights. The 
 silver baldrick was belted on, and the iance, with its 
 pointed banderol, was placed in the hand, and the seven 
 Saxon lords became Norman knights. 
 
 * Ord. Vital. 
 
HAROLD. 67 
 
 The evening after this ceremonial, Harold was with 
 the duchess and her fair daughters — all children. The 
 beauty of one of the girls drew from him those compli- 
 ments so sweet to a mother's ear. Matilda looked up 
 from the broidery on which she was engaged, and 
 beckoned to her the child thus praised. 
 
 "Adeliza," she said, placing her hand on the girl's 
 dark locks, "though we would not that thou shouldst 
 learn too early how men's tongues can gloze and flatter, 
 yet this noble guest hath so high a repute for truth, that 
 thou mayest at least believe him sincere when he says 
 thy face is fair. Think of it, and with pride, my child ; 
 let it keep thee through youth proof against the homage 
 of meaner men ; and, peradventure, St. Michael and St. 
 Valery may bestow on thee a mate valiant and comely as 
 this noble lord." 
 
 The child blushed to her brow ; but answered with the 
 quickness of a spoiled infant — unless, perhaps, she bad 
 been previously tutored so to reply, — " Sweet mother, I 
 will have no mate and no lord but Harold himself; and 
 if he will not have Adeliza as his wife, she will die a 
 nun." 
 
 " Froward child, it is not for thee to woo I " said Ma- 
 tilda, smiling. " Thou heardest her, noble Harold : what 
 is thine answer ? " 
 
 " That she will grow wiser," said the earl, laughing, as 
 he kissed the child's forehead. "Fair damsel, ere thou 
 art ripe for the altar, time will have sown grey in these 
 
68 HAEOLD. 
 
 .ocks ; and thou wouldst smile indeed in scorn, if Harold 
 then claimed thy troth." 
 
 "Not so," said Matilda, seriously ; "high-born dam- 
 sels see youth not in years but in fame — fame, which is 
 young for ever ! " 
 
 Startled by the gravity with which Matilda spoke, as 
 if to give importance to what had seemed a jest, the earl, 
 versed in courts, felt that a snare was round him, and 
 replied, in a tone between jest and earnest : — "Happy 
 am I to wear on my heart a charm proof against all the 
 beauty even of this court." 
 
 Matilda's face darkened ; and William entering at that 
 time with his usual abruptness, lord and lady exchanged 
 glances, not unobserved by Harold. 
 
 The duke, however, drew aside the Saxon, and saying, 
 gaily, " We Normans are not naturally jealous ; but then, 
 till now, we have not had Saxon gallants closeted with 
 our wives ; " added more seriously, " Harold, I have a 
 grace to pray at thy hands — come with me." 
 
 The earl followed William into his chamber, which he 
 found filled with chiefs, in high converse ; and William 
 then hastened to inform him that he was about to make 
 a military expedition against the Bretons ; and knowing 
 bis peculiar acquaintance with the warfare, as with the 
 language and manners, of their kindred Welch, he be- 
 sought his aid in a campaign, which he promised him 
 should be brief. 
 
 Perhaps the earl was not, in his own mind, averse 
 from returning William's display of power by some evi- 
 
HAROLD. 69 
 
 dence of his own military skill, and the valor of the 
 SaxoB thegns in his train. There might be prudence iii 
 such exhibition, and, at all events, he could not with a 
 good grace decline the proposal. He enchanted William, 
 therefore, by a simple acquiescence ; and the rest of the 
 evening — deep into night — was spent in examining cliarts 
 of the fort and country intended to be attacked. 
 
 The conduct and courage of Harold and his Saxons 
 in this expedition are recorded by the Norman chroni- 
 clers. The earl's personal exertions saved, at the passage 
 of Coesnon, a detachment of soldiers, who would other- 
 wise have perished in the quicksands : and even the 
 warlike skill of William, in the brief and brilliant cam 
 paign, was, if not eclipsed, certainly equalled, by that of 
 the Saxon chief 
 
 While the campaign lasted, William and Harold had 
 but one table and one tent. To outward appearance, the 
 familiarity between the two was that of brothers ; in 
 reality, however, these two men, both so able — one so 
 deep in his guile, the other so wise in his tranquil caution 
 ■ — felt that a silent war between the two for mastery was 
 working on, under the guise of loving peace. 
 
 Already Harold was conscious that the politic motives 
 for his mission had failed him ; already he "perceived, 
 thoagh he scarce knew why, that William the Norman 
 was the last man to whom he could confide his ambition, 
 or trust for aid. 
 
 One day, as during a short truce with the defenders 
 of the place they were besieging, the Normans were 
 
^0 HAROLD. 
 
 diverting their leisure with martial games, in which 
 Taillefer shone pre-eminent; while Harold and William 
 stood without their tent, watching the animated field, 
 the duke abruptly exclaimed, to Mallet de Grayille, 
 " Bring me my bow. Now, Harold, let me see if thou 
 caust bend it." 
 
 The bow was brought, and Saxon and Norman gathered 
 round the spot. 
 
 " Fasten thy glove to yonder tree. Mallet," said the 
 duke, taking that mighty bow in his hand, and bending 
 its stubborn yew into the noose of the string with prac- 
 tised ease. 
 
 Then he drew the arc to his ear ; and the tree itself 
 seemed to shake at the shock, as the shaft, piercing thi 
 glove, lodged half-way in the trunk. 
 
 " Such are not our weapons," said the earl ; " and ill 
 would it become me, unpractised, so to peril our English 
 honor, as to strive against the arm that could bend that 
 arc and wing that arrow. But, that I may show these 
 Norman knights, that at least we have some weapon 
 wherewith we can parry shaft and smite assailer — bring 
 me forth, Godrith, my shield and my Danish axe." 
 
 Taking, the shield and axe which the Saxon brought 
 to him, Harold then stationed himself before the tree. 
 
 "Now, fair duke," said he, smiling, "choose thou thy 
 longest shaft — bid thy ten doughtiest archers take their 
 bows ; round this tree will I move, and let each shaft be 
 aimed at whatever space in my mailless body I leave 
 unguarded by my shield." 
 
HAEOLE. ?1 
 
 "No I " said "William, hastily ; " that were mnrder." 
 
 "It is but the common peril of war," said Ilaroldi 
 simply ; and he walked to the tree. 
 
 The blood mounted to "William's brow, and the lion's 
 thirst of carnage parched his throat. 
 
 "An' he will have it so," said he, beckoning to his 
 archers, "let not Normandy be shamed. "Watch well, 
 and let every shaft go home ; avoid only the head and 
 the heart ; such orgulous vaunting is best cured by blood- 
 letting." 
 
 The archers nodded, and took their post, each at a 
 separate quarter ; and deadly, indeed, seemed the dangei 
 of the earl, for, as he moved, though he kept his bar.k 
 guarded by the tree, some parts of his form the shield 
 left exposed, and it would have been impossible, in his 
 quick-shifting movements, for the archers so to aim as to 
 wound, but to spare life ; yet the earl seemed to take nc 
 peculiar care to avoid the peril ; lifting his bare h.jad 
 fearlessly above the shield, and including in one gaze of 
 his steadfast eye, calmly bright even at the distance, all 
 the shafts of the archers. 
 
 At one moment, five of the arrows hissed through the 
 air, and with such wonderful quickness had the shield 
 turned to each, that three fell to the ground blunted 
 against it, and two broke on its surface. 
 
 But "William, waiting for the first discharge, and seeing 
 full mark at Harold's shoulder, as the buckler turned, 
 now sent forth his terrible shaft. The noble Tuillefer, 
 with a poet's trne sympathy, cried, " Saxon, beware 1 " 
 
12 HAROLB. 
 
 but the watchful Saxon needed not the warning. As if in 
 disdain, Harold met not the shaft with his shield, but 
 swinging high the mighty axe (which with most men 
 required both arms to wield it), he advanced a step, and 
 clove the rushing arrow in twain! 
 
 Before William's loud oath of wrath and surprise left 
 his lips, the five shafts of the remaining archers fell as 
 vainly as their predecessors against the nimble shield. 
 
 Then advancing, Harold said cheerfully : — " This is 
 but defence, fair duke — and little worth were the axe, if 
 it could not smite as well as ward. Wherefore, I pray 
 you, place upon yonder broken stone pillar, which seems 
 some relic of Druid heathenesse, such helm and shirt of 
 mail as thou deemest proof against sword and pertuizan, 
 and judge then if our English axe can guard well our 
 English land." 
 
 "If thy axe can cleave the helmet I wore at Bavent, 
 when the Pranks and their king fled before me," said the 
 duke, grimly, " I shall hold Caesar in fault, not to have 
 invented a weapon so dread." 
 
 And striding back into his pavilion, he came forth with 
 the helm and shirt of mail, which was worn stronger and 
 heavier by the Normans, as fighting usually on horse- 
 hack, than by Dane and Saxon, who, mainly fighting on 
 foot, could not have endured so cumbrous a burthen : and 
 if strong and dour generally with the Norman, judge 
 what solid weight that mighty duke could endure ! With 
 his own hand William placed the mail on the ruined 
 Druid stone, and on the mail the helm. 
 
HAROLD. ?3 
 
 Harold looked long and gravely at the edge of the 
 axe ; it was so richly gilt and damasquined, that the 
 sharpness of its temper could not well have been divined 
 under that holiday glitter. But this axe had come to 
 him from Canute the Great, who himself, unlike the 
 Danes, small and slight,* had supplied his deficiency of 
 muscle by the finest dexterity and the most perfect 
 weapons. Famous had been that axe in the delicate 
 hand of Canute — how much more tremendous in the 
 ample grasp of Harold ! Swinging now in both hands 
 this weapon, with a peculiar and rapid whirl, which gave 
 it an inconceivable impetus, the earl let fall the crushing 
 blow : at the first stroke, cut right in the centre, rolled 
 the helm ; at the second, through all the woven mail 
 (cleft asunder, as if the slightest filagree-work of the 
 goldsmith), shore the blade, and a great fragment of the 
 stone itself came tumbling on the sod. 
 
 The Normans stood aghast, and William's face was as 
 pale as the shattered stone. The great duke felt even 
 his matchless dissimulation fail him ; nor, unused to the 
 special practice and craft which the axe required, could 
 he have pretended, despite a physical strength superior 
 even to Harold's, to rival blows that seemed to him more 
 than mortal. 
 
 " Lives there any other man in the wide world whose 
 arm could have wrought that feat ? " exclaimed Bruse, 
 the ancestor of the- famous Scot. 
 
 * Canute made his inferior strength and stature hia excuse for 
 not meeting Edward Ironsides in single combat. 
 II —1 
 
ti HAROLD. 
 
 "Nay," said Harold, simply, "at least thirty thousand 
 Biich men have I left at home I But this was but the 
 stroke of an idle vanity, and strength becomes tenfold in 
 a good cause." 
 
 The duke heard, and fearful lest he should betray his 
 sense of the latent meaning couched under his guest's 
 words, he hastily muttered forth reluctant compliment 
 and praise ; while Titzosborne, De Bohun, and other 
 chiefs more genuinely knightly, gave way to unrestrained 
 admiration. 
 
 Then beckoning De Graville to follow him, the duke 
 strode off towards the tent of his brother of Bayeux, who, 
 though, except on extraordinary occasions, he did not 
 join in positive conflict, usually accompanied William in 
 his military excursions, both to bless the host, and to 
 advise (for his martial science was considerable) the 
 council of war. 
 
 The bishop, who, despite the sanctimony of the court, 
 and his own stern nature, was (though secretly and de- 
 corously) a gallant of great success in other fields than 
 those of Mars,* sate alone in his pavilion, inditing an 
 epistle to a certain fair dame in Rouen, whom he had 
 unwillingly left to follow his brother. At the entrance 
 of William, whose morals in such matters were pure and 
 
 * Odo's licentiousness was, at a later period, one of the alleged 
 causes of his downfall, or rather, against his release from the 
 prison to which he had been consigned. He had a son named 
 John, who distinguished himself under Henry I. — Obd. Vital. 
 lib. iv. 
 
HAROLD. 76 
 
 rigid, he swept the letter into the chest of relics which 
 always accompanied him, and rose, saying indififerently, — 
 
 " A treatise on the authenticity of St. Thomas's little 
 finger I But what ails you ? you are disturbed ! " 
 
 " Odo, Odo, this man baffles me — this man fools me ; I 
 make no ground with him. I have spent — heayen knows 
 what I have spent," said the duke, sighing with penitent 
 parsimony, "in banquets, and ceremonies, and proces- 
 sions; to say nothing of my bel manier of Yonne, and the 
 sum wrung from my coffers by that greedy Ponthevin. 
 All gone — all wasted — all melted like snow! and the 
 Saxon is as Saxon as if he had seen neither Norman 
 splendor, nor been released from the danger by Norman 
 treasure. But, by the Splendor Divine, I were fool in- 
 deed if I suffered him to return home. Would thou hadst 
 seen the sorcerer cleave my helmet and mail just now, 
 as easily as if they had been willow twigs. Oh, Odo, Odo, 
 my soul is troubled, and St. Michael forsakes me !" 
 
 While William ran on thus distractedly, the prelate 
 lifted his eyes inquiringly to De Graville, who now stood 
 within the tent, and the knight briefly related the recent 
 trial of strength. 
 
 " I see nought in this to chafe thee," said Odo ; "the 
 man once thine, the stronger the vassal, the more power- 
 ful the lord." 
 
 " But he is not mine ; I have sounded him as far as I 
 dare go. Matilda hath almost openly offered him my 
 fairest child as his wife. Nothing dazzles, nothing moves 
 him. Thinkest thou I care for his strong arm ? Tut, 
 
75 HAROLD. 
 
 no ; I chafe at the proud heart that set the arm in motion, 
 the proud meaning his words symbolled out, — ' So will 
 English strength guard English land from the Norman 
 — so axe and shield will defy your mail and your 
 shafts.' But let him beware 1 " growled the duke fiercely 
 •• or " 
 
 " May I speak," interrupted De Graville, " and suggest 
 a counsel ?" 
 
 " Speak out, in God's name 1 " cried the duke. 
 
 " Then I should say, with submission, that the way t6 
 tame a lion is not by gorging him, but daunting. Bold 
 is the lion against open foes ; but a lion in the toils loses 
 his nature. Just now, my lord said that Harold should 
 not return to his native land " 
 
 " Nor shall he, but as my sworn man I " exclaimed the 
 duke. 
 
 "And if you now put to him that choice, think you it 
 will favor your views ? Will he not reject your proffers, 
 and with hot scorn ? " 
 
 " Scorn 1 darest thou that word to me ? " cried the 
 duke. " Scorn 1 have I no headsman whose axe is as 
 sharp as Harold's ? and the neck of a captive is not 
 sheathed in my Norman mail." 
 
 "Pardon, pardon, my liege," said Mallet, with spirit; 
 "but to save my chief from a hasty action that might 
 bring long remorse, I spoke thus boldly. Give the earl 
 at least fair warning : ■ — a prison, or fealty to thee, that 
 is the choice before him 1 — let him know it; let him see 
 that thy dungeons are dark, and thy walls impassable 
 
HAROLD. 11 
 
 Threaten not his life — brave men care not for that ! — 
 threaten thyself nought, but let others work upon him 
 with fear of his freedom. I know well these Saxish men ; 
 I know well Harold ; freedom is their passion, they are 
 cowards when threatened with the doom of four walls." * 
 
 " I conceive thee, wise son," exclaimed Odo. 
 
 " Ha 1 " said the dake, slowly ; " and yet it was to pre- 
 vent such suspicions that I took care, after the first 
 meeting, to separate him from Haco and Wolnoth, for 
 they must have learned much in Norman gossip, ill to 
 repeat to the Saxon." 
 
 " Wolnoth is almost wholly Norman," said the bishop, 
 smiling ; " Wolnoth is bound par amours to a certain 
 fair Norman dame ; and, I trow well, prefers her charms 
 here to the thought of his return. But Haco, as thou 
 knowest, is sullen and watchful." 
 
 " So much the better companion for Harold now," said 
 De Graville. 
 
 " I am fated ever to plot and to scheme 1 " said the 
 duke, groaning, as if he had been the simplest of men ; 
 " but, natheless, I love the stout earl, and I mean all for 
 his own good, — that is, compatibly with my rights and 
 claims to the heritage of Edward my cousin." 
 
 " Of course," said the bishop. 
 
 * William of Poitiers, the contemporary Norman chronicler, saya 
 of Harold, that he was a man to whom imprisonment was more 
 ndious than Shipwreck. 
 
78 HAROLD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The snares now spread for Harold were in pursuance 
 of the policy thus resolved on. The camp uoon after- 
 wards broke up, and the troops took their way to Bayeux 
 William, without greatly altering his manner towards the 
 earl, evaded markedly (or as markedly replied not to) 
 Harold's plain declarations, that his presence was re- 
 quired in England, and that he could no longer defer his 
 departure ; while, under pretence of being busied with 
 affairs, he absented himself much from the earl's com- 
 pany, or refrained from seeing him alone, and suffered 
 Mallet de Graville, and Odo the bishop, to supply his 
 place with Harold. The earl's suspicions now became 
 thoroughly aroused, and these were fed both by the hints, 
 kindly meant, of De Graville, and the less covert discourse 
 of the prelate : while Mallet let drop, as in gossiping 
 illustration of William's fierce and vindictive nature, many 
 anecdotes of that cruelty which really stained the Nor- 
 man's character, Odo, more bluntly, appeared to take it 
 for granted that Harold's sojourn in the land would be 
 long. 
 
 "You will have time," said he, one day, as they rode 
 together, "to assist me, I trust, in learning tho language 
 of our forefathers. Danish is still spoken much at 
 
HAROLD, 
 
 19 
 
 Bayeux, the sole place in Neustria,* where the old tongue 
 and customs still linger ; and it would serve my pastoral 
 ministry to receive your lessons ; in a year or so, I might 
 hope so to profit by them as to discourse freely with the 
 less Frankish part of my flock." 
 
 " Surely, Lord Bishop, you jest," said Harold, se- 
 riously ; " you know well that within a week, at farthest, 
 I must sail back for England with my young kinsmen." 
 
 The prelate laughed. 
 
 " I advise you, dear count and son, to be cautious how 
 you speak so plainly to William. I perceive that you 
 have already ruffled him by such indiscreet remarks ; and 
 you must have seen eno' of the duke to know that, when 
 his ire is up, his answers are short but his arms are long." 
 
 "You most grievously wrong Duke William," cried 
 Harold, indignantly, "to suppose, merely in that playful 
 humor, for which ye Normans are famous, that he could 
 lay force on his confiding guest." 
 
 " No, not a confiding guest, — a ransomed captive. 
 Surely my brother will deem that he has purchased of 
 Count Guy his rights over his illustrious prisoner. But 
 courage ! The Norman Court is not the Ponthevin dun- 
 geon ; and your chains, at least, are roses." 
 
 The reply of wrath and defiance that rose to Harold's 
 
 * In the environs of Bayeux still may perhaps linger the sole 
 remains of the Scandinavian Normans, apart from the gentry. For 
 centuries the inhabitants of Bayeux and its vicinity were a class 
 distinct from the Franco-Normans, or the rest of Neustria ; they 
 submitted with great reluctance to the ducal authority, and re- 
 tained their old heathen cry of Thor-aide, instead of Dieu-aide ! 
 
80 HAEOLD. 
 
 lips, was checked by a sign from De Graville, who raised 
 his finger to his lip with a face expressive of caution and 
 alarm ; and, some little time after, as they halted to water 
 their horses, De Graville came up to him and said in a 
 low voice, and in Saxon — 
 
 " Befl are how you speak too frankly to Odo. What ia 
 aaid to him is said to William ; and the duke, at times, so 
 acts on the spur of the moment that — But let me not 
 wrong him, or needlessly alarm you." 
 
 "Sire de Graville," said Harold, "this is not the first 
 time that the Prelate of Bayeux hath hinted at compul- 
 sion, nor that you (no doubt kindly) have warned me of 
 purpose hostile or fraudful. As plain man to plain man, 
 I ask you, on your knightly honor, to tell me if you 
 know aught to make jou believe that William the Duke 
 will, under any pretext, detain me here a captive ? " 
 
 Now, though Mallet de Graville had lent himself to 
 the service of an ignoble craft, he justified it by a better 
 reason than complaisance to his lord ; for, knowing 
 William well, his hasty ire, and his relentless ambition, 
 he was really alarmed for Harold's safety. And, as the 
 reader may have noted, in suggesting that policy of inti- 
 midation, the knight had designed to give the earl at 
 lesist the benefit of forewarning. So, thus adjured, De 
 Graville replied sincerely — 
 
 " Earl Harold, on my honor as your brother in knight- 
 hood, I answer your plain question. I have cause to 
 believe and to know that William will not suffer you to 
 
HAROLD. 81 
 
 depart, unless fully satisfied on certain points, which he 
 himself will, doubtless, ere long make clear to you." 
 
 "And if I insist on my departure, not so satisfying 
 him?" 
 
 " Every castle on our road hath a dungeon as deep as 
 Count Guy's ; bat where another William to deliver you 
 from William ? " 
 
 " Over yon seas, a prince mightier than William, an-d 
 men as resolute, at least, as your Normans." 
 
 "Cher et puissant, my Lord Earl," answered De Gra- 
 vjlle, " these are brave words, but of no weight in the ear 
 of a schemer so deep as the duke. Think you really, that 
 King Edward — pardon my bluntness — would rouse him- 
 self from his apathy, to do more in your behalf than he 
 has done in your kinsmen's — remonstrate and preach? 
 —Are you even sure that on the representation of a man 
 he hath so loved as William, he will not be content to 
 rid his throne of so formidable a subject ? Tou speak 
 of the English people ; doubtless you are popular and 
 beloved ; but it is the habit of no people, least of all your 
 own, to stir actively and in concert, without leaders. 
 The duke knows the factions of England as well as you 
 do. Ilemember how closely he is connected with Tostig, 
 your ambitious brother. Have you no fear that Tostig 
 himself, pari of the most warlike part of the kingdom, 
 will not only do his best to check the popular feeling in 
 your favor, but foment every intrigue to detain you here, 
 nnd leave himself the first noble in the land ? As for 
 uther leaders, save Gurth (who is but 30ur own vice-earl), 
 1* 2e 
 
82 HAROLD. 
 
 who is there that will not rejoice at the absence of 
 Ilarold ? You have made foes of the only family that 
 approaches the power of your own — the heirs of Leofrie 
 and Algar. — Your strong hand removed from the reins 
 of the empire, tumults and dissensions ere long will break 
 forth that will distract men's minds from an absent cap- 
 tive, and centre them on the safety of their own hearths, 
 or the advancement of their own interests. You see that 
 I know something of the state of your native land ; but 
 deem not my own observation, though not idle, sufficed 
 to bestow that knowledge. I learn it more from William's 
 discourses ; William, who from Flanders, from Boulogne, 
 from England itself, by a thousand channels, hears all 
 that passes between the cliffs of Dover and the marches 
 of Scotland." 
 
 Harold paused long before he replied, for his mind 
 was now thoroughly awakened to his danger ; and, while 
 recognizing the wisdom and intimate acquaintance of 
 affairs with which De Graville spoke, he was also rapidly 
 revolving the best course for himself to pursue in such 
 extremes. At length he said — 
 
 " I pass by your remarks on the state of England, with 
 but one comment. You underrate Gurth, my brother, 
 when you speak of him but as the vice-earl of Harold. 
 You underrate one, who needs but an object, to excel in 
 arms and in council, my father Godwin himself — That 
 object a brother's wrongs would create from a brother's 
 lov«, and three hundred ships would sail up the Seine to 
 
HAROLD. 83 
 
 demand your captive, manned by warriors as hardy as 
 those who wrested Neustria from King Charles." 
 
 "Granted," said de Graville. "But "William, who 
 could cut off the hands and feet of his own subjects foi an 
 idle jest on his birth, could as easily put out the eyes of 
 a captive foe. And of what worth are the ablest brain, 
 and the stoutest arm, when the man is dependent on 
 another for very sight?" 
 
 Harold involuntarily shuddered ; but recovering him- 
 self on the instant, he replied, with a smile — 
 
 " Thou makest thy duke a butcher more fell than his 
 ancestor Rolfganger. But thou saidst he needed but to 
 be satisfied on certain points. What are they ? " 
 
 " Ah, that thou must divine, or he unfold. But see, 
 William himself approaches you." 
 
 And here, the duke, who had been till then in the rear, 
 spurred up with courteous excuses to Harold for his long 
 defection from his side ; and, as they resumed their way, 
 talked with all his former frankness and gaiety. 
 
 " By the way, dear brother in arms," said he, " I have 
 provided thee this evening with comrades more welcome, 
 I fear, than myself — Haco and Wolnoth. That last is a 
 youth whom I love dearly : the first is unsocial eno', and 
 methinks would make a better hermit than soldier. But, 
 by St. Valery, I forgot to tell thee that an envoy from 
 Flanders to-day, amongst other news, brought me some 
 that may interest thee. There is a strong commotion in 
 thy brother Tostig's Northumbrian earldom, and the 
 rumor runs, that his fierce vassals will drive him forth and 
 
84 HAROLD. 
 
 select some other lord : talk was of the sons of Algar— ^ 
 so I think ye called the stout dead earl. This looks 
 grave, for my dear cousin Edward's health is failing fast. 
 May the saints spare him long from their rest 1 " 
 
 " These are indeed ill tidingn," said the earl ; " and I 
 trust that they suffice to plead at once my excuse for 
 nrgiiig my immediate departure. Grateful I am for thy 
 most gracious hostship, and thy just and generous inter- 
 cession with thy liegeman " (Harold dwelt emphatically 
 on the last word), " for my release from a capture dis- 
 graceful to all Christendom. The ransom so nobly paid 
 for me I will not insult thee, dear my lord, by affecting 
 to repay ; but such gifts as our cheapmen hold most rare, 
 perchance thy lady and thy fair children will deign to 
 receive at my hands. Now may I ask but a vessel from 
 thy nearest port ? " 
 
 "We will talk of this, dear guest and brother knight, 
 on some later occasion. Lo, yon castle — ye have no 
 such in England. See its vawmures and fosses 1 " 
 
 "A noble pile," answered Harold. "But pardon me 
 that I press for " 
 
 " Ye have no such strong-holds, I say, in England," 
 interrupted the duke, petulantly. 
 
 " Nay," replied the Englishman, " we have two strong- 
 holds far larger than that — Salisbury Plain and New- 
 market Heath!* — strong-holds that will contain fifty 
 
 * Similar was the answer of Goodyn, the bishop of Winchester, 
 ambassador from Henry VIII. to the French king. To this daj 
 
HAROLD. 85 
 
 thousand men who need no walls but their shields. 
 Count William, England's ramparts are her men, and her 
 strongest castles are her widest plains." 
 
 "Ah !" said the duke, biting his lip, "ah, so be it — • 
 but to return ; — in that castle, mark it well, the dukes 
 of Normandy hold their prisoners of state ; " and then he 
 ndded with a laugh : " but we hold you, noble captive, in 
 a prison more strong — our love and our heart." 
 
 As he spoke, he turned his eye full upon Harold, and 
 the gaze of the two encountered : that of the duke was 
 brilliant, but stern and sinister ; that of Harold, steadfast 
 and reproachful. As if by a spell, the eye of each rested 
 long on that of the other — as the eyes of two lords of 
 the forest, ere the rush and the spring. 
 
 William was the first to withdraw his gaze, and as he 
 did so, his lip quivered and his brow knit. Then, waving 
 his hand for some of the lords behind to join him and the 
 earl, he spurred his steed, and all further private con- 
 versation was suspended. The train pulled not bridle 
 before they reached a monastery, at which they rested for 
 the night. 
 
 the English entertain the saqie notion of forts as Harold and 
 Goodyn. 
 
 II.— 8 
 
80 HAROLD 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 On entering the chamber set apart for him in the con- 
 rent Harold found Haco and Wolnoth already awaiting 
 him : and a wound he had received in the last skirmish 
 against the Bretons, having broken out afresh on the 
 road, allowed him an excuse to spend the rest of the 
 evening alone with his kinsmen. 
 
 On conversing with them — now at length, and unre- 
 strainedly — Harold saw everything to increase his alarm ; 
 for even Wolnoth, when closely pressed, could not but 
 give evidence of the unscrupulous astuteness with which, 
 despite all the boasted honor of chivalry, the duke's cha- 
 racter was stained. For, indeed, in his excuse it must be 
 said, that from the age of eight, exposed to the snares 
 of his own kinsmen, and more often saved by craft than 
 by strength, William had been taught betimes to justify 
 . dissimulation, and confound wisdom with guile. Harold 
 now bitterly recalled the parting words of Edward, and 
 recognized their justice, though as yet he did not see all 
 that they portended. Fevered and disquieted yet more 
 by the new3 from England, and conscious that not only 
 the power of his house and the foundations of his aspir- 
 ing hopes, but the very weal and safety of the land, were 
 daily imperilled by his continued absence, a vague and 
 unspeakable terror for the first time in his life preyed on 
 
HAROLD. 87 
 
 his bold heart — a terror like that of superstition; for, 
 like superstition, it was of the Unknown ; there was 
 everything to shun, yet no substance to grapple with. 
 He who could have smiled at the brief pangs of death, 
 shrunk from the thought of the perpetual prison ; he, 
 whose spirit rose elastic to every storm of life, and exulted 
 in the air of action, stood appalled at the fear of blind- 
 ness ; — blindness in the midst of a career so grand ; — 
 blindness in the midst of his pathway to a throne ; — 
 blindness, that curse which palsies the strong and enslaves 
 the free, and leaves the whole man defenceless ; — defence- 
 less in an Age of Iron. 
 
 What, too, were those mysterious points on which he 
 was to satisfy the duke ? He sounded his young kins- 
 men ; but Wolnoth evidently knew nothing ; Haco's eye 
 showed intelligence, but by his looks and gestures he 
 seemed to signify that what he knew he would only dis- 
 close to Harold. Fatigued, not more with his emotions 
 than with that exertion to conceal them, so peculiar to 
 the English character, (proud virtue of manhood so little 
 appreciated, and so rarely understood !) he at length 
 kissed Wolnoth, and dismissed him, yawning, to his rest. 
 Haco, lingering, closed the door, and looked long and 
 mournfully at the earl. 
 
 "Noble kinsman," said the young son of Sweyn, "I 
 foresaw from the first, that, as our fate will be thine ; — . 
 only round thee will be wall and fosse ; unless, indeed, 
 thou wilt lay aside thine own nature ; — it will give thee 
 no armor here — and assume that which " 
 
88 HAEOLD. 
 
 " Ho 1 " interrupted the earl, shaking with repressed 
 passion, " I see already all the foul fraud and treason to 
 guest and noble that surround me 1 But if the duke dare 
 such shame, he shall do so in the eyes of day. I will 
 hail the first boat I see on his river, or his sea-coast ; 
 and woe to those who lay hand on this arm to detain 
 mel" 
 
 Haco lifted his ominous eyes to Harold's ; and there 
 was something in their cold and unimpassioned expres- 
 sion which seemed to repel all enthusiasm, and to deaden 
 all courage. 
 
 "Harold,'' said he, "if but for one such moment thou 
 obeyest the impulse of thy manly pride, or thy just re- 
 sentment, thou art lost for ever ; one show of violence, 
 one word of affront, and thou givest the duke the excuse 
 he thirsts for. Escape I It is impossible. For the last 
 five years, I have pondered night and day the means of 
 flight ; for I deem that my hostageship, by right, is long 
 since over ; and no means have I seen or found. Spies 
 dog my every step, as spies, no doubt, dog thine." 
 
 " Ha 1 it is true," said Harold ; " never once have I 
 wandered three paces from the camp or the troop, but, 
 under some pretext, I have been followed by knight or 
 courtier. God and our Lady help me, if but for Eng- 
 land's sake I But what counsellest thou ? Boy, teach 
 
 me ; thou hast been reared in this air of wile to me it 
 
 is strange, and I am as a wild beast encompassed by a 
 circle of fire." 
 
 " Then," answered Haco, " meet craft by craft, smile 
 
HAROLD. S» 
 
 by smile. Feel that thou art under compulsion, and act, 
 — as the Church itself pardons men for acting so com- 
 pelled." 
 
 Harold started, and the blush- spread red over hia 
 cheeks. 
 
 Haco continued. 
 
 " Once in prison, and thou art lost evermore to the 
 sight of men. William would not then dare to release 
 thee — unless, indeed, he first rendered thee powerless to 
 avenge. Though I will not malign him, and say that he 
 himself is capable of secret murder, yet he has ever those 
 about him who are. He drops in his wrath some hasty 
 word ; it is seized by ready and ruthless tools. The great 
 Count of Bretagne was in his way ; William feared him 
 as he fears thee ; and in his own court, and amongst his 
 own men, the great Count of Bretagne died by poison. 
 For thy doom, open or secret, William, however, could 
 find ample excuse." 
 
 " How, boy ? What charge can the Norman bring 
 against a free Englishman ? " 
 
 " His kinsman Alfred," answered Haco, " was blinded, 
 tortured, and murdered. And in the court of Rouen, 
 they say these deeds were done by Godwin, thy father. 
 The Normans who escorted Alfred were decimated in 
 cold blood ; again, they say Godwin thy father slaughtered 
 them." 
 
 " It is hell's own lie I " cried Harold, " and so have I 
 proved already to the duke." 
 
 " Proved ? No 1 The Iamb does not prove the cause 
 8* 
 
90 HAROLD. 
 
 which is prejudged by the wolf. Often and often hare 
 I heard the Normans speak of those deeds, and cry that 
 vengeance yet shall await them. It is but to renew the 
 old accusation, to say Godwin's sudden death was God's 
 proof of his crime, and even Edward himself would for- 
 give the duke for thy bloody death. But grant the best : 
 grant that the more lenient doom were but the prison ; 
 grant that Edward and the English invaded Normandy 
 to enforce thy freedom ; — knowest thou what William 
 hath ere now done with hostages ? He hath put them 
 in the van of his army, and seared out their eyes in the 
 sight of both hosts. Deemest thou he would be more 
 gentle to us and to thee ? Such are thy dangers. Be 
 bold and frank, — and thou canst not escape them; be 
 wary and wise, promise and feign, — and they are bailed : 
 cover thy lion heart with the fox's hide until thou art 
 free from the toils." 
 
 "Leave me, leave me," said Harold, hastily. "Yet, 
 hold. Thou didst seem to understand me when I hinted 
 of — in a word, what is the object William would gain 
 from me ? " 
 
 Haco looked round; again went to the door — again 
 opened and closed it — approached, and whispered, "The 
 crown of England I " 
 
 The earl bounded, as if shot to the heart ; then, again 
 ho cried, " Leave me. I must be alone — alone now. 
 "Gol go!" 
 
HABOLD. 91 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Only in solitude could that strong man give way to 
 his emotions ; and at first they rushed forth so confused 
 and stormy, so hurtling one the other, that hours elapsed 
 before he could scarcely face the terrible crisis of his 
 position. 
 
 The great historian of Italy has said, that whenever 
 the simple and truthful German came amongst the plotting 
 and artful Italians, and experienced their duplicity and 
 craft, he straightway became more false and subtle than 
 the Italians themselves ; to his own countrymen, indeed, 
 he continued to retain his characteristic sincerity and 
 good faith ; but, once duped and tricked by the southern 
 schemers, as if with a fierce scorn, he rejected troth with 
 the truthless ; he exulted in mastering them in their own 
 wily statesmanship ; and if reproached for insincerity, 
 retorted with naive wonder, "Ye Italians, and complain 
 of insincerity I How otherwise can one deal with you — 
 how be safe amongst you?" 
 
 Somewhat of this revolution of all the natural elements 
 of his character took place in Harold's mind that stormy 
 and solitary night. In the transport of his indignation, 
 he resolved not doltishly to be thus outwitted to his ruin. 
 The perfidious host had deprived himself of that privilege 
 
93 HAROLD. 
 
 of Truth — the large and heavenly security of man ; — • 
 it was but a struggle of wit against wit, snare against 
 snare. The state and law of warfare had started up in 
 the lap of fraudful peace ; and ambush must be met by 
 ambush, plot by plot. 
 
 Such was the nature of the self-excuses by which the 
 Saxon defended his resolves, and they appeared to him 
 more sanctioned by the stake which depended on success 
 — a stake which his undying patriotism allowed to be far 
 more vast than his individual ambition. Nothing was 
 more clear than that if he were detained in a Norman 
 prison, at the time of King Edward's death, the sole 
 obstacle to William's design on the English throne would 
 be removed. In the interim, the duke's intrigues would 
 again surround the infirm king with Norman influences ; 
 and in the absence both of any legitimate heir to the 
 throne capable of commanding the trust of the people, 
 and of his own preponderating ascendency both in the 
 Witan and the armed militia of the nation, what could 
 arrest the designs of the grasping duke ? Thus his own 
 liberty was indissolubly connected with that of his 
 country ; — and for that great end, the safety of England, 
 all means grew holy. 
 
 When the next morning he joined the cavalcade, it 
 was only by his extreme paleness that the struggle and 
 agony of the past night could be traced, and he answered 
 with correspondent cheerfulness William's cordial greet> 
 ings. 
 
 As they rode together — still accompanied by several 
 
HAROLD. 93 
 
 knights, and the discourse was thus general, the features 
 of the country suggested the theme of the talk. For, 
 now in the heart of Normandy, but in rural districts 
 remote from the great towns, nothing could be more 
 waste and neglected than the face of the land. Misera- 
 ble and sordid to the last degree were the huts of the 
 serfs ; and when these last met them on their way, half- 
 naked and hunger-worn, there was a wild gleam of hate 
 and discontent in their eyes, as they louted low to the 
 Norman riders, and heard the bitter and scornful taunts 
 with which they were addressed ; for the Norman and 
 the Frank had more than indifference for the peasants 
 of their land ; they literally both despised and abhorred 
 them, as of different race from the conquerors. The 
 Norman settlement especially was so recent in the land, 
 that none of that amalgamation between class and class 
 which centuries had created in England, existed there ; 
 thoagh in England the theowe was wholly a slave, and 
 the ceorl in a political servitude to his lord, yet public 
 opitiion, more mild than law, preserved the thraldom 
 from wanton aggravation ; and slavery was felt to be 
 wrong and unchristian. The Saxon Church — not the 
 less, perhaps, for its very ignorance — sympathized more 
 ■with the subject population, and was more associated 
 with it than the comparatively learned and haughty 
 ecclesiastics of the continent, who held aloof from the 
 unpolished vulgar. The Saxon Church invariably set 
 the example of freeing the theowe and emancipating the 
 ceorl, and taught that such acts were to the salvation 
 
94 H A E L D . 
 
 of the soul. The rude and homely mariner in which the 
 greater part of the Saxon thegns lived — dependent solely 
 for their subsistence on their herds and agricultural pro- 
 duce, and therefore on the labor of their peasants — not 
 only made the distinctions of rank less harsh and visible, 
 but rendered it the interest of the lords to feed and clothe 
 well their dependants. All our records of the customs 
 of the Saxons prove the ample sustenance given to the 
 poor, and a general care for their lives and rights, which, 
 compared with the Frank laws, may be called enlightened 
 and humane. And above all, the lowest serf ever had 
 the great hope both of freedom an-d of promotion ; but 
 the beast of the field was holier in the eyes of the Nor- 
 man than the wretched villein.* We have likened the 
 
 * See Mr. Wright's very interesting article on the " Condition of 
 the English Peasantry," &e., Archseologia, vol. xxx. pp. 205-244. 
 I must, however, observe, that one very important fact seems to 
 have been generally overlooked by all inquirers, or, at least, not 
 sufficiently enforced, viz., that it was the Norman's contempt for 
 the general mass of the subject population, which, more perhaps 
 than any other cause, broke up positive slavery in England. Thus 
 the Norman very soon lost sight of that distinction the Anglo- 
 Saxon had made between the agricultural ceorl and the theowe, 
 I. e., between the serf of the soil and the personal slave. Hence 
 these classes became fused in each other, and were gradually eman ■ 
 cipated by the same circumstances. This, be it remarked, could 
 never have taken place under the Anglo-Saxon laws, which kept 
 constantly feeding the .class of slaves by adding to it convicted 
 felons and their children. The subject population became too 
 necessary to the Norman barons, in their feuds with each other, or 
 their king, to be long oppressed; and, in the time of Proissart. 
 that worthy chronicler ascribes the insolence, or high spirit of U 
 menu peuple to their grand aise, et abondance de biens. 
 
HAROLD 95 
 
 Norman to the Spartan, and, most of all, he was like 
 him in his scorn of the helot. 
 
 Thus embruted and degraded, deriving little from reli- 
 gion itself, except its terrors, the general habits of the 
 peasants on the continent of France were against the very 
 basis of Christianity — marriage. They lived together for 
 the most part without that tie, and hence the common 
 name, with which they were called by their masters, lay 
 and clerical, was the coarsest word contempt can apply 
 to the sons of women. 
 
 " The hounds glare at us," said Odo, as a drove of 
 these miserable serfs passed along. " They need ever the 
 lash to teach them to know the master. Are they thus 
 mutinous and surly in England, Lord Harold ? " 
 
 " No : but there our meanest theowes are not seen so 
 clad, nor housed in such hovels," said the earl. 
 
 "And is it really true that a villein with you can rise 
 to be a noble ?" 
 
 " Of at least yearly occurrence. Perhaps the fore- 
 fathers of one-fourth of onr Anglo-Saxon thegns held 
 the plough, or followed some craft mechanical." 
 
 Duke William politically checked Odo's answer, and 
 Baid mildly, — 
 
 " Every land its own laws : and by them alone should 
 it be governed by a virtuous and wise ruler. But, nobU 
 Harold, I grieve that you should thus note the sore point 
 in my realm. I grant that the condition of the pensantd 
 and the culture of the land need reform. But in my 
 childhood, there was a fierce outbreak of rebellion among 
 
96 HAROLD. 
 
 the villeins, needing bloody example to check, and the 
 memories of wrath between lord and villein must sleep 
 before we can do justice between them, as please St. Pe- 
 ter, and by Lanfranc's aid, we hope to do. Meanwhile, 
 one great portion of our villeinage in our larger towns 
 we have much mitigated. Eor trade and commerce are 
 the strength of rising states ; and if our ields are barren, 
 our streets are prosperous." 
 
 Harold bowed, and rode musingly on. That civiliza- 
 tion he had so much admired bounded itself to the noble 
 class, and, at farthest, to the circle of the duke's commer- 
 cial policy. Beyond it, on tlie outskirts of humanity, lay 
 the mass of the people. And here, no comparison in 
 favor of the latter could be found between English and 
 Norman civilization. 
 
 The towers of Bayeux rose dim in the distance, when 
 William proposed a halt in a pleasant spot by the side 
 of a small stream, overshadowed by oak and beech. A 
 tent for himself and Harold was pitched in haste, and 
 after an abstemious refreshment, the duke, taking Harold's 
 arm, led him away from the train along the margin of 
 the murmuring stream. 
 
 They were soon in a remote, pastoral, primitive spot, a 
 spot like those which the old menestrels loved to describe, 
 and in which some pious hermit might, pleased, have fixed 
 his solitary home. 
 
 Halting where a mossy bank jutted over the water, 
 William motioned to his companion to seat himself, and 
 reclining at his side, abstractedly took the pebbles from 
 
HAROLD. 97 
 
 w'le margin and dropped them into the stream. They fell 
 to the bottom with a hollow sound ; the circle they made 
 
 00 the surface widened, and was lost ; and the wave 
 r'shed and murmured on, disdainful. 
 
 ." Harold," said the duke at last, " thou hast thought, 
 
 1 /ear, that I have trifled yith thy impatience to return. 
 Bat there is on my mind a matter of great moment to 
 tl.ee and to me, and it must out, before thou canst depart. 
 O \ this very spot where we now sit, sate in early youth, 
 E'Jward thy king, and William thy host. Soothed by 
 tb-tf loneliness of the place, and the music of the bell from 
 th-A church-tower, rising pale through yonder glade, Ed- 
 wurd spoke of bis desire for the monastic life, and of his 
 content with his exile in the Norman land. Few then 
 were the hopes that he should ever attain the throne of 
 Alfred. I, more martial, and ardent for him as myself, 
 combated the thought of the convent, and promised, that, 
 it ever occasion meet arrived, and he needed the Nor- 
 man help, I would, with arm and heart, do a chiefs best 
 to win him his lawful crown. Heedest thou me, dear 
 Harold ? " 
 
 "Ay, my host, with heart as with ear." 
 "And Edward then, pressing my hand as I now press 
 thine, while answering gratefully, promised, that if he 
 did, contrary to all human foresight, gain his heritage, 
 he, in case I survived him, would bequeath that heritage 
 to me. Thy hand withdraws itself from mine." 
 "But from surprise. Duke William, proceed." 
 " Now," resumed William, " when thy kinsmen were 
 
 ri. — 9 21' 
 
98 HAROLD. 
 
 sent to me as hostages for the most powerful House in 
 England — the only one that could thwart the desire of 
 my cousin — I naturally deemed this a corroboration of 
 his promise, and an earnest of his continued designs ; 
 and in this I was reassured by the prelate, Robert arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, who knew the most secret con- 
 science of your king. Wherefore my pertinacity in 
 retaining those hostages ; wherefore my disregard to 
 Edward's mere remonstrances, which I, not unnaturally, 
 conceived to be but his meek concessions to the urgent 
 demands of thyself and House. Since then, Fortune or 
 Providence hath favored the promise of the king, and 
 my just expectations founded thereon. For one moment 
 it seemed indeed that Edward regretted or reconsidered 
 the pledge of our youth. He sent for his kinsman, the 
 Atheling, natural heir to the throne. But the poor prince 
 died. The son, a mere child, if I am rightly informed, 
 the laws of thy land will set aside, should Edward die 
 ere the child grow a man ; and, moreover, I am assured, 
 that the young Edgar hath no power of mind or intellect 
 to wield so weighty a sceptre as that of England. Your 
 king, also, even since your absence, hath had severe 
 visitings of sickness, and ere another year his new abbey 
 may hold his tomb." 
 
 William here paused : again dropped the pebbles into 
 the stream, and glanced furtively on the unrevealing face 
 of the earl. He resumed — 
 
 " Thy brother Tostig, as so nearly allied to my House, 
 would, I am advised, back my claims; and wert thou 
 
HAROLD. 99 
 
 absent from England, Tostlg, I conceive, would be in thy 
 place as the head of the great party of Godwin. But to 
 prove how little I care for thy brother's aid compared 
 with thine, and how implicitly I count on thee, I have 
 openly told thee what a wilier plotter would have con- 
 cealed — viz. the danger to which thy brother is exposed 
 in his own earldom. To the point, then, I pass at once. 
 I might, as my ransomed captive, detain thee here, until, 
 without thee, I had won my English throne, and I know 
 that thou alone couldst obstruct my just claims, or inter- 
 fere with the king's will, by which that appanage will be 
 left to me. Nevertheless, I unbosom myself to thee, and 
 would owe my crown solely to thine aid. I pass on to 
 treat with thee, dear Harold, not as lord with vassal, 
 but as prince with prince. On thy part, thou shalt hold 
 for me the castle of Dover, to yield to my fleet when the 
 hour comes ; thou shalt aid me in peace, and through thy 
 National Witan, to succeed to Edward, by whose laws I 
 will reign in all things conformably with the English 
 rites, habits, and decrees. A stronger king to guard 
 England from the Dane, and a more practised head to 
 improve her prosperity, I am vain eno' to say thou wilt 
 not find in Christendom. On my part, I offer to thee my 
 fairest daughter, Adeliza, to whom thou shalt be straight- 
 way betrothed : thine own young unwedded sister, Thyra, 
 thou shalt give to one of my greatest barons : all the 
 lands, dignities, and possessions thou boldest now, thou 
 shalt still retain ; and if, as I suspect, thy brother Tostig 
 i;annot keep his vast principality north the Humber, it 
 
100 HAROLD. 
 
 shall pass to thee. Whatever else thou canst demand in 
 guaiantee of my love and gratitude, or so to confirm thy 
 power that thou shalt rule over thy countships as free 
 and as powerful as the great Counts of Provence or 
 Anjou reign in Trance over theirs, subject only to the 
 mere form of holding in fief to the Suzerain, as I, stormy 
 subject, hold Normandy under Philip of France, — shall 
 be given to thee. In truth, there will be two kings in 
 England, though in name but one. And far from losing 
 by the death of Edward, thou shalt gain by the subjec- 
 tion of every meaner rival, and the cordial love of thy 
 grateful William. — Splendor of God, earl, thou keepest 
 me long for thine answer I " 
 
 "What thou offerest,'' said the earl, fortifying himself 
 with the resolution of the previous night, and compress- 
 ing his lips, livid with rage, " is beyond my deserts, and 
 all that the greatest chief under royalty could desire. 
 But England is not Edward's to leave, nor mine to give : 
 its throne rests with the Witan." 
 
 " And the Witan rests with thee," exclaimed William, 
 sharply. " I ask but for possibilities, man ; I ask but all 
 thine influence on my behalf; and if it be less than I 
 deem, mine is the loss. What dost thou resign ? I will 
 not presume to menace thee ; but thou wouldst, indeed, 
 despise my folly, if now, knowing my designs, I let thee 
 forth — not to aid but betray them. I know thou lovest 
 England, so do I. Thou deemest me a foreigner; true, 
 but the Norman and Dane are of precisely the same 
 origin. Thou, of the race of Canute, knowest how 
 
HAROLD. 1.01 
 
 popular was the reign of that king. Why should Wil- 
 liam's be less so ? Canute had no right whatsoever, save 
 that of the sword. My right will be kinship to Edward 
 — Edward's wish in my favor — the consent through thee 
 of the Witan — the absence of all other worthy heir — 
 my wife's clear descent from Alfred, which, in my 
 children, restores the Saxon line, through its purest and 
 noblest ancestry, to the throne. Think over all this, and 
 then wilt thou tell me that I merit not this crown ? " 
 
 Harold yet paused, and the fiery duke resumed — 
 
 "Are the terms I give not tempting eno' to my cap- 
 tive — to the son of the great Godwin, who, no doubt 
 falsely, but still by the popular voice of all Europe, had 
 power of life and death over my cousin Alfred and my 
 Norman knights ? or dost thou thyself covet the English 
 crown ; and is it to a rival that I have opened my heart ? " 
 
 " Nay," said Harold in the crowning efi'ort of his new 
 and fatal lesson in simulation. " Thou hast convinced 
 me, Duke William ; let it be as thou sayest." 
 
 The duke gave way to his joy by a loud exclamation, 
 and then recapitulated the articles of the engagement, to 
 which Harold simply bowed his head. Amicably, then, 
 the duke embraced the earl, and the two returned to- 
 wards the tejit. 
 
 While the steeds were brought forth, William took the 
 opportunity to draw Odo apart; and, after a short 
 whispered conference, the prelate hastened to his barb, 
 and spurred fast to Bayeux in advance of the party. All 
 that day, and all tha.t night, and all the next morn till 
 9* 
 
102 HAROLD. 
 
 noon, aouriors and riders went abroad, north and soi-ct 
 east and west, to all the more famous abbeys and churches 
 in Normandy, and holy and awful was the spoil with 
 which they returned for the ceremony of the next day. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The stately mirth of the evening banquet seemed to 
 Harold as the malign revel of some demoniac orgie. He 
 thought he read in every face the exultation over the sale 
 of England. Every light laugh in the proverbial ease 
 of the social Normans rang on his ear like the joy of a 
 ghastly Sabbat. All his senses preternaturally sharpened 
 to that magnetic keenness in which we less hear and see 
 than conceive and divine, the lowest murmur William 
 breathed in the ear of Odo, boomed clear to his own ; 
 the slightest interchange of glance between some dark- 
 browed priest, and large-breasted warrior, flashed upon 
 his vision. The irritation of his recent and neglected 
 wound, combined with his mental excitement to quicken, 
 yet to confuse his faculties. Body and soul were fevered. 
 He floated, as it were, between a delirium and a dream. 
 
 Late in the evening he was led into the chamber where 
 the duchess sat alone with Adeliza and her second son 
 William — a boy who had the red hair and florid hues of 
 the ancestral Dane, but was not without a certain bold 
 and strange kind of beauty, and who, even in childhood, 
 
HAKOLD. 103 
 
 all covered with broidery and gems, betrayed the passion 
 for that extravagant and fantastic foppery for which 
 William, the red king, to the scandal of Church and pul- 
 pit, exchanged the decorous pomp of his father's genera- 
 tion. A formal presentation of Harold to the little maid 
 was followed by a brief ceremony of words, which con- 
 veyed what, to the scornful sense of the earl, seemed the 
 mockery of betrothal between infant and bearded man. 
 Glozing congratulations buzzed around him ; then there 
 was a flash of lights on his dizzy eyes, he found himself 
 moving through a corridor between Odo and William. 
 He was in his room hung with arras and strewed with 
 rushes ; before him, in niches, various images of the Vir- 
 gin, the Archangel Michael, St. Stephen, St. Peter, St. 
 John, St. Yalery ; and from the bells in the monastic 
 edifice hard by tolled the third watch* of the night — the 
 narrow casement was out of reach, high in the massive 
 wall, and the starlight was darkened by the great church- 
 tower. Harold longed for air. All his earldom had he 
 given at that moment, to feel the cold blast of his native 
 skies moaning round his Saxon wolds. He opened his 
 door, and looked forth. A lanthorn swung on high from 
 the groined roof of the corridor. By the lanthorn stood 
 a tall sentry in arms, and its gleam fell red upon an iron 
 grate that jealously barred the egress. The earl closed 
 the door, and sat down on his bed, covering his face with 
 his clenched hand. The veins throbbed in every pulse, 
 his own touch seemed to him like fire. The prophecies 
 
 * Twelve o'clock. 
 
104 HAROLL. 
 
 of Hilda on the fatal night by the bantastein, which had 
 
 decided him to reject the prayer of Gurth, the fears of 
 
 Edith, and the cautions of Edward, came back to him, 
 
 dark, haunting, and over-masteringly. They rose between 
 
 him and his sober sense, whenever he sought to re-collect 
 
 his thoughts, now to madden him with the sense of his 
 
 folly in belief, now to divert his mind from the perilous 
 
 present to the triumphant future they foretold ; and of 
 
 all the varying chaunts of the Vala, ever two lines seemed 
 
 to burn into his memory, and to knell upon his ear as if 
 
 they contained the counsel they ordained him to pursue : 
 
 " Guile by guile oppose, nnJ never 
 Cruwn and brow shall Force dissever!" 
 
 So there he sat, locked and rigid, not reclining, not dis- 
 robing, till in that posture a haggard, troubled, fitful 
 sleep came over him ; nor did he wake till the hour of 
 prime,* when ringing bells and trampling feet, and the 
 hum of prayer from the neighboring chapel, roused him 
 into waking yet more troubled, and well-nigh as dreamy. 
 But now Godrith and Haco entered the room, and the 
 former inquired with some surprise in his tone, if he had 
 arranged with the duke to depart that day; "for," said 
 he, " the duke's hors-thegn has just been with me, to saj 
 (hat the duke himself, and a stately retinue, are to accom- 
 l)any you this evening towards Harfleur, where a ship 
 will be in readiness for our transport ; and I know that 
 the chamberlain (a courteous and pleasant man) is going 
 round to my fellovv-thegns in your train, with gifts of 
 hawks, and chains, and broidered palls." 
 
 * Six, A. M. 
 
HAROLD. 105 
 
 "It is so," said Haco, in answer to Harold's brighten- 
 ing and appealing eye. 
 
 " Go then, at once, Godrith," exclaimeff the earl, 
 bounding to his feet, " have all in order to part at the 
 first break of the trump. Never, I ween, did trump sound 
 so cheerily as the blast that shall announce our return to 
 England. Haste — haste ! " 
 
 As Godrith, pleased in the earl's pleasure, though him- 
 self already much fascinated by the honors he had re- 
 ceived, and the splendor he had witnessed, withdrew, Haco 
 said, " Thou hast taken my counsel, noble kinsman ? " 
 
 " Question me not, Haco I Out of my memory, all that 
 hath passed here 1 " 
 
 "Not yet," said Haco, with that gloomy and intense 
 
 seriousness of voice and aspect, which was so at variance 
 
 with his years, and which impressed all he said with an 
 
 indescribable authority. " Not yet ; for even while the 
 
 chamberlain went his round with the parting gifts, I, 
 
 standing in the angle of the wall in the yard, heard the 
 
 duke's deep whisper to Roger Bigod, who has the guard 
 
 of the keape,s'Have the men all armed at noon in the 
 
 passage below the council-hall, to mount at the stamp of 
 
 my foot; and if then I give thee a prisoner — wonder 
 
 not, but lodge him — ' The duke paused; and Bigod 
 
 said, ' Where, my liege ? ' And the duke answered, 
 
 fiercely, 'Where? why, where but in the Tournoir? — • 
 
 where, but in the cell in which Malvoisin rotted out his 
 
 last hour ? ' Not yet, then, let the memory of Norman 
 
 H-ile pass away; let the lip guard the freedom still." 
 9* 
 
106 HAROLD. 
 
 All the bright native soul that before Haco spoke had 
 dawnud gradually .back on the earl's fair face, now closed 
 itself up, as the leaves of a poisoned flower ; and the 
 pupil of the eye receding, left to the orb that secret and 
 strange expression which had baffled all readers of the 
 heart iu the look of his impenetrable father. 
 
 " Guile by guile oppose/" he muttered vaguely ; then 
 started, clenched his hand, and smiled. 
 
 In a few moments, more than the usual levee of Nor- 
 man nobles thronged into the room ; and what with the 
 wonted order of the morning, in the repast, the church 
 service of tierce, and a ceremonial visit to Matilda, who 
 confirmed the intelligence that all was in preparation for 
 his departure, and charged him with gifts of her own 
 needlework to his sister the queen, and various messages 
 of gracious nature, the time waxed late into noon with- 
 out his having yet seen either William or Odo. 
 
 He was still with Matilda, when the Lords Fitzosborne 
 and Raoul de Tancarville entered in full robes of state, 
 and with countenances unusually composed and grave, 
 and prayed the earl to accompany them into the duke's 
 presence. 
 
 Harold obeyed in silence, not unprepared for covert 
 danger, by the formality of the counts, as by the warn- 
 ings of Haco ; but, indeed, undivining the solemnity of 
 the appointed snare. On entering the lofty hall, he 
 beheld William seated in state ; his sword of office in his 
 hand, his ducal robe on his imposing form, and with that 
 peculiarly erect air of the head which he assumed upon 
 
H.lROLD. 101 
 
 all ceremonial occasions.* Behind him stood Odo of 
 Bayeux, in aube and pallium; some score of the duke's 
 greatest vassals ; and, at a little distance from the throne- 
 chair, was what seemed a table, or vast chest, covered all 
 over with cloth of gold. 
 
 Small time for wonder or self-collection did the duke 
 give the Saxon. 
 
 "Approach, Harold," said he, in the full tones of that 
 voice, so singularly effective in command ; " approach, 
 and without fear, as without regret. Before the members 
 of this noble assembly — all witnesses of thy faith, and 
 all guarantees of mine — I summon thee to confirm by 
 oath the promises thou mad'st me yesterday ; namely, to 
 aid me to obtain the kingdom of England on the death 
 of King Edward, my cousin ; to marry my daughter 
 Adeliza ; and to send thy sister hither, that I may wed 
 her, as we agreed, to one of my worthiest and prowest 
 counts. Advance thou, Odo, my brother, and repeat to 
 the noble earl the Norman form by which he will take 
 the oath." 
 
 Then Odo stood forth by that mysterious receptacle 
 covered with the cloth of gold, and said briefly : " Thou 
 
 * A celebrated antiquary, in his treatise in the "Archseologia," 
 on the authenticity of the Bayeux tapestry, very justly invites 
 attention to the rude attempt of the artist to preserve individuality 
 in his portraits ; and especially to the singularly erect bearing of 
 the duke, by which he is at once recognized wherever he is intro- 
 duced. Less pains are taken with the portrait of Harold; but 
 even iu that a certain elegance of proportion, and length of limb, 
 08 well as height of stature, are generally preserved. 
 
108 HAROLD. 
 
 wilt swear, as far as is in thy power, to lulBl thy agree- 
 ment with William, duke of the Normans, if thou live, 
 and God aid thee ; and in witness of that oath thou wilt 
 lay thy hand upon the reliquaire," pointing to a small 
 box that lay on th'3 cloth of gold. 
 
 All this was so sudden — all flashed so rapidly upon 
 the earl, whose natural intellect, however great, was, as 
 we have often seen, more deliberate than prompt- — so 
 thoroughly was the bold heart, which no siege could have 
 sapped, taken by surprise and guile — so paramount 
 through all the whirl and tumult of his mind, rose the 
 thought of England irrevocably lost, if he who alone 
 could save her was in the Norman dungeons — so darkly 
 did all Haco's fears, and his own just suspicions, quell 
 and master him, that mechanically, dizzily, dreamily, he 
 laid his hand on the reliquaire, and repeated, with 
 automaton lips — 
 
 "If I live, and if God aid me to it!" 
 
 Then all the assembly repeated solemnly — 
 
 " God aid him 1 " 
 
 And suddenly, at a sign from William, Odo and Raoul 
 de Tancarville raised the gold cloth, and the duke's voice 
 bade Harold look below. 
 
 As when man descends from the gilded sepulchre to 
 the loathsome charnel, so at the lifting of that cloth, all 
 the dread ghastliness of death was revealed. There, 
 from abbey and from church, from cyst and from shrine, 
 had been collected all the relics of human nothingness in 
 which superstition adored the mementos of saints divine ; 
 
HAROLD. 109 
 
 there lay, pell-mell and huddled, skeleton and mummy — ■ 
 the dry dark skin, the white gleaming bones of the dead, 
 mockingly cased in gold, and decked with rubies ; there, 
 grim fingers protruded through the hideous chaos, and 
 pointed towards the living man ensnared ; there, the skull 
 grinned scoff under the holy mitre ; — and suddenly rushed 
 back, luminous and searing, upon Harold's memory, the 
 dream long forgotten, or but dimly remembered in the 
 healthful business of life — the guile and the wirble of 
 the dead men's bones. 
 
 "At that sight," say the Norman chronicles, "the earl 
 shuddered and trembled." 
 
 "Awful, indeed, thine oath, and natural thine emotion," 
 said the duke; "for in that cyst are all those relics 
 which religion deems the holiest in our land. The dead 
 have heard thine oath, and the saints even now record it 
 in the halls of heaven 1 Cover again the holy bones I " 
 
 IL — 10 
 
BOOK TENTH. 
 
 THE SACEIFICE ON THE ALTAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The good Bishop Aired, now raised to the See of York, 
 had been summoned from his cathedral seat by Edward, 
 who had indeed undergone a severe illness, during the 
 absence of Harold ; and that illness had been both pre- 
 ceded and followed by mystical presentiments of the evil 
 days that were to fall on England after his death. He 
 had therefore sent for the best and the holiest prelate in 
 his realm, to advise and counsel with. 
 
 The bishop had returned to his lodgings in London 
 (which was in a Benedictine Abbey, not far from the 
 Aldgate) late one evening, from visiting the king at his 
 rural palace of Havering ; and he was seated alone in 
 his cell, musing over an interview with Edward, which 
 had evidently much disturbed him, when the door was 
 abruptly thrown open, and pushing aside in haste the 
 monk, who was about formally to announce him, a man 
 BO travel-stained in garb, and of a mien so disordeied, 
 
 (110) 
 
HAROLD. Ill 
 
 rushed in, that Aired gazed at first as on a stranger, and 
 not till the intruder spoke did he recognize Harold the 
 Earl. Even then, so wild was the earl's eye, so dark his 
 brow, and so livid his cheek, that it rather seemed the 
 ghost of the man than the man himself. Closing the 
 door on the monk, the earl stood a moment on the 
 threshold, with a breast heaving with emotions which he 
 sought in vain to master ; and, as if resigning the effort, 
 he sprang forward, clasped the prelate's knees, bowed 
 his head on his lap, and sobbed aloud. The good bishop, 
 who had known all the sons of Godwin from their infancy, 
 and to whom Harold was as dear as his own child, fold- 
 ing his hands over the earl's head, soothingly murmured 
 a benediction. 
 
 " No, no," cried the earl, starting to his feet, and toss- 
 ing the dishevelled hair from his eyes, " Bless me not yet I 
 Hear my tale first, and then say what comfort, what re- 
 fuge, thy Church can bestow 1 " 
 
 Hurriedly then the earl poured forth the dark story, 
 already known to the reader, — the prison at Belrem, the 
 detention at William's court, the fears, the snares, the 
 discourse by the river-side, the oath over the relics. This 
 told, he continued : " I found myself in the open air, and 
 knew not, till the light of the sun smote me, what might 
 have passed into my soul. I was, before, as a corpse 
 which a witch raises from the dead, endows with a spirit 
 not its own — passive to her hand — life-like, not living. 
 Then, then it was as if a demon had passed from my 
 body, laughing scorn at the foul things it had made th« 
 
112 HAROLD. 
 
 clay do. Oh, father, father I is there not absolution from 
 this oath, — an oath I dare not keep ? rather perjure my- 
 self than betray my land I " 
 
 The prelate's face was as pale as Harold's, and it was 
 some moments before he could reply. 
 
 " The Church can loose and unloose — such is its dele- 
 gated authority. But speak on ; what saidst thou at the 
 last to "William ? " 
 
 "I know not, remember not — aught save these words. 
 ' Now, then, give me those for whom I placed myself in 
 thy power ; let me restore Haco to his father-land, and 
 Wolnoth to his mother's kiss, and wend home my way.' 
 And, saints in heaven 1 what was the answer of this 
 caitiff Norman, with his glittering eye and venomed 
 smile ? ' Haco thou shalt have, for he is an orphan, and 
 an uncle's love is not so hot as to burn from a distance ; 
 but Wolnoth, thy mother's son, must stay with me as a 
 hostage for thine own faith. Godwin's hostages are re- 
 leased ; Harold's hostage I retain : it is but a form, yet 
 these forms are the bonds of princes.' 
 
 " I looked at him, and his eye quailed. And I said, 
 'That is not in the compact.' And William answered, 
 'No, but it is the seal of it.' Then I turned from the 
 duke, and I called my brother to my side, and I said, 
 ' Over the seas have I come for thee. Mount thy steed 
 and ride by my side, for I will not leave the land without 
 thee.' And Wolnoth answered, ' Nay, Duke William tells 
 me that he hath made treaties with thee, for which I am 
 still to be the hostage ; and Normanc^ has grown my 
 
HAKOLD. 113 
 
 home, and I love William as my lord.' Hot words fol- 
 lowed, and Wolnoth, chafed, refused entreaty and com- 
 mand, and suffered me to see that his heart was not with 
 England 1 0, mother, mother, how shall I meet thine 
 eye 1 So I returned with Haco. The moment I set foot 
 on my native England, that moment her form seemed to 
 rise from the tall cliffs, her voice to speak in the winds I 
 All the glamour by which I had been bound, forsook me ; 
 and I sprang forward in scorn, above the fear of the dead 
 men's bones. Miserable over-craft of the snarer I Had 
 my simple word alone bound me, or that word been rati- 
 fied after slow and deliberate thought, by the ordinary 
 oaths that appeal to God, far stronger the bond upon my 
 soul than the mean surprise, the covert tricks, the insult 
 and the mocking fraud. But as I rode on, the oath pur- 
 sued me — pale spectres mounted behind me on my steed, 
 ghastly fingers pointed from the welkin ; and then sud- 
 denly, O my father — I who, sincere in my simple faith, 
 had, as thou knowest too well, never bowed submissive 
 conscience to priest and Church — then suddenly I felt 
 the might of some power, surer guide than that haughty 
 conscience which had so in the hour of need betrayed 
 me I Then I recognized that supreme tribunal, that me- 
 diator between Heaven and man, to which I might come 
 with the dire secret of my soul, and say, as I say now, on 
 my bended knee, father — father — bid me die, or ab- 
 solve me from my oath 1 " 
 
 Then Aired rose erect, and replied, " Did I need sub- 
 terfuge, son, I would say, that William himself hatb 
 10* 2g 
 
in HAROLD. 
 
 released thy bond, in detaining the hostage against the 
 spirit of the guilty compact; that in the very words them- 
 selves of the oath, lies the release — 'If Ood aid thee.' 
 God aids no child to parricide — and thou art England's 
 child 1 But all school casuistry is here a meanness. Plain 
 is the law, that oaths extorted by compulsion, through 
 fraud and in fear, the Church hath the right to loose : 
 plainer still the law of God and of man, that an oath to 
 commit crime it is a deadlier sin to keep than to forfeit. 
 Wherefore, not absolving thee from the misdeed of a vow 
 that, if trusting more to God's providence and less to 
 man's vain strength and dim wit, thou wouldst never have 
 uttered even for England's sake — leaving her to the 
 angels ; — not, I say, absolving thee from that sin, but 
 pausing yet to decide what penance and atonement to fix 
 to its committal, I do in the name of the Power whose 
 priest I am, forbid thee to fulfil the oath ; I do release 
 and absolve thee from all obligation thereto. And if in 
 this I exceed my authority as Romish priest, I do but 
 accomplish my duties as living man. To these grey hairs 
 I take the sponsorship. Before this holy cross, kneel, O 
 my son, with me, and pray that a life of truth and virtue 
 may atone the madness of an hour." 
 
 So by the crucifix knelt the warrior and the priest 
 
HAROLD. 115 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 All other thought had given ?ray to Harold's impetu- 
 ous yearning to throw himself upon the Church, to hear 
 his doom from the purest and wisest of its Saxon preach- 
 ers Had the prelate deemed his vow irrefragable, he 
 would have died the Roman's death, rather than live the 
 traitor's life ; and strange indeed was the revolution 
 created in this man's character, that he, "so self-depend- 
 ent," he who had hitherto deemed himself his sole judge 
 below of cause and action, now felt the whole life of his 
 life committed to the word of a cloistered shaveling. All 
 other thought had given way to that fiery impulse — home, 
 mother, Edith, king, power, policy, ambition I Till the 
 weight was from his soul, he was as an outlaw in his 
 native land. But when the next sun rose, and that awful 
 burthen was lifted from his heart and his being — when 
 his own calm sense, returning, sanctioned the fiat of the 
 priest, — when, though with deep shame and rankling re- 
 morse at the memory of the vow, he yet felt exonerated, 
 not from the guilt of having made, but the deadlier guilt 
 of fulfilling it, — all the objects of existence resumed their 
 natural interest, softened and chastened, but still vivid in 
 the heart restored to humanity. But from that time, 
 Harold's stern philosophy and stoic ethics were shaken 
 
16 BAEOLD. 
 
 to the dust ; re-created, as it were, by the breath of re- 
 ligion, he adopted its tenets even after the fashion of his 
 age. The secret of his shame, the error of his conscience, 
 humbled him. Those unlettered monks whom he had so 
 despised, how had he lost the right to stand aloof from 
 their control 1 how had his wisdom, and his strength, and 
 his courage, met unguarded the hour of temptation 1 
 
 Yes, might the time come, when England could spare 
 him from her side 1 when he, like Sweyn the outlaw, 
 could pass a pilgrim to the Holy Sepulchre, and there, 
 as the creed of the age taught, win full pardon for the 
 single lie of his truthful life, and regain the old peace of 
 his stainless conscience 1 
 
 There are sometimes event and season in the life of 
 man the hardest and most rational, when he is driven 
 perforce to faith the most implicit and submissive ; as the 
 storm drives the wings of the petrel over a measureless 
 sea, till it falls tame, and rejoicing at refuge, on the sails 
 of some lonely ship. Seasons when difficulties, against 
 which reason seems stricken into palsy, leave him be- 
 wildered in dismay — when darkness, which experience 
 cannot pierce, wraps the conscience, as sudden night 
 wraps the traveller in the desert — when error entangles 
 his feet in its inextricable web — when, still desirous of 
 the right, he sees before him but a choice of evil ; and 
 the Angel of the Past, with a iiaming sword, closes on 
 him the gates of the Future. Then, Faith flashes on 
 him, with a light from the cloud. Then, he clings to 
 Prayer as a drowning wretch to the plank. Then, that 
 
HAROLD. Ill 
 
 fiolemn authority wliich clothes the Priest, as the inte]> 
 preter between the soul and the Divinity, seizes on the 
 heart that trembles with terror and joy ; then, that mys 
 terious recognition of Atonement, of sacrifice, of purify- 
 ing lustration (mystery which lies hid in the core of all 
 religions), smooths the frown on the Past, removes the 
 flaming sword from the Puture. The Orestes escapes 
 from the hounding Furies, and follows the oracle to the 
 spot where the cleansing dews shall descend on the ex- 
 piated guilt. 
 
 He who hath never known in himself, nor marked in 
 another, such strange crisis in human fate, cannot judge 
 of the strength and the weakness it bestows. But till he 
 can so judge, the spiritual part of all history is to him a 
 blank scroll, a sealed volume. He cannot comprehend 
 what drove the fierce Heathen, cowering and humbled, 
 into the fold of the Church ; what peopled Egypt with 
 eremites ; what lined the roads of Europe and Asia with 
 pilgrim homicides ; what, ia the elder world, while Jove 
 yet reigned un Olympus, is couched in the dim traditions 
 of the expj/tion of Apollo, the joy-god, descending into 
 Hades ; n why the sinner went blithe and light-hearted 
 from the nealing lustrations of Eleusis. In all these 
 solemn ■ Iddles of the Jove world, and the Christ's, is in- 
 volvf f the imperious necessity that man hath of repent- 
 ance and atonemient : through their clouds, as a rain- 
 bow, shines the covenant that reconciles the God and the 
 man. 
 
 Now Life with strong arms plucked the reviving Ha* 
 
118 HAROLD. 
 
 rold to itself. Already the news of his return had spread 
 through the city, and bis chamber soon swarmed with 
 joyous welcomes and anxious friends. But the first con- 
 gratulations oyer, each had tidings, that claimed his in- 
 stant attention, to relate. His absence had sufQced to 
 loosen half the links of that ill-woven empire. 
 
 All the North was in arms. Northumbria had revolted 
 as one man, from the tyrannous cruelty of Tostig ; the 
 insurgents had marched upon York ; Tostig had fled in 
 dismay, none as yet knew whither. The sons of Algar 
 had sallied forth from their Mercian fortresses, and were 
 now in the ranks of the Northumbrians, who it was 
 rumored had selected Morcar (the elder) in the place of 
 Tostig. 
 
 Amidst these disasters, the king's health was fast de 
 caying : his mind seemed bewildered and distraught ; dark 
 ravings of evil portent that had escaped from his lip in 
 his mystic reveries and visions, had spread abroad, ban- 
 died with all natural exaggerations, from lip to lip. The 
 country was in one state of gloomy and vague apprehen- 
 sion. 
 
 But all would go well, now Harold the great earl — 
 Harold the stout, and the wise, and the loved — had come 
 back to his native land 1 
 
 In feeling himself thus necessary to England, — all eyes, 
 all hopes, all hearts turned to him, and to him alone, — 
 Harold shook the evil memories from his soul, as a lion 
 shakes the 'dews from his mane. His intellect, that seemed 
 to have burned dim and through smoke in scenes uufa- 
 
HAUOLD 119 
 
 miliar to its exercise, rose at once equal to the occasion. 
 His words reassured the most despondent. His orders 
 were prompt and decisive. While, to and fro, went forth 
 his bodes and his riders, he himself leaped on his horse, 
 and rode fast to Havering. 
 
 At length, that sweet and lovely retreat broke on his 
 sight, as a bower through the bloom of a garden. This 
 was Edward's favorite abode : he had built it himseif for 
 his private devotions, allured by its woody solitudes, and 
 the gloom of its copious verdure. Here it was said, that 
 once at night, wandering through the silent glades, and 
 musing on heaven, the loud song of the nightingales had 
 disturbed his devotions ; with vexed and impatient soul, 
 he had prayed that the music might be stilled ; and since 
 then, never more the nightingale was heard in the shades 
 of Havering 1 
 
 Threading the woodland, melancholy yet glorious with 
 the hues of autumn, Harold reached the low and humble 
 gate of the timber edifice, all covered with creepers and 
 young ivy ; and in a few moments more he stood in the 
 presence cf the king. 
 
 Edward raised himself with pain from the couch on 
 which he was reclined,* beneath a canopy supported by 
 carved symbols of the bell-towers of Jerusalem ; and his 
 languid face brightened at the sight of Harold. Behind 
 the king stood a man with a Danish battle-axe in his 
 hand, the captain of the royal house-carles, who, on a 
 sign from the king, withdrew. 
 
 * Bayeux tapestry. 
 
120 HAROLD 
 
 ■'Thou art come back, Harold," said Edward then, in 
 a feeble voice ; and the earl drawing near, was grieved 
 and shocked at the alteration of his face. " Thou art 
 come back, to aid this benumbed hand, from which the 
 earthly sceptre is about to fall. Hush 1 for it is so, and 
 I rejoice." Then examining Harold's features, yet pale 
 with recent emotions, and now saddened by sympathy 
 with the king, he resumed : — " Well, man of this world, 
 that went forth confiding in thine own strength, and in 
 the faith of men of the world like thee, — well, were my 
 warnings prophetic, or art thou contented with thy mis 
 sion ? " 
 
 "Alas I " said Harold, mournfully. " Thy wisdom was 
 greater than mine, king ; and dread the snares laid for 
 me and our native land, under pretext of a promise made 
 by thee to Count William, that he should reign in Eng- 
 land, should he be your survivor." 
 
 Edward's face grew troubled and embarrassed. " Such 
 promise," he said falteringly, " when I knew not the laws 
 of England, nor that a realm could not pass like house 
 and hyde, by a man's single testament, might well escape 
 from my thoughts, never too bent upon earthly affairs. 
 But I marvel not that my cousin's mind is more tenacious 
 and mundane. And verily, in those vague words, and 
 from thy visit, I see the Future dark with fate and crim- 
 son with blood." 
 
 Then Edward's eyes grew locked and set, staring into 
 space ; and even that reverie, though it awed him, relieved 
 Harold of much disquietude, for he rightly conjectured. 
 
HABOLD. 121 
 
 that on waking from it Edward would press him no more 
 as to those details and dilemmas of conscience, of which 
 he felt that the arch-worshipper of relics was no fitting 
 judge. 
 
 When the king, with a heavy sigh, evinced return from 
 the world of vision, he stretched forth to Harold his wan, 
 transparent hand, and said : — 
 
 "Thou seest the ring on this finger; it comes to me 
 from above, a merciful token to prepare my soul for 
 death. Perchance thou mayest have heard that once an 
 aged pilgrim stopped me on my way from Grod's house, 
 and asked for alms — and I, having nought else on my 
 person to bestow, drew from my finger a ring, and gave 
 it to him, and the old man went his way, blessing me." 
 
 " I mind me well of thy gentle charity," said the earl ; 
 "for the pilgrim bruited it abroad as he passed, and 
 much talk was there of it." 
 
 The king smiled faintly. "Now this was years ago. 
 It so chanced this year, that certain Englishers, on their 
 way from the Holy Land, fell in with two pilgrims — and 
 these last questioned them much of me. And one, with 
 face venerable and benign, drew forth a ring and said, 
 'When thou reachest England, give thou this to the 
 king's own hand, and say, by this token, that on Twelfth- 
 Day Eve he shall be with me. For what he gave to me, 
 ■will I prepare recompense without bound ; and already 
 the saints deck for the new-comer the halls where the 
 worm never gnaws and the moth never frets.' 'And 
 
 who,' asked my subjects amazed, ' who shall we say speak- 
 II. —11 
 
'22 HAROLD. 
 
 eth thus to us ? " And the pilgrim answered, ' He oh 
 whose breast leaned the Son of God, and my name is 
 John ! '* Wherewith the apparition vanished. This is 
 the ring I gave to the pilgrim ; on the fourteenth night 
 from thy parting, miraculously returned to me. Where- 
 fore, Harold, my time here is brief, and I rejoice that thy 
 coming delivers me up from the cares of state to the pre- 
 paration of my soul for the joyous day." 
 
 Harold, suspecting under this incredible mission some 
 wily device of the Norman, who, by thus warning Edward 
 (of whose precarious health he was well aware), might 
 induce his timorous conscience to take steps for the com- 
 pletion of the old promise. — Harold, we say, thus sus- 
 pecting, in vain endeavored to combat the king's present- 
 iments, but Edward interrupted him, with displeased 
 firmness of look and tone — 
 
 " Come not thou, with thy human reasonings, between 
 my soul and the messenger divine ; but rather nerve and 
 prepare thyself for the dire calamities that lie greeding 
 in the days to come 1 Be thine, things temporal. All 
 the land is in rebellion. Anlaf, whom thy coming dis- 
 missed, hath just wearied me with sad tales of bloodshed 
 and ravage. Go and hear him ; — go hear the bodes of 
 thy brother Tostig, who wait without in our hall ; go, 
 take axe, and take shield, and the men of earth's war, 
 
 * Ail. de Vii. Edw. — Many other chroniclers mention this legend, 
 of which the stones of Westminster Abbey itself prated, in the 
 statues of Edward and the Pilgrim, placed over the arch ir Deau'a 
 yard. 
 
HAROLD. 123 
 
 and do justice and right ; and on thy return thou shnlt 
 Keo with what rapture sublime a Christian king can soar 
 aloft from his throne 1 Go ! " 
 
 More moved, and more softened, than in the former 
 (Iny lie had been with Edward's sincere, if fanatical piety. 
 Harold, turning aside to conceal his face, said, — 
 
 " Would, O royal Edward, that my heart, amidst worldly 
 cares, were as pure and serene as thine I But, at least, 
 what erring mortal may do to guard this realm, and face 
 the evils thou foreseest in the Par — that will I do ; and, 
 perchance then, in my dying hour, God's pardon and 
 peace may descend on me I " He spoke, and went. 
 
 The accounts he received from Anlaf (a veteran Anglo- 
 Dane), were indeed more alarming than he had yet heard. 
 Morcar, the bold son of Algar, was already proclaimed, 
 fiy the rebels, earl of Northumbria ; the shires of Not- 
 tingham, Derby, and Lincoln, had poured forth their 
 hardy Dane populations on his behalf. All Mercia was 
 in arms under his brother Edwin ; and many of the Gym- 
 rian chiefs had already joined the ally of the butchered 
 Gryffyth. 
 
 Not a moment did the earl lose in proclaiming the 
 Her-bann ; sheaves of arrows were splintered, and the 
 fragments, as announcing the War-Fyrd, were sent from 
 thegn to thegn, and town to town. Fresh messengers 
 were despatched to Gurth to collect the whole force of 
 his own earldom, and haste by quick marches to London ; 
 and, these preparations made, Harold returned to the 
 metropolis, and with a heavy heart sought his mother, as 
 his next care. 
 
124 HAROLD 
 
 Qitha was already prepared- for his news ; for Ha t 
 had of his own accord gone to break the first shock of 
 disappointment. There was in this youth a noiseless 
 sagacity that seemed ever provident for Harold. With 
 his sombre, smileless cheek, and' gloom of beauty, bowed 
 as if beneath the weight of some invisible doom, he had 
 already become linked indissolubly with the earl's fate, as 
 its angel, — but as its angel of darkness I 
 
 To Harold's intense relief, G-itha stretched forth her 
 hands as he entered, and said, " Thou hast failed me, but 
 against thy will ! Grieve not ; I am content ! " 
 
 "Now our Lady be blessed, mother — " 
 
 "I have. told her,'' said Haco, who was standing, with 
 arms folded, by the fire, the blaze of which reddened fit- 
 fully his hueless countenance with its raven hair ; " I have 
 told thy mother that Wolnoth loves his captivity, and 
 enjoys the cage. And the lady hath had comfort in my 
 ■words." 
 
 "Not in thine only, son of Sweyn, but in those of 
 fate : for before thy coming I prayed against the long 
 blind yearning of my heart, prayed that Wolnoth might 
 not cross the sea with his kinsmen." 
 
 "How!" exclaimed the earl, astonished. 
 
 Githa took his arm, and led him to the farther end of 
 the ample chamber, as if out of the hearing of Haco, who 
 turned his face towards the fire, and gazed into the fierce 
 blaze with muzing, unwinking eyes. 
 
 " Couldst thou think, Harold, that in thy journey, that 
 on the errand of so great fear and hope, I could sit brood- 
 
HAROLD. 125 
 
 ing in my chair, and count the stitches on the tremulous 
 hangings ? No : day by day have I sought the lore of 
 Hilda, and at night I have watched with her by the fount, 
 and the elm, and the tomb ; and I know that thou hast 
 gone through dire peril ; the prison, the war, and the 
 snare ; and I know also, that his Pylgia hath saved the 
 life of my Wolnoth ; for had he returned to his native 
 land, he had .returned but to a bloody grave I " 
 
 " Says Hilda this ? " said the earl, thoughtfully. 
 
 " So say the Vala, the rune, and the Sciuilaeca ! and 
 such is the doom that now darkens the brow of Haco I 
 Seest thou not that the hand of death is in the hush of 
 the smileless lip, and the glance of the unjoyous eye ? " 
 
 " Nay, it is but the thought born to captive youth, and 
 nurtured in solitary dreams. Thou hast seen Hilda? — 
 and Edith, my mother? Edith is — " 
 
 "Well," said Githa kindly, for she sympathized with 
 that love which Godwin would have condemned, " though 
 she grieved deeply after thy departure, and would sit for 
 hours gazing into space, and moaning. Bat even ere 
 Hilda divined thy safe return, Edith knew it ; I was be- 
 side her at the time ; she started up, and cried — ' Harold 
 is in England! ' — ' How ? Why thinkest thou so ? ' said 
 I And Edith answered, 'Iifeel it by the touch of the 
 earth, byithe breath of the air.' This is more than love, 
 Harold. I knew two twins who had the same instinct of 
 each other's comings .and goings, and were present each 
 to each even when absent : Edith is twin to thy soul. 
 Thou £roest to her now, Harold : thou wilt find there thy 
 
 n* 
 
126 HAROLD. 
 
 sister Thyra. Tlie child hath drooped of late, and I be 
 sought Hilda to revive her, veith herb and charm. Thon 
 wilt come back ere thou departest to aid Tostig, thy 
 brother, and tell me how Hilda hath prospered with my 
 ailing child ? " 
 
 " I will, my mother. Be cheered I — Hilda is a skilful 
 nurse. And now bless thee, that thou hast not reproached 
 me that my mission failed to fulfil my promise. Welcome 
 even our kinswoman's sayings, sith they comfort thee for 
 the loss of thy darling 1 " 
 
 Then Harold left the room, mounted his steed, and 
 rode through the town towards the bridge. He was com- 
 pelled to ride slowly through the streets, for he was 
 recognized ; and eheapman and mechanic rushed from 
 house and from stall to hail the Man of the Land and the 
 Time. 
 
 " All is safe now in England, for Harold is come back 1 " 
 They seemed joyous as the children of the mariner, when, 
 with wet garments, he struggles to shore through the 
 storm. And kind and loving were Harold's looks and 
 brief words, as he rode with vailed bonnet through the 
 swarming streets. 
 
 At length he cleared the town and the bridge ; and the 
 yellowing boughs of the orchards drooped over the road 
 towards the Roman home, when, as he spurred his steed, 
 he heard behind him hoofs as in pursuit, looked back, 
 and beheld Haco. He drew rein, — " What wantest thou, 
 my nephew ?" 
 
HAROLD. 12T 
 
 " Thee I " answered Haco, briefly, as He gained his side. 
 " Thy companionship." 
 
 '■■Thanks, Haco; but I pray thee to stay in my 
 mother's house, for I would fain ride alone." 
 
 " Spurn me not from thee, Harold I This England is 
 to me the land of the stranger ; in thy mother's house I 
 feel but the more the orphan. Henceforth I have devoted 
 to thee my life I And my life my dead and dread father 
 hath left to thee, as a. doom or a blessing ; wherefore 
 cleave I to thy side ; — cleave we in life and in death to 
 each other 1 " 
 
 An undefined and cheerless thrill shot through the 
 earl's heart as the youth spoke thus ; and the remem- 
 brance that Haco's counsel had first induced him to 
 abandon his natural hardy and gallant manhood, meet 
 wile by wile, and thus suddenly entangled him in his own 
 meshes, had already mingled an inexpressible bitterness 
 with his pity and affection for his brother's son. But 
 struggling against that uneasy sentiment, as unjust to- 
 wards one to whose counsel — however sinister, and now 
 repented — he probably owed, at least, his safety and 
 deliverance, he replied gently, — 
 
 " I accept thy trust and thy love, Haco I Ride with 
 me, then ; but pardon a dull- comrade, for when the soul 
 communes with itself the lip is silent." 
 
 " True," said Haco, " and I am no babbler. Three 
 things are ever silent : Thought, Destiny, and the Grave." 
 
 Each then, pursuing his own fancies, rode on fast, and 
 side by side ; the long shadows of declining day struggling 
 
128 HAROLD. 
 
 with a sky of unusual brightness, and thrown from the 
 tiim forest trees and the distant hillocks. Alternately 
 through shade and through light rode they on ; the bulla 
 gazing on them from holt and glade, and the boom of 
 the bittern sounding in its peculiar mournfulness of tone 
 as it rose from the dank pools that glistened in the 
 western sun. 
 
 It was always by the rear of the house, where stood 
 the ruined temple, so associated with the romance of hia 
 life, that Harold approached the home of the Yala ; and 
 as now the hillock, with its melancholy diadem of stones, 
 came in Tiew, Haoo for the first time broke the silence. 
 
 " Again — as in a dream ; " he said abruptly. " Hill, 
 ruin, grave-mound — but where the tall image of the 
 mighty one ? " 
 
 "Hast thou then seen this spot before?" asked the 
 earl. 
 
 " Tea, as an infant here was I led by my father Sweyn ; 
 here too, from thy house yonder, dim seen through the 
 fading leaves, on the eve before I left this land for the 
 Norman, here did I wander alone ; and there, by that 
 altar, did the great Yala of the North chaunt her runes 
 for my future." 
 
 "Alas! thou too!" murmured Harold; and then he 
 asked aloud, " What said she ? " 
 
 " That thy life and mine crossed each other in the 
 skein ; that I should save thee from a great peril, and 
 share with thee a greater." 
 
 "Ah, youth," answered Harold bitterly, "these vain 
 
HAROLD. 129 
 
 prophecies of human wit guard the soul from no danger. 
 They mislead us by riddles which our hot hearts interpret 
 according to their own desires. Keep thou fast to 
 youth's simple wisdom, and trust only to the pure spirit 
 and the watchful God." 
 
 He suppressed a groan as he spake, and springing from 
 his steed, which he left loose,, advanced up the hill. 
 When he had gained the height, he halted, and made 
 sign to Haci; who had also dismounted, to do the same. 
 Half-way down the side of the slope which faced the 
 ruined peristyle, Haco beheld a maiden, still young, and 
 of beauty surpassing all that the court of Normandy 
 boasted of female 'loveliness. She was seated on the 
 sward; — while a girl, younger, and scarcely indeed 
 grown into womanhood, reclined at her feet, and leaning 
 her cheek upon her hand, seemed hushed in listening 
 attention. In the :£ace of the younger girl Haco recog- 
 nized Thyra, the last-born of Githa, though he had but 
 once seen her before — the day ere he left England for 
 the Norman court — for the face of the girl was but little 
 changed, save that the eye was more mournful, and the 
 cheek was paler. 
 
 And Harold's betrothed was singing, in the still autumn 
 air, to Harold's sister. The song chosen was on that 
 subject the most popular with the Saxon poets, the mystic 
 life, death, and resurrection of the fabled Phoenix ; and 
 this rhymeless song, in its old native flow, may yet find 
 some grace in the modern ear. 
 11* 2h 
 
130 HAEOIiD. 
 
 THE LAY OF THE PHCENIX.* 
 
 "Shineth far hence — so 
 Sing the wiae elders — 
 Far to the fire east 
 The fairest of lands. 
 
 " Daintily dight is that 
 Dearest of joy fields ; 
 Breezes all balm-y-filled 
 Glide through its groves. 
 
 " There to the blest, ope 
 The high doors of heaven, 
 Sweetly sweep earthward 
 Their wavelets of song. 
 
 "Frost robes the sward not, 
 
 Rashes no hail-steed ; 
 
 Wind-cloud ne'er wanders, 
 
 Ne'er falleth the rain. 
 
 "Warding the woodholt, 
 Girt with gay wonder. 
 Sheen with the plumy shine, 
 Phoenix abides. 
 
 "Lord of the Lleod,-)- 
 
 Whose home is the air. 
 Winters a thousand 
 Abideth the bird. 
 
 * This ancient Saxon lay, apparently of the date of the tenth or 
 eleventh century, may be found, admirably translated by Mr. 
 George Stephens, in the Archasologia, vol. xxx. p. 259. In the 
 text the poem is much abridged, reduced into rhythm, and in some 
 stanzas wholly altered from the original ; but it is, nevertheless, 
 greatly indebted to Mr. Stephen's translation, from which several 
 lines are borrowed verbatim. The more careful reader will note 
 the great aid given to a rhymeless metre by alliteration. I am not 
 sure that this old Saxon mode of verse might not be profitably re- 
 Stored to our national muse. 
 
 ■f People. 
 
HAROLD. 131 
 
 "Hapless and heavy tlieu 
 Waxeth the hazy wing; 
 Year-worn and old in ttie 
 Whirl of the earth. 
 
 "Then the high holt-top, 
 
 Mounting, the bird soars; 
 There, where the winds sleep, 
 He buildeth a nest ; — 
 
 "Gums the most precious, and 
 Balms of the sweetest. 
 Spices and odors, he 
 Weaves in the nest. 
 
 " There, in that sun-ark, lo, 
 Waiteth he wistful ; 
 Summer comes smiling, lo, 
 Rays smite the pile ! 
 
 "Burden'd with eld-years, and 
 Weary with slow time. 
 Slow in his odor-nest, 
 Barneth the bird. 
 
 •'Up from those ashes, then, 
 Springeth a rare fruit; 
 Deep in the rare fruit 
 There coileth a worm. 
 
 "Weaving bliss-meshes 
 Around and around it, 
 Silent and blissful, the 
 Worm worketh on. 
 
 "Lo, from the airy web. 
 Blooming and brightsome. 
 Young and exulting, the 
 Phoenix breaks forth. 
 
 "Bound him the birds troop, 
 Singing and hailing; 
 Wings of all glories 
 Engarland the king. 
 
H& HAROLD. 
 
 "Hymning and hailing, 
 
 Through forest and sun-air. 
 Hymning and hailing, 
 And speaking him 'King.' 
 
 "High flies the phoenix, 
 
 Escaped from the worm-web* 
 He soars in the sun-light. 
 He bathes in the dew. 
 
 " He visits his old haunts. 
 The holt and tho sun-hill ; 
 The founts of his youth, and 
 The fields of his love. 
 
 " The stars in the welkin, 
 The blooms on the earth, 
 Are glad in his gladness. 
 Are young in his youth. 
 
 " While round him the birds troop, tho 
 Hosts of the Himmel,* 
 Blisses of music, and 
 Glories of wings ; 
 
 " Hymning and hailing. 
 And filling the sun-air 
 With music and glory 
 And praise of the king." 
 
 As the lay ceased, Thyra said, — 
 
 "Ah, Edith, who would not brave the funeral-pyre to 
 live again like the phoenix I" 
 
 " Sweet sister mine," answered Edith, " the singer doth 
 mean to image out in the phoenix the rising of our Lord, 
 m whcm we all live again." 
 
 And Thyra said mournfully, — 
 
 * Heaven. 
 
HAROLD. I'd'i 
 
 "But the phoenix sees once more the haunts of his 
 youth — the things and places dear to him in his life be- 
 "ore. Shall we do the same, O Edith ? " 
 
 "It is the persons we love that make beautiful the 
 haunts we have known," answered the betrothed. " Those 
 persons at least we shall behold again, and wherever they 
 ire — there is heaven." 
 
 Harold could restrain himself no longer. With one 
 bound he was at Edith's side, and with one wild cry of 
 joy he clasped her to his heart. 
 
 " I knew that thou wouldst come to-night — I knew it, 
 Harold," murmured the betrothed. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 While, full of themselves, Harold and Edith wandered, 
 nand in hand, through the neighboring glades — while 
 into that breast which iad forestalled, at least, in this 
 pure and sublime union, the wife's privilege to soothe and 
 console, the troubled man poured out the tale of the sole 
 trial from which he had pa,8sed with defeat and shame, — 
 Eaco drew near to Thyra, and sate down by her side 
 Each was strangely attracted .towards the other ; there 
 was something congenial in the gloom which they shared 
 in common ; though in the girl the sadness was soft and 
 resigned, in the youth it was stern and solemn. They 
 conversed in whispers, and their talk was strange foi 
 
 II. — 12 M 
 
134 HAEOLD. 
 
 companions so young ; for, whether suggested by Edith's 
 song, or the neighborhood of the Saxon grave-stone, 
 which gleamed on their eyes, grey and wan, through the 
 crommel, the theme they selected was of Death. As if 
 fascinated as children often are, by the terrors of the 
 Dark King, they dwelt on those images with which the 
 northern fancy has associated the eternal rest, — on the 
 shroud and the worm, and the mouldering bones — on the 
 gibbering ghost, and the sorcerer's spell that could call 
 the spectre from the grave. They talked of the pain of 
 the parting soul, parting while earth was yet fair, youth 
 fresh, and joy not yet ripened from the blossom — of the 
 wistful lingering look which the glazing eyes would give 
 to the latest sunlight it should behold on earth ; and then 
 pictured the shivering and naked soul, forced from the 
 reluctant clay, wandering through cheerless space to the 
 intermediate tortures, which the Church taught that none 
 (vere so pure as not for a while to undergo ; and hearing, 
 as it wandered, the knell of the muffled bells and the 
 burst of unavailing prayer. At length Haco paused 
 abruptly, and said, — 
 
 "But thou, cousin, hast before thee love and sweet 
 li*"e, and these discourses are not for thee." 
 
 Thyra shook her head mournfully, — 
 
 " Not so, Haco ; for when Hilda consulted the runes, 
 while, last night, she mingled the herbs for my pain, 
 which rests ever hot and sharp here," and the girl laid 
 her hand on her breast, " I saw that her face grew dark 
 and overcast ; ar d I felt, as I looked, that my doom was 
 
HAROLD 135 
 
 set. And when thou didst come so noiselessly to my 
 side, with thy sad, cold eyes, Haco, methought I saw 
 the Messenger of Death. But thou art strong, Haco, 
 and life will be long for thee ; let us talk of Life." 
 
 Haco stooped down and pressed his lips upon the girl's 
 pale forehead. 
 
 "Kiss me too, Thyra." 
 
 The child kissed him, and they sate silent and close by 
 each other while the sun set. 
 
 And as the stars rose, Harold and Edith joined them. 
 Harold's face was serene in the star-light, for the pure 
 soul of his betrothed had breathed peace into his own ; 
 a-nd, in his willing superstition, he felt as if, now restored 
 to his guardian angel, the dead men's bones had released 
 their unhallowed hold. 
 
 But suddenly Edith's hand trembled in his, and her 
 form shuddered. — Her eyes were fixed upon those of 
 Haco. 
 
 " Forgive me, young kinsman, that I forgot thee so 
 long," said the earl. " This is my brother's son, Edith ; 
 thou hast not, that I remember, seen him before ?" 
 
 " Tes, yes ; " said Edith, falteringly. 
 
 " When, and where ? " 
 
 Edith's soul answered the question, "In a dream;" 
 but her lips were silent. 
 
 And Haco, rising, took her by the hand, while the earl 
 turned to his sister — that sister whom he was pledged to 
 send to the Norman court ; and Thyra said plaintively, — 
 
136 HAROLD. 
 
 " Take me in thine arms, Harold, and wrap thy mantle 
 round me, for the air is cold." 
 
 The earl lifted the child to his breast, and gazed on 
 her cheek long and wistfully ; then questioning her ten- 
 derly, he took her within the house ; and iEdith followed 
 with Haco. 
 
 "Is Hilda within ? " asked the son of Sweyn. 
 
 " Nay, she hath been in the forest since noon," answered 
 Edith with an effort, for she could not recover her awe 
 of his presence. 
 
 " Then," said Haco, halting at the threshold, " I will 
 go across the woodland to your house, Harold, and pre- 
 pare your ceorls for your coming." 
 
 "I shall tarry here till Hilda returns," answered Ha- 
 rold, " and it may be late in the night ere I reach home ; 
 biUt Sexwolf already hath my orders. At sunrise we 
 return to London, and thence we march on the insur- 
 gents." 
 
 " All shall be ready. Earewell, noble Edith ; and 
 thou, Thyra my cousin,, one kiss more to our meeting 
 again." 
 
 The child fondly held out her arms to him, and as she 
 kissed his cheek, whispered, — 
 
 " In the grave, Haco I " 
 
 The young man drew his mantle around him, and moved 
 away. But he did not mount his steed, which still grazed 
 by the road ; while Harold's, more familiar with the 
 place, had found its way to the stall; nor did he take 
 his path through the glades to the house of his kinsman. 
 
HAROLD. 13T 
 
 Entering the Druid temple, he stood musing by the 
 Teuton tomb. 
 
 The night grew deep and deeper, the stars more lumin- 
 ous, and the air more hushed, when a voice close at his 
 side, said clear and abrupt, — 
 
 " What does Youth the restless, by Death the still ? " 
 
 It was the peculiarity of Haco, that nothing ever 
 seemed to startle or surprise him. In that brooding boy- 
 hood, the solemn, quiet, and sad experience all fore-armed, 
 of age, had something in it ^terrible and preternatural ; 
 so, without lifting his eyes from the stone, he answered, — 
 
 " How sayest thou, Hilda, that the dead are still ?" 
 
 Hilda placed her hand on his shoulder, and stooped to 
 look into his face. 
 
 "Thy rebuke is just, son of Sweyn. In Time, and in 
 the Universe, there is no stillness 1 Through all eternity 
 the state impossible to the soul is repose 1 — So again 
 ■thou art in thy native land ? " 
 
 "And for what end. Prophetess ? I remember, when 
 but an infant, who till then had enjoyed the common air 
 and the daily sun, thou didst roh me evermore of child- 
 hood and youth. For thou didst say to my father, that 
 ' dark was the woof of my fate, and that its most glori- 
 ous hour should be its last I ' " 
 
 " But thou wert surely too child-like (I see thee now 
 as thou wert then, stretched on the grass, and playing 
 with thy father's falcon I) — too child-like to heed my 
 words." 
 
 " Does the new ground reject the germs of the sower, 
 U* 
 
138 HAROLD. 
 
 or fne young heart tbe first lessons of wonder and awe 7 
 Since then, Prophetess, Night hath been my comrade, 
 and Death my familiar. Rememberest thou again the 
 hour when, stealing, a boy, from Harold's house in his 
 absence — ^the night ere I left my land — I stood on this 
 mound by thy side ? Then did I tell thee that the sole 
 soft thought that relieved the bitterness of my soul, wheu 
 all the rest of my kinsfolk seemed to behold in me but 
 the heir of Sweyn, the outlaw and homicide, was the love 
 that I bore to Harold ; but that that love itself was mourn- 
 ful and bodeful as the hwata * of distant sorrow. And 
 thou didst take me, Prophetess, to thy bosom, and thy 
 cold kiss touched my lips and my brow ; and there, be- 
 side this altar and grave-mound, by leaf and by water, by 
 staff and by song, thou didst bid me take comfort; for 
 that as the mouse gnawed the toils of the lion, so the 
 exile obscure should deliver from peril the pride and the 
 prince of my House — that, from that hour with the skein 
 of his fate should mine be entwined ; and his fate was 
 that of kings and of kingdoms. And then, when the joy 
 flushed my cheek, and methought youth came back in 
 warmth to the night of my soul — then, Hilda, I asked 
 thee if my life would be spared till I had redeemed the 
 name of my father. Thy seid-staff passed over the leaves 
 that, burning with fire-sparks, symbolled the life of the 
 man, and from the third leaf the flame leaped up and 
 died ; and again a voice from thy breast, hollow, as if 
 borne from a hill-top afar, made answer, 'At thine entrance 
 
 * Omeu. 
 
HAROLD. 139 
 
 to manhood, life bursts into blaze, and shrivels up into 
 ashes.' So I knew that the doom of the infant still 
 weighed unannealed on the years of the man ; and I come 
 here to my native land as to glory and the grave. But," 
 said the young man, with a wild enthusiasm, " still with 
 mine links the fate which is loftiest in England ; and the 
 rill and the river shall rush in one to the Terrible Sea." 
 
 " I know not that," answered Hilda, pale, as if in awe 
 of herself : " for never yet hath the rune, or the fount, or 
 the tomb, revealed to me clear and distinct the close of 
 the great course of Harold ; only know I through his 
 own stars his glory and greatness ; and where glory is 
 dim, and greatness is menaced, I know it but from the 
 stars of others, the rays of whose influence blend with 
 his own. So long, at least, as the fair and the pure one 
 keeps watch in the still House of Life, the dark and the 
 troubled one cannot wholly prevail. For Edith is given 
 to Harold as the Fylgia, that noiselessly blesses and 
 saves : and thou — " Hilda checked herself, and lowered 
 her hood over her face, so that it suddenly became in 
 visible. 
 
 "And I ? " asked Haco, moving near to her side. 
 
 "Away, son of Sweyn ; thy feet trample the grave of 
 the mighty dead ! " 
 
 Then Hilda lingered no longer, but took her way to- 
 wards the house. Haco's eye followed her in silence. 
 The cattle, grazing in the great space of the crumbling 
 peristjle, looked up as she passed; the watch-dogs, 
 wandering thropgh the star-lit columns, came snorting 
 
140 HAROIiD. 
 
 round their mistress. And when she had vanished within 
 the house, Haco turned to his steed — 
 
 "What matters,'' he murmured, "the answer which 
 the Vala cannot or dare not give ? To me is not destined 
 the love of woman, nor the ambition of life. All I know 
 of human affection binds me to Harold ; all I know of 
 human ambition is to share in his fate. This love is 
 strong as hate, and terrible as doom — it is jealous, it 
 admits no rival. As the shell and the sea-weed inter- 
 laced together, we are dashed on the rushing surge ; 
 whither ? oh, whither ? " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " I TELL thee, Hilda," said the earl, impatiently, " I 
 tell thee that I renounce, henceforth, all faith, save in 
 Him whose ways are concealed from our eyes. Thy seid 
 and thy galdra-have inot guarded me against peril, nor 
 armed me against sin. Nay, perchance — but peace 1 I 
 will no more tempt the dark art, I will no more seek to 
 disentangle the awful truth from the juggling lie. All 
 so foretold me I will seek to. forget — hope from no pro- 
 phecy, fear from no warning. Let the soul go to tha 
 future, under the shadow of God 1 " 
 
 " Pass on thy way as thou wilt, its goal is the same, 
 whether seen or unmarked. Peradventure thou art wise," 
 said the yala, gloomilv 
 
HAROLB. 141 
 
 "For my country's sake, heaven be my witness, not' 
 my own," resumed the earl, "I have blotted my con- 
 science, and sullied my truth. My country alone can 
 redeem me, by taking my life as a thing hallowed ever- 
 more to her service. Selfish ambition do I lay aside, 
 selfish power shall tempt me no more ; lost is the charm 
 that I beheld in a throne, and, save for Edith — " 
 
 " No I not even for Edith," cried the betrothed, ad- 
 vancing, "not even for Edith shalt thou listen to other 
 voice than that of thy country and thy soul." 
 
 The earl turned round abruptly, and his eyes were 
 inoist. 
 
 "O Hilda," he cried, "see henceforth my only Vala ; 
 let that noble heart alone interpret to us the oracles of 
 the future." 
 
 The next day Harold returned with Haco and a' 
 numerous train of his house-carles to the city. Their 
 ride was as silent as that of the day before ; but, on 
 reaching Southwark, Harold turned awayfrom the bridge 
 towards the left, gained the river-sidb, and dismounted' 
 at the house of one of his lithsmen (a frankling or freed 
 eeorl). Leaving there his horse, he summoned a boat ; 
 and, with Haco, was rowed over towards the fortified^ 
 palace which theii' rose towards the west of London, 
 jutting into the Thames, and which seems to have formed 
 the outwork of the old Roman city. The palace, of 
 remotest antiquity, and blending all work and archi- 
 tecture, Roman, Saxon, and Danish, had been repaired 
 by Canute ; and from a high window in the upper story, 
 
142 HAROLD. 
 
 where were the royal apartments, the body of the traitor 
 Edric Streone (the founder of the house of Godwin) had 
 been thrown into the river. 
 
 " Whither go we, Harold ? " asked the son of Sweyn. 
 
 "We go to visit the young Atheling, the natural heir 
 to the Saxon throne,'' replied Harold, in a firm voice. 
 " He lodges in the old palace of our kings." 
 
 "They say in Normandy that the boy is imbecile." 
 
 " That is not true," returned Harold. " I will present 
 thee to him — judge." 
 
 Haco mused a moment, and said — 
 
 " Methinks I divine thy purpose ; is it not formed on 
 the sudden, Harold ? " 
 
 "It was the counsel of Edith," answered Harold, with 
 evident emotion. "And yet, if that counsel prevail, I 
 may lose the power to soften the Church, and to call her 
 mine." 
 
 " So thou wouldst sacrifice even Edith for thy country." 
 
 "Since I have sinned, methinks I could," said the 
 proud man, humbly. 
 
 The boat shot into a little creek, or rather canal, which 
 then ran inland, beside the black and rotting walls of the 
 fort. The two earl-born leaped ashore, passed under a 
 Roman arch, entered a court, the interior of which was 
 rudely filled up by early Saxon habitations of rough 
 timber-work, already, since the time of Canute, falling 
 into decay (as all things did which came under the care 
 of Edward), and mounting a stair that ran along the 
 outside of the house, gained a low narrow door which 
 
HAROLD. 143 
 
 itood open. In the passage within were one or two of 
 the king's honse-earles, who had been assigned to the 
 young Atheling, with liveries of blue, and Danish axes, 
 and some four or five German servitors, who had attended 
 his father from the emperor's court. One of these last 
 ushered the noble Saxons into a low, forlorn ante-hall ; 
 and there, to Harold's surprise, he found Aired, tha 
 Archbishop of York, and three thegns of high rank, and 
 of lineage ancient and purely Saxon. 
 
 Aired approached Harold, with a faint smile on his 
 benign face ; — 
 
 "Methinks, and may I think aright! — thou comest 
 hither with the same purpose as myself, and you nobln 
 thegns." 
 
 "And that purpose ? " 
 
 " Is to see and to judge calmly, if, despite his years, 
 we may find in the descendant of the Ironsides such a 
 prince as we may commend to our decaying king as his 
 heir, and to the Witan as a chief fit to defend the land." 
 
 "Thou speakest the cause of my own coming. With 
 your ears will I hear, with your eyes will I see, as ye 
 judge, will judge I," said Harold, drawing the prelate 
 towards the thegns, so that they might hear his answer. 
 
 The chiefs, who belonged to a party that had often 
 opposed Godwin's house, had exchanged looks of feai 
 and trouble when Harold entered ; but at his words theii 
 frank faces showed equal surprise and pleasure. 
 
 Harold presented to them his nephew, with whose gravo 
 dignity of bearing beyond his years they were favorably 
 
144 HAROLD. 
 
 mpressed, though the good bishop sighed when he saw 
 in his face the sombre beauty of the guilty sire. The: 
 group then conversed anxiously on the declining health 
 of the king, the disturbed state of the realm, and the ex- 
 pediency, if possible, of uniting all suffrages in favor of 
 the fittest successor. And, in Harold's voice and manner, 
 as in Harold's heart, there was nought that seemed con- 
 scious of his own mighty stake and just hopes in that 
 election. But, as time wore, the faces of the thegns grew 
 overcast ; proud men and great satraps* were they, and 
 they liked it ill that the boy prince kept them so long in 
 the dismal ante-room. 
 
 At length, the German officer, who had gone to an- 
 nounce their coming, returned ; and, in words, intelligible 
 indeed from the affinity between Saxon and German, but 
 still disagreeably foreign to English ears, requested them 
 to follow him into the presence of the Atheling. 
 
 In a room yet retaining the rude splendor with which 
 it had been invested by Canute, a handsome boy, about 
 the age of thirteen or fourteen, but seeming much younger, 
 was engaged in the construction of a stufffed bird, a lure 
 for a young hawk that stood blindfold on its perch; The 
 employment made so habitual a part of the serious edu- 
 cation of youth, that the thegns smoothed their brows at 
 the sight, and deemed the boy worthily occupied; At 
 
 * The Eastern word Satraps {Satrapes) made one of the ordinary 
 and most inappropriate titles (borrowed, no doubt, from the By- 
 zantine Court), by which the Saxons, in their Latinity, honored 
 their simple nobles. 
 
HAROLD. 14£ 
 
 another end of the voom, a grave Norman priest was 
 seated at a table, on which were books and writing im- 
 plements ; he was the tutor, commissioned by Edward, 
 to teach Norman tongue and saintly lore to the Athel- 
 ing. A profusion of toys strewed the floor, and some 
 children of Edgar's own age were playing with them. 
 ]Iis little sister Margaret* was seated seriously, apart 
 from all the other children, and employed in needle-work. 
 
 When Aired approached the Atheling, with a blend- 
 ing of reverent obeisance and paternal cordiality, the boy 
 carelessly cried, in a barbarous jargon, half German, half 
 Norman-French, — 
 
 " There, come not too near, you scare ray hawk. What 
 are you doing ? Tou trample my toys, which the good 
 Norman bishop William sent me as a gift from the duke. 
 Art thou blind, man ? " 
 
 " My son," said the prelate, kindly, " these are the 
 things of childhood — childhood ends sooner with princes 
 than with common men. Leave thy lure and thy toys, 
 and welcome these noble thegns, and address them, so 
 please you, in our own Saxon tongue." 
 
 " Saxon tongue I — language of villeins I not I. Little 
 do I know of it, save to scold a ceorl or a nurse. King 
 Edward did not tell me to learn Saxon, but Norman ! and 
 Godfroi yonder says, that if I know Norman well, duke 
 William will make me his knight. But I don't desire to 
 
 * Afterwards married to Malcolm of Scotland, through whom by 
 the female line, the present royal dynasty of England assumes de- 
 scent from the Anglo-Saxon kings. 
 
 IL — 13 2r 
 
146 HAROLD. 
 
 learn anything more to-day." And the child turned 
 peevishly from thegn and prelate. 
 
 The three Saxon lords interchanged looks of profound 
 displeasure and proud disgust. But Harold, with an 
 effort over himself, approached, and said, winningly, — 
 
 "Edgar the Atheling, thou art not so young but thou 
 knowest already that the great live for others. Wilt thou 
 not be proud to live for this fair country, and these noble 
 men, and to speak the language of Alfred the Great ? " 
 
 " Alfred the Great 1 they always weary me with Alfred 
 the Great," said the boy, pouting. "Alfred the Great, 
 he is the plague of my life ! if I am Atheling, men are 
 to live for me, not I for them ; and if you tease me any 
 more, I will run away to Duke William, in Rouen ; God- 
 froi says I shall never be teased there 1 " 
 
 So saying, already tired of hawk and lure, the child 
 threw himself on the floor with the other children, and 
 snatched the toys from their hands. 
 
 The serious Margaret then rose quietly, and went to 
 her brother, and said in good Saxon, — 
 
 " Fie ! if you behave thus, I shall call you niddering I " 
 
 At the threat of that word, the vilest in the language 
 — that word which the lowest ceorl would forfeit life 
 rather than endure — a threat applied to the Atheling of 
 England, the descendant of Saxon heroes — the three 
 thegns drew close, and watched the boy, hoping to see 
 that he would start to his feet with wrath and in shame. 
 
 " Call me what you will, silly sister," said the child, 
 
HAROLD. 14T 
 
 indifiFerently, "I am not so Saxon as to care for your 
 ceorlisli Saxon names." 
 
 " Enow," cried the proudest and greatest of the thegns, 
 his very moustache curling with ire. " He who can bp. 
 called niddering shall never be crowned king I " 
 
 " I don't want to be crowned king, rude man, with your 
 laidly moustache ; I want to be made knight, and have a 
 banderol and baldric. Go away ! " 
 
 "We go, son," said Aired, mournfully. 
 
 And, with slow and tottering step, he moved to the 
 door ; there he halted, turned back, — and the child was 
 pointing at him in mimicry, while Godfroi, the Norman 
 tutor, smiled, as in pleasure. The prelate shook his head, 
 and the group gained once more the ante-hall. 
 
 " Fit leader of bearded men 1 fit king for the Saxon 
 land 1 " cried a thegn. " No more of your Atheling, 
 Aired my father ! " 
 
 " No more of him, indeed I " said the prelate, mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 " It is but the fault of his nurture and rearing, — p 
 neglected childhood, a Norman tutor, German hirelings. 
 We may remould yet the pliant clay," said Harold. 
 
 " Nay," returned Aired, " no leisure for such hopes, no 
 time to undo what is done by circumstance, and, I fear, 
 by nature. Ere the year is out the throne will stand 
 empty in our halls." 
 
 "Who then," said Haco, abruptly, "who then — (par- 
 don the ignorance of youth wasted in captivity abroad I) 
 who then, failing the Atheling, will save this realm from 
 
148 HAROLD. 
 
 the Norman duke, who, I know well, counts o;i it as the 
 reaper on the harvest ripening to his sickle ? " 
 
 "Alas, who then?" murmured Aired. 
 
 " Who then ? " cried the three thegns, with one voice ; 
 " why the worthiest, the wisest, the bravest I Stand forth, 
 Harold the Earl. Thou art the man 1 " And, without 
 waiting his answer, they strode from the hall. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Around Northampton lay the forces of Morcar, the 
 choice of the Anglo-Dane men of Northumbria. Sud- 
 denly there was a shout as to arms, from the encampment ; 
 and Morcar, the young earl, clad in his link-mail, save 
 his helmet, came forth, and cried, — 
 
 " My men are fools to look that way for a foe ; yonder 
 lies Mercia, behind it the hills of Wales. The troops 
 that come hitherward are those which Edwin, my brother, 
 brings to our aid." 
 
 Morcar's words were carried into the host by his cap- 
 tains and war-bodes, and the shout changed from alarm 
 into joy. As the cloud of dust, through which gleamed 
 the spears of the coming force, rolled away, and lay 
 lagging behind the march of the host, there rode forth 
 from the van two riders. Fast and far from the rest they 
 rode, and behind them, fast as they could, spurred two 
 others, who bore on. high, one the pennon of Mercia, one 
 
HAROLD. 149 
 
 the red lion of !North Wales. Right to the embankment 
 and palisade whif h begirt Morcar's camp, rode the riders ; 
 and the head of the foremost was bare, and the guards 
 knew the face of Edwin the Comely, Morcar's brother. 
 Morcar stepped down from the mound on which he stood, 
 and the brothers embraced, amidst the halloos of the 
 forces. 
 
 "And welcome, I pray thee," said Morcar, " our kins- 
 man, Caradoc, son of Gryffyth* the bold." 
 
 So Morcar reached his hand to Caradoc, stepson to 
 his sister Aldyth, and kissed him on the brow, as was the 
 wont of our fathers. The young and crownless prince 
 was scarce out of boyhood, but already his name was 
 sung by the bards, and circled in the halls of Gwynedd 
 with the Hirlas horn ; for he had harried the Saxon 
 borders, and given to fire and sword even the fortress of 
 Harold himself. 
 
 But while these three interchanged salutations, and ere 
 yet the mixed Mercians and Welch had gained the en- 
 campment, from a curve in the opposite road, towards 
 Towcester and Dunstable, broke the flash of mail like a 
 river of light, trumpets and fifes were heard in the dis- 
 tance ; and all in Morcar's host stood hushed but stern, 
 gazing anxious and afar, as the coming armament swept 
 on. And from the midst were seen the Martlets and 
 Cross of England's king, and the Tiger heads of Harold ; 
 banners which, seen together, had planted victory on 
 
 * By hia first wife ; Aldyth was his second. 
 13* 
 
150 HAROLD. 
 
 every tower, on e ( ery field, towards which they had rushed 
 on the winds. 
 
 E,etiring, then, to the central mound, the chiefs of the 
 insurgent force held their brief council. 
 
 The two youn^ earls, whatever their ancestral renown, 
 being yet new themselves to fame and to power, were 
 submissive to the Anglo-Dane chiefs, by whom Morcar 
 had been elected. And these on recognizing the standard 
 of Harold, were unanimous in advice to send a peaceful 
 deputation, setting forth their wrongs under Tostig, and 
 the justice of their cause. " For the earl," said Gamel 
 Beorn, (the head and front of that revolution), " is a just 
 man, and one who would shed his own blood rather than 
 that of any other free-born dweller in England ; and he 
 will do us right." 
 
 " What, against his own brother ? " cried Edwin. 
 
 "Against his own brother, if we convince but his rea- 
 son," returned the Anglo-Dane. 
 
 And the other chiefs nodded assent. Caradoc's fierce 
 eyes flashed fire ; but he played with his torque, and 
 spoke not. 
 
 Meanwhile, the vanguard of the king's force had defiled 
 under the very walls of Northampton, between the town 
 and the insurgents ; and some of the light-armed scouts 
 who went forth from Morcar's camp to gaze on the pro- 
 cession, with that singular fearlessness which charac- 
 terized, at that period, the rival parties in civil war, re- 
 turned to say that they had seen Harold himself in the 
 foremost line, and that he was not in mail. 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 151 
 
 This circumstance the insurgent thegns received as a 
 good omen ; and, having already agreed on the deputa- 
 tion, about a score of the principal thegns of the north 
 went sedately towards the hostile lines. 
 
 By the side of Harold, — armed in mail, with his face 
 concealed by the strange Sicilian nose-piece used then 
 by most of the Northern nations, — had ridden Tostig, 
 who had joined the earl on his march, with a scanty band 
 of some fifty or sixty of his Danish house-carles. All 
 the men throughout broad England that he could com- 
 mand or bribe to his cause, were those fifty or sixty hire- 
 ling Danes. And it seemed that already there was dispute 
 between the brothers, for Harold's face was flushed, and 
 his voice stern, as he said, " Rate me as thou wilt, bro- 
 ther, but I cannot advance at once to the destruction of 
 my fellow Englishmen without summons and attempt at 
 treaty, — as has ever been the custom of our ancient he- 
 roes and our own House." 
 
 "By all the fiends of the North," exclaimed Tostig, 
 " it is foul shame to talk of treaty and summons to rob- 
 bers and rebels. For what art thou here but for chas- 
 tisement and revenge ? " 
 
 "For justice and right, Tostig." 
 
 " Ha ! thou comest not, then, to aid thy brother ?" 
 
 " Yes, if justice and right are, as I trust, with him." 
 
 Before Tostig could reply, a line was suddenly cleared 
 through the armed men, and, with bare heads, and a 
 monk lifting the rood on high, amidst the procession, 
 advanced the Northumbrian Danes. 
 
152 HAEOLD. 
 
 "By the red sword of St. Olave ! " cried Tosng, "yon- 
 der come the traitors, Gamel Beorn and Gloneion 1 Tou 
 will not hear them ? If so, I will not stay to listen. I 
 have but my axe for my answer to such knaves." 
 
 " Brother, brother, those men are the most valiant and- 
 famous chiefs in thine earldom. Go, Tostig, thou art 
 not now in the mood to hear reason. Retire into the 
 city ; summon its gates to open to the king's flag. I 
 will hear the men." 
 
 " Beware how thou judge, save in thy brother's favor 1" 
 growled the fierce warrior ; and, tossing his arm on high 
 with a contemptuous gesture, he spurred away towards 
 the gates. 
 
 Then Harold, dismounting, stood on the ground, under 
 the standard of his king, and round him came several of 
 the Saxon chiefs, who had kept aloof during the con- 
 erence with Tostig. 
 
 The Northumbrians approached, and saluted the earl 
 with grave courtesy. 
 
 Then Gamel Beorn began. But much as Harold had 
 feared and foreboded as to the causes of complaint which 
 Tostig had given to the Northumbrians, all fear, all fore- 
 boding, fell short of the horrors now deliberately un- 
 folded ; not only extortion of tribute the most rapacious 
 and illegal, but murder the fiercest and most foul, 
 Thegns of high birth, without offence or suspicion, but 
 who had either excited Tostig's jealousy, or resisted his 
 exactions, had been snared under peaceful pretexts into 
 
HAROLD. 153 
 
 his castle,* and butchered in cold blood by his house- 
 carles. The cruelties of the old heathen Danes seemed 
 revived in the bloody and barbarous tale. 
 
 "And now," said the thegn, in conclusion, " canst thou 
 condemn us that we rose ? — no partial rising ; — rose all 
 Northumbria 1 At first but two hundred thegns ; strong 
 in our cause, we swelled into the might of a people. Our 
 wrongs found sympathy beyond our province, for liberty 
 spreads over human hearts as fire over a heath. Wher- 
 ever we march, friends gather round us. Thou warrest 
 not on a handful of rebels, — half England is with us 1"— 
 "And ye, — thegns," answered Harold, " ye have ceased 
 to war against Tostig your earl. Ye war now against 
 the king and the Law. Come with your complaints to 
 your prince and your Witan, and, if they are just, ye are 
 stronger than in yonder palisades and streets of steel." 
 
 "And so," said Gamel Beorn, with marked emphasis, 
 "now thou art in England, noble ear], — so are we 
 willing to come. But when thou wert absent from the 
 land, justice seemed to abandon it to force and the battle- 
 axe." 
 
 " I would thank you for your trust," answered Harold, 
 deeply moved. " But justice in England rests not on the 
 presence and life of a single man. And your speech T 
 must not accept as a grace, for it wrongs both my king 
 and his council. These charges ye have made, but ye 
 nave not proved them. Armed men are not proofs ; and 
 granting that hot blood and mortal infirmity of judgment 
 
 *Flor Wig. 
 
154 HAROLD. 
 
 have caused Tostig to err against you and the right, 
 think still of his qualities to reign over men whose lands, 
 and whose rivers, lie ever exposed to the dread Northern 
 sea-kings. Where will ye find a chief with arm as strong, 
 and heart as dauntless ? By his mother's side he is allied 
 to your own lineage. And for the rest, if ye receive him 
 back to his earldom, not only do I, Harold, in whom you 
 profess to trust, pledge full oblivion of the past, but I 
 will undertake, in his name, that he shall rule you well 
 for the future, according to the laws of King Canute." 
 
 " That will we not hear," cried the thegns, with one 
 voice ; while the tones of Game] Beorn, rough with the 
 rattling Danish burr, rose above all, " for we were born 
 free. A proud and bad chief is by us not to be endured ; 
 we have learned from our ancestors to live free or die I " 
 
 A murmur, not of condemnation, at these words, was 
 heard amongst the Saxon chiefs round Harold ; and be- 
 loved and revered as he was, he felt that, had he the 
 heart, he had scarce the power, to have coerced those 
 warriors to march at once on their countrymen in such a 
 cause. But foreseeing great evil in the surrender of his 
 brother's interests, whether by lowering the king's dignity 
 to the demands of armed force, or sending abroad in all 
 his fierce passions a man so highly connected with Nor- 
 man and Dane, so vindictive and so grasping, as Tostig, 
 the earl shunned further parley at that time and place 
 He appointed a meeting in the town with the chiefs ; 
 and requested them, meanwhile, to reconsider their 
 demands, and at least shape them so as that they could be 
 
HAROLD. 155 
 
 transmitted to the king, who was then on his way to 
 Oxford. 
 
 It is in vain to describe the rage of Tostig, when his 
 brother gravely repeated to him the accusations against 
 him, and asked for his justification. Justification he 
 could not give. His idea of law was but force, and by 
 force alone he demanded now to be defended. Harold, 
 then, wishing not alone to be judge in his brother's cause, 
 referred further discussion to the chiefs of the various 
 towns and shires, whose troops had swelled the War- 
 Fyrd ; and to them he bade Tostig plead his cause. 
 
 Vain as a woman, while fierce as a tiger, Tostig as- 
 sented, and in that assembly he rose, his gonna all blaz- 
 ing with crimson and gold, his hair all curled and per- 
 fumed as for a banquet ; and such, in a half-barbarous 
 day, the effect of person, especially when backed by war- 
 like renown, that the Proceres were half disposed to 
 forget, in admiration of the earl's surpassing beauty of 
 form, the dark tales of his hideous guilt. But his pas- 
 sions harrying him away ere he had gained the middle 
 cf his discourse, so did his own relation condemn himself, 
 so clear became his own tyrannous misdeeds, that the 
 Englishmen murmured aloud their disgust, and their im- 
 patience would not suffer him to close. 
 
 "Enough," cried Vebba, the blunt thegn from Saxon 
 Kent ; " it is plain that neither king nor Witan can re- 
 place thee in thine earldom. Tell us not farther of these 
 atrocities • or, by're Lady, if the Northumbrians had 
 chased thee not, we would." 
 
156 HAROLD. 
 
 " Take treasure and ship, and go to Baldwin In Flan- 
 ders," said Thorold, a great Anglo-Dane from Lincoln- 
 shire, " for even Harold's name can scarce save thee from 
 outlawry." 
 
 Tostig glared round on the assembly, and met but one 
 common expression in the face of all. 
 
 " These are thy henchmen, Harold 1 " he said through 
 his gnashing teeth ; and, without vouchsafing farther 
 word, strode from the council-hall. 
 
 That evening he left the town, and hurried to tell to 
 Edward the tale that had so miscarried with the chiefs. 
 The next day, the Northumbrian delegates were heard ; 
 and they made the customary proposition in those cases 
 of civil differences, to refer all matters to the king and 
 the Witan ; each party remaining under arms meanwhile. 
 
 This was finally acceded to. Harold repaired to 
 Oxford, where the king (persuaded to the journey by 
 Aired, foreseeing what would come to pass) had just 
 arrived. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Witan was summoned in haste. Thither came 
 Ihe young earls Morcar and Edwin, but Caradoc, chafing 
 at the thought of peace, retired into Wales with his wild 
 band. 
 
 N'ow, all the great chiefs, spiritual and temporal 
 
HAEOLD. 151 
 
 assembled in Oxford for the decree of that Witan on 
 which depended the peace of England. The imminence 
 of the time made the concourse of members entitled to 
 vote in the assembly even larger than that which had met 
 for the inlawry of Godwin. There was but one thought 
 uppermost in the minds of men, to which the adjustment 
 of an earldom, however mighty, was comparatively in- 
 significant — viz., the succession of the kingdom. That 
 thought turned instinctively and irresistibly to Harold. 
 
 The evident and rapid decay of the king ; the utter 
 failure of all male heirs in the House of Cerdic, save only 
 the boy Edgar ; whose character (which throughout life 
 remained puerile and frivolous) made the minority which 
 excluded him from the throne seem cause rather for re- 
 joicing than grief: and whose rights, even by birth, were 
 not acknowledged by the general tenor of the Saxon 
 laws, which did not recognize as heir to the crown the 
 son of a father who had not himself been crowned ; * — ■ 
 forebodings of coming evil and danger, originating in 
 Edward's perturbed visions ; revivals of obscure and till 
 then forgotten prophecies, ancient as the days of Merlin ; 
 rumors, industriously fomented into certainty by Haco, 
 
 * This truth has been overlooked by writers, who have main- 
 idined the Atheling's right as if incontestable. "An opinion pre- 
 vailed," says Palgrave, "Eng. Commonwealth," pp. 559, 560, 
 " that if the Atheling was born before his father and mother were 
 irdained to the royal dignity, the crown did not descend to the 
 child of uncrowned ancestors." Our great legal historian quotes 
 Eadmer, "De Vit. Sanct. Dunstan," p. 220, for the objection made 
 Ko the succession of Edward the Martyr, on this score. 
 
 II. — 14 
 
158 HAROLD. 
 
 whose whole soul seemed devoted to Harold's cause, of 
 the intended claim of the Norman count to the throne ; 
 
 — all concurred to make the election of a man matured 
 In camp and council, doubly necessary to the safety of 
 the realm. 
 
 Warm favorers, naturally, of Harold, were the genuine 
 Saxon population, and a large part of the Anglo-Danish 
 
 — all the thegns in his vast earldom of Wessex, reaching 
 to the southern and western coasts, from Sandwich and 
 the mouth of the Thames to the Land's End in Corn 
 wall ; and including the free men of Kent, whose inhabi- 
 tants even from the days of Csesar had been considered 
 in advance of the rest of the British population, and from 
 the days of Hengist had exercised an influence that 
 nothing save the warlike might of the Anglo-Danes 
 counterbalanced. — With Harold, too, were many of the 
 thegns from his earlier earldom of East Anglia, com- 
 prising the county of Essex, great part of Hertfordshire, 
 and so reaching into Cambridge, Huntington, Norfolk, 
 and Ely. With him, were all the wealth, intelligence, 
 --all power of London, and most *of the trading towns ; 
 with him all the veterans of the armies he had led ; with 
 him, too, generally throughout the empire, was the force, 
 le-;s distinctly demarked, of public and national feeling. 
 
 Even the priests, save those immediately about the 
 court, forgot in the exigency of the time, their ancient 
 and deep-rooted dislike to Godwin's House ; they re- 
 membered, at least, that Harold nad never in foray or 
 feud, plundered a single convent ; or in peace, and 
 
HAROLD. 159 
 
 through plot, appropriated to himself a single hyde of 
 Church land ; and that was more than could have been 
 said of any other earl of the age — even of Leofric the 
 Holy. They caught, as a church must do, when so 
 intimately, even in its illiterate errors, allied with the 
 people as the old Saxon Church was, the popular 
 enthusiasm. Abbot combined with thegn in zeal for 
 Earl Harold. 
 
 The only party that stood aloof was the one that 
 espoused the claims of the young sons of Algar. But 
 this party was indeed most formidable ; it united all the 
 old friends of the virtuous Leofric, of the famous Siward ; 
 it had a numerous party even in East Anglia (in which 
 earldom Algar had succeeded Harold) ; it comprised 
 nearly all the thegns in Mercia (the heart of the country), 
 and the population of Northumbria ; and it involved in 
 its wide range the terrible Welch on the one hand, and 
 the Scottish domain of the sub-king Malcolm, himself a 
 Cambrian, on the other, despite Malcolm's personal pre- 
 dilections for Tostig, to whom he was strongly attached. 
 But then the chiefs of this party while at present they 
 stood aloof, were all, with the exception perhaps of the 
 young earls themselves, disposed, on the slightest encour- 
 agement, to blend their suffrage with the friends of 
 Harold ; and his praise was as loud on their lips as on 
 those of the Saxons from Kent, or the burghers from 
 liOndon. All factions, in short, were willing, in this 
 momentous crisis, to lay aside old dissensions; it de- 
 [)eiided upon the conciliation of the Northumbrians, upon 
 
160 HAROLD. 
 
 a fusion between the friends of Harold and the supporters 
 of the young sons of Algar, to form such a concurrence 
 of interests as must inevitably bear Harold to the throne 
 of the empire. 
 
 Meanwhile, the earl himself wisely and patriotically 
 deemed it right to remain neuter in the approaching 
 decision between Tostig and the young earls. He could 
 not be so unjust and so mad as to urge to the utmost 
 (and risk in the urging) his party influence on the side 
 of oppression and injustice, solely for the sake of his 
 brother ; nor, on the other, was it decorous or natural to 
 take part himself against Tostig ; nor could he, as a 
 statesman, contemplate without anxiety and alarm the 
 transfer of so large a portion of the realm to the vice- 
 kingship of the sons of his old foe — rivals to hia power, 
 at the very time when, even for the sake of England 
 alone, that power should be the most solid and compact. 
 
 But the final greatness of a fortunate man is rarely 
 made by any violent effort of his own. He has sown the 
 seeds in the time foregone, and the ripe time brings up 
 the harvest. His fate seems taken out of his own con- 
 trol ; greatness seems thrust upon him. He has made 
 himself, as it were, a want to the nation, a thing necessary 
 to it ; he has identified himself with his age, and in the 
 wreath or the crown on his brow, the age itself seems to 
 put forth his flotyer. 
 
 Tostig, lodging apart from Harold in a fort near the 
 ^ate of Oxford, took slight pains to conciliate foes or 
 make friends ; trusting rather to his representations to 
 
HAROLD. 161 
 
 Edward (who was wroth with the rebellious House of 
 Algar), of the danger of compromising the royal dignity 
 by concessions to armed insurgents. 
 
 It was but three days before that for which the Witan 
 was summoned ; most of its members had already assem- 
 bled in the city ; and Harold, from the window of the 
 monastery in which he lodged, was gazing thoughtfully 
 into the streets below, where, with the gay dresses of the 
 thegns and cnehts, blended the grave robes of ecclesiastic 
 and youthful scholar; — for to that illustrious university 
 (pillaged and persecuted by the sons of Canute), Edward 
 had, to his honor, restored the schools, — when Haoo 
 entered, and announced to him that a numerous body of 
 thegns and prelates, headed by Aired, archbishop of York, 
 craved an audience. 
 
 "Knowest thou the cause, Haco ? " 
 
 The youth's cheek was yet more pale than usual, as he 
 answered slowly, — 
 
 "Hilda's prophecies are ripening into truths." 
 
 The earl started, and his old ambition reviving, flushed 
 on his brow, and sparkled from his eye — he checked the 
 joyous emotion, and bade Haco briefly admit the visitors. 
 
 They came in, two by two, — a body so numerous that 
 (hey filled the ample chamber ; and Harold, as he greeted 
 each, beheld the most powerful lords of the land — the 
 highest dignitaries of the Church — and, oft and frequent, 
 came old foe by the side of trusty friend. They all paused 
 at the foot of the narrow dais on which Harold stood. 
 14* 2k 
 
162 HAEOLD. 
 
 and Aired repelled by a gesture his invitation to the fore- 
 most to mount the platform. 
 
 Then Aired began an harangue, simple and earnest. 
 He described briefly the condition of the country ; touched 
 with grief and with feeling on the health of the king, and 
 the failure of Cerdic's line. He stated honestly his own 
 strong wish, if possible, to have concentrated the popular 
 suffrages on the young Atheling ; and under the emer- 
 gence of the case to have waived the objection to his 
 immature years. But as distinctly and emphatically he 
 stated, that that hope and intent he had now formally 
 abandoned, and that there was but one sentiment on the 
 subject with all the chiefs and dignitaries of the realm. 
 
 " "Wherefore," continued he, "after anxious consulta- 
 tions with each other, those whom you see around have 
 come to you : yea, to you, Earl Harold, we offer our 
 hands and hearts, to do our best to prepare for you the 
 throne on the demise of Edward, and to seat you thereon 
 as firmly as ever sate King of England and son of Cer- 
 dic ; — knowing that in you, and in you alone, we find the 
 man who reigns already in the English heart ; to whose 
 strong arm we can trust the defence of our land ; to 
 whose just thoughts, our laws. — As I speak, so think we 
 all I" 
 
 With downcast eyes Harold heard ; and but by a slight 
 heaving of his breast under his crimson robe, could hia 
 emotion be seen. But as soon as the approving murmur, 
 that succeeded the prelate's speech, had closed, ho lifted 
 his head, and answered, — 
 
HABOLD. 163 
 
 " Holy father, and you, Ri^ht Worthy my fellow 
 thegns, if ye could read my heart at this moment, believe 
 that yon would not find there the vain joy of aspiring 
 man, when the greatest of earthly prizes is placed within 
 his reach. There, you would see, with deep and wordless 
 gratitude for your trust and your love, grave and solemn 
 solicitude, earnest desire to divest my decision of all mean 
 thought of self, and judge only whether indeed, as king 
 or as subject, I can best guard the weal of England. 
 Pardon me, then, if I answer you not as ambition alone 
 would answer ; neither deem me insensible to the glorious 
 lot of presiding, under Heaven, and by the light of our 
 laws, over the destinies of the English realm, — if I pause 
 to weigh well the responsibilities incurred, and the ob- 
 stacles to be surmounted. There is that on my mind 
 that I would fain unbosom, not of a nature to discuss in 
 an assembly so numerous, but which I would rather sub- 
 mit to a chosen few whom you yourselves may select to 
 hear me, in whose cool wisdom, apart from personal love 
 to me, ye may best confide ; — your most veteran thegns, 
 your most honored prelates : to them will I speak, to 
 them make clean my bosom ; and to their answer, their 
 counsels, will I in all things defer : whether with loyal 
 heart to serve another, whom, hearing me, they may de- 
 cide to choose ; or to fit my soul to bear, not unworthily, 
 the weight of a kingly crown." 
 
 Aired lifted his mild eyes to Harold, and there were 
 both pity and approval in his gaze, for he divined the 
 carl. 
 
164 HAROLP 
 
 " Thou hast chosen the right course, my son ; and we 
 will retire at once, and elect those with whom thou mayst 
 freely confer, and by whose judgment thou mayst right- 
 eously abide." 
 
 The prelate turned, and with him went the conclave. 
 
 Left alone with Haco, the last said, abruptly, — 
 
 " Thou wilt not be so indiscreet, O Harold, as to con- 
 fess thy compelled oath to the fraudful Norman ? " 
 
 " That is my design," replied Harold, coldly. 
 
 The son of Sweyn began to remonstrate, but the earl 
 cut him short. 
 
 " If the Norman say that he has been deceived in 
 Harold, never so shall say the men of England. Leave 
 me. I know not why, Haco, but in thy presence, at 
 times, there is a glamour as strong as in the spells of 
 Hilda. Go, dear boy ; the fault is not in thee but in 
 the superstitious infirmities of a man who hath once low- 
 ered, or it may be, too highly strained, his reason to the 
 things of a haggard fancy. Go 1 and send to me my 
 brother Gurth. I would have him alone of my House 
 present at this solemn crisis of its fate." 
 
 Haco bowed his head, and went. 
 
 In a few moments more, Gurth came in. To this pure 
 and spotless spirit Harold had already related the events 
 of his unhappy visit to the Norman ; and he felt, as the 
 young chief pressed his hand, and looked on him with 
 his clear and loving eyes, as if Honor made palpable 
 stood by his side. 
 
 Six of the ecclesiastics, most eminent for Church learn- 
 
HARGLD. 165 
 
 ing, — small as was that which they could boast, com- 
 pared with the scholars of Normandy and the Papal 
 States, but at least more intelligent and more free from 
 mere formal monasticism than most of their Saxon con- 
 temporaries — and six of the chiefs most renowned for 
 experience in war or council, selected under the sagacious 
 promptings of Aired, accompanied that prelate to the 
 presence of the earl. 
 
 " Close, thou I close 1 close ! Gurth," whispered Ha- 
 rold : " for this is a confession against man's pride, and 
 sorely doth it shame ; — so that I would have thy bold 
 sinless heart beating near to mine." 
 
 Then, leaning his arm upon his brother's shoulder, and 
 in a voice, the first tones of which, as betraying earnest 
 emotion, irresistibly chained and affected his noble au- 
 dience, Harold began his tale. 
 
 Yarious were the emotions, though all more akin to 
 terror than repugnance, with which the listeners heard 
 the earl's plain and candid recital. 
 
 Among the lay-chiefs the impression made by the com- 
 pelled oath was comparatively slight : for it was the worst 
 vice of the Saxon laws, to entangle all charges, from the 
 Bmallest to the greatest, in a reckless multiplicity of 
 oaths,* to the grievous loosening of the bonds of truth : 
 and oaths then had become almost as much mere matter 
 of legal form, as certain oaths — bad relic of those times ! 
 
 * See the judicious remarks of Henry, " Hist, of Britain," on 
 this head. From the lavish abuse of oaths, perjury had come to 
 be reckoned one of the national vices of the Saxons. 
 
166 HAROLD. 
 
 — Still existing in our parliamentary and collegiate pro- 
 ceedings, are I'eemed by men, not otherwise dishonora- 
 ble, even now. And to no kind of oath was more latitude 
 given than to such as related to fealty to a chief: for 
 these, in the constant rebellions which happened year 
 after year, were openly violated, and v^fithout reproach. 
 Not a sub-king in Wales who harried the border, not an 
 earl who raised banner against the Basileus of Britain, 
 but infringed his oath to be good man and true to the 
 lord paramount ; and even William the Norman himself 
 never found. his oath of fealty stand in his way, whenever 
 he deemed it right and expedient to take arms against 
 his suzerain of Trance. 
 
 On the churchmen the impression vras stronger and 
 more serious : not that made by the oath itself, but by 
 the relics on which the hand had been laid. They looked 
 at each other, doubtful and appalled, when the earl 
 ceased his tale ; while only among the laymen circled a 
 murmur of mingled wrath at William's bold design on 
 their native land, and of scorn at the thought that an 
 oath, surprised and compelled, should be made the in- 
 Btrument of treason to a whole people. 
 
 "Thus," said Harold, after a pause, "thus have I 
 made clear to you my conscience, and revealed to you 
 the only obstacle between your offers and my choice. 
 From the keeping of an oath so extorted, and so deadly 
 to England, this venerable prelate and mine own soul 
 have freed me. Whether as king or as subject, I shall 
 alike revere the living and their long posterity more than 
 
HAROLD. 167 
 
 the dead men's bones, and, with sword and with battle 
 axe, hew out against the invader nay best atonement for 
 the lips' weakness and the heart's desertion. But whe- 
 ther, knowing what hath passed, ye may not deem it 
 safer for the land to elect another king, — this it is which, 
 free and forethoughtful of every chance, ye should now 
 decide." 
 
 With these words he stepped from the dais, and retired 
 into the oratory that adjoined the chamber, followed by 
 Gurth. The eyes of the priests then turned to Aired, 
 and to them the prelate spoke as he had done before to 
 Harold ; — he distinguished between the oath and ita 
 fulfilment — between the lesser sin and the greater — the 
 one which the Church could absolve — the one which no 
 Church had the right to exact, and which, if fulfilled, no 
 penance could expiate. He owned frankly, nevertheless, 
 that it was the difficulties so created, that had made him 
 incline to the Atheling : but, convinced of that prince's 
 incapacity, even in the most ordinary times, to rule Eng- 
 land, he shrank yet more from such a choice, when the 
 swords of the Norman were already sharpening for con- 
 test. Finally he said, " If a man as fit to defend us ap 
 Harold can be found, let us prefer him : if not. " 
 
 " There is no other man I " cried the thegns with one 
 voice. "And," said a wise old chief, "had Harold sought 
 to play a trick to secure the throne, he could not have 
 devised one more sure than the tale he hath now told us. 
 What I just when we are most assured that the doughtiest 
 and deadliest foe that our land can brave, waits but for 
 
168 HAROLD. 
 
 Edward's death to enforce on us a stranger's yoke- 
 what I shall we for that very reason deprive ourselves oi 
 the only man able to resist him ? Harold hath taken an 
 oath 1 God wot 1 who among us have not taken some 
 oath at law for which they have deemed it meet after- 
 wards to do a penance or endow a convent ? The wisest 
 means to strengthen Harold against that oath, is to show 
 the moral impossibility of fulfilling it, by placing him on 
 the throne. The best proof we can give to this insolent 
 Norman that England is not for prince to leave, or sub- 
 ject to barter, is to choose solemnly in our Witan the 
 very chief whom his frauds prove to us that he fears the 
 most. Why, William would laugh in his own sleeve to 
 summon a king to descend from his throne to do him the 
 homage which that king, in the different capacity of 
 subject, had (we will grant, even willingly) promised to 
 render." 
 
 This speech spoke all the thoughts of the laymen, and, 
 with Alred's previous remarks, reassured all the eccle- 
 siastics. They were easily induced to believe that the 
 usual Church penances, and ample Church gifts, would 
 RuflSce for the insult olfered to the relics ; and, — if they 
 in so grave a case outstripped, in absolution, an autho- 
 rity amply sufficing for all ordinary matters,— Harold, as 
 king, might easily gain from the pope himself that full 
 pardon and shrift, which, as mere earl, against the prince 
 of the Normans, he would fail of obtaining. 
 
 These or similar reflections soon terminated the sus- 
 pense of the select council ; and Aired sought the earl 
 
HAEOLD. 169 
 
 in the oratory, to summon him back to the conclave. 
 The two brothers were kneeling side by side before the 
 little altar ; and there was something inexpressibly touch- 
 ing in their humble attitudes, their clasped supplicating 
 hands, in that moment when the crown of England rested 
 above their House. 
 
 The brothers rose, and, at Alred's sign, followed the 
 prelate into the council-room. Aired briefly communi. 
 cated the result of the conference ; and, with an aspect, 
 and in a tone, free alike from triumph and indecision, 
 Harold replied : — 
 
 "As ye will, so will I. Place me only where I can 
 most serve the common cause. Remain you now, know- 
 ing my secret, a chosen and standing council : too great 
 is my personal stake in this matter to allow my mind to 
 be unbiassed ; judge ye, then, and decide for me in all 
 things : your minds should be calmer and wiser than 
 mine ; in all things I will abide by your counsel ; and 
 thus I accept the trust of a nation's freedom." 
 
 Each thegn then put his hand into Harold's, and called 
 himself Harold's man. 
 
 " Now, more than ever,'' said the wise old thegn who 
 bad before spoken, " will it be needful to heal all dissen- 
 sion in the kingdom — to reconcile with us Mercia and 
 Northumbria, and make the kingdom one against the foe. 
 You, as Tostig's brother, have done well to abstain from 
 active interference ; you do well to leave it to us to 
 negotiate the necessary alliance between all brave and 
 good men." 
 II. —15 
 
170 HAROLD. 
 
 "'And to that end, as imperative for the public weal, 
 you consent," said Aired, thoughtfully, "to abide by our 
 advice, whatever it be?" 
 
 " Whatever it be, so that it serve England," answered 
 the earl. 
 
 A smile, somewhat sad, flitted over the prelate's pale 
 lips, and Harold was once more alone with Gurth. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The soul of all council and cabal on behalf of Harold, 
 which had led to the determination of the principal 
 chiefs, and which now succeeded it — was Haco. 
 
 His rank as son of Sweyn, the first-born of Godwin's 
 house — a rank which might have authorized some pre- 
 tensions on his own part, gave him all field for the exer- 
 cise of an intellect, singularly keen and profound. Ac- 
 customed to an atmosphere of practical state-craft in the 
 Norman court, with faculties sharpened from boyhood by 
 vigilance and meditation, he exercised an extraordinarj 
 influence over the simple understandings of the homely 
 clergy and the uncultured thegns. Impressed with the 
 conviction of his early doom, he felt no interest in the 
 objects of others ; but equally believing that whatever of 
 bright, and brave, and glorious, in his brief, condemned 
 career, was to be reflected on him from the light of 
 Harold's destiny, the sole desire of a nature, which, under 
 
HAKOLD. Ill 
 
 other auspices, would have been intensely daring and 
 ambitious, was to administer to Harold's greatness. No 
 prejudice, no principle, stood in the way of this dreary 
 enthusiasm. As a father, himself "on the brink of the 
 grave, schemes for the worldly grandeur of the son, in 
 whom he confounds and melts his own life, so this sombre 
 and predestined man, dead to earth and to joy and the 
 emotions of the heart, looked beyond his own tomb, to 
 that existence in which he transferred and carried on his 
 ambition. 
 
 If the leading agencies of Harold's memorable career 
 might be, as it were, symbolized and allegorized, by the 
 living beings with which it was connected — as Edith was 
 the representative of stainless Truth — as Gurth was the 
 type of dauntless Duty — as Hilda embodied aspiring 
 Imagination — so Haeo seemed the personation of 
 Worldly Wisdom. And, cold in that worldly wisdom, 
 Haco labored on, now conferring with Aired and the 
 partisans of Harold ; now closeted with Edwin and Mor- 
 car ; now gliding from the chamber of the sick king. — 
 That wisdom foresaw all obstacles, smoothed all difBcul- 
 ties ; ever calm, never resting ; marshalling and harmo- 
 nizing the things to be, like the ruthless hand of a 
 tranquil Fate. But there was one with whom Haco was 
 more often than with all others — one whom the presence 
 of Harold had allured to that anxious scene of intrigue, 
 and whose heart leapt high at the hopes whispered from 
 the smileless lips of Haco. 
 
112 HAROLD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It was the second day after that which assured him 
 the allegiance of the thegns, that a message was brought 
 to Harold from the Lady Aldyth. She was in Oxford, 
 at a convent, with her young daughter by the Welch 
 king ; she prayed him to visit her. The earl, whose active 
 mind, abstaining from the intrigues around him, was 
 delivered up to the thoughts, restless and feverish, which 
 haunt the hopes of all active minds, was not unwilling to 
 escape awhile from himself. He went to Aldyth. The 
 royal widow had laid by the signs of mourning ; she was 
 dressed with the usual stately and loose-robed splendor 
 of Saxon matrons, and all the proud beauty of her youth 
 was restored to her cheek. At her feet was that daughter 
 who afterwards married the Tleance so familiar to us in 
 Shakspeare, and became the ancestral mother of those 
 Scottish kings, who had passed, in pale shadows, across 
 the eyes of Macbeth ; * by the side of that child, Harold, 
 to his surprise, saw the ever ominous face of Haco. 
 
 But, proud as was Aldyth, all pride seemed humbled 
 into woman's sweeter emotions at the sight of the earl, 
 and she was at first unable to command words to answer 
 his greeting. 
 
 * And so, from Gryffyth, beheaded by his subjects, descended 
 Charles Stuart, 
 
HAROLD. ITS 
 
 Gradually, however, she warmed into cordial confidence. 
 She touched lightly ou her past sorrows ; she permitted 
 it to be seen that her lot with the fierce Gryffyth had 
 been one not more of public calamity than of domestic 
 grief; and that, in the natural awe and horror which the 
 murder of her lord had caused, she felt rather for the ill- 
 starred king than the beloved spouse. She then passed 
 to the differences still existing between her house and 
 Harold's, and spoke well and wisely of the desire of the 
 young earls to conciliate his grace and favor. 
 
 "While thus speaking, Morcar and Edwin, as if acci- 
 dentally, entered, and their salutations of Harold were 
 such as became their relative positions ; reserved, not 
 distant — respectful, not servile. With the delicacy of 
 high natures, they avoided touching on the cause before 
 the Witan (fixed for the morrow), on which depended 
 their earldoms or their exile. 
 
 Harold was pleased by their bearing, and attracted 
 towards them by the memory of the affectionate words 
 that had passed between him and Leofric, their illustrious 
 grandsire, over his father's corpse. He thought then of 
 his own prayer: "Let there be peace between thine and 
 mine 1 " and looking at their fair and stately youth, and 
 noble carriage, he could not but feel that the men of 
 Northumbria and of Mercia had chosen well. The dis- 
 course, however, was naturally brief, since thus made 
 general ; the visit soon ceased, and the brothers attended 
 Ilarold to the door, with the courtesy of the times. Then 
 15* 
 
174 HAROLD. 
 
 Haco said, with that faint movement of the lips which 
 was his only approach to a smile, 
 
 " Will ye not, noble thegns, give your hands to my 
 kinsman ?" 
 
 " Surely," said Edwin, the handsomer and more gentle 
 of the two, and who, having a poet's nature, felt a poets 
 enthusiasm for the gallant deeds even of a rival, — "sure- 
 ly, if the earl will accept the hands of those who trust 
 never to be compelled to draw sword against England's 
 hero." 
 
 Harold stretched forth his hand in reply, and that cor- 
 dial and immemorial pledge of our national friendships 
 was interchanged. 
 
 Gaining the street, Harold said to his nephew, 
 
 " Standing as I do towards the young earls, that ap- 
 peal of thine had been better omitted." 
 
 "Nay,'' answered Haco ; "their cause is already pre- 
 judged in their favor. And thou must ally thyself with 
 the heirs of Leofric, and the successors of Si ward." 
 
 Haiold made no answer. There was something in the 
 positive tone of this beardless youth that displeased him ; 
 but he remembered that Haco was the son of Sweyn, 
 Godwin's first-born, and that, but for Sweyn's crimes, 
 Haco might have held the place in England he held him- 
 self, and looked to the same august destinies beyond. 
 
 In the evening a messenger from the Roman house 
 arrived, with two letters for Harold ; one from Hilda, 
 that contained but these words: "Again peril menaces 
 
HAKOLD. 1'J5 
 
 thee, but in the shape of good. Beware I and, above all, 
 of the evil that wears the form of wisdom." 
 
 The other letter was from Edith ; it was long for the 
 letters of that age, and every sentence spoke a heart 
 wrapped in his. 
 
 Reading the last, Hilda's warnings were forgotten 
 The picture of Edith — the prospect of a power that 
 might at last effect their union, and reward her long de- 
 votion — rose before him, to the exclusion of wilder fan- 
 cies and loftier hopes ; and his sleep that night was full 
 of youthful and happy dreams. 
 
 The next day the "Witan met. The meeting was less 
 stormy than had been expected ; for the minds of most 
 men were made up, and so far as Tostig was interested, 
 the facts were too evident and notorious, the witnesses 
 too numerous, to leave any option to the judges. Ed- 
 ward, on whom alone Tostig had relied, had already, with 
 his ordinary vacillation, been swayed towards a right de- 
 cision, partly by the counsels of Aired and his other 
 prelates, and especially by the representations of Haco, 
 whose grave bearing and profound dissimulation had 
 gained a singular influence over the formal and melan- 
 choly king. 
 
 By some previous compact or understanding between 
 the opposing parties, there was no attempt, however, to 
 push matters against the offending Tostig to vindictive 
 extremes. There was no suggestion of outlawry, or pun- 
 ishment, beyond the simple deprivation of the earldom ha 
 had abused. And in return for this moderation on thf 
 
176 HAROLD 
 
 one side, the other agreed to support and latify the new 
 election of the Northumbrians. Morcar was thus formally 
 invested with the vice-kingship of that great realm ; while 
 Edwin was confirmed in the earldom of the principal part 
 Df Mercia. 
 
 On the announcement of these decrees, which were 
 received with loud applause by all the crowd assembled 
 to hear them, Tostig, rallying round him his house-carles, 
 left the town. He went first to Githa, with whom his 
 wife had sought refuge ; and, after a long conference 
 with his mother, be, and his haughty countess, journeyed 
 to the sea-coast, and took ship for Flanders. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GuRTH and Harold were seated in close commune in 
 the earl's chamber, at an hour long after the complin (or 
 second vespers), when Aired entered unexpectedly. The 
 old man's face was unusually grave, and Harold's pene- 
 trating eye saw that he was gloomy with matters of great 
 m ;ment. 
 
 " Harold," said the prelate, seating himself, " the hour 
 has come to test thy truth, when thou saidst that thou 
 wert ready to make all sacrifice to thy land, and further, 
 that thou wouldst abide by the counsel of those free from 
 thy passions, and looking on thee only as the instrument 
 of England's weal." 
 
HAROLD. ITJ 
 
 " Speak on, father," said Harold, turning somewhat 
 pale at the solemnity of the address ; " I am ready, if the 
 council so desire, to remain a subject, and aid in tho 
 choice of a worthier king." 
 
 "Thou divinest me ill," answered Aired; "I do not 
 call on thee to lay aside the crown, but to crucify tha 
 heart. The decree of the Witan assigns Mercia and 
 Nonhumbria to the sons of Algar. The old demarca- 
 tions of the heptarchy, as thou knowest, are scarce worn 
 out ; it is even now less one monarchy, than various 
 states retaining their own laws, and inhabited by different 
 races, who, under the sub-kings called earls, acknowledge 
 a supreme head in the Basileus of Britain. Mercia hivth 
 its March law and its prince ; Northumbria its Dane law, 
 and its leader. To elect a king without civil war, these 
 realms, for so they are, must unite with and sanction the 
 Witans elsewhere held. Only thus can the kingdom be 
 firm against foes without and anarchy within ; and the 
 more so, from the alliance between the new earls of those 
 great provinces and the House of Gryffyth, which still 
 lives in Caradoc his son. What if at Edward's death 
 Mercia and Northumbria refuse to sanction thy acces- 
 sion ? What, if, when all our force were needed against 
 the Norman, the Welch broke loose from their hills, and 
 the Scots from their moors ! Malcolm of Cumbria, now 
 King of Scotland, is Tostig's dearest friend, while his 
 people side with Morcar. Verily these are dangers enow 
 for a new king, even if William's sword sleptin its sheath. " 
 
 " Thou speakest the words of wisdom," said Harold, 
 la * 2l 
 
178 HAROLD. 
 
 " but I knew beforehand that he who wears a crown mus; 
 abjure repose." 
 
 " Not so ; there is one way, and but one, to reconcile 
 all England to thy dominion — to win to thee not the 
 cold neutrality but the eager zeal of Mercia and North- 
 umbria ; to make the first guard thee from the Welch, 
 the last be thy rampart against the Scot. In a word, 
 thou must ally thyself with the blood of these young 
 earls; thou must wed with Aldyth their sister." 
 
 The earl sprang to his feet aghast. 
 
 "No — no I" he exclaimed; "not thatl — any sacrifice 
 but that 1 — rather forfeit the throne than resign the heart 
 that leans on mine I Thou knowest my pledge to Edith, 
 my cousin ; pledge hallowed by the faith of long years. 
 No — no, have mercy — human mercy; I can wed no 
 other 1 — any sacrifice but that 1 " 
 
 The good prelate, though not unprepared for this 
 burst, was much moved by its genuine anguish ; but, 
 steadfast to his purpose, he resumed : — 
 
 "Alas, my son, so say we all in the hour of trial — • 
 any sacrifice but that which duty and Heaven ordain. 
 Resign the throne thou canst not, or thou leavest the 
 land without a ruler, distracted by rival claims and 
 ambitions, an easy prey to the Norman. Resign thy 
 human affections thou canst and must ; and the more, O 
 Harold, that even if duty compelled not this new alliance, 
 the old tie is one of sin, which, as king, and as high 
 example in high place to all men, thy conscience within, 
 and the Church without, summoning-thee to break. How 
 
HAROLD. I1& 
 
 purify the erring lives of the churchmen, if thyself a rebel 
 to the Church ? and if thou hast thought that thy power 
 as king might prevail on the Roman Pontiff to grant 
 dispensation for wedlock within the degrees, and that so 
 thou mightest legally confirm thy now illegal troth ; be- 
 think thee well, thou hast a more dread and urgent boon 
 now to ask — in absolution from thine oath to William. 
 IJoth prayers, snrely, our Roman father will not grant. 
 Wilt thou choose that which absolves from sin, or that 
 which consults but thy carnal affections ? " 
 
 Harold covered his face with his hands, and groaned 
 aloud in. his strong agony. 
 
 "Aid me, Gurth," cried Aired, "thou, sinless and spot- 
 less ; thou, in whose voice a brother's love can blend with 
 a Christian's zeal ; aid me, Gurth, to melt the stubborn 
 but to comfort the human, heart." 
 
 Then Gurth, with a strong effort over himself, knelt hj 
 Harold's side, and in strong simple language, backed 
 the representations of the priest. In truth, all argument 
 drawn from reason, whether in the state of the land, or 
 the new duties to which Harold was committed, were on 
 the one side, and unanswerable ; on the other, was but 
 that mighty resistance which love opposes ever to reason. 
 And Harold continued to murmur, while his hands con- 
 cealed his face. 
 
 "Impossible I — she who trusted, who trusts — who so 
 'oves — she whose whole youth hath been consumed in 
 patient faith in me ! — Resign her ! and for another ! I 
 cannot — I cannot. Take from me the throne 1 — Oh 
 
180 HAROLD. 
 
 yain heart of man, that so long desired its own cnrse I — 
 Crown the Atheling ; my manhood shall defend his youth. 
 
 — But not this offering I No, no — I will not!" 
 
 It were tedions to relate the rest of that prolonged 
 and agitated conference. All that night, till the last 
 Btars waned, and the bells of prime were heard from 
 iihurch and convent, did the priest and the brother alter- 
 nately plead and remonstrate, chide and soothe ; and still 
 Harold's heart clung to Edith's, with its bleeding roots. 
 At length they, perhaps not unwisely, left him to himself; 
 and as, whispering low their hopes and their fears of the 
 result of the self-conflict, they went forth from the con- 
 vent, Haco joined them in the court-yard, and while his 
 cold mournful eye scanned the faces of priest and brother, 
 he asked them " how they had sped ? " 
 
 Aired shook his head and answered — 
 
 "Man's heart is more strong in the flesh than true to 
 the spirit." 
 
 "Pardon me, father," said Haco, "if I suggest that 
 your most eloquent and persuasive ally in this, were 
 Edith herself. Start not so incredulously ; it is because 
 she loves the earl more than her own life, that — once 
 show her that the earl's safety, greatness, honor, duty, 
 lie in release from his troth to her — that nought save his 
 erring love resists your councils and his country's claims 
 
 — and Edith's voice will have more power than yours." 
 The virtuous prelate, more acquainted with man's 
 
 rtiilfishness than woman's devotion, only replied by an 
 
HAROLD. I8l 
 
 impatient gesture. But Qurth, lately wedded to a woman 
 worthy of him, said gravely — 
 
 " Haco speaks well, my father ; and methinks it is due 
 to both that Edith should not, unconsulted, be abandoned 
 by him for whom she has abjured all others ; to whom 
 she has been as devoted in heart as if sworn wife already. 
 Leave we awhile my brother, never the slave of passion, 
 and with whom England must at last prevail over all 
 selfish thought ; and ride we at once to tell to Edith 
 what we have told to him ; or rather — woman can best 
 in such a case speak to woman — ^let us tell all to our lady 
 — Edward's wife, Harold's sister, and Edith's holy god- 
 mother — and abide by her counsel. On the third day 
 we shall return." 
 
 "Go we so charged, noble Gurth," said Haco, ob- 
 serving the prelate's reluctant countenance, "and leave 
 we our reverend father to watch over the earl's sharp 
 struggle." 
 
 " Thou speakest well, my son," said the prelate, " and 
 thy mission suits the young and the layman better than 
 the old and the priest." 
 
 " Let us go, Haco," said Gurth, briefly. " Deep, sore, 
 and lasting, is the wound I inflict on the brother of my 
 love ; and my own heart bleecs in his ; but he himself 
 hath taught me to hold Englan: as a Roman held Rome." 
 
 II. —16 
 
182 HAROLD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It is the nature of that happiness which we derive 
 from our affections to be calm ; its immense influence 
 upon our outward life is not known till it is troubled or 
 withdrawn. By placing his heart at peace, man leaves 
 vent to his energies and passions, and permits their cur- 
 rent to flow towards the aims and objects which interest 
 labor or arouse ambition. Thus absorbed in the occu- 
 pation without, he is lulled into a certain forgetfulness 
 of the value of that internal repose which gives health 
 and vigor to the faculties he employs abroad. But once 
 mar this scarce-felt, almost invisible harmony, and the 
 discord extends to the remotest chords of our active 
 being. Say to the busiest man whom thou seest in mart, 
 camp, or senate, who seems to thee all intent upon his 
 worldly schemes, "Thy home is reft from thee — thy 
 household gods are shattered — that sweet noiseless con- 
 tent in the regular mechanism of the springs, which set 
 the large wheels of thy soul into movement is thine 
 nevermore 1" — and straightway all exertion seems rob- 
 bed of its object — all aim of its alluring charm. 
 " Othello's occupation is gone ! " With a start, that 
 man will awaken from the sun-lit visions of noontide am- 
 bition, and exclaim in his desolate anguish, " What are 
 all the rewards to my labor, now thou hast robbed me of 
 
HAROLD. 183 
 
 repose ? How little are all the gains wrung from strife, 
 in a world of rivals and foes, compared to the smile 
 whose sweetness I knew not till it was lost ; and the 
 sense of security from mortal ill which I took from the 
 trust and sympathy of love I " 
 
 Thus was it with Harold in that bitter and terrible 
 (;risis of his fate. This rare and spiritual love, which 
 had existed on hope, which had never known fruition, 
 had become the subtlest, the most exquisite part of hia 
 being ; this love, to the full and holy possession of which, 
 every step in his career seemed to advance him, was it 
 now to be evermore reft from his heart, his existence, at 
 the very moment when he had deemed himself most 
 secure of its rewards — when he most needed its consola- 
 tions ? Hitherto, in that love he had lived in the future 
 ■ — he had silenced the voice of the turbulent human pas- 
 sion by the whisper of the patient angel, "A little while 
 yet, and thy bride sits beside thy throne 1 " Now what 
 was that future 1 how joyless, how desolate 1 The 
 splendor vanished from Ambition — the glow from the 
 face of Fame — the sense of Duty remained alone to 
 counteract the pleadings of Affection ; but Duty, no 
 longer dressed in all the gorgeous colorings it took be- 
 fore from glory and power — Duty stern, and harsh, and 
 terrible, as the iron frown of a Grecian Destiny. 
 
 And thus, front to front with that Duty, he sate alone 
 one evening, while his lips murmured, " Oh fatal voyage, 
 oh lying truth in the hell-born prophecy I this, then, this 
 was the wife my league with the Norman was to win to 
 
184 HAKOLD. 
 
 my arms ! ' In the streets below were heard the tramp 
 of busy feet hurrying homeward, and the confused up- 
 roar of joyous wassail from the various resorts of enter 
 tainment crowded by careless revellers. And the tread 
 of steps mounted the stairs without his door, and there 
 paused ; — and there was the murmur of two voices with- 
 out ; one the clear voice of Grurth, — one softer and more 
 troubled. The earl lifted his head from his bosom, and 
 his heart beat quick at the faint and scarce heard sound 
 of that last voice. The door opened gently, gently : a 
 form entered, and halted on the shadow of the threshold ; 
 the door closed again by a hand from without. The earl 
 rose to his feet, tremulously, and the next moment Edith 
 was at his knees ; her hood thrown back, her face up- 
 turned to his, bright with unfaded beauty, serene with 
 the grandeur of self-martyrdom. 
 
 " O Harold I " she exclaimed, " dost thou remember 
 that in the old time I said, ' Edith had loved thee less, 
 if thou hadst not loved England more than Edith?' 
 Recall, recall those words. And deemest thou now that 
 I, who have gazed for years into thy clear soul, and 
 learned there to sun my woman's heart in the light of all 
 glories native to noblest man, — deemest thou, Harold, 
 that I am weaker now than then, when I scarce knew 
 what England and glory were?" 
 
 " Edith, Edith, what wouldst thou say ? — What know- 
 est thou ?— Who hath told thee ?— What led thee hither, 
 to take part against thyself ? " 
 
 " It matters not who told me ; I know all. What led 
 
HAROLD. 185 
 
 me? Mine own soul, and mine own love ]" Springing 
 to her feet, and clasping his hand in both hert, while she 
 looked into his face, she resumed : " I do not say to thee, 
 ' Grieve not to part ; ' for I know too well thy faith, thy 
 tenderness — thy heart, so grand and so soft. But I do 
 say, ' Soar above thy grief, and be more than man for 
 the sake of men ! ' Yes, Harold, for this last time I be- 
 hold thee. I clasp thy hand, I lean on thy heart, I hear 
 its beating, and I shall go hence without a tear." 
 
 "It cannot, it shall not be 1 " exclaimed Harold, pas- 
 sionately. " Thou deceivest thyself in the divine pas- 
 sion of the hour : thou canst not foresee the utterness 
 of the desolation to which thou wouldst doom thy life. 
 We were betrothed to each other by ties strong as those 
 of the Church, — over the grave of the dead, under the 
 vault of heaven, in the form of ancestral faith I The 
 bond cannot be broken. If England demands me, let 
 England take me with the ties it were unholy, even for 
 her sake, to rend ! " 
 
 "Alas, alas 1 " faltered Edith, while the flush on her 
 cheek sank into mournful paleness. " It is not as thou 
 sayest. So has thy love sheltered me from the world — 
 BO utter was my youth's ignorance or my heart's oblivion 
 of Ihe stern laws of man, that when it pleased thee that 
 we should love each other, I could not believe that that 
 love was sin; and that it was sii hitherto I will not 
 think; — now it hath become one." 
 
 " No, no 1 " cried Harold ; all the eloquence on which 
 ^bousands had hung, thrilled and spell-bound, deserting 
 16* 
 
186 HAROLD. 
 
 him in that hour of need, and leaving to him only broken 
 exclamations, — fragments, in each of which his heart 
 itself seemed shivered ; " no, no, — not sin 1 — sin only to 
 forsake thee. — Hush ! hush I — This is a dream — wait 
 till we wake ! True heart I noble soul 1 — I will not part 
 from thee I " 
 
 " But I from thee ! And rather than thou shouldst be 
 lost for my sake — the sake of woman — to honor and 
 conscience, and all for which thy sublime life sprang from 
 the hands of Nature — ^if not the cloister, may I find the 
 grave 1 — Harold, to the last let me be worthy of thee ; 
 and feel, at least, that if not thy wife — that bright, that 
 blessed fate not mine I — still, remembering Edith, just 
 men may say, ' She would not have dishonored the hearth 
 of Harold.'" 
 
 " Dost thou know," said the earl, striving to speak 
 calmly, "dost thou know that it is not only to resign 
 thee that they demand — that it is to resign thee, and for 
 another ? " 
 
 " I know it," said Edith ; and two burning tears, des- 
 pite her strong and preternatural self-exaltation, swelled 
 from the dark fringe, and rolled slowly down the color- 
 less cheek, as she added, with proud voice, " I know it : 
 but that other is not Aldyth, it is England ! In her, in 
 Aldyth, behold the dear cause of thy native land ; with 
 her enweave the love which thy native land should com- 
 mand. So thinking, thou art reconciled, and I consoled, 
 [t is not for woman that thou desertest Edith." 
 
HAROLD. 18T 
 
 " Hear, and take from those lips the strength and the 
 valor that belong to the name of Hero I " said a deep 
 and clear voice behind ; and Gurth, — who, whether dis- 
 trusting the result of an interview so prolonged, or ten- 
 derly desirous to terminate its pain, had entered unob- 
 served, — approached, and wound his arm caressingly 
 round his brother. " Oh Harold I " he said, " dear to me 
 as the drops in my heart is my young bride, newly wed ; 
 but if for one tithe of the claims that now call thee to 
 the torture and trial — yea, if but for one hour of good 
 service to freedom and law — I would consent without a 
 groan to behold her no more. And if men asked me 
 how I could so conquer, man's affections, I would point 
 to thee, and say, ' So Harold taught my youth by his 
 lessons, and my manhood by his life.' Before thee, visi- 
 ble, stand Happiness and Love, but with them. Shame ; 
 before thee, invisible, stands Woe, but with Woe are 
 England and eternal Glory I Choose between them." 
 
 " He hath chosen," said Edith, as Harold turned to 
 'he wall, and leaned against it, hiding his face ; then, 
 approaching softly, she knelt, lifted to her lips the hem 
 of his robe, and kissed it with devout passion. 
 
 Harold turned suddenly, and opened his arms. Edith 
 resisted not that mute appeal ; she rose, and fell on his 
 breast, sobbing. 
 
 Wild and speechless was that last embrace. The moon, 
 which had witnessed their union by the heathen grave, 
 now rose above the tower of the Christian church, and 
 looked wan and cold upon their parting. 
 
188 HAROLD. 
 
 Solemn and clear paused the orb — a clond passed over 
 the disk — and Edith was gone. The cloud rolled away, 
 and again the moon shone forth ; and where had knelt 
 the fair form, and looked the last look of Edith, stood 
 the motionless image, and gazed the solemn eye, of the 
 dark son of Sweyn. But Harold leant on the breast of 
 Gurth, and saw not who had supplanted the soft and 
 loving Pylgia of his life — saw nought in the nnJverse 
 at the blank of desolation I 
 
BOOK ELEVENTH. 
 
 IHE NOKMAN SCHEMER, AND THE NORWEGIAN BEA-KINQ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was the eve of the 5th of January — the eve of the 
 day announced to King Edward as that of his deliver- 
 ance from earth ; and whether or not the prediction had 
 wrought its own fulfilment on the fragile frame and sus- 
 ceptible nerves of the king, the last of the line of Cerdic 
 was fast passing into the solemn shades of eternity. 
 
 Without the walls of the palace, through the whole 
 city of London, the excitement was indescribable. All 
 the river before the palace was crowded with boats ; all 
 the broad space on the Isle of Thorny itself, thronged 
 with anxious groups. But a few days before, the new- 
 built abbey had been solemnly consecrated ; with the 
 completion of that holy edifice, Edward's life itself 
 seemed done. Like the kings of Egypt, he had built his 
 tomb. 
 
 Within the palace, if possible, still greater was the 
 agitation, more dread the suspense. Lobbies, halls, cor- 
 ridors, stairs, ante-rooms, were filled with churchmen and 
 
 (189) 
 
190 HAROLD. 
 
 thegns. Nor was it alone for news of tlie king's state 
 that their brows were so knit, that their breath came and 
 went so short. It is not when a great chief is dying, that 
 men compose their minds to deplore a loss. That comes 
 long after, when the worm is at its work, and comparison 
 between the dead and the living often rights the one to 
 wrong the other. But while the breath is struggling, 
 and the eye glazing, life busy in the by-standers, mur- 
 murs, " Who shall be the heir ? " And, in this instance, 
 never had suspense been so keenly wrought up into hope 
 and terror ; for the news of Duke William's designs had 
 now spread far and near ; and awful was the doubt, whe- 
 ther the abhorred Norman should receive his sole sanction 
 to so arrogant a claim from the parting assent of Ed- 
 ward. Although, as we have seen, the crown was not 
 absolutely within the bequests of a dying king, but at 
 the will of the Witan, still, in circumstances so unparal- 
 leled, the utter failure of all natural heirs, save a boy 
 feeble in mind as body, and half foreign by birth and 
 rearing ; the love borne by Edward to the Church ; and 
 the sentiments, half of pity, half of reverence, with which 
 he was regarded throughout the land ; — his dying word 
 would go far to influence the council and select the suc- 
 cessor. Some whispering to each other, with pale lips, 
 all the dire predictions then current in men's mouths and 
 breasts ; some in moody silence ; all lifted eager eyes, as, 
 from time to time, a gloomy Benedictine passed in the 
 direction to or fro the king's chamber. 
 
 In that chamber, traversing the past of eight centuries, 
 
UAROLD. 191 
 
 enter we with hushed and noiseless feet — a room Icnown 
 to us in many a later scene and legend of England's 
 troubled history, as " The Painted Chamber," long 
 called "The Confessor's." At the farthest end of that 
 long and lofty space, raised upon a regal platform, and 
 roofed with regal canopy, was the bed of death. 
 
 At the foot stood Harold ; on one side knelt Edith, the 
 king's lady ; at the other Aired ; while Stigand stood 
 near — the holy rood in his band — and the abbot of the 
 new monastery of Westminster by Stigand's side ; and 
 all the greatest thegns, including Morcar and Edwin, 
 Gurth and Leofwine, all the more illustrious prelates and 
 abbots, stood also on the dais. 
 
 In the lower end of the hall, the king's physician was 
 warming a cordial over the brazier, and some of the su- 
 bordinate officers of the household were standing in the 
 niches of the deep-set windows; and they — not great 
 eno' for other emotions than those of human love for 
 their kindly lord — they wept. 
 
 The king, who had already undergone the last holy 
 offices of the Church, was lying quite quiet, his eyes half 
 closed, breathing low but regularly. He had been 
 Bpeechless the two preceding days ; on this he had uttered 
 a few words, which showed returning consciousness. Hi? 
 hand, reclined on the coverlid, was clasped in his wife's, 
 who was praying fervently. Something in the touch of 
 her -hand, or the sound of her murmur, stirred the king 
 from the growing lethargy, and his eyes opening, fixed 
 on the kneeling lady. 
 
192 HAROLD. 
 
 " J^ >> I " said he, faintly, " ever good, ever meek ! 
 Think not I did not love thee ; hearts will be read 
 yonder; we shall have our guerdon." 
 
 The lady looked up through her streaming tears. Ed- 
 ward released his hand, and laid it on her head, as in 
 benediction. Then, motioning to the abbot of Westmin- 
 ster, he drew from his finger the ring which the palmers 
 had brought to him,* and murmured scarce audibly — 
 
 " Be this kept in the House of St. Peter in memory of 
 me!" 
 
 "He is alive now to us — speak — " whispered more 
 than one thegn, one abbot, to Aired and to Stigand. 
 And Stigand, as the harder and more worldly man of the 
 two, moved up, and bending over the pillow, between 
 Aired and the king, said — 
 
 " royal son, about to win the crown to which that 
 of earth is but an idiot's wreath of withered leaves, not 
 ye(j may thy soul forsake us. Whom commendest thou 
 to us as shepherd to thy bereaven flock ? whom shall we 
 admonish to tread in those traces thy footsteps leave 
 below ?" 
 
 The king made a slight gesture of impatience ; and the 
 queen, forgatful of all but her womanly sorrow, raised 
 her eye and finger in reproof that the dying was thus dis- 
 turbed. But the stake was too weighty, the suspense 
 too keen, for that reverent delicacy in those around ; and 
 
 * Brompt. Cliron. 
 
HAROLD 198 
 
 the thegns pressed on each other, and a murmur rose, 
 (vhich murmured the name of Harold. 
 
 "Bethink thee, my son," said Aired, in a tender voice, 
 tremulous with emotion ; " the young Atheling is too 
 much an infant yet for these anxious times." 
 Edward signed his head in assent. 
 " Then," said the Norman bishop of London, who till 
 that moment had stood in the rear, almost forgotten 
 amongst the crowd of Saxon prelates, but who himself 
 had been all eyes and ears. " Then," said Bishop Wil- 
 liam, advancing, "if thine own royal line so fail, who so 
 near to thy love, who so worthy to succeed, as William 
 thy cousin, the count of the Normans ? " 
 
 Dark was the scowl on the brow of every thegn, and a 
 muttered " No, no : never the Norman 1 " was heard 
 distinctly. Harold's face flushed, and his hand was on 
 the hilt of his ateghar. But no other sign gave he of 
 his interest in the question. 
 
 The king lay for some moments silent, but evidently 
 striving to re-collect his thoughts. Meanwhile, the two 
 arch-prelates bent over him — Stigand eagerly. Aired 
 fondly. 
 
 Then, raising himself on one arm, while with the other 
 he pointed to Harold at the foot of the bedj the king 
 said — 
 
 " Your hearts, I see, are with Harold the earl : so be 
 it." 
 
 At those words he fell back on his pillow ; a loud 
 11. — 11 2m 
 
194 HAROLD. 
 
 shriek burst from his wife's lips ; all crowded around ; he 
 lay as the dead. 
 
 At the cry, and the indescribable movement of the 
 throng, the physician came quick from the lower part of 
 the hall. He made his way abruptly to the bed-side, and 
 said, chidingly, " Air, give him air." The throng parted, 
 the leach moistened the king's pale lips with the cordial, 
 but no breath seemed to come forth, no pulse seemed to 
 beat ; and while the two prelates knelt before the human 
 body and by the blessed rood, the rest descended the 
 dais, and hastened to depart. Harold only remained ; 
 but he had passed from the foot to the head of the bed. 
 
 The crowd had gained the centre of the hall, when a 
 sound that startled them, as if it had come from the 
 grave, chained every foot-step — the sound of the king's 
 voice, loud, terribly distinct, and full, as with the vigor 
 of youth restored. All turned their eyes, appalled ; al) 
 stood spell-bound. 
 
 There sate the king upright on the bed, his face seen 
 above the .kneeling prelates, and his eyes bright and 
 shining down the hall. 
 
 "Tea," he said, deliberately, "yea, as this shall be a 
 real vision or a false illusion, grant me. Almighty One. 
 the power of speech to tell it." 
 
 He paused a moment, and thus resumed : — 
 
 " It was on the banks of the frozen Seine, this day 
 thirty-and-one winters ago, that two holy monks, to 
 whom the gift of prophecy was vouchsafed, told me of 
 direful woes that should fall on England: 'For God,' 
 
HAROLD. 195 
 
 said they, 'after thy death, has delivered England into 
 the hands of the enemy, and fiends shall wander over the 
 land.' Then I asked in my sorrow, ' Can nought avert 
 the doom ? and may not niy people free themselves by 
 repentance, like the Ninevites of old ? ' And the Prophets 
 answered, 'Nay,' nor shall the calamity cease, and the 
 curse be completed, till a green tree be sundered in twain, 
 and the part cut off carried away ; yet move, of itself, to 
 the ancient trunk, unite to the stem, bud out with the 
 blossom, and stretch forth its fruit. So said the monks, 
 and even now, ere I spoke, I saw them again, there 
 standing mute, and with the paleness of dead men, by 
 the side of my bed ! " 
 
 These words were said so calmly, and as it were so 
 rationally, that their import became doubly awful from 
 the cold precision of the tone. A shudder passed through 
 the assembly, and each man shrank from the king's eye, 
 which seemed to each man to dwell on himself. Sud- 
 denly that eye altered in its cold beam ; suddenly the 
 voice changed its deliberate accent ; the grey hairs 
 seemed to bristle erect, the whole face to work with horror ; 
 the arms stretched forth, the form writhed on the couch, 
 distorted fragments from the older Testament rushed 
 from the lips: " Sanguelac ! Sanguelac ! — the Lake of 
 Blood," shrieked forth the dying king; "the Lord hath 
 bent his bow — the Lord hath bared his sword. He 
 comes down as a warrior to war, and his wrath is in the 
 steel and the flame. He boweth the mountains, and 
 comes down, and darkness is under his feet!" 
 
196 HAROLD. 
 
 As if revived but for these tremendous denunciations, 
 while the last word left his lips the frame collapsed, the 
 ejes set, and the king fell a corpse in the arms of Ha- 
 rold. 
 
 But one smile of the sceptic or the world-man was 
 seen on the paling lips of those present ; that smile was 
 not on the lips of warriors and men of mail. It distorted 
 the sharpened features of Stigand, the world-man and 
 the miser, as, passing down, and amidst the group, he 
 said, " Tremble ye at the dreams of a sick old man ?" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The time of year customary for the National Asse.n- 
 bly ; the recent consecration of Westminster, for which 
 Edward had convened all his chief spiritual lords, the 
 anxiety felt for the infirm state of the king, and the in- 
 terest as to the impending succession — all concurred to 
 permit the instantaneous meeting of a Witan worthy, 
 from rank and numbers, to meet the emergency of the 
 time, and proceed to the most momentous election ever 
 yet known in England. The thegns and prelates met in 
 haste. Harold's marriage with Aldyth, which had taken 
 place but a few weeks before, had united all parties with 
 his own ; not a claim counter to the great earl's was ad- 
 vanced ; the choice was unanimous. The necessity of 
 terminating at such a crisis all suspense throughout the 
 
HAROLD. 19T 
 
 kingdom, and extinguishing the danger of all counter 
 intrigues, fort)ade to men thus united any delay in solem- 
 nizing their decision ; and the august obsequies of Ed- 
 ward were followed on the same day by the coronation 
 of Harold. 
 
 It was in the body of the mighty Abbey Church, not 
 indeed as we see it now, after successive restorations and 
 remodellings, but simple in its long rows of Saxon arck 
 and massive column, blending the first Teuton with tho 
 last Roman masonries, that the crowd of the Saxon free- 
 men assembled to honor the monarch of their choice. 
 First Saxon king, since England had been one monarchy, 
 selected not from the single House of Cerdic — first 
 Saxon king, not led to the throne by the pale shades of 
 fabled ancestors tracing their descent from the Eather- 
 god of the Teuton, but by the spirits that never know 
 a grave — the arch-eternal givers of crowns and founders 
 of dynasties — Valor and Fame. 
 
 Aired and Stigand, the two great prelates of the realm, 
 had conducted Harold to the church,* and up the aisle 
 
 * It seems by the coronation service of Ethelred II., still extant, 
 that two bishops officiated in the crowning of the king ; and hence, 
 perhaps, the discrepancy in the chroniclers, some contending that 
 Harold was crowned by Aired, others, by Stigand. It is notice- 
 able, however, that it is the apologists of the Normans who assign 
 that office to Stigand, who was in disgrace with the pope, and 
 deemed no lawful bishop. Thus, in the Bayeux tapestry, the label, 
 " Stigand," is significantly affixed to the officiating prelate, as if to 
 convey insinuation that Harold was not lawfully crowned. Flor- 
 ence, by far the best authority, says distinctly, that Harold was 
 crowned by Aired. The ceremonial of the coronation described in 
 
 17* 
 
198 HAUOLD. 
 
 to the altar, followed by the chiefs of the Witan in their 
 long robes ; and the clergy with their abbots and bishops 
 sung the anthems — "Fermetur manus tua," and " Gloria 
 Fatri." 
 
 And now the music ceased ; Harold prostrated him- 
 self before the altar, and the sacred melody burst forth 
 with the great hymn, " Te Deum." 
 
 As it ceased, prelate and thegn raised their chief from 
 the floor, and in imitation of the old custom of Teuton 
 and Northman — when the lord of their armaments was 
 borne on shoulder and shield — Harold mounted a plat- 
 form, and rose in full view of the crowd. 
 
 " Thus," said the arch-prelate, " we choose Harold 
 son of Godwin for lord and for king." And the thegns 
 drew round, and placed hand on Harold's knee, and cried 
 aloud, "We choose thee, O Harold, for lord and for 
 king." And row by row, line by line, all the multitude 
 shouted forth, " We choose thee, Harold, for lord and 
 king." So there he stood with his calm brow, facing all, 
 Monarch of England, and Basileus of Britain. 
 
 Now unheeded amidst the throng, and leaning against 
 a column in the arches of the aisle, was a woman with 
 her veil round her face ; and she lifted the veil for a 
 moment to gaze on that lofty brow, and the tears were 
 streaming fast down her cheek, but her face was not sad. 
 
 " Let the vulgar not see, to pity or scorn thee, daughte' 
 
 the text, is for the most part given on the authority of the " Cot'.ou 
 MS.," quoted by Sharon Turner, vol. iii. p. 151. 
 
HAROLD. 199 
 
 of kings as great as he who abandons and forsakes 
 thee ! " murmured a voice in her ear ; and the form of 
 Hilda, needing no support from column or wall, rose 
 erect by the side of Edith. Edith bowed her head and 
 lowered the veil, as the king descended the platform and 
 stood again by the altar, while clear through the hushed 
 assembly rang the words of his triple promise to his 
 people : — 
 
 "Peace to his Church and the Christian flock. 
 
 " Interdict of rapacity and injustice. 
 
 " Equity and mercy in his judgments, as God the gra- 
 cious and just might show mercy to him." 
 
 And deep from the hearts of thousands came the low 
 "Amen." 
 
 Then after a short prayer, which each prelate repeated, 
 the crowd saw afar the glitter of the crown held over the 
 head of the king. The voice of the consecrator was heard 
 low till it came to the words " So potently and royally 
 may he rule, against all visible and invisible foes, that 
 the royal throne of the Angles and Saxons may not de 
 Bert his sceptre." 
 
 As the prayer ceased, came the symbolical rite of 
 anointment. Then pealed the sonorous organ,* and s: 
 emn along the aisles rose the anthem that closed with 
 the chorus, which the voice of the multitude swelled 
 " May the king live for ever 1 " Then the crown that 
 uad gleamed in the trembling hand of the prelate, rested 
 
 * Introduced into our churches in the u'nth centurv. 
 
200 HAROLD. 
 
 firm in its splendor on the front of the king. And the 
 sceptre of rule, and the rod of jnstioe, " to soothe the 
 pious and terrify the bad," were placed in the royal hands. 
 And the prayer and the blessings were renewed, — till 
 the close ; " Bless, Lord, the courage of this prince, and 
 prosper the works of his hand. With his horn, as the 
 horn of the rhinoceros, may he blow the waters to the 
 extremities of the earth ; and may He who has ascended 
 to the skies be his aid for ever 1 " 
 
 Then Hilda stretched forth her hand to lead Edith from 
 the place. But Edith shook her head and murmured, — 
 
 " But once again, but once 1 " and with involuntary 
 step moved on. 
 
 Suddenly, close where she paused, the crowd parted, 
 and down the narrow lane so formed amidst the wedged 
 and breathless crowd came the august procession ; — pre- 
 late and thegn swept on from the church to the palace ; 
 and alone, with firm and measured step, the diadem on 
 his brow, the sceptre in his hand, came the king. Edith 
 checked the rushing impulse at her heart, but she bent 
 forward, with veil half drawn aside, and so gazed on that 
 face and form of more than royal majesty, fondly, proudly. 
 The king swept on and saw her not ; love lived no mora 
 for him. 
 
HAROLD. 201 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The boat shot over the royal Thames. Borne along 
 the waters, the shouts and the hymns of swarming thou- 
 sands from the land shook like a blast the gelid air of the 
 Wolftnonth. All space seemed filled and noisy with the 
 name of Harold the king. Fast rowed the rowers, on 
 shot the boat ; and Hilda's face, stem and ominous, turned 
 to the still towers of the palace, gleaming wide and 
 white in the wintry sun. Suddenly Edith lifted her hand 
 from her bosom, and said passionately, — 
 
 " Oh ! mother of my mother, I cannot live again in the 
 house where the very walls speak to me of him ; all things 
 chain my soul to the earth ; and my soul should be in 
 Heaven, that its prayers may be heard by the heedful 
 angels. The day that the holy Lady of England pre- 
 dicted hath come to pass, and the silver cord is loosed at 
 last. Ah why, why did I not believe her then ? why did 
 I then reject the cloister ? Yet no, I will not repent ; at 
 least I have been loved 1 But now I will go to the nun- 
 nery of Waltham, and kneel at the altars he hath hallowed 
 tt the mone and the monechyn." 
 
 " Edith," said the Yala, " Thou wilt not bury thy life, 
 yet young, in the living grave! And, despite all that 
 now severs you — yea, despite Harold's new and loveless 
 
 ties — still clearer than ever it is written in the heavens, 
 
 17 » 
 
202 HAROLD. 
 
 tbat a day shall come, in which you are to be evermore 
 united. Many of the shapes I have seen, many of the 
 sounds I have heard, in the trance and the dream, fade 
 in the troubled memory of waking life. But never yet 
 hath grown doubtful or dim the prophecy, that the truth 
 pledged by the grave shall be fulfilled." 
 
 " Oh, tempt not ! Oh, delude not I" cried Edith, while 
 the blood rushed over her brow. " Thou knowest this 
 cannot be. Another's I he is another's I and in the words 
 thou hast uttered there is deadly sin." 
 
 " There is no sin in the resolves of a fate that rules us 
 in spite of ourselves. Tarry only till the year bring round 
 the birth-day of Harold ; for my sayings shall be ripe 
 with the grape, and when the feet of the vine-herd are 
 red in the Month of the Vine,* the Nomas shall knit ye 
 together again 1 " 
 
 Edith clasped her hands mutely, and looked hard into 
 the face of Hilda, — looked and shuddered, she knew not 
 why. 
 
 The boat landed on the eastern shore of the river, be- 
 yond the walls of Waltham. The frost was sharp in the 
 glitter of the unwarming sun ; upon leafless boughs hung 
 the barbed ice-gems ; and the crown was on the brows 
 of Harold I And at night, within the walls of the con- 
 vent, Edith heard the hymns of the kneeling monks ; and 
 the blasts howled, and the storm arose, and the voices of 
 destroying hurricanes were blent with the swell of the 
 choral hymns. 
 
 * The Wyn-month: October. 
 
H A B L D . 203 
 
 CHAPTER lY 
 
 Tosna sate in the halls of Bruges, and with him sate 
 Judith, his haughty wife. The earl and his countess were 
 playing at chess (or the game resembling it, which amused 
 the idlesse of that age), and the countess had put her 
 lord's game into mortal disorder, when Tostig swept his 
 hand over the board, and the pieces rolled on the floor. 
 
 " That is one way to prevent defeat," said Judith, with 
 a half-smile and half-frown. 
 
 "It is the way of the bold and the wise, wife mine," 
 answered Tostig, rising ; " let all be destruction where 
 thou thyself canst win not 1 Peace to these trifles I I 
 cannot keep my mind to the mock fight ; it flies to the 
 real. Our last news sours the taste of the wine, and 
 steals the sleep from my couch. It says that Edward 
 cannot live through the winter, and that all men bruit 
 abroad, there can be no king save Harold my brother." 
 
 "And will thy brother as king give to thee again thy 
 domain as earl ? " 
 
 " He must I " answered Tostig, " and, despite all our 
 breaches, with soft message he will. For Harold has the 
 heart of the Saxon, to which the sons of one father are 
 dear; and Githa, my mother, when we first fled, con- 
 trolled the voice of my revenge, and bade me wait patient 
 and hope yet " 
 
204 HAROLD. 
 
 Scarce had these words fallen from Tostig's lips, when 
 the chief of his Danish house-carles came in, and an- 
 nounced the arrival of a bode from England. 
 
 "His news? his news?" cried the earl; "with his 
 own lips let him speak his news." 
 
 The house-carle withdrew, but to usher in the messen'< 
 ger, an Anglo-Dane. 
 
 " The weight on thy brow shows the load on thy 
 heart," cried Tostig. "Speak, and be brief." 
 
 " Edward is dead." 
 
 "Hal and who reigns?" 
 
 " Thy brother is chosen and crowned." 
 
 The face of the earl grew red and pale in a breath, 
 and successive emotions of envy and old rivalship, hum- 
 bled pride and fierce discontent, passed across his turbu- 
 lent heart ; but these died away as the predominant 
 thought of self-interest, and somewhat of that admira- 
 tion for success which often seems like magnanimity in 
 grasping minds, and something, too, of haughty exulta- 
 tion, that he stood a king's brother in the halls of his 
 exile, came to chase away the more hostile and menacing 
 feelings. Then Judith approached, with joy on her brow, 
 and said : — 
 
 " We shall no more eat the bread of dependence, even 
 at the hand of a father ; and since Harold hath no dame 
 to proclaim to the Church, and to place on the dais, thy 
 wife, my Tostig, will have state in fair England little 
 'ess than her sister in Rouen." 
 
 "Methinks so will it be," said Tostig. "How now. 
 
HAROLD. 205 
 
 nuncius ? why lookest thoii so grim, and why shakest 
 thou thy head ? " 
 
 " Small chance for thy dame to keep state in the halla 
 of the king; small hope for thyself to win back thy 
 broad earldom. But a few weeks ere thy brother won 
 the crown, he won also a bride in the house of thy spoiler 
 and foe, Aldyth, the sister of Edwin and Morcar, is 
 Lady of England ; and that union shuts thee out from 
 Northumbria for ever." 
 
 At these words, as if stricken by some deadly and in- 
 expressible insult, the earl recoiled, and stood a moment 
 mute *ith rage and amaze. His singular beauty became 
 distorted into the lineaments of a fiend. He stamped 
 with his foot as he thundered a terrible curse. Then 
 haughtily waving his hand to the bode, in sign of dis- 
 missal, he strode to and fro the room in gloomy pertur- 
 bation. 
 
 Judith, like her sister Matilda, a woman fierce and 
 vindictive, continued, by that sharp venom that lies in 
 the tongue of the sex, to incite still more the intense 
 resentment of her lord. Perhaps some female jealousies 
 of Aldyth might contribute to increase her own indigna- 
 tion. But without such frivolous jddition to anger, there 
 was cause eno' in this marriage thoroughly to complete 
 the alienation between the king and his brother. It waa 
 iirpossible that one so revengeful as Tostig should not 
 3herish the deepest animosity, not only against the peo- 
 ple that had rejected, but the new earl that had succeeded 
 him. In wedding the sister of this fortunate rival and 
 
 IJ —18 
 
206 HAEOLD. 
 
 despoiler, Harold could not, therefore, but gall him in 
 his most sensitive sores of soul. The king, thus, formally 
 approyed and sanctioned his ejection, solemnly took part 
 with his foe, robbed him of all legal chance of recover- 
 ing his dominions, and, in the words of the bode, " shut 
 him out from Northumbria for ever." Nor was this even 
 all. Grant his return to England ; grant a reconciliation 
 with Harold ; still those abhorred and more fortunate 
 enemies, necessarily made now the most intimate part of 
 the king's family, must be most in his confidence, would 
 curb and chafe and encounter Tostig in every scheme for 
 his personal aggrandizement. His foes, in a word, were 
 in the camp of his brother. 
 
 While gnashing his teeth with a wrath the more deadly 
 because he saw not yet his way to retribution, — Judith, 
 pursuing the separate thread of her own cogitations, said — 
 
 "And if my sister's lord, the count of the Normans, 
 had, as rightly he ought to have, succeeded his cousin 
 the Monk-king, then I should have a sister on the throne, 
 and thou in her husband a brother more tender than 
 Harold. One who supports his barons with sword and 
 mail, and gives the villeins rebelling against them but 
 the brand and the cord." 
 
 " Ho 1 " cried Tostig, stopping suddenly in his disor 
 dered strides, " Kiss me, wife, for those words 1 They 
 have helped me to power, and lit me to revenge. If thou 
 wouldst send love to thy sister, take graphium and parch- 
 ment, and write fast as a scribe. Ere the sun is an hour 
 older, I am on my road to Count William." 
 
HAROLD 201 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The duke of the Normans was in the forest, or park 
 land of Rouvray, and his quens and his knights stood 
 around him, expecting some new proof of his strength 
 and his skill with the bow ; for the duke was trying some 
 arrows, a weapon he was ever employed in seeking to 
 improve ; sometimes shortening, sometimes lengthening 
 the shaft, and suiting the wing of the feather, and the 
 weight of the point, to the nicest refinement in the law 
 of mechanics. Gay and debonnair, in the brisk fresh air 
 of the frosty winter, the great count jested and laughed 
 as the squires fastened a live bird by the string to a stake 
 in the distant sward ; and "Pardex," said Duke William, 
 " Conan of Bretagne, and Philip of France, leave us now 
 so unkindly in peace, that I trow we shall never again 
 have larger butt for our arrows than the breast of yon 
 poor plumed trembler." 
 
 As the duke spoke and laughed, all the sere boughs 
 behind him rattled and cranched, and a horse at full 
 speed came rushing over the hard rime of the sward. 
 The duke's smile vanished in the frown of his pride. 
 " Bold rider and graceless," quoth he, " who thus comes 
 in the presence of counts and princes ? " 
 
 Right up to Duke William spurred the rider, and then 
 leaped from his steed : vest -and mantle, yet more rich 
 
208 HAROLD 
 
 than the duke's, all tattered and soiled. No knee bent 
 the rider, no cap did he doff; but, seizing the startled 
 Normar; with the gripe of a hand as strong as his own, 
 he led him aside from the courtiers, and said — 
 
 " Thou knowest me, William ? though not thus alone 
 should I come to thy court, if I did not bring thee a 
 crown." 
 
 " Welcome, brave Tostig 1 " said the duke, marvelling 
 " What meanest thou ? nought but good, by thy worda 
 and thy smile." 
 
 " Edward sleeps with the dead I — and Harold is king 
 of all England 1 " 
 
 " King 1 — England I — King I " faltered William, stam- 
 mering in his agitation. " Edward dead 1 — Saints rest 
 him ! England then is mine ! King ! — 7 am the king I 
 Harold hath sworn it ; my quens and prelates heard him ; 
 the bones .of the saints attest the oath I " 
 
 " Somewhat of this have I vaguely learned from our 
 beau-p&re Count Baldwin ; more will I learn at thy 
 leisure ; but take, meanwhile, my word as Miles and 
 Saxon, — never, while there is breath on his lips, or one 
 beat in his heart, will my brother, Lord Harold, give an 
 inch of English land to the Norman." 
 
 William turned pale and faint with emotion, and leant 
 for support against a leafless oak. 
 
 Busy were the rumors, and anxious the watch, of the 
 qnens and knights, as their prince stood long in the dis- 
 tant glade, conferring with the rider, whom one or two 
 
HAROLD. 209 
 
 of them had recognized as Tostig, the spouse of Matilda's 
 sister. 
 
 At length, side by side, still talking earnestly, they re- 
 gained the group ; and William, summoning the lord of 
 Tancarville, bade him conduct Tostig to Rouen, the 
 towers of which rose through the forest trees. " Rest 
 and refresh thee, noble kinsman," said the duke ; " see 
 and talk with Matilda. I will join thee anon." 
 
 The earl remounted his steed, and saluting the company 
 with a wild and hasty grace, soon vanished amidst the 
 groves. 
 
 Then William, seating himself on the sward, mechani- 
 cally unstrung his bow, sighing oft, and oft frowning; 
 and without vouchsafing other words to his lords than 
 "No further sport to-day !" rose slowly, and went alone 
 through the thickest parts of the forest. But his faithful 
 Fitzosborne marked his gloom, and fondly followed him. 
 The duke arrived at the borders of the Seine, where his 
 galley waited him He entered, sat down on the bench, 
 and took no notice of Fitzosborne, who quietly stepped 
 in after his lord, and placed himself on another bench. 
 
 The little voyage to Rouen was performed in silence ; 
 and as soon as he had gained his palace, without seeking 
 either Tostig or Matilda, the duke turned into the vatt 
 hall, in which he was wont to hold council with his 
 barons ; and walked to and fro, " often," said the chroni- 
 cles, "changing posture and attitude, and oft loosening 
 and tightening, and drawing into knots, the strings of his 
 mantle." 
 
 18* 2n 
 
210 HAROLD. 
 
 Fitzosborae, meanwhile, had sought the ex earl, who 
 was closeted with Matilda ; and now returning, he went 
 boldly up to the duke, whom no one else dared approach, 
 and said — 
 
 " Why, my liege, seek to conceal what is already 
 known — what ere the eve will be in the moutha of all ? 
 You are troubled that Edward is dead, and that Harold, 
 violating his oath, has seized the English realm." 
 
 "Truly," said the duke, mildly, and with the tone of a 
 meek man much injured; "my dear cousin's death, and 
 the wrongs I have received from Harold touch me 
 nearly." 
 
 Then said Pitzosborne, with that philosophy, half 
 grave as became the Scandinavian, half gay as became 
 the Frank : " No man should grieve for what he can help 
 — still less for what he cannot help. For Edward's 
 death, I trow, remedy there is none ; but for Harold's 
 treason, yea I Have you not a noble host of knights and 
 warriors ? What want you to destroy the Saxon and 
 seize his realm ? What but a bold heart ? A great deed 
 once well begun, is half done. Begin, count of the Nor- 
 mans, and we will complete the rest." 
 
 Starting from his sorely tasked dissimulation — for all 
 William needed, and all of which he doubted, was the aid 
 of his haughty barons, — the duke raised his head, and 
 his eyes shone out. " Ha I sayest thou so I then, by th** 
 Splendor of God, we will do this deed. Haste thou — 
 rouse hearts, nerve hands — promise, menace, win I Broad 
 
HAROLD. 211 
 
 are the lands of England, and generous a conqueror's 
 hand. Go and prepare all my faithful lords for a 
 council, nobler than ever yet stirred the hearts and strung 
 the hands of the sons of E.ou. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Brief was the sojourn of Tostig at the court of Rouen ; 
 speedily made the contract between the grasping duke 
 and the revengeful traitor. All that had been promised 
 to Harold, was now pledged to Tostig — if the last would 
 assist the Norman to the English throne. 
 
 At heart, however, Tostig was ill satisfied. His chance 
 conversations with the principal barons, who seemed to 
 look upon the conquest of England as the dream of a 
 madman, showed him how doubtful it was that William 
 jould induce his quens to a service, to which the tenure 
 of their fiefs did not appear to compel them ; and at all 
 events, Tostig prognosticated delays that little suited his 
 fiery impatience. He accepted the ofi'er of some two or 
 three ships which William put at his disposal, under pre- 
 tence to reconnoitre the Northumbrian coasts, and there 
 attempt a rising in his own favor. But his discontent 
 was increased by the smallness of the aid afforded him ; 
 for William, ever suspicious, distrusted both his faith and 
 his power. Tostig, with all his vices, was a poor dis- 
 
212 HAROLD. 
 
 simulator, and his sullen spirit betrayed itself when he 
 tooli leave of his host. 
 
 "Chance what may," said the fierce Saxon, "no 
 stranger shall seize the English crown without my aid. 
 I offer it first to thee ; but thou must come to take it in 
 time, or " 
 
 " Or what ? " asked the duke, gnawing his lip. 
 
 " Or the Father race of Rou will be before thee ! My 
 horse paws without. Farewell to thee, Norman ; sharpen 
 thy swords, hew out thy vessels, and goad thy slow 
 barons.'' 
 
 Scarce had Tostig departed, ere William began to 
 repent that he had so let him depart ; but seeking counsel 
 of Lanfranc, that wise minister reassured him. 
 
 "Fear no rival, son and lord," said he. "The bones 
 of the dead are on thy side, and little thou knowest, as 
 yet, how mighty their fleshless arms 1 All Tostig can do 
 is to distract the forces of Harold. Leave him to work 
 out his worst ; nor then be in haste. Much hath yet to 
 be done — cloud must gather and fire must form, ere the 
 bolt can be launched. Send to Harold mildly, and gently 
 remind him of oath and of relics — of treaty and pledge. 
 Put right on thy side, and then " 
 
 "Ah, what then?" 
 
 "Rome shall curse the forsworn — Rome shall hallow 
 thy banner ; this be no strife of force against force, but 
 a war ot religion ; and thou shalt have on thy side the 
 conscience of man, and the arm of the Church." 
 
 Meanwhile, Tostig embarked, at Harfleur; but instead 
 
HAKOLD. 213 
 
 of sailing to the northern coasts of England, he made 
 for one of the Flemish ports ; and there, under various 
 pretences, new manned the Norman vessels with Flem- 
 ings, Fins, and Northmen. His meditations during his 
 voyage had decided him not to trust to William ; and 
 he now bent his course, with fair wind and favoring 
 weather, to the shores of his maternal uncle. King Sweyn 
 of Denmark. 
 
 In truth, to all probable calculation, his change of 
 purpose was politic. The fleets of England were numer- 
 ous, and her seamen renowned. The Normans had 
 neither experience nor fame in naval fights ; their navy 
 itself was scarcely formed. Thus, even William's land- 
 ing in England was an enterprise arduous and dubious. 
 Moreover, even granting the amplest success, would not 
 this Norman prince, so profound and ambitious, be a 
 more troublesome lord to Earl Tostig than his own uncle 
 Sweyn ? 
 
 So, forgetful of the compact at Rouen, no sooner had 
 the Saxon lord come in presence of the king of the 
 Danes, than he urged on his kinsman the glory of winning 
 again the sceptre of Canute. 
 
 A brave but a cautious and wily veteran, was King 
 Sweyn ; and a few days before Tostig arrived, he had 
 received letters from his sister Githa, who, true to God- 
 win's command, had held all that Harold did and 
 counselled, as between himself and his brother, wise and 
 just. 
 
 These letters had placed the Dane on his guard, and 
 
214 HAROLD. 
 
 shown him the true state of affairs in England. So king 
 Sweyn, smiling, thus answered his nephew Tostig : — 
 
 "A great man was Canute, a small man am I : scarce 
 can I keep my Danish dominion from the gripe 'of the 
 Norwegian, while Canute took Norway without slash and 
 blow ; * but great as he was, England cost him hard 
 fighting to win, and sore peril to keep. Wherefore, best 
 for the small man to rule by the light of his own little 
 sense, nor venture to count on the luck of great Canute; 
 — for luck but goes with the great." 
 
 "Thine answer," said Tostig, with a bitter sneer, "is 
 not what I expected from an uncle and warrior. But 
 other chiefs may be found less afraid of the luck of high 
 deeds." 
 
 "So," saith the Norwegian chronicler, "not just the 
 best friends, the earl left the king," and went on in haste 
 to Harold Hardrada of Norway. 
 
 True Hero of the North, true Darling of War and of 
 Song, was Harold Hardrada I At the terrible battle of 
 Stiklestad, at which his brother, St. Olave, had fallen, 
 he was but fifteen years of age, but his body was covered 
 with the wounds of a veteran. Escaping from the field, 
 he lay concealed in the house of a Bonder peasant, 
 remote in deep forests, till his wounds were healed. 
 Thence, chaunting by the way (for a poet's soul burned 
 bright in Hardrada), " That a day would come when his 
 name would be great in the land he now left," he went 
 
 * " Snorro Sturlesou." Laing. 
 
HAROLD. 215 
 
 on into Sweden, thence into Russia, and after wild 
 adventures in the East, joined with the bold troop he had 
 collected around him, that famous body-guard of the 
 Greek emperors,* called the Yaeringers, and of these he 
 became the chief. Jealousies between himself and the 
 Greek general of the Imperial forces (whom the Nor- 
 wegian chronicler calls Gyrger), ended in Harold's re- 
 tirement with his Vseringers into the Saracen land of 
 Africa. Eighty castles stormed and taken, vast plunder 
 in gold and in jewels, and nobler meed in the song of the 
 Scald, and the praise of the brave, attested the prowess 
 of the great Scandinavian. New laurels, blood-stained ; 
 new treasures, sword-won, awaited him in Sicily ; and 
 thence, rough foretype of the coming crusader, he passed 
 on to Jerusalem. His sword swept before him Moslem 
 and robber. He bathed in Jordan, and knelt at the 
 Holy Cross. 
 
 Returned to Constantinople, the desire for his northern 
 home seized Hardrada. There he heard that his nephew 
 Magnus, the illegitimate son of St. Olave, had become 
 king of Norway, — and he himself aspired to a throne. 
 
 * The Vseringers, or Varangi, mostly Northmen ; this redoubtable 
 force, the Janissaries of the Byzantine empire, afforded brilliant 
 field, both of fortune and war, to the discontented spirits, or out- 
 lawed heroes of the north. It was joined afterwards by many of 
 the bravest and best-bora of the Saxon nobles, refusing to dwell 
 under the yoke of the Norman. Scott, in " Count Robert of 
 Paris," which, if not one of his best romances, is yet full of truth 
 and beauty, has described this renowned band with much poeticaJ 
 vigor and historical fidelity. 
 
216 HAROLD. 
 
 So he gave up his command under Zoe the empress ; but, 
 if Scald be believed, Zoe the empress loved the bold 
 chief, whose heart was set on Maria, her niece. To de- 
 tain Hardrada, a charge of mal-appropriation, whether 
 of pay or of booty, was brought against him. He wag 
 cast into prison. But when the brave are in danger, the 
 Daints send the fair to their help 1 Moved by a holy 
 dream, a Greek lady lowered ropes from the roof of the 
 tower to the dungeon wherein Hardrada was cast. He 
 escaped from the prison, he aroused his Vseringers, they 
 flocked round their chief; he went to the house of his 
 lady Maria, bore her off to the galley, put out into the 
 Black Sea, reached Novgorod (at the friendly court of 
 whose king he had safely lodged his vast spoils), sailed 
 home to the north ; and, after such feats as became sea- 
 king of old, received half of Norway from Magnus ; and, 
 on the death of his nephew, the whole of that kingdom 
 passed to his sway. A king so wise and so wealthy, so 
 bold and so dread, bad never yet been known in the 
 riorth. And this was the king to whom came Tostig the 
 earl, with the offer of England's crown. 
 
 It was one of the glorious nights of the north, and 
 winter had already begun to melt into early spring, when 
 two men sate under a kind of rustic porch of rough pine- 
 logs, not very unlike those seen now in Switzerland and 
 the Tyrol. This porch was constructed before a private 
 door, to the rear of a long, low, irregular building of 
 wood, which enclosed two or more court-yards, and cov- 
 ering an immense space of ground. This private door 
 
HAROLD. 211 
 
 geemed pl?iced for the purpose of immediate descent to 
 the sea ; for the ledge of the rock over which the log- 
 porch spread its rude roof, jutted over the ocean ; and 
 from it a rugged stair, cut through the crag, descended 
 to the beach. The shore, with bold, strange, grotesque 
 Blab, and peak, and splinter, curved into a large creek ; 
 and close under the cliff were moored seven war-ships, high 
 and tall, with prows and sterns all gorgeous with gilding 
 in the light of the splendid moon. And that rude timber 
 house, which seemed but a chain of barbarian huts linked 
 into one, was a land palace of Hardrada of Norway ; but 
 the true halls of his royalty, the true seats of his empire, 
 were the decks of those lofty war-ships. 
 
 Through the small lattice-woi'k of the windows of the 
 log-house, lights blazed ; from the roof-top smoke curled ; 
 from the hall on the other side of the dwelling, came the 
 din of tumultuous wassail; but the intense stillness of the 
 outer air, hushed in frost, and luminous with stars, con- 
 trasted and seemed to rebuke the gross sounds of human 
 revel. And that northern night seemed almost as bright 
 as (but how much more augustly calm, than) the noon 
 of the golden south ! 
 
 On a table, within the ample porch, was an immense 
 bowl, of birch-wood mounted in silver, and filled with 
 potent drink ; and two huge horns, of size suiting the 
 mighty wassailers of the age. The two men seemed to 
 care nought for the stern air of the cold night — true that 
 they were wrapped in furs, reft from the polar bear. But 
 
 II. — 19 
 
218 HAROLD. 
 
 each had hot thoughts within, that gave greater warmth 
 to the veins than the bowl or the bear-skin. 
 
 They were host and guest ; and, as if with the restless- 
 ness of his thoughts, the host rose from his seat, and 
 passed through the porch and stood on the bloak rock 
 under the light of the moon ; and, so seen, he seemed 
 siiarcely human, but some war-chief of the farthest time, 
 — yea, of a time ere the deluge had shivered those rocks, 
 and left beds on the land, for the realm of that icy sea. 
 For Harold Hardrada was, in height, above all the chil- 
 dren of modern men. Five ells of Norway made the 
 height of Harold Hardrada.* Nor was this stature ac- 
 companied by any of those imperfections in symmetry, 
 nor by that heaviness of aspect, which generally render 
 any remarkable excess above human stature and strength, 
 rather monstrous than commanding. On the contrary, 
 his proportions were just, his appearance noble ; and the 
 sole defect that the chronicler remarks in his shape, was 
 "that his hands and feet were large, but these were well 
 made, "f 
 
 * Laing's Snorro Sturleson. — " The old Norwegian ell was less 
 than the present ell ; and Thorlasius reckons, in a note on this 
 chapter, that Harold's stature would be about four Danish ells ; viz. 
 about eight feet." — Laing's note to the text. Allowing for the ex- 
 aggeration of the chronicler, it seems probable, at least, that Har- 
 drada exceeded seven feet. Since (as Laing remarks in the same 
 note), and as we shall see hereafter, "our English Harold offered 
 him, according to both English and Danish authority, seven feet of 
 land for a grave, or as much more as his stature exceeding that of 
 other men, might require." 
 
 t Snorro Sturleson. 
 
HAROLD. 219 
 
 His face had all the fair beauty of the Norseman ; his 
 hair, parted in locks of gold over a brow that bespoKe 
 the daring of the warrior and the genius of the bard, fell 
 in glittering profusion to his shoulders ; a short beard 
 and long moustache of the same color as the hair, care- 
 fully trimmed, added to the grand and masculine beauty 
 of the countenance, in which the only blemish was the 
 peculiarity of one eye-brow being somewhat higher than 
 the other,* which gave something more sinister to his 
 frown, something more arch to his smile. For, quick of 
 impulse, the Poet-Titan smiled and frowned often. 
 
 Harold Hardrada stood in the light of the moon, and 
 gazing thoughtfully on the luminous sea. Tostig marked 
 him for some moments where he sate in the porch, and 
 then rose and joined him. 
 
 " Why should my words so disturb thee, king of the 
 Norseman ? " 
 
 " Is glory, then, a drug that soothes to sleep ? " re- 
 turned the Norwegian. 
 
 " I like thine answer," said Tostig, smiling, " and I like 
 still more to watch thine eye gazing on the prows of thy 
 war-ships. Strange indeed it were, if thou, who hast 
 been fighting fifteen years for the petty kingdom of Den- 
 mark, should hesitate now, when all England lies before 
 thee to seize." 
 
 "I hesitate," replied the king, "because he, whom 
 fortune has befriended so long, should beware how he 
 
 * Snorro Sturlesoc. 
 
220 HAROLD. 
 
 strain her favors too far. Eighteen pitched battles fought 
 1 in the Saracen land, and in every one was a victor — 
 never, at home or abroad, have I known shame and de- 
 feat. Doth the wind always blow from one point? — and 
 is fate less unstable than the wind ? " 
 
 " Now, out on thee, Harold Hardrada," said Tostig 
 the fierce ; " the good pilot wins his way through all 
 winds, and the brave heart fastens fate to its flag. All 
 men allow that the North never had warrior like thee ; 
 and now, in the mid-day of manhood, wilt thou consent 
 to repose on the mere triumph of youth ? " 
 
 "Nay," said the king, who, like all true poets, had 
 something of the deep sense of a sage, and was, indeed, 
 regarded as the most prudent as well as the most adven- 
 turous chief in the North land,— "nay, it is not by such 
 words, which my soul seconds too well, that thou canst 
 entrap a ruler of men. Thou must show me the chances 
 of success, as thou wouldst to a grey-beard. For we 
 should be as old men before we engage, and as youths 
 when we wish to perform." 
 
 Then the traitor succinctly detailed all the weak points 
 in the rule of his brother. A treasury exhausted by the 
 lavish and profitless waste of Edward ; a land without 
 castle or bulwark, even at the mouths of the rivers ; a 
 people grown inert by long peace, and so accustomed to 
 own lord and king in the northern invaders, that a single 
 successful battle might induce half the population to in- 
 sist on the Saxon coming to terms with the foe ; and, 
 yielding, as Ironside did to Canute, one half of the realm. 
 
HAROLD. aa» 
 
 He enlarged on the terror of the Norsemen that still ex- 
 isted throughout England, and the affinity between the 
 Northumbrians and East Anglians with the race of Har- 
 drada. That affinity would not prevent them from resist- 
 ing at the first ; but grant success, and it would reconcile 
 them to the after sway. And, finally, he aroused Har* 
 drada's emulation by the spur ef the news, that the count 
 of the Normans would seize the, prize if he himself de- 
 layed to forestall him. 
 
 These various representations, and the remembrance 
 of Canute's victory, decided Hardrada ; and, when Tos- 
 tig ceased, he stretched his hand towards his slumbering 
 vrar-ships, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Eno' ; yon have whetted the beaks of the ravens, and 
 harnessed the steeds of the sea I " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MEANWHttE, King Harold of England had made him 
 self dear to his people, and been true to the fame he had 
 won as Harold the Earl. Erom the moment of his acces- 
 sion, "he had showed himself pious, humble, and affable,* 
 and omitted no occasion to show any token of bounteous 
 liberality, gentleness, and courteous behavior. — -The 
 grievous customs also, and taxes which his predecessors 
 had raised, he either abolished or diminished ; the ordi- 
 
 * Hoveden. 
 19* 
 
222 HAROLD. 
 
 nary wages of his servants and men-of-war he increased, 
 and further showed himself very well bent to all virtue 
 and goodness."* 
 
 Extracting the pith from these eulogies, it is clear that, 
 as wise statesman no less than good king, Harold sought 
 to strengthen himself in the three great elements of regal 
 power; — Conciliation of the Church, which had been 
 opposed to his father ; the popular affection, on wliich 
 his sole claim to the crown reposed ; and the military 
 force of the land, which had been neglected in the reign 
 of his peaceful predecessor. 
 
 To the young Atheling he accorded a respect not be- 
 fore paid to him ; and, while investing the descendant of 
 the ancient line with princely state, and endowing him 
 with large domains, his soul, too great for jealousy, 
 sought to give more substantial power to his own most 
 legitimate rival, by tender care and noble counsels, — by 
 efforts to raise a character feeble by nature, and denation- 
 alized by foreign rearing. In the same broad and gene- 
 rous policy, Harold encouraged all the merchants from 
 other countries who had settled in England, nor were 
 even such Normans as had escaped the general sentence 
 of banishment on Godwin's return, disturbed in their 
 possessions. " In brief," saith the Anglo-Norman chron- 
 icler, f " no man was more prudent in the land, more val- 
 iant in arms, in the law more sagacious, in all probity 
 
 * Holinshed. Nearly all chroniclers (even, with scarce an ex- 
 ception, those most favoring the Normans) concur in the abilities 
 and merits of Harold as a king. 
 
 t "Vit. Harold. Chron. Ang. Norm." ii. 243. 
 
HAROLD. 223 
 
 more accomplished : " and " ever active," says more 
 mournfully the Saxon writer, " for the good of his coun- 
 try, he spared himself no fatigue by land or by sea." * 
 
 From this time, Harold's private life ceased. Love 
 and its charms were no more. The glow of romance had 
 vanished. He was not one man ; he was the state, the 
 representative, the incarnation of Saxon England : his 
 sway and the Saxon freedom, to live or fall together 1 
 
 The soul really grand is only tested in its errors. As 
 we know the true might of the intellect by the rich re- 
 sources and patient strength with which it redeems a 
 failure, so do we prove the elevation of the soul by its 
 courageous return into light, its instinctive rebound into 
 higher air, after some error that has darkened its vision 
 and soiled its plumes. A spirit less noble and pure than 
 Harold's, once entering on the dismal world of enchanted 
 superstition, had habituated itself to that nether atmo- 
 sphere ; once misled from hardy truth and healthful rea- 
 son, it had plunged deeper and deeper into the maze 
 But, unlike his contemporary, Macbeth, the Man escaped 
 from the lures of the fiend. Not as Hecate in hell, but 
 as Dian in Heaven, did he confront the pale Goddess of 
 Night. Before that hour in which he had deserted the 
 human judgment for the ghostly delusion ; before that 
 day in which the brave heart, in its sudden desertion, 
 had humbled his pride — the man, in his nature was more 
 strong than the god. Now, purified by the flame that 
 
 * Hoveden. 
 
224 HAROLD. 
 
 bad scorched, and more nerved from the fall that h«Jp 
 stunned, — that great sonlrose sublime through the wrecka 
 of the Past, serene through the clouds of the Future, 
 concentering in its solitude the destinies of Mankind, and 
 strong with instinctire Eternity amidst all the terrors of 
 Time. 
 
 King Harold came from York, whither he had gorj9 
 to cement the new power of Morcar, in Northumbria, 
 and personally to confirm the allegiance of the Anglo- 
 Danes : — King Harold came from York, and in the halla 
 of Westminster he found a monk who awaited him with 
 the messages of William the Norman. 
 
 Bare-footed and serge-garbed, the Norman envoy 
 strode to the Saxon's chair of state. His form was worn 
 with mortification and fast, and bis face was hneless and 
 livid, with the perpetual struggle between zeal and the 
 flesh. 
 
 " Thus saith William, Count of the Normans," began 
 Hugues Maigrot, the monk. 
 
 " With grief and amaze hath he heard that you, O 
 Harold, his sworn liege-man, have, contrary to oath and 
 to fealty, assumed the crown that belongs to himsek'. 
 But, confiding in thy conscience, and forgiving a mo- 
 mert's weakness, he summons thee, mildly and brother- 
 like, to fulfil thy vow. Send thy sister, that he may give 
 her in marriage to one of his quens. Give him up the 
 strong-hold of Dover ; march to thy coast with thino 
 armies to aid him, — thy liege lord, — and secure him the 
 heritage of Edward his cousin. And thou shalt reign 
 
HAROLD. 225 
 
 at his right-hand, his daughter thy bride, Northumbria 
 thy fief, and the saints thy protectors." 
 
 The king's lip was firm, though pale, as he answered : — 
 
 " My young sister, alas ! is no more : seven nights 
 after I ascended the throne, she died : her dust in the 
 grave is all I could send to the arras of the bridegroom. 
 I cannot wed the child of thy count : the wife of Harold 
 sits beside him." And he pointed to the proud beauty 
 of Aldyth, enthroned under the drapery of gold. " For 
 the vow that I took, I deny it not. But from a vow of 
 compulsion, menaced with unworthy captivity, extorted 
 from my lips by the very need of the land whose freedom 
 had been bound in my chains-^from a vow so compelled. 
 Church and conscience absolve me. If the vow of a 
 maiden on whom to bestow but her hand, when unknown 
 to her parents, is judged invalid by the Church, how 
 much more invalid the oath that would bestow on a 
 stranger the fates of a nation,* against its knowledge, 
 and unconsulting its laws I This royalty of England 
 hath ever rested on the will of the people, declared 
 through its chiefs in their solemn assembly. They alone 
 who could bestow it, have bestowed it on me : — I have 
 no power to resign it to another^- and were I in my 
 grave, the trust of the crown would not pass to the Nor- 
 man, but return to the Saxon people." 
 
 "Is this, th«n, thy answer, unhappy son?" said the 
 monk, with a sullen and gloomy aspect. 
 
 "Such is my answer." 
 
 * Malmesbury. 
 19* 2o 
 
?26 HAROLD. 
 
 " Then, sorrowing for thee, I utter the words of Wil- 
 liam. ' With sword and with mail will he come to punish 
 the perjurer ; and by the aid of St. Michael, archangel 
 of war, he will conquer his own.' Amen!" 
 
 " By sea and by land, with sword and with mail, will 
 we meet the invader," answered the king, with a flashing 
 eye. "Thou hast said: — so depart." 
 
 The monk turned and withdrew. 
 
 " Let the priest's insolence chafe thee not, sweet lord," 
 said Aldyth. " For the vow which thou mightest take 
 as subject, what matters it now thou art king ? " 
 
 Harold made no answer to Aldyth, but turned to his 
 chamberlain, who stood behind his throne-chair. 
 
 "Are my brothers without ? " 
 
 " They are : and my lord the king's chosen council." 
 
 "Admit them : pardon, Aldyth ; affairs fit only for 
 men claim me now." 
 
 The Lady of England took the hint and rose. 
 
 "But the even-mete will summon thee soon," said she. 
 
 Harold, who had already descended from his chair of 
 state, and was bending over a casket of papers on the 
 table, replied,— 
 
 " There is food here till the morrow ; wait me not." 
 
 Aldyth sighed, and withdrew at the one door, while 
 the thegns most in Harold's confidence, entered at the 
 other. But, once surrounded by her maidens, Aldyth 
 forgot all, save that she was again a queen, — forgot all, 
 even to the earlier and less gorgeous diadem which her 
 
HAROLD. 227 
 
 lord's hand had shattered on the brows of the son o*^ 
 Pendragon. 
 
 Leofwine, still gay and blithe-hearted, entered first : 
 Gurth followed, then Haco, then some half-score of the 
 greater thegns. 
 
 They seated themselves at the table, and Gurth spck» 
 first — 
 
 "Tostig has been with Count William." 
 
 " I know it," said Harold. 
 
 " It is rumored that he has passed to our uucle Sweyn." 
 
 " I foresaw it," said the king. 
 
 "And that Sweyn will aid him to reconquer England 
 for the Dane." 
 
 "My bode reached Sweyn, with letters from Githa, 
 before Tostig ; my bode has returned this day. Sweyn 
 has dismissed Tostig : Sweyn will send fifty ships, armed 
 with picked men, to the aid of England." 
 
 "Brother," cried Leofwine, admiringly, "thou prp- 
 videst against danger ere we but surmise it." 
 
 " Tostig," continued the king, unheeding the compli- 
 ment, " will be the first assailant : him we must meet. 
 His fast friend is Malcolm of Scotland: him we must 
 secure. Go thou, Leofwine, with these letters to Mal- 
 colm. — The next fear is from the Welch. Go thou, Ed- 
 win of Mercia, to the princes of Wales. On thy way, 
 strengthen the forts and deepen the dykes of the marches. 
 These tablets hold thy instructions. The Norman, as 
 doubtless ye know, my thegns, hath sent to demand our 
 crown, and hath announced the coming of his war. With 
 
228 HAROLD. 
 
 the dawn I depart to our port at Sandwich,* to muster 
 our fleets. Thou with me, Grurth." 
 
 " These preparations need much treasure," said an old 
 thegn, " and thou hast lessened the taxes at the hour of 
 need." 
 
 " Not yet is it the hour of need. When it comes, our 
 people will the more readily meet it with their gold as 
 with their iron. There was great wealth in the house of 
 Godwin ; that wealth mans the ships of England. What 
 hast thou there, Haco?" 
 
 " Thy new-issued coin : it hath on its rererse the word 
 'Peace.'"! 
 
 Who ever saw one of those coins of the Last Saxon 
 King, the bold simple head on the one side, that single 
 word "Peace" on the other, and did not feel awed and 
 touched ? What pathos in that word compared with the 
 fate which it failed to propitiate ! 
 
 " Peace," said Harold : "to all that doth not render 
 peace, slavery. Yea, may I live to leave peace to our 
 children I Now, peace only rests on our preparation for 
 war. Tou, Morcar, will return with all speed to York, 
 and look well to the mouth of the Humber." 
 
 Then, turning to each of the thegns successively, he 
 gave to each his post and his duty ; and that done, con- 
 verse grew more general. The many things needful that 
 had been long rotting in neglect under the Monk-king, 
 and now sprung up, craving instant reform, occupied 
 
 * Supposed to be our first port for ship-building. — Fosbkookb, 
 p. 32U. 
 fPax. 
 
HAROLD. 22a 
 
 them long and anxiously. But cheered aud inspirited by 
 the vigor and foresight of Harold, whose earlier slow- 
 ness of character seemed winged by the occasion inttt 
 rapid decision (as is not uncommon with the English- 
 man), all diSBculties seemed light, and hope and courage 
 were in every breast. 
 
 CHAPTER Till. 
 
 Back went Hugnes Maigrot, the Monk, to "William, 
 and told the reply of Harold to the duke, in the presence 
 of Lanfranc. William himself heard it in gloomy silence, 
 for Fitzosborive as yet had been wholly unsuccessful in 
 stirring up the Norman barons to an expedition so 
 hazardous, in a cause so doubtful ; and though prepared 
 for the defiance of Harold, the duke was not prepared 
 with the means to enforce his threats and make good his 
 claim. 
 
 So great was his abstraction, that he suffered the Lom- 
 bard to dismiss the monk without a word spoken by him ; 
 and he was first startled from his reverie by Lanfranc's 
 pale hand on his vast shoulder, and Lanfranc's low voice 
 in his dreamy ear, — 
 
 " XJp I hero of Europe ; for thy cause is won ! Up I 
 and write with thy bold characters, bold as if graved with 
 the point of the sword, my credentials to Rome. Let me 
 depart ere the sun sets : and as I go, look on the sinking 
 
 II.— 20 V 
 
230 HAROLD. 
 
 orb, and behold the sun of the Saxon that sets evermore 
 on England I " 
 
 Then briefly, that ablest statesman of the age, (and 
 forgive him, despite our modern lights, we must ; for, 
 sincere son of the Church, he regarded the violated oath 
 of Harold as entailing the legitimate forfeiture of his 
 realm, and, ignorant of true political freedom, looked 
 upon Church and Learning as the only civilizers of men,) 
 then, briefly, Lanfranc detailed to "the listening Norman 
 the outline of the arguments by which he intended to 
 move the Pontifical court to the NTorman side ; and en- 
 larged upon the vast accession throughout all Europe 
 which the solemn sanction of the Church would bring to 
 his strength. William's re-awaking and ready intellect 
 soon seized upon the importance of the object pressed 
 upon him. He interrupted the Lombard, drew pen and 
 parchment towards him, and wrote rapidly. Horses 
 were harnessed, horsemen equipped in haste, and with 
 no unfitting retinue Laufranc departed on the mission, 
 the most important in its consequences that ever passed 
 from potentate to pontiff.* Rebraced to its purpose by 
 Lanfranc's cheering assurances, the resolute, indomitable 
 soul of William now applied itself, night and day, to the 
 difficult task of rousing his haughty vavasours. Yet 
 
 * Some of the Norman chroniclers state that Robert, jirchbishop 
 of Canterbury, who had been expelled from England at Godwin's 
 return, was Lanfranc's companion in this mission ; but more trust- 
 worthy authorities assure us that Robert had been dead some yearc 
 before, not long surviving his return into Normandy, 
 
HAROLD. 231 
 
 weeks passed before he could even meet a select council 
 composed of his own kinsmen and most trusted lords. 
 These, however, privately won over, promised to serve 
 him " with body and goods." But one and all they told 
 him, he must gain the consent of the whole principality 
 in a general council. That council was convened : thither 
 came not only lords and knights, but merchants and 
 traders, — all the rising middle class of a thriving state. 
 
 The duke bared his wrongs, his claims, and his schemes. 
 The assembly would not or did not discuss the matter in 
 his presence ; they would not be awed by its influence ; 
 and William retired from the hall. Various were the 
 opinions, stormy the debate ; and so great the disorder 
 grew, that Fitzosborne, rising in the midst, exclaimed — 
 
 " Why this dispute ? — why this unduteous discord ? 
 Is not William your lord? Hath he not need of you ? 
 Fail him now — and, you know him well — by G — he will 
 remember it ! Aid him — and you know him well — large 
 are his rewards to service and love 1 " 
 
 Tip rose at once baron and merchant ; and when at 
 last their spokesman was chosen, that spokesman said, — 
 
 " William is our lord ; is it not enough to pay to our 
 lord his dues ? No aid do we owe beyond the seas ! 
 Sore harassed and taxed are we already by his wars ! 
 Let him fail in this strange and unparalleled hazard, and 
 our land is undone 1 " 
 
 Loud applause followed this speech ; the majority of 
 the council were against the duke. 
 
 " Then," said Fitzosborne craftily, " I, who know the 
 
232 HAROLD. 
 
 means of each man present, will, with your leave, repre- 
 sient your necessities to your count, and make such mo- 
 dest offer of assistance as may please ye, yet not chafe 
 your liege." 
 
 Into the trap of this proposal the opponents fell ; and 
 Fitzosborne, at the head of the body, returned to Wil- 
 liam. 
 
 The Lord of Breteuil approached the dais, on which 
 William sate alone, his great sword in his hand, and 
 thus spoke, — 
 
 " My liege, I may well say that never prince had peo- 
 ple more leal than yours, nor that have more proved their 
 faith and love by the burdens they have borne and the 
 moneys they have granted." 
 
 An universal murmur of applause followed these words. 
 " Good 1 good I " almost shouted the merchants espe- 
 cially. William's brows met, and he looked very terrible. 
 The Lord of Breteuil gracefully waved his hand, and 
 resumed, — 
 
 " Tea, my liege, mnch have they borne for your glory 
 and need; much more will they bear." 
 
 The faces of the audience fell. 
 
 " Their service does not compel them to aid you be- 
 yond the seas." 
 
 The faces of the audience brightened. 
 
 "But now they will aid you, in the land of the Saxon 
 as in that of the Frank." 
 
 " How ? " cried a stray voice or two 
 
HAROLD. 233 
 
 " Hush, gentilz amys. Forward, then, my liege, 
 and spare them in nought. He who has hitherto sup- 
 plied you with two good mounted soldiers, will now grant 
 you four ; and he who " 
 
 " No, no, no I " roared two-thirds of the assembly ; 
 " we charged you with no such answer ; we said not that, 
 nor that shall it be 1 " 
 
 Out stepped a baron. 
 
 " Within this country, to defend it, we will serve our 
 count ; but to aid him to conquer another man's country, 
 no!" 
 
 Out stepped a knight. 
 
 " If once we rendered this double service, beyond seas 
 as at home, it would be held a right and a custom here- 
 after ; and we should be as mercenary soldiers, not free- 
 born Normans." 
 
 Out stepped a merchant. 
 
 "And we and our children Would be burdened for 
 ever to feed one iflan's ambition, whenever he saw a king 
 to dethrone, or a realm to seize." 
 
 And then cried a general chorus, — 
 
 "It shall not be — it shall not!" 
 
 The assembly broke at once into knots of tens, twenties, 
 thirties, gesticulating and speaking aloud, like freemen 
 in anger. And ere William, with all his prompt dis 
 simulation, could do more than smother his rage, and sit 
 griping his sword-hilt, and setting his teeth, the assembly 
 dispersed. 
 20* 
 
234 HAROLD 
 
 Such were the free souls of the Normans under the 
 greatest of their chiefs ; and had those souls been less 
 free, England had not been enslaved In one age, to be- 
 come free again, God grant, to the end of time 1 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THEOuan the blue skies over England there riibhed the 
 bright stranger — a meteor, a comet, a fiery star I "such 
 as no man before ever saw ; " it appeared on the 8th, 
 before the kalends of May ; seven nights did it shine,* 
 and the faces of sleepless men were pale under the angry 
 glare. 
 
 The river of Thames rushed blood-red in the beam, 
 the winds at play on the broad waves of the Humber, 
 broke the surge of the billows into sparkles of fire. With 
 three streamers, sharp and long as the sting of a dragon, 
 the foreboder of wrath rushed through the hosts of the 
 stars. On every ruinous fort, by sea-coast and march, 
 the warder crossed his breast to behold it ; on hill and in 
 thoroughfare, crowds nightly assembled to gaze on the 
 terrible star. Muttering hymns, monks huddled together 
 round the altars, as if to exorcise the land of a demon. 
 The grave-stone of the Saxon father-chief was lit up, as 
 with the coil of the lightning ; and the Morthwyrtha 
 
 * Saxon Chronicle. 
 
HAROLD. 235 
 
 looked from the mound, and saw in her visions of awe 
 the Valkyrs in the train of the fiery star. 
 
 On the roof of his palace stood Harold the King, and 
 with folded arms he looked on the Rider of Night. And 
 up the stairs of the turret came the soft steps of Haco, 
 and stealing near to the king, he said, — 
 
 " Arm in haste, for the bodes have come breathless to 
 tell thee that Tostig, thy brother, with pirate and war- 
 ship, is wasting thy shores and slaughtering thy people ! " 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Tostig, with the ships he had gained both from Nor- 
 man and Norwegian, recruited by Flemish adventurers, 
 fled fast from the banners of Harold. After plundering 
 the Isle of Wight, arid the Hampshire coasts, he sailed 
 up the Humber, where his vain heart had counted on 
 friends yet left him in his ancient earldom ; but Harold's 
 soul of vigor was everywhere. Morcar, prepared by the 
 king's bodes, encountered and chased the traitor, and, 
 deserted by most of his ships, with but twelve small craft 
 Tostig gained the shores of Scotland. There, again 
 forestalled by the Saxon king, he failed in succor from 
 Malcolm, and retreating to the Orkneys, waited the 
 fleets of Hardrada. 
 
 And now Harold, thus at freedom for defence against 
 a foe more formidable and less unnatural, hastened to 
 
236 H A E L D . 
 
 make secure both the sea and the coast against Williara 
 the Norman. " So great a ship force, so great a land 
 force, no king in the land had before.'" All the summer, 
 his fleets swept the channel ; his forces " lay everywhere 
 by the sea." 
 
 But, alas 1 now came the time when the improvident 
 waste of Edward began to be felt. Provisions and pay 
 for the armaments failed.* On the defective resources 
 at Harold's disposal, no modern historian hath sufftoiently 
 dwelt. The last Saxon king, the chosen of the people, 
 had not these levies, and could impose not those burdens, 
 which made his successors mighty in war ; and men began 
 now to think that, after all, there was no fear of this 
 "Norman invasion. The summer was gone ; the autumn 
 was come ; was it likely that William would dare to trust 
 himself in an enemy's country as the winter drew near ? 
 The Saxons — unlike their fiercer kindred of Scandinavia, 
 had no pleasure in war; — they fought well in front of a 
 foe, but they loathed the tedious preparations and costly 
 sacrifices which prudence demanded for self-defence. 
 They now revolted from a strain upon their energies, of 
 the necessity of which they were not convinced 1 Joyous 
 at the temporary defeat of Tostig, men said, " Marry, a 
 joke indeed, that the Norman will put his shaven head 
 into the hornet's nest I Let him come, if he dare I " 
 
 Still, with desperate effort, and at much risk of popu- 
 
 * Saxon Chronicle. — When it was the nativity of St. Mary, then 
 were the men's provisions gone, and no man could any longer keep 
 them there." 
 
HAEOLD. 231 
 
 larity, Harold held together a force sufficient i,o repel 
 any single invader. From the time of his accession, his 
 sleepless vigilance had kept -watch on the Norman, and 
 his spies brought him news of all that passed. 
 
 And now what had passed in the councils of William ? 
 The abrupt .disappointment which the Grand Assembly 
 had occasioned him did not last very long. Made aware 
 that he could not trust to the spirit of an assembly, 
 William now artfully summoned merchant, and knight, 
 and baron, one by one. Submitted to the eloquence, 
 the promises, the craft, of that master intellect, and to 
 the awe of that imposing presence ; unassisted by the 
 courage which inferiors take from numbers, one by one 
 yielded to the wOl of the count, and subscribed his quota 
 for moneys, for ships, and for men. And while this went 
 on, Lanfranc was at work in the Vatican. At that time 
 the Archdeacon of the Roman Church was the famous 
 Hildebrand. This -extraordinary man, fit fellow-spirit to 
 Lanfranc, nursed one darling project, the success of which 
 indeed founded the true temporal power of the Roman 
 jtontiffs. It was no less than that of converting the 
 mere religious ascendency of the Holy See into the 
 actual sovereignty over the states of Christendom. The 
 most immediate agents of this gigantic scheme were the 
 Normans, who had conquered Naples by .the arm of the 
 adventurer Robert Guiseard, and under the gonfanon of 
 St. Peter. Most of the new Norman countships and 
 dukedoms thus created in Italy had declared themselves 
 fiefs of the Church ; and the successor of the apostle 
 
238 HAROLD. 
 
 might well hope, by aid of the Norman priest-knights, 
 to extend his sovereignty over Italy, and thence dictate 
 to the kings beyond the Alps. 
 
 The aid of Hildebrand in behalf of William's claims 
 was obtained at once by Lanfranc. The profound Arch- 
 deacon of Rome saw at a glance the immense power tiiat 
 would accrue to the Church by the mere act of arrogating 
 to itself the disposition of crowns, subjecting rival princes 
 to abide by its decision, and fixing the men of its choice 
 on the thrones of the North. Despite all its slavish 
 superstition, the Saxon Church was obnoxious to Rome. 
 Even the pious Edward had offended, by withholding 
 the old levy of Peter Pence ; and simony, a crime 
 peculiarly reprobated by the pontiff, was notorious in 
 England. Therefore there was much to aid Hildebrand 
 in the Assembly of the Cardinals, when he brought be- 
 fore them the oath of Harold, the violation of the sacred 
 relics, and demanded that the pious Normans, true friends 
 to the Roman Church, should be permitted to Chris- 
 tianize the barbarous Saxons,* and William be nominated 
 as heir to a throne promised to him by Edward, and for- 
 
 * It is curious to notice how England was represented as a coun- 
 try almost heathen ; its conquest was regarded quite as a pious, 
 benevolent act of charity — a sort of mission for converting the 
 savages. And all this while England was under the most slavish 
 ecclesiastical domination, and the priesthood possessed a third of 
 its land ! But the heart of England never forgave that league of 
 the Pope with the Conqueror; and the seeds of the Eeformed Re- 
 ligion were trampled deep into the Saxon soil by the feet of the in- 
 vading Norman. 
 
HAROLD. 239 
 
 feited by the perjury of Harold. Nevertheless, to the 
 honor of that assembly, and of man, there was a holy 
 opposition to this wholesale barter of human rights, — 
 this sanction of an armed onslaught on a Christian 
 people. " It is infamous," said the good, " to authorize 
 homicide." But Hildebrand was all-powerful, and pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 William was at high-feast with his barons when Lan- 
 franc dismounted at his gates and entered his hall. 
 
 " Hail to thee, King of England 1 " he said. " I bring 
 the bull that excommunicates Harold and his adherents ; 
 I bring to thee the gift of the Koman Church, the land 
 and royalty of England. I bring to thee the gonfanon 
 hallowed by the heir of the apostle, and the very ring 
 that contains the precious relic of the apostle himself I 
 Now who will shrink from thy side ? Publish thy ban, 
 not in Normandy alone, but in every region and realm 
 where the Church is honored. This is the first war of 
 the Cross ! " 
 
 Then indeed was it seen — that might of the Church ! 
 Soon as were made known the sanction and gifts of the 
 Pope, all the continent stirred, as to the blast of the 
 trump in the Crusade, of which that war was the herald 
 From Maine and from Anjou, from Poitou and Bretagne, 
 from Prance and from Flanders, from Aquitaine and 
 Burgundy, flashed the spear, galloped the steed. The 
 robber-chiefs from the castles now grey on the "Rhine ; 
 the hunters and bandits from the roots of the Alps ; 
 baron and knight, varlet and vagrant, — all came to tV^ 
 
240 HAROLD. 
 
 flag of the Church, — to the pillage of England. For 
 side by side with the Pope's holy bull was the martial 
 ban: — "Good pay and broad lands to every one who 
 will serve Count "William with spear, and with sword, 
 and with cross-bow." And the duke said to Fitzosborne, 
 as he parcelled out the fair fields of England into Nor- 
 man fiefs, — 
 
 " Harold hath not the strength of njind to promise the 
 least of those things that belong to me. But I have the 
 right to promise that which is mine, and also that which 
 belongs to him. He must be the victor who can give 
 away both his own and what belongs to his foe."* 
 
 All on the continent of Europe regarded England's 
 king as accursed — William's enterprise as holy; and 
 mothers who had turned pale when their sons went forth 
 to the boar-chase, sent their darlings to enter their names, 
 for the weal of their souls, in the swollen muster-roll of 
 William the Norman. Every port now in Neustria was 
 busy with terrible life ; in every wood was heard the axe 
 felling logs for the ships ; from every anvil flew the sparks 
 from the hammer, as iron took shape into helmet and 
 sword. All things seemed to favor the Church's chosec 
 one. Conan, Count of Bretagne, sent to claim the duchj- 
 of Normandy as legitimate heir. A few days afterwards, 
 Conan died, poisoned (as had died his father before him), 
 by the mouth of his horn and the web of his gloves. And 
 
 * William of Poitiers. — The naive sagacity of this bandit argu- 
 ment, and the Norman's contempt for Harold's deficiency in 
 "strength of mind," are exquisite illustrations of character. 
 
HAROLD. 241 
 
 the new Count of Bretagne sent his sons to take part 
 against liarold. 
 
 All the armament mustered at the roadstead of St. 
 Valery, at the mouth of the Somme. But the winds 
 were long hostile, and the rains fell in torrents. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 And now, while war thus hungered for England at the 
 mouth of the Somme, the last and most renowned of the 
 sea-kings, Harold Hardrada, entered his galley, the tall- 
 est and strongest of a fleet of three hundred sail, that 
 peopled the seas round Solundir. And a man named 
 Gyrdir, on board the king's ship, dreamed a dream.* 
 He saw a great witch-wife standing on an isle of the Sa- 
 len, with a fork in one hand, and a trough in the other, f 
 He saw her pass over the whole fleet ; — by each of the 
 three hundred ships he saw her ; and a fowl sat on the 
 stern of each ship, and that fowl was a raven ; and he 
 heard the witch- wife sing this song: — 
 
 "From the East I allure him. 
 At the West I secure him ; 
 In the feast I foresee 
 Kare the relics for me; 
 
 Ked the drink, -white the bones. 
 
 * Snorro Sturleson. 
 
 ■f Does any Scandinavian scholar know why the trough was so 
 associated with the images of Scandinavian witchcraft? A witch 
 
 II.— 21 2p 
 
242 HAEOLD. 
 
 "The ravens sit grceding. 
 And watching, and heeding. 
 Thoro' wind, over water, 
 Comes scent of the slaughter. 
 And ravens sit greeding 
 Their share of the bones. 
 
 " Thoro' wind, thoro' weather, 
 We're sailing together; 
 I sail with the ravens; 
 I watch with the ravens ; 
 I snatch from the ravens 
 My share of the bones." 
 
 There was also a man called Thord,* in a ship that 
 lay near the king's ; and he too dreamed a dream. He 
 saw the fleet nearing land, and that land was England. 
 And on the land was a battle array two-fold, and many 
 banners were flapping on both sides. And before the 
 army of the land-folk, was riding a huge witch-wife upon 
 a wolf; the wolf had a man's carcase in his mouth, and 
 the blood was dripping and dropping from his jaws ; and 
 when the wolf had eaten up that carcase, the witch-wife 
 threw another into his jaws ; and so, one after another ; 
 and the wolf cranched and swallowed them all. And the 
 witch-wife sang this song : — 
 
 " The green waving fields 
 Are hidden behind 
 The flash of the shields, 
 
 And the rush of the banners 
 That toss in the wind. 
 
 was known, when seen behind, by a kind of trough-like shape ; 
 there must be some symbol, of very ancient mythology, in this su- 
 perstition 1 
 
 * Snorro Stnrleson. 
 
HAROLD. 843 
 
 "But Skade's eagle eyes 
 
 Pierce the wall of the ateel, 
 And behold from the skies 
 
 What the earth would conceal; 
 O'er the rush of the banners 
 
 She poises her wing, 
 And marks with a shadow- 
 
 The brow of the king. 
 
 "And, in bode of his doom, 
 Jaw of Wolf, be the tomb 
 Of the bones and the flesh, 
 Gore-bedabbled and fresh, 
 That cranch and that drip 
 Under fang and from lip. 
 As I ride in the van 
 Of the feasters on man, 
 With the king. 
 
 "Grim wolf, sate thy maw, 
 Full enow shalt there be. 
 Hairy jaw, hungry maw. 
 Both for ye and for me I 
 
 " Meaner food be the feast 
 Of the fowl and the beast; 
 But the witch, for her share, 
 Takes the best of the fare: 
 And the witch shall be fed 
 With the king of the dead. 
 When she rides in the van, 
 Of the slayers of man, 
 With the king." 
 
 And King Harold dreamed a dream. And he saw bo 
 fore him his brother St. Olave. And the dead, to the 
 Bcald-King, sang this song : — 
 
m EAEOLD. 
 
 "Bold as thou in the fight, 
 Blithe as thou in the hall. 
 Shone the noon of my might, 
 Ere the night of my fall I 
 
 " How humble is death, 
 
 And how haughty is life. 
 And how fleeting the breath 
 Between slumber and strife I 
 
 "All the earth is too narrow, 
 life, for thy tread 1 
 Two strides o'er the barrow 
 Can measure the dead. 
 
 "Yet mighty that space is 
 Which seemeth so small; 
 The realm of all races. 
 With room for them all 1 " 
 
 Bat Harold Hardrada scorned witch-wife and dream ; 
 and his fleets sailed on. Tostig joined him off the Ork- 
 ney Isles, and this great armament soon came in sight 
 of the shores of England. They landed at Cleveland,* 
 and at the dread of the terrible Norsemen, the coasters 
 fled or submitted. With booty and plunder they sailed 
 on to Scarborough, but there the townsfolk were brave, 
 and the walls were strong. The Norsemen ascended a 
 hill above the town, lit a huge pile of wood, and tossed 
 the burning piles down on the roofs. House after house 
 caught the flame, and through the glare and the Jrash 
 rushed the men of Hardrada. Great was the slaughter, 
 and ample the plunder ; and the town, awed and depeo- 
 p'«d, submitted to flame and to sword. 
 
 *Snorro Sturleson. 
 
HAROLD. 215 
 
 Then the fleet sailed up the Humber and Ouse, and 
 landed at Richall, not far from York ; but Morcar, the 
 earl of Northumbria, came out with all his forces, — all 
 the stout men and tall of the^ great race of the Anglo- 
 Dane. 
 
 Then Hardrada advanced his flag, called Land-Eyda, 
 the " Ravager of the World," * and, chaunting a war- 
 stave, — led his men to the onslaught. 
 
 The battle was fierce, but short. The English troops 
 were defeated ; they fled into York ; and the Ravager 
 of the World was borne in triumph to the gates of the 
 town. An exiled chief, however tyrannous and hateful, 
 hath ever some friends among the desperate and lawless ; 
 and success ever finds allies among the weak and the 
 craven, — so many Northumbrians now came to the side 
 of Tostig. Dissension and mutiny broke out amidst the 
 garrison within ; Morcar, unable to control the towns- 
 folk, was driven forth with those still true to their country 
 and king, and York agreed to open its gates to the con- 
 quering invader. 
 
 At the news of this foe on the north side of the land, 
 King Harold was compelled to withdraw all the forces 
 at watch in the south against the tardy invasion of Wil- 
 liam. It was the middle of September ; eight months 
 had elapsed since the Norman had launched forth his 
 
 * So Thierry translates the word : others, the Land-ravager. In 
 Danish, the word is Land-ode; in Icelandic, Land-eydo.— Note to 
 Thierry's "Hist, of the Conq. of England," book iii. vol. vi. p. 169 
 (of Hazlitt's translation). 
 
 21* 
 
246 HAEOIiD. 
 
 vaunting threat. Would he now dare to come ? — Come 
 or not, that foe was afar, and this was in the heart of the 
 country 1 
 
 Now, York having thus capitulated, all the land round 
 was humbled and awed ; and Hardrada and Tostig were 
 blithe and gay; and many days, thought they, must pass 
 ere Harold the king can come from the south to the 
 north. 
 
 Tiie camp of the Norsemen was at Stanford Bridge, 
 and that day it was settled that they should formally 
 enter York. Their ships lay in the river beyond ; a large 
 portion of the armament was with the ships. The day 
 was warm, and the men with Hardrada had laid aside 
 their heavy mail and were " making merry," talking of 
 the plunder of York, jeering at Saxon valor, and gloat- 
 ing over thoughts of the Saxon maids, whom Saxon men 
 had failed to protect, — when suddenly between them and 
 the town rose and rolled a great cloud of dust. High it 
 rose, and fast it rolled, and from the heart of the cloud 
 shone the spear and the shield. 
 
 " What army comes yonder ? " said Harold Hardraaa. 
 
 "Surely," answered Tostig, "it comes from the town 
 that we are to enter as conquerors, and can be but the 
 friendly Northumbrians who have deserted Morcar for 
 me." 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the force, and the shine of 
 the arms was like the glancing of ice. 
 
 " Advance the World-Ravager I " cried Harold Hard 
 rada; "draw up, and to armsl" 
 
EA&OLD. 247 
 
 Then, picking out three of his briskest youths, he 
 despatched them to the force on the river with orders to 
 come up quick to the aid. For already, through the 
 cloud and amidst the spears, was seen the flag of the 
 English king. On the previous night King Harold had 
 entered York, unknown to the invaders — appeased the 
 mutiny — cheered the townsfolks ; and now came like the 
 thunderbolt borne by the winds, to clear the air of Eng- 
 land from the clouds of the North. 
 
 Both armaments drew up in haste, and Hardrada 
 formed his array in the form of a circle, — the line long 
 but not deep, the wings curving round till they met,* 
 shield to shield. Those who stood in the first rank set 
 their spear-shafts on the ground, the points level with 
 the breast of a horseman ; those in the second, with 
 spears yet lower, level with the breast of a horse ; thus 
 forming a double palisade against the charge of cavalry. 
 In the centre of this circle was placed the Ravager of 
 the World, and round it a rampart of shields. Behind 
 that rampart was the accustomed post at the onset of 
 battle for the king and his body-gnard. Bat Tostig was 
 (n front, with his own Northumbrian Lion banner and 
 his chosen men. 
 
 While this army was thus being formed, the English 
 king was marshalling his force in the far more formidable 
 tactics, which his military science had perfected from the 
 warfare of the Danes. That form of battalion, invincible 
 hitherto under his leadership, was in the manner of a 
 
 * Snorro Sturleson. 
 
248 H A E L D . 
 
 wedge or triangle, thus a. So that, in attack, the men 
 marched on the foe presenting the smallest possible sur- 
 face to the missives, and, in defence, all three lines faced 
 the assailants. King Harold cast his eye over the closing 
 lines, and then, turning to Gurth, who rode by his side, 
 said, — 
 
 " Take one man from yon hostile army, and with what 
 joy should we charge on the Northmen I " 
 
 " I conceive thee," answered Gurth mournfully, " and 
 the same thought of that one man makes my arm feel 
 palsied." 
 
 The king mused and drew down the nasal bar of his 
 helmet. 
 
 " Thegns," said he suddenly, to the score of riders who 
 grouped round him, "follow." And shaking the rein of 
 his horse. King Harold rode straight to that part of the 
 hostile front from which rose, above the spears, the 
 Northumbrian banner of Tostig. Wondering, but mute, 
 the twenty thegns followed him. Before the grim array, 
 and hard by Tostig's banner, the king checked his steed 
 and cried, — 
 
 " Is Tostig, the son of Godwin and Githa, by the flag 
 of the Northumbrian earldom ? " 
 
 With his helmet raised, and his Norwegian mantle 
 flowing over his mail, Earl Tostig rode forth at that 
 voice, and came up to the speaker.* 
 
 * See Snorro Sturleson for this parley between Harold in person 
 and Tostig. The account differs from the Saxon chroniclers, but 
 in this particular instance is likely to be as accurate. 
 
HAROLD. 249 
 
 " What wouldst thou with me, daring foe ? " 
 
 The Saxon horseman paused, and his deep voice trem- 
 bled tenderly, as he answered slowly, — 
 
 " Thy brother, King Harold, sends to salute thee. 
 Let not the sons from the same womb wage unnatural 
 war in the soil of their fathers." 
 
 "What will Harold the king give to his brother?''' 
 answered Tostig. "Northumbria already he hath be- 
 stowed on the son of his house's foe." 
 
 The Saxon hesitated, and a rider by his side took up 
 the word. 
 
 " If the Northumbrians will receive thee again, North- 
 umbria shalt thou have, and the king will bestow his late 
 earldom of Wessex on Morcar ; if the Northumbrians 
 reject thee, thou shalt have all the lordships which King 
 Harold hath promised to Gurth." 
 
 " This is well," answered Tostig ; and he seemed to 
 pause as in doubt ; — when, made aware of this parley. 
 King Harold Hardrada, on his coal-black steed, with his 
 helm all shining with gold, rode from the lines, and came 
 into hearing. 
 
 " Ha ! " said Tostig, then, turning round, as the giant 
 form of the Norse king threw its vast shadow over the 
 ground. 
 
 "And if I take the offer, what will Harold son of God- 
 win give to my friend and ally Hardrada of Norway ?" 
 
 The Saxon rider raised his head at these words, and 
 
 gazed on the large front of Hardrada, as he answered 
 
 loud and distinct, — 
 21 » 
 
250 HAROLD. 
 
 " Seven leet of land for a grave, or, seeing that he is 
 taller than other men, as much more as his corse may- 
 demand 1 " 
 
 " Then go back, and tell Harold my brother to got 
 ready for battle ; for never shall the Scalds and the war- 
 riors of Norway say that Tostig lured their king iu his 
 cause, to betray him to his foe. Here did he come, and 
 here came I, to win as the brave win, or die as the brave 
 die 1 " 
 
 A rider of younger and slighter form than the rest 
 here whispered the Saxon king, — 
 
 " Delay no more, or thy men's hearts will fear treason." 
 
 " The tie is rent from my heart, Haco," answered 
 the king, "and the heart flies back to our England." 
 
 He waved his hand, turned his steed, and rode off. 
 The eye of Hardrada followed the horsemen. 
 
 "And who," he asked calmly, "is that man who spoke 
 BO well ? " * 
 
 " King Harold 1 " answered Tostig, briefly. 
 
 "Howl" cried the Norseman reddening, "bow was 
 not that made known to me before ? Never should he 
 have gone back, — never told hereafter the doom of this 
 day I " 
 
 With all his ferocity, his envy, his grudge to Harola, 
 and his treason to England, some rude notions of honor 
 still lay confused in the breast of the Saxon ; and he 
 answered stoutly, — 
 
 "Imprudent was Harold's coming, and great his 
 
 * Snorro Sturleson. 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 251 
 
 danger : but lie came to offer me peace and dominion 
 Had I betrayed him, I had not been his foe, but his 
 murderer ! " 
 
 The Norse King smiled approvingly, and turning to 
 his chiefs, said dryly, — 
 
 " That man was shorter than some of us, but he rode 
 firm in his stirrups." 
 
 And then this extraordinary person, who united in 
 himself all the types of an age that vanished for ever in 
 his grave, and who is the more interesting, as in him we 
 see the race from which the Norman sprang, began, in 
 the rich full voice that pealed deep as an Organ, to chaunt 
 his impromptu war-song. He halted in the midst, and 
 with great composure said, — 
 
 " That verse is but ill-tuned : I must try a better." * 
 
 He passed his hand over his brow, mused an instant, 
 and then, with his fair face all illumined, he burst forth 
 as inspired. 
 
 This time, air, rhythm, words, all so chimed in with 
 his own enthusiasm and that of his men, that the effect 
 was inexpressible. It was, indeed, like the charm of 
 those runes which are said to have maddened the Ber- 
 serker with the frenzy of war. 
 
 Meanwhile the Saxon phalanx came on, slow and firm, 
 and in a few minutes the battle began. It commenced 
 first with the charge of the English cavalry (never numer- 
 ous), led by Leofwine and Haco, but the double palisade 
 of the Norsemen spears formed an impassable barrier ; and 
 
 *Snorro Sturleson. 
 
252 HAROLD. 
 
 the horseman recoiling from the frieze, rode round the 
 iron circle without other damage than the spear and jave- 
 lin could effect. Meanwhile, King Harold, who had dis- 
 mounted, marched, as was his wont, with the body of 
 footmen. He kept his post in the hollow of the triangular 
 wedge ; whence he could best issue his orders. Avoid- 
 ing the side over which Tostig presided, he halted his 
 array in full centre of the enemy where the Ravager of 
 the World, streaming high above the inner rampart of 
 shields, showed the presence of the giant Hardrada. 
 
 The air was now literally darkened with the flights of 
 arrows and spelirs ; and in a war of missives, the Saxons 
 were less skilled than the Norsemen. Still King Harold 
 restrained the ardor of his men, who, sore harassed by 
 the darts, yearned to close on the foe. He himself, stand- 
 ing on a little eminence, more exposed than his meanest 
 soldier, dehberately eyed the sallies of the horse, and 
 watched the moment he foresaw, when, encouraged by 
 his own suspense, and the feeble attacks of the cavalry, 
 the Norsemen would lift their spears from the ground, 
 and advance themselves to the assault. That moment 
 came ; unable to withhold their own fiery zeal, stimulated 
 by the tromp and the clash, and the war-hymns of their 
 king, and his choral Scalds, the Norsemen broke ground 
 and came on. 
 
 ' To your axes, and charge 1 " cried Harold ; and 
 passing at once from the centre to the front, he led on 
 the array. 
 
 The impetus of that artful phalanx was tremendous; 
 
HAROLD. 253 
 
 It pierced throngh the ring of the Norwegians ; it clove 
 into the rampart of shields ; and King Harold's battle- 
 axe was the first that shivered that wall of steel ; his step 
 the first that strode into the innermost circle that guarded 
 the Ravager of the World. 
 
 Then forth, from under the shade of that great flag, 
 came, himself also on foot, Harold Hardrada : shouting 
 and chaunting, he leapt with long strides into the thick 
 of the onslaught. He had flung away his shield, and 
 swaying with both hands his enormous sword, he hewed 
 down man after man, till space grew clear before him ; 
 and the English, recoiling in awe before an image of 
 height and strength that seemed superhuman, left but 
 one form standing firm, and in front, to oppose his way. 
 
 At that moment the whole strife seemed not to belong 
 to an age comparatively modern : it took a character of 
 remotest eld ; and Thor and Odin seemed to have re- 
 turned to the earth. Behind this towering and Titan 
 warrior, their wild hair streaming long under their helms, 
 came his Scalds, all singing their hymns, drunk with the 
 madness of battle. And the Bavager of the World tossed 
 and flapped as it followed, so that the vast raven depict- 
 ed on its folds seemed horrid with life. And calm and 
 alone, his eye watchful, his axe lifted, his foot ready for 
 rnsl or for spring — but firm as an oak against fight — 
 stood the last of the Saxon kings. 
 
 Down bounded Hardrada, and down shore his sword , 
 King Harold's shield was cloven in two, and the force of 
 'he blow brought himself to his kne*" But, as swift as 
 
 II. — 22 
 
254 HAROLD. 
 
 the flash of that sword, he sprang to his feet ; and while 
 Hardrada still bowed his head, not recovered from the 
 force of his blow, the axe of the Saxon came so full on 
 his helmet, that the giant reeled, dropped his sword, and 
 staggered back ; his Scalds and his chiefs rushed around 
 him. That gallant stand of King Harold saved his Eng- 
 lish from flight ; and now, as they saw him almost lost in 
 the throng, yet still cleaving his way — on, on — to the 
 raven standard, they rallied with one heart, and shouting 
 forth, " Out, out 1 Holy Crosse I " forced their way to his 
 side, and the fight now waged hot and equal, hand to 
 hand. Meanwhile, Hardrada, borne a little apart, and 
 relieved from his dinted helmet, recovered the shock of 
 the weightiest blow that had ever dimmed his eye and 
 numbed his hand. Tossing the helmet on the ground, 
 his bright Jooks glittering like sunbeams, he rushed back 
 to the mel&e. Again, helm and mail went down before 
 him ; again, through the crowd he saw the arm that had 
 smitten him ; again, he sprang .forwards to finish the war 
 with a blow, — when a shaft from some distant bow pierced 
 the throat which the casque now left bare ; a sound like 
 the wail of a death-song murmured brokenly from his lips, 
 which then gushed out with blood, and tossing up his 
 arms wildly, he fell to the ground, a corpse. At that 
 sight a yell of such terror and woe and wrath, all com- 
 mingled, broke from the Norsemen, that it hushed the 
 very war for the moment 1 
 
 " On !" cried the Saxon king, "let our earth take its 
 spoiler ! On to the standard, and the day is our own 1 " 
 
BABOLD. 255 
 
 " On to the standard 1 " cried Haco, who, his horse slain 
 under him, all bloody witn wounds not his own, now came 
 to the king's side. Grim and tall rose the standard, and 
 the streamer shrieked and flapped in the wind as if the 
 raven had voice, when right before Harold, right between 
 him and the. banner, stood Tostig his brother, known by 
 the splendor of his mail, the gold work on his mantle — 
 known by the fierce laugh, and defying voice. 
 
 " What matters I " cried Haco ; " strike, O king, for 
 thy crown ! " 
 
 Harold's hand griped Haco's arm convulsively ; he 
 lowered his axe, and passed shudderingly away. 
 
 Both armies now paused from the attack; for both 
 were thrown into great disorder, and each gladly gave 
 respite to the other, to re-form its own shattered array. 
 
 The Norsemen were not the soldiers to yield because 
 their leader was slain — rather the more resolute to fight, 
 since revenge was now added to valor ; yet, but for the 
 daring and promptness with which Tostig had cut his 
 way to the standard, the day had been already decided. 
 
 During the pause, Harold, summoning Gurth, said to 
 him in great emotion : " For the sake of Nature, for the 
 love of God, go, Gurth, — go to Tostig ; urge him, 
 now Hardrada is dead, urge him to peace. All that we 
 can proffer with honor, proifer — quarter and free retreat 
 to every Norseman.* Oh, save me, save us from a bro- 
 ther's blood I " 
 
 * Sharon Turner's Anglo-Saxons, vol. ii. p 396. Snorro Sturleson. 
 
256 HAEOLT. 
 
 Gurth lifted his helmet, and kissed the mailed hand that 
 grasped Ms own. 
 
 " I go," said he. And so, bare-headed, and with a sin- 
 gle trumpeter, he went to the hostile lines. 
 
 Harold awaited'him in great agitation ; nor could any 
 man have guessed what bitter and awful thoughts lay in 
 that heart, from which, in the way to power, tie after tie 
 had been wrenched away. He did not wait long ; and 
 even before Gurth rejoined him, he knew, by an unani- 
 mous shout of fury, to which the clash of countless shields 
 chimed in, that the mission had been in vain. 
 
 Tostig had refused to hear Gurth, save in presence of 
 the Norwegian chiefs ; and when the message had been 
 delivered, they all cried, " We would rather fall one across 
 the corpse of the other,* than leave a field in which our 
 king was slain." 
 
 "Ye hear them," said Tostig ; "as they speak, speak 
 I." 
 
 " Not mine this guilt, too, O God ! " said Harold, sol- 
 emnly lifting his hand on high. "Now, then, to duty." 
 
 By this time the Norwegian reinforcements had arrived 
 from the ships, and this for a short time rendered the 
 conflict, that immediately ensued, uncertain and critical. 
 But Harold's generalship was now as consummate as his 
 valor had been daring. He kept his men true to their 
 irrefragable line. Even if fragments splintered off, each 
 fragment threw itself into the form of a resistless wedge. 
 One Norwegian, standing on the bridge of Stanford, Jong 
 
 * Snorro Sturleson. 
 
HAROLD. 2b1 
 
 gnarded that pass ; and no less than forty Saxons are 
 said to have perished by his arm. To him the English 
 king sent a generous pledge, not only of safety for the 
 life, but honor for the valor. The viking refused to sur- 
 render, and fell at last by a javelin from the hand of 
 Haco. As if in him had been embodied the unyielding 
 war-god of the Norsemen, in that death died the last hope 
 of the vikings. They fell literally where they stood ; many, 
 from sheer exhaustion and the weight of their mail, died 
 without a blow.* And in the shades of nightfall, Harold 
 stood amidst the shattered rampart of shields, his foot 
 on the corpse of the standard-bearer, his hand on the 
 Ravager of thi World. 
 
 " Thy brother's corpse is borne yonder," said Haco, in 
 the ear of the king, as, wiping the blood from his sword, 
 he plunged it back into the sheath. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Young Olave, the son of Hardrada, had happily 
 escaped the slaughter. A strong detachment of the Nor- 
 wegians had still remained with the vessels ; and amongst 
 them some prudent old chiefs, who, foreseeing the proba- 
 ble results of the day, and knowing that Hardrada would 
 
 * The quick succession of events allowed the Saxon army no time 
 to bury the slain ; and the bones of the invaders whitened the field 
 of battle for many years afterwards. 
 22* 2q 
 
258 HAROLD. 
 
 never quit, save as a conqueror or a corpse, the field on 
 which he had planted the Ravager of the World, had 
 detained the prince almost by force from sharing the fate 
 of his father. But ere those vessels could put out to sea, 
 the vigorous measures of the Saxon king had already 
 intercepted the retreat of the vessels. And then, ranging 
 their shields as a wall round their masts, the bold viking » 
 at least determined to die as men. But with the morning 
 came King Harold himself to the banks of the river, and 
 behind him, with trailed lances, a solemn procession that 
 bore the body of the Scald King. They halted on the 
 margin, and a boat was launched towards the Norwegian 
 fleet, bearing a monk who demanded the chiefs to send a 
 deputation, headed by the young prince himself, to re- 
 ceive the corpse of their king, and hear the proposals 
 of the Saxon. 
 
 The vikings, who had anticipated no preliminaries lo 
 the massacre they awaited, did not hesitate to accept 
 these overtures. Twelve of the most famous chiefs still 
 surviving, and Olave himself, entered the boat ; a.nd, 
 standing between his brothers Leofwine and Grurth, Ha- 
 rold thus accosted them: — 
 
 "Tour king invaded a people that had given him no 
 offence : he has paid the forfeit — we war not with the 
 dead ! Give to his remains the honors due to the brave. 
 Without ransom or condition, we yield to you what can 
 no longer harm us. And for thee, young prince," con- 
 tinued the king, with a tone of pity in his voice, as he 
 contemplated the stately boyhood and proud but deep 
 
HAKOLD. 259 
 
 grief in the face of Olave, " for thee, wilt thou not live 
 to learn that the wars of Odin are treason to the Faith 
 of the Cross ? We have conquered — we dare not butcher. 
 Take such ships as ye need for those that survive. Three- 
 and-twenty I offer for your transport. Return to your 
 native shores, and guard them as we have guarded ours. 
 Are ye contented ? " 
 
 Amongst those chiefs was a stern priest — the Bishop 
 of the Orcades — he advanced, and bent his knee to the 
 king. 
 
 " Lord of England," said he, " yesterday thou didst 
 conquer the form — to-day, the soul. And never more 
 may generous Norsemen invade the coast of him who 
 honors the dead and spares the living." 
 
 "Amen 1" cried the chiefs, and they allknelt to Ha- 
 rold. The young prince stood a moment irresolute, for 
 his dead father was on the bier before him, and revenge 
 was yet a virtue in the heart of a sea-king. But lifting 
 his eyes to Harold's, the mild and gentle majesty of the 
 Saxon's brow was irresistible in its benign command ; 
 and stretching his right hand to the king, he raised on 
 high the other, and said aloud, "Faith and friendship 
 with thee and England evermore." 
 
 Then all the chiefs rising, they gathered round the 
 bier, but no hand, in the sight of the conquering foe, 
 lifted the cloth of gold that covered the corpse of the 
 famous king. The bearers of the bier moved on slowly 
 towards tne boat ; the Norwegians followed with mea- 
 eured funereal steps. And not till the bier was placed 
 
260 HAROLD. 
 
 on board the royal galley was there heard the wail of 
 woe ; but then it came loud, and deep, and dismal, and 
 was followed by a burst of wild song from a surviving 
 Scald. 
 
 The Norwegian preparations for departure were soon 
 made, and the ships vouchsafed to their convoy raised 
 anchor, and sailed down the stream. Harold's eye watched 
 the ships from the river banks. 
 
 "And there," said he, at last, " there glide the last sails 
 that shall ever bear the devastating raven to the shores 
 of England." 
 
 Truly, in that field had been the most signal defeat 
 those warriors, hitherto almost invincible, had known. 
 On that bier lay the last son of Berserker and sea-king ; 
 and be it, Harold, remembered in thine honor, that 
 not by the Norman, but by thee, true-hearted Saxon, 
 was trampled on the English soil the Ravager of the 
 World 1"* 
 
 " So be it," said Haco, " and so, methinks, will it be. 
 But forget not the descendant of the Norsemen, the 
 count of Rouen ! " 
 
 Harold started, and turned to his chiefs. " Sound 
 trumpet, and fall in. To York we march. There, re- 
 settle the earldom, collect the spoil, and then back, my 
 men, to the southern shores. Yet first kneel thou, Haco, 
 
 * It may be said indeed, that, in the following reign, the Danes 
 under Osbiorn (brother of King Sweyn), sailed up the Humber; 
 hut it was to assist the English, not to invade them. They were 
 bought off by the Norman, — not conquered. 
 
HAROLD. 261 
 
 Bon of my brother Sweyn : thy deeds were done in the 
 light of Heaven, in the sight of warriors, in the open 
 field : BO should thine honors find thee I Not with the 
 vain fripperies of Norman knighthood do I deck thee, 
 but make thee one of the elder brotherhood of Minister 
 and Miles. I gird round thy loins mine own baldric of 
 pure silver ; I place in thy hand mine own sword of plain 
 steel, and bid thee rise to take place in council and camps 
 amongst the proceres of England, — earl of Hertford and 
 Essex. Boy," whispered the king, as he bent over the 
 pale cheek of his nephew, " thank not me. From me the 
 thanks should come. On the day that saw Tostig's crime 
 and his death, thou didst purify the name of my brother 
 Sweyn I On to our city of York 1 " 
 
 High banquet was held in York ; and, according to 
 the customs of the Saxon monarchs, the king could not 
 absent himself from the Victory Feast of his thegns. 
 He sate at the head of the board, between his brothers. 
 Morcar, whose departure from the city had deprived him 
 of a share in the battle, had arrived that day with his 
 brother Edwin, whom he had gone to summon to his aid. 
 And though the young earls envied the fame they had 
 not shared, the envy was noble. 
 
 Gay and boisterous was the wassail; and lively song, 
 long neglected in England, woke, as it wakes ever, at the 
 breath of Joy and Fame. As if in the days of Alfred, 
 the harp passed from hand to hand : martial and rough 
 the strain beneath the touch of the Anglo-Dane, more 
 rp-fined and thoughtful the lay when it chimed to the voice 
 
262 HAROLD. 
 
 of the Anglo-Saxon. But the memory of Tostig— all 
 guilty though he was — a brother slain in war with a 
 brother, lay heavy on Harold's soul. Still, so had he 
 schooled and trained himself to live but for England — 
 know no joy and no woe not hers — that by degrees and 
 strong efforts he shook off his gloom. And music, and 
 song, and wine, and blazing lights, and the proud sight 
 of those long lines of valiant men, whose hearts had beat 
 and whose hands had triumphed in the same cause, all 
 aided to link his senses with the gladness of the hour. 
 
 And now, and night advanced, Leofwine, who was 
 ever a favorite in the banquet, as Gurth in the council, 
 rose to propose the drink-heel, which carries the most 
 characteristic of our modern social customs to an antiquity 
 so remote. And the roar was hushed at the sight of the 
 young earl's winsome face. With due decorum, he un- 
 covered his head,* composed his countenance, and be- 
 gan— 
 
 " Craving forgiveness of my lord the King, and this 
 noble assembly," said Leofwine, " in which are so many 
 from whom what I intend to propose would come with 
 better grace, I would remind you that William, Count 
 of the Normans, meditates a pleasure excursion, of the 
 same nature as our late visitor Harold Hardrada's." 
 A scornful laugh ran through the hall. 
 " And as we English are hospitable folk, and give any 
 man, who asks, meat and board for one night, so one 
 
 * The Saxons sat at meals with their heads co f ered. 
 
HAROLD. 263 
 
 day's welcome, methinks, will be all that the Count of 
 the Normans will need at our English hands." 
 
 Flushed with the joyous insolence of wine, the wassail- 
 ers roared applause. 
 
 " Wherefore, this drink-heel to William of Rouen I 
 And, to borrow a saying now in every man's lips, and 
 which, I think, our good scops will take care that our 
 children's children shall learn by heart, — since he covets 
 onr Saxon soil, ' seven feet of land ' in frank pledge to 
 him for ever ! " 
 
 "Brink-heel to William the Norman 1 " shouted the 
 revellers ; and each man, with mocking formality, took 
 off his cap, kissed his hand, and bowed.* " Drink-heel 
 to William the Norman 1 " and the shout rolled from floor 
 to roof — when, in the midst of the uproar, a man all be- 
 dabbled with dust and mire, rushed into the hall, rushed 
 through the rows of the banqueters, rushed to the throne- 
 chair of Harold, and cried aloud, " William the Norman 
 is encamped on the shores of Sussex ; and, with the 
 mightiest armament ever yet seen in England, is ravaging 
 the land far and near 1 " 
 
 •Heniy. 
 
BOOK TWELFTH. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In the heart of the forest land in which Hilda's abode 
 
 « 
 
 was situated, a gloomy pool reflected upon its stagnant 
 waters the still shadows of the autumnal foliage. As is 
 common in ancient forests in the neighborhood of men's 
 wants, the trees were dwarfed in height by repeated lop- 
 pings, and the boughs sprang from the hollow, gnarled 
 boles of pollard oaks and beeches ; the trunks, vast in 
 girth, and covered with mosses and whitening canker- 
 stains, or wreaths of ivy, spoke of the most remote 
 antiquity ; but the boughs which their lingering and 
 mutilated life put forth, were either thin and feeble with 
 innumerable branchlets, or were centred on some solitary 
 distorted limb which the woodman's axe had spared. 
 The trees thus assumed all manner of crooked, deformed, 
 fantastic shapes- — all betokening age, and all decay — all, 
 in despite of the noiseless solitude around, proclaiming 
 the waste and ravages of man. 
 
 The time was that of the first watches of night, when 
 
 (264) 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 265 
 
 the autumnal moon was brightest and broadest. Ton 
 might see, on the opposite side of the pool, the antlers 
 of the deer every now and then moving restlessly above 
 the fern in which they had made their couch ; and, through 
 the nearer glades, the hares and conies stealing forth to 
 sport or to feed ; or the bat, wheeling low, in chase of the 
 forest moth. From the thickest part of the copse came 
 a slow human foot, and Hilda, emerging, paused by the 
 waters of the pool. That serene and stony calm habitual 
 to her features was gone ; sorrow and passion had seized 
 the soul of the Yala, in the midst of its fancied security 
 from the troubles it presumed to foresee for others. The 
 lines of the face were deep and care-worn — age had come 
 on with rapid strides — and the light of the eye was vague 
 and unsettled, as if the lofty reason shook, terrified in its 
 pride, at last. 
 
 " Alone, alone 1 " she murmured, half aloud ; " yea, 
 evermore alone ! And the grandchild I had reared to be 
 the mother of kings — whose fate, from the cradle, seemed 
 linked with royalty and love — in whom, watching and 
 hoping for, in whom loving and heeding, metfaoaght I 
 lived again the sweet human life — hath gone from my 
 hearth — forsaken, broken-hearted — withering down to 
 the grave under the shade of the barren cloister ! Is 
 mine heart, then, all a lie ? Are the gods who led Odin 
 from the Scythian East but the juggling fiends whom the 
 craven Christian abhors ? Lo 1 the Wine Month has 
 come; a few nights more, and the sun which all prophecy 
 foretold should go down on the union of the king and the 
 
 II. — 23 
 
266 HAROLD. 
 
 maid, shall bring round the appointed day : yet Aldyth 
 still lives, and Edith still withers ; and War stands bide 
 by side with the Church, between the betrothed and the 
 altar. Verily, verily, my spirit hath lost its power, and 
 leaves me bowed, in the awe of night, a feeble, aged, 
 hopeless, childless woman 1 " 
 
 Tears of human weakness rolled down the Vala's 
 cheeks. At that moment, a laugh came from a thing 
 that had seemed like the fallen trunk of a tree, or a \ 
 trough in which the herdsman waters his cattle, so still, 
 and shapeless, and undefined it had lain amongst the 
 rank weeds and night-shade, and trailing creepers on 
 the marge of the pool. The laugh was low, yet fearful 
 to hear. 
 
 Slowly, the thing moved, and rose, and took the out- 
 line of a human form ; and the Prophetess beheld the 
 witch whose sleep she had disturbed by the Saxon's 
 grave. 
 
 " Where is the banner ? " said the witch, laying her 
 hand on Hilda's arm, and looking into her face with 
 bleared and rheumy eyes; "where is the banner thy 
 handmaids were weaving for Harold the earl ? Why 
 didst thou lay aside that labor of love for Harold the 
 king ? Hie thee home, and bid thy maidens ply all night 
 at the work ; make it potent with rune and with spell, 
 and with gums of the seid. Take the banner to Harold 
 the king as a marriage-gift ; for the day of his birth shall 
 be still the day of his nuptials with Edith the Pair 1 " 
 
 Hilda gazed on the hideous form before her ; and fo 
 
HAROLD. 26t 
 
 had her soul fallen from its arrogant pride of place, thai 
 instead of the scorn with which so foul a pretender to 
 the Great Art had before inspired the King-born Pro- 
 phetess, her veins tingled with credulous awe. 
 
 "Art thou a mortal like myself," she said after a pause, 
 •' or one of those beings often seen by the shepherd in 
 mist and rain, driying before them their shadowy flocks? 
 one of those of whom no man knoweth whether they are 
 of earth or of Helheim ? whether they have ever known 
 the lot and conditions of flesh, or are but some dismal 
 race between body and spirit, hateful alike to gods and 
 to men ? " 
 
 The dreadful hag shook her head, as if refusing to an- 
 swer the question, and said, — 
 
 " Sit we down, sit we down by the dead dull pool, and 
 if thou wouldst be wise as I am, wake up all thy wrongs, 
 fill thyself with hate, and let thy thoughts be curses. 
 Nothing is strong on earth but the Will ; and hate to 
 the will is as the iron in the hands of the war-man." 
 
 "Ha!" answered Hilda, "then, thou art indeed one 
 of the loathsome brood whose magic is born, not of the 
 aspiring soul, but the fiend-like heart. And between us 
 there is no union. I am of the race of those whom priests 
 and kings reverenced and honored as the oracles of Hea- 
 ven ; and rather let my lore be dimmed and weakened, in 
 admitting the humanities of hope and love, than be light 
 ened by the glare of the wrath that Lok and Rana bear 
 the children of men." 
 
 " What, art thou so base and so doting," said the hag, 
 
26a HAROLD 
 
 with fierce contempt, "as to know that another has sup- 
 planted thine Edith, that all the schemes of thy life are 
 undone, and yet feel no hate for the man who hath wronged 
 her and thee ? — the man who had never been king if thou 
 hadst not breathed into him the ambition of vule ? Think, 
 and curse I " 
 
 "My curse would wither the heart that is entwined 
 within his," answered Hilda ; " and," she added abruptly, 
 as if eager to escape from her own impulsesy " didst thou 
 not tell me, even now, that the wrong would be redressed, 
 and his betrothed yet be his bride on the appointed day ? " 
 
 " Ha I home, then I — home ! and weave the charmed 
 woof of the banner, broider it with zimmes and with gold 
 worthy the standard of a king ; for I tell thee, that where 
 that banner is planted, shall Edith clasp with bridal arms 
 her adored. And the hwata thou hast read by the bau- 
 tastein, and in the temple of the Briton's revengeful gods, 
 shall be fulfilled." 
 
 " Dark daughter of Hela," said the Prophetess, " whe- 
 ther demon or god hath inspired thee, I hear in my spirit 
 a voice that tells me thou hast pierced to a truth that my 
 lore could not reach. Thou art houseless and poor ; I 
 will give wealth to thine age if thou wilt stand with me 
 by the altar of Thor, and let thy galdra unriddle the se- 
 crets that have baffled mine own. All foreshown to me 
 hath ever come to pass, but in a sense other than that in 
 which my soul read the rune and the dream, the kaf and 
 the fount, the star and the Scin-lasca. My husband slain 
 
HAROLD. 269 
 
 in his youth ; my daughter maddened with woe ; her lord 
 murdered on his hearth-stone ; Sweyn, whom I loved as 
 my child," — the Vala paused, contending against her 
 own emotions, — "I loved them all," she faltered, clasp- 
 ing her hands, " for them I t-asked the future. The future 
 promised fair ; I lured them to their doom, and when the 
 doom came, lo 1 the promise was kept 1 but how ? — and 
 now, Edith, the last of my race ; Harold, the pride of 
 my pride 1 — speak, thing of Horror and Night, canst 
 thou disentangle the web in which my soul struggles, 
 weak as the fly in the spider's mesh ? " 
 
 " On the third night from this, will I stand with thee 
 by the altar of Thor, and unriddle the rede of my mas- 
 ters, unknown and unguessed, whom thou hadst duteously 
 served. And ere the sun rise, the greatest mystery earth 
 knows shall be bare to thy soul 1 " 
 
 As the witch spoke, a cloud passed over the moon ; 
 and before the light broke forth again, the hag had 
 vanished. There was only seen in the dull pool, the 
 water-rat swimming through the rank sedges ; only in 
 the forest, the grey wings of the owl, fluttering heavily 
 across the glades ; only in the grass, the red eyes of the 
 bloated toad. 
 
 Then Hilda went slowly home, and the maids worked 
 all night at the charmed banner. All that night, too, 
 lh« watch-dogs howled in the yard, through the ruined 
 peristyle — howled in rage and in fear. And under the 
 'attice of the room in which the maids broidered the 
 23* 
 
270 HAROLD. 
 
 banner, and the Prophetess muttered her charm, there 
 couched, muttering also, a dark, shapeless thing, at which 
 those dogs howled in rage and in fear. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 All within the palace of Westminster showed the 
 confusion and dismay of the awful time ; — all, at least, 
 save the council-chamber, in which Harold, who had 
 arrived the night before, conferred with his thegns. It 
 was evening : the court-yards and the halls were filled 
 with armed men, and almost with every hour came rider 
 and bode from the Sussex shores. In the corridors the 
 Churchmen grouped and whispered, as they had whis- 
 pered and grouped in the day of King Edward's death. 
 Stigand passed among them, pale and thoughtful. The 
 serge gowns came rustling round the Arch-prelate for 
 counsel or courage. 
 
 " Shall we go forth with the King's army ? " asked a 
 young monk, bolder than the rest, " to animate the host 
 with prayer and hymn ? " 
 
 " Fool I " said the miserly prelate, " fool I if we do so, 
 and the Norman conquer, what become of our abbacies 
 and convent lands ? The duke wars against Harold, not 
 England. If he slay Harold " 
 
 " What then ? " 
 
 " The Atheling is left us yet. Stay we here ana guard 
 
HAROLD. 271 
 
 the last prince of the House of Cerdie," whispered Stigand, 
 and he swept on. 
 
 In the chamber in which Edward had breathed his 
 last, his widowed Queen, with Aldyth her successor, and 
 Githa and some other ladies, waited the decision of the 
 council. By one of the windows stood, clasping each 
 other by the hand, the fair young bride of Grurth, and 
 the betrothed of the gay Leofwine. Githa sate alone, 
 bowing her face over her hands — desolate ; mourning 
 for the fate of her traitor son ; and the wounds, that the 
 recent and holier death of Thyra had inflicted, bled afresh. 
 And the holy lady of Edward attempted in vain, by pious 
 adjurations, to comfort Aldyth, who, scarcely heeding 
 her, started ever and anon with impatient terror, mutter- 
 ing to herself, " Shall I lose this crown too ? " 
 
 In the council-hall, debate waxed warm — which was 
 the wiser, to meet William at once in the battle-field, or 
 to delay till all the forces Harold might expect (and 
 which he had ordered to be levied, in his rapid march 
 from York), could swell his host ? 
 
 "If we retire before the enemy," said Gurth, "leaving 
 him in a strange laud, winter approaching, his forage will 
 fail. He will scarce dare to march upon London : if he 
 does, we shall be better prepared to encounter him. My 
 voice is against resting all on a single battle." 
 
 " Is that thy choice ? " said Vebba, indignantly. " Not 
 so, I am sure, would have chosen thy father ; not so think 
 the Saxons of Kent The Norman is laying waste all the 
 lands of thy subjects, Lord Harold ; living on plunder, aa 
 
212 HAROLD. 
 
 a robber, in the realm of King Alfred. Dost thon think 
 that men will get better heart to fight for their country by 
 hearing that their king shrinks from the danger?" 
 
 "•Thou speakest well and wisely," said Haco ; and all 
 eyes turned to the young son of Sweyn, as to one who 
 best knew the character of the hostile army and the skill 
 of its chief. "We have now with us a force flushed with 
 conquest over a foe hitherto deemed invincible. Men who 
 have conquered the Norwegian will not shrink from the 
 Norman. Victory depends upon ardor more than num- 
 bers. Every hour of delay damps the ardor. Are we 
 sure that it will swell the numbers ? What I dread most 
 is not the sword of the Norman Duke, it is his craft. 
 Rely upon it, that if we meet him not soon, he will march 
 straight to London. He will proclaim by the way, that 
 he comes not to seize the throne, but to punish Harold, 
 and abide by the Witan, or perchance by the word of the 
 Roman pontiff. The terror of his armament unresisted, 
 will spread like a panic through the land. Many will be 
 decoyed by his false pretexts, many awed by a force that 
 the King dare not meet. If he come in sight of the city, 
 think you that merchants and cheapmen will not be 
 daunted by the thought of pillage and sack ? They will 
 be the first to capitulate at the first house which is fired. 
 The city is weak to guard against siege ; its walls long 
 neglected ; and in sieges the Normans are famous. Are 
 we so united (the King's rule thus fresh), but what no 
 cabals, no dissensions will break oat amongst ourselves ? 
 If the duke come, as come he v ill, in the name of the 
 
HAROLD. 2t3 
 
 Church, may not the Churchmen set up some new pre- 
 tender to the crown — perchance the child Edgar? And, 
 divided against ourselves, how ingloriously should we 
 fall 1 Besides, this land, though never before have the 
 links between province and province been drawn so close, 
 hath yet demarcations that make the people selfish. The 
 Northumbrians, I fear, will not stir to aid London, and 
 Mercia will hold aloof from our peril. Grant that William 
 once seize London, all England is broken up and dispi- 
 rited ; each shire, nay, each town looking only to itself 
 Talk" of delay as w-eariug out the strength of the foe I 
 No, it would wear out our own. Little euo', I fear, is 
 yet left in our treasury. If William seize London, that 
 treasury is his, with all the wealth of our burgesses. How 
 should we maintain an army, except by preying on the 
 people, and thus discontenting them ? Where guard that 
 army ? Where are our forts ? where our mountains ? The 
 war of delay suits only a land of rock and defile, or of 
 castle and hreast-work. Thegns and warriors, ye have 
 no castles but your breasts of mail. Abandon these, and 
 you are lost," 
 
 A general murmur of applause closed this speech of 
 Haco, which, while wise in arguments our historians have 
 overlooked, came home to that noblest reason of bra^e 
 men, which urges iprompt resistance to foul invasion 
 
 Up, then, rose King Harold. 
 
 " I thank you, fellow-Englishmen, for that applause 
 with which ye have greeted mine own thoughts on the 
 lips of Haco. . Shall it be said that your Ki-ng rushed to 
 23* 2r 
 
214 HAROLD. 
 
 chase his own brother from the soil of outraged England, 
 yet shrunk from the sword of the Norman stranger ? 
 Well, indeed, might my brave subjects desert my banner 
 if it floated idly over these palace walls, while the armed 
 invader pitched his camp in the heart of England. By 
 delay, William's force, whatever it might be, cannot grow 
 less ; his cause grows more strong in our craven fears. 
 What his armament may be, we rightly know not ; the 
 report varies with every messenger, swelling and lessen- 
 ing with the rumors of every hour. Have we not around 
 us now our most stalwart veterans — the flower of our 
 armies — the most eager spirits — the vanquishers of Har- 
 drada ? Thou sayest, Gurth, that all should not be 
 perilled on a single battle. True. Harold should be 
 perilled, but wherefore England ? G-rant that we win the 
 day ; the quicker our despatch, the greater our fame, the 
 more lasting that peace at home and abroad, which rests 
 ever its best foundation on the sense of the power, which 
 wrong cannot provoke, unohastised. Grant that we lose ; 
 a loss can be made gain by a king's brave death. Why 
 should not our example rouse and unite all who survive 
 us ? Which the nobler example, the one best fitted to 
 protect our country — the recreant backs of living chiefs, 
 or the glorious dead with their fronts to the foe ? Come 
 what may, life or death, at least we will thin the Norman 
 numbers,' and heap the barriers of our corpses on the 
 Norman march. At least, we can show to the rest of 
 England how men should defend their native land 1 And 
 if, as I believe and pray, in every English, breast beats a 
 
HAROLD. 215 
 
 heart like Harold's, what matters though a king should 
 fall? — Freedom is immortal." 
 
 He spoke; and forth from his baldric he drew his 
 sword. Every blade at that signal, leapt from the 
 sheath : and in that council-hall at least, in every breast 
 beat the heart of Harold. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The chiefs dispersed to array their troops for the mor- 
 row's march ; but Harold and his kinsmen entered the 
 chamber where the women waited the decision of the 
 council ; for that, in truth, was to them the parting inter- 
 view. The king had resolved, after completing all his 
 martial preparations, to pass the night in the Abbey of 
 Waltham ; and his brothers lodged, with the troops they 
 commanded, in the city or its suburbs. Haco alone re- 
 mained with that portion of the army quartered in and 
 around the palace. 
 
 They entered the chamber, and in a moment each heart 
 had sought its mate ; in the mixed assembly, each only 
 conscious of the other. There, Gurth bowed his noble 
 head over the weeping face of the young bride that for 
 the last time nestled to his bosom. There, with a smiling 
 lip, but tremulous voice, the gay Leofwine soothed and 
 chided in a breath the maiden he had wooed as the part- 
 
216 HAROLD. 
 
 ner for a life that his mirthfal spirit made one holiday ; 
 snatching kisses from a cheek no longer coy. 
 
 But cold was the kiss which Harold pressed on the 
 brow of Aldyth ; and with something of di^idain, and of 
 bitter remembrance of a nobler love, he comforted a ter- 
 ror which sprang from the thought of self. 
 
 " Oh, Harold 1 " sobbed Aldyth, " be not rashly brave : 
 guard thy life for my sake. "Without thee, what am I ? 
 Is it even safe for me to rest here ? Were it not better 
 to fly to York, or seek refuge with Malcolm the Scot ?" 
 
 " Within three days at the farthest," answered Harold, 
 " thy brothers will be in London. Abide by their coun- 
 sel ; act as they advise at the news of my victory or my 
 fall." 
 
 He paused abruptly, for he heard close beside him the 
 broken voice of Gurth's bride, in answer to her lord. 
 
 " Think not of me, beloved ; thy whole heart now be 
 
 England's. And if — if " — her voice failed a moment, 
 
 but resumed proudly, " why even thy wife is safe, for sho 
 survives not her lord and her land ! " 
 
 The king left his wife's side, and kissed his brother's 
 bride. 
 
 " Noble heart I " he said ; " with women like thee for 
 our wives and mothers, England could survive the slaugh- 
 ter of a thousand kings." 
 
 He turned and knelt to Githa. She threw her arms 
 over his broad breast, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Say — say, Harpld, that I have not reproached thee 
 for Tostig's death. I nave obeyed the last commands 
 
HAROLD. 271 
 
 of Godwin my lord. I have deemed thee ever right and 
 just ; now let me not lose thee, too. They go with thee, 
 all my surviving sons, save the exile Wolnoth, — him whom 
 now I shall never behold again. Oh, Harold I — let not 
 mine old age be childless ! " 
 
 "Mother, — dear, dear mother, with these arms round 
 my neck I take new life and new heart. No ! never bast 
 thou reproached me for my brother's death — never for 
 aught which man's first duty enjoined. Murmur not that 
 that duty commands us still. We are the sons, through 
 thee, of royal heroes ; through my father, of Saxon free- 
 men. Rejoice that thou hast three sons left, whose arms 
 thou mayest pray Grod and his saints to prosper, and over 
 whose graves, if they fall, thou shalt shed no tears of 
 shame I " 
 
 Then the widow of King Edward, who (the crucifix 
 clasped in her hands), had listened to Harold with lips 
 apart and marble cheeks, could keep down no longer her 
 human, woman's heart ; she rushed to Harold as he still 
 knelt to Githa — knelt by his side, and clasped him in her 
 arras with despairing fondness : — 
 
 " brother, brother, whom I have so deeply loved 
 when all other love seemed forbidden me ; — when he who 
 gave me a throne refused me his heart ; when, looking at 
 thy fair promise, listening to thy tender comfort, — when, 
 remembering the days of old, in which thou wert my do- 
 cile pupil, and we dreamed bright dreams together of 
 happiness and fame to come, — when, loving thee, me- 
 tliought too well, too much as weak mothers may love a 
 
 TI. ^iJ4 
 
2T8 HAROLD. 
 
 mortal son, I prayed God to detach my heart from earth ; 
 —oh, Harold 1 now forgive me all my coldness ? I shud- 
 der at thy resolve. I dread that thou shouldst meet this 
 man, whom an oath hath bound thee to obey. Nay, 
 frown not — I bow to thy will, my brother and my king. 
 I know that thou hast chosen as thy conscience sanctions, 
 as thy duty ordains. But come back — oh, come back — 
 thou who, like me [her voice whispered], hast sacrificed 
 the household hearth to thy country's altars, — and I will 
 never pray to Heaven to love thee less — my brother, oh 
 my brother 1 " 
 
 In all the room were then heard but the low sounds of 
 sobs and broken exclamations. All clustered to one spot 
 — Leofwine and his betrothed — Gurth and his bride — 
 even the selfish Aldyth, ennobled by the contagion of the 
 sublime emotion, — all clustered round Githa the mother 
 of the three guardians of the fated land, and all knelt 
 before her by the side of Harold. Suddenly, the widowed 
 queen, the virgin wife of the last heir of Cerdic, rose, 
 and holding on high the sacred rood over those bended 
 heads, said, with devout passion, — 
 
 " Lord of hosts — we children of Doubt and Time, 
 trembling in the dark, dare not take to ourselves to ques- 
 tion thine unerring will. Sorrow and death, as joy and 
 life, are at the breath of a mercy divine, and a wisdom 
 all-seeing : and out of the hours of evil thou drawest, in 
 mystic circle, the eternity of Good. ' Thy will be done 
 on earth as it is in heaven.' If, Disposer of events, 
 our human prayers are not adverse to thy pre-judged 
 
HAROLD. 279 
 
 decrees, protect these lives, the bulwarks of our homes 
 and altars, sons whom the land offers as a sacrifice. May 
 thine angel turn aside the blade — as of old from the heart 
 of Isaac I But if, Ruler of Nations, in whose sight 
 the ages are as moments, and generations but as sands in 
 the sea, these lives are doomed, may the death expiate 
 their sins, and, shrived on the battle-field, absolve and 
 receive the souls I " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 By the altar of the abbey church of Waltham, that 
 night, knelt Edith in prayer for Harold. 
 
 She had taken up her abode in a small convent of nuns 
 that adjoined the more famous monastery of Waltham' ; 
 but she had promised Hilda not to enter on the novitiate, 
 until the birth-day of Harold had passed. She, herself, 
 had no longer faith in the omens and prophecies that had 
 deceived her youth and darkened her life ; and, in the 
 more congenial air of our holy Church, the spirit ever so 
 chastened, grew calm and resigned. But the tidings of 
 the Norman's coming, and the king's victorious return to 
 his capital, had reached even that still retreat ; and love, 
 which had blent itself with religion, led her steps to that 
 lonely altar. And suddenly, as she there knelt, only 
 lighted by the moon through the high casements, she was 
 startled by the sound of approaching feet and murmuring 
 
280 HAROLD. 
 
 voices. She rose in alarm — the door of the church was 
 thrown open — torches advanced — and amongst the monks, 
 between Osgood and Aired, came the king. He had 
 come, that last night before his march, to invoke the 
 prayers of that pious brotherhood ; and by the altar he 
 had. founded, to pray, himself, that his one sin of faith 
 forfeited and oath abjured, might not palsy his arm and 
 weigh on his soul in the hour of his country's need. 
 
 Edith stifled the cry that rose to her lips, as the torches 
 fell on the pale and hushed and melancholy face of Ha- 
 rold ; and she crept away under the arch of the vast Saxon 
 columns, and into the shade of abutting walls. The monks 
 and the king, intent on their holy office, beheld not that 
 solitary and shrinking form. They approached the altar ; 
 and there the king knelt down lowlily, and none heard 
 the prayer. But, as Osgood held the sacred rood over 
 the bended head of the royal suppliant, the image on the 
 crucifix, (which had been a gift from Aired, the prelate, 
 and was supposed to have belonged of old to Augustine, 
 the first founder of the Saxon church — so that by the 
 superstition of the age, it was invested with miraculous 
 virtues,) bo wed itself visibly. Visibly, the pale and ghastly 
 image of the suffering God bowed over the head of the 
 kneeling man ; whether the fastenings' of the rood were 
 loosened, or from what cause soever, — in the eyes of all 
 the brotherhood, the image bowed.* 
 
 A thrill of terror froze every heart, save Edith's, too 
 remote to perceive the portent, and save the king's, whom 
 
 * Palgrave — ' Hist, of An<;lo-S.axonB.' 
 
liAROLD. 281 
 
 the omen seemed to doom, for his face was buried in h'a 
 clasped hands. Heavy was his heart, nor needed it other 
 warnings than its own gloom. 
 
 Long and silently prayed the king ; and when at last 
 he rose, and the monks, though with altered and tremu- 
 lous voices, began their closing hymn, Edith passed noise- 
 lessly along the wall ; and, stealing through one of the 
 smaller doors which communicated to the nunnery an- 
 nexed, gained the solitude of her own chamber. There 
 she stood, benumbed with the strength of her emotions 
 at the sight of Harold, thus abruptly presented. How 
 had the fond human heart leapt to meet him I Twice, 
 thus, in the august ceremonials of religion, secret, shrink- 
 ing, unwitnessed, had she, his betrothed, she, the partner 
 of his soul, stood aloof to behold him. She had seen 
 him in the hour of his pomp, the crown upon his brow, — ■ 
 seen him in the hour of his peril and agony, that anointed 
 head bowed to the earth. And, in the pomp that she 
 could not share, she had exulted ; but, oh, now — now, — ■ 
 Oh now that she could have knelt beside that humbled 
 fbrm, and prayed with that voiceless prayer I 
 
 The torches flashed in the court, below ; the church 
 was again deserted ; the monks passed in mute proces- 
 sion back to their cloister ; but a single man paused, 
 turned aside, and stopped at the gate of the humbler con- 
 vent : a knocking was heard at the great oaken door, and 
 the watch-dog barked. Edith started, pressed her hand 
 on her heart, and trembled. Steps approached her door 
 24 * 
 
282 HAROLD. 
 
 — and ths abbess, entering, summoned her below, to hear 
 the farevfell greeting of her cousin, the king. 
 
 Harold stood in the simple hall of the cloister : a single 
 taper, tall and wan, burned on the oak board. The ab- 
 bess led Edith by the hand ; and, at a sign from the king, 
 withdrew. So, once more upon earth, the betrothed and 
 divided were alone. 
 
 "Edith," said the king, in a voice in which no ear but 
 hers could have detected the struggle, " do not think I 
 have come to disturb thy holy calm, or sinfully revive the 
 memories of the irrevocable past : where once on my 
 breast, in the old faf'iion of our fathers, I wrote thy 
 name, is written now the name of the mistress that sup- 
 plants thee. Into Eternity melts the Past; but I could 
 not depart to a field from which there is no retreat — in 
 which, against odds that men say are fearful, I have re- 
 solved to set my crown and my life — without once more 
 beholding thee, pure guardian of my happier days I Thy 
 forgiveness for all the sorrow that, in the darkness which 
 surrounds man's hopes and dreams, I have brought on 
 thee, (dread return for love so enduring, so generous and 
 divine !) — tny forgiveness I will not ask. Thou alone, 
 perhaps, on earth knowest the soul of Harold ; and if he 
 hath wronged thee, thou seest alike in the wronger and 
 the wronged, but the children of iron Duty, the servants 
 of imperial Heaven. Not thy forgiveness I ask — but — . 
 but — Edith, holy maid 1 angel soul 1 — thy — thy bless- 
 ing I " His voice faltered, and he inclined his lofty head 
 as to a saint. 
 
HAEOLD. aSr 
 
 '' Oh that I had the power to bless 1 " exclaimed Edith, 
 
 mastering her rush of tears with an heroic effort ; "and 
 
 methinks I have the power — not from virtues of my own, 
 
 but from all that I owe to thee 1 The grateful have the 
 
 power to bless. For what do I not owe to thee — owe to 
 
 that very love, of which even the grief is sacred ? Poor 
 
 child in the house of the heathen, thy love descended 
 
 upon me, and in it, the smile of God 1 In that love my 
 
 spirit awoke, and was baptized : every thought that haa 
 
 risen from earth, and lost itself in Heaven, was breathed 
 
 into my heart by thee ! Thy creature and thy slave, 
 
 hadst thou tempted me to sin, sin had seemed hallowed 
 
 by thy voice ; but thou saidst, ' True love is virtue,' and 
 
 so I worshipped virtue in loving thee. Strengthened, 
 
 purified, by thy bright companionship, from thee came 
 
 the strength to resign thee — from thee the refuge under 
 
 the wings of God — from thee the firm assurance, that 
 
 our union yet shall be — not as our poor Hilda dreams on 
 
 the perishable earth, — but there I oh, there ! yonder, by 
 
 the celestial altars, in the land in which all spirits are 
 
 filled with love. Yes, soul of Harold 1 there are might 
 
 and holiness in the blessing, the soul thou hast redeemed 
 
 and reared, sheds on thee ! " 
 
 And so beautiful, so unlike the Beautiful of the 'common 
 earth, looked the maid as she thus spoke, and laid hands, 
 trembling with no human passion, on that royal head — • 
 that could a soul from paradise be made visible, such 
 might be the shape it would wear to a mortal's eye I 
 Thus, for some moments both were silent ; and in the 
 
S84 HAKOLD 
 
 silence the gloom vanished from the heart of Harold, and, 
 through a deep and sublime serenity, it rose undaunted 
 to front the future. 
 
 No embrace — no farewell kiss — profaned the parting 
 of those pure and noble spirits — parting on the threshold 
 of the grave. It was only the spirit that clasped the 
 spirit, looking forth from the clay into measureless 
 eternity. Not till the air of night came once more on 
 his brow, and the moonlight rested on the roofs and fanes 
 of the land entrusted to his charge, was the man once 
 more the human hero ; not till she was alone in her deso- 
 late chamber, and the terrors of the coming battle-field 
 chased the angel from her thoughts, was the maid inspired 
 once more the weeping woman. 
 
 A little after sun-rise, the abbess, who was distantly 
 akin to the house of Godwin, sought Edith, so agitated 
 by her own fear that she did not remark the trouble of 
 her visitor. The supposed miracle of the sacred image 
 bowing over the kneeling king, had spread dismay through 
 the cloisters of both nunnery and abbey ; and so intense 
 was the disquietude of the two brothers, Osgood and 
 Aired, in the simple and grateful affection they bore 
 their royal benefactor, that they had obeyed the impulse 
 of their tender, credulous hearts, and left the monastery 
 with the dawn, intending to follow the king's march,* 
 and watnh and pray near the awful battle-field. Edith 
 listened, and made no reply ; the terrors of the abbess 
 
 * Palgrave — " Hist, of Anglo-Saxons " 
 
HAEOLD. 285 
 
 infected her ; the example of the two monks woke the 
 sole thought which stirred through the nightmare dream 
 that suspended reason itself; and when, at noon, the 
 abbess again sought the chamber, Edith was gone ; — 
 gone, and alone — none knew wherefore — none guessed 
 whither. 
 
 All the pomp of the English army burst upon Harold's 
 liew, as, in the rising sun, he approached the bridge of 
 the capital. Over that bridge came the stately march, 
 — battle-axe, and spear, and banner, glittering in the 
 ray. And as he drew aside, and the forces defiled before 
 him, the cry of " God save King Harold 1 " rose with loud 
 acclaim and lusty joy, borne over the waves of the river, 
 startling the echoes in the ruined keape of the Roman, 
 heard in the halls restored by Canute, and chiming, like 
 a chorus, with the chaunts of the monks by the tomb of 
 Sebba in St. Paul's, — by the tomb of Edward at St. 
 Peter's. 
 
 With a brightened face, and a kindling eye, the king 
 saluted his lines, and then fell into the ranks towards the 
 rear, where, among the burghers of London and the 
 lithsmen of Middlesex, the immemorial custom of Saxon 
 monarchs placed the kingly banner. And, looking up, 
 he beheld, not his old standard with the Tiger-heads and 
 the Cross, but a banner both strange and gorgeous. On 
 a field of gold was the effigies of a Fighting Warrior ; 
 and the arms were bedecked in orient pearls, and the 
 borders blazed in the rising sun, with ruby, amethyst, 
 and emerald. While he gazed, wonderingly, on this 
 
286 HAROLD. 
 
 dazzling ensign, Haco, who rode beside the standard- 
 bearer, advanced and- gave him a letter. 
 
 "Last night," said he, " after thou hadst left the palace, 
 many recruits, chiefly from Hertfordshire and Essex, came 
 in ; but the most gallant and stalwart of all, in arms and 
 in stature, were the lithsraen of Hilda. With them came 
 this banner, on which she has lavished the gems that 
 have passed to her hand through long lines of northern 
 ancestors, from Odin, the founder of all northern thrones 
 So, at least, said the bode of our kinswoman." 
 
 Harold had already cut the silk round the letter, and 
 was reading its contents. They ran thus : — 
 
 " King of England, I forgive thee the broken heart of 
 my grandchild. They whom the land feeds, should defend 
 the land. I send to thee, in tribute, the best fruits that 
 grow in the field and the forest, round the house which 
 my husband took from the bounty of Canute; — stout 
 hearts and strong hands ! Descending alike, as do Hilda 
 and Harold, (through Githa thy mother,) from the 
 Warrior God of the North, whose race never shall fail — 
 take, O defender of the Saxon children of Odin, the 
 banner I have broidered with the gems that the Chief of 
 the Asas bore from the East. Firm as love be thy foot, 
 strong as death be thy hand, under the shade which tho 
 banner of Hilda, — under the gleam which the jewels ot 
 Odin, — cast on the brows of the king ! So Hilda, the 
 daughter of monarchs, greets Harold, the leader of men." 
 
 Harold looked up from the letter, ami Haco re. 
 sumed : — 
 
HAKOLD. 281 
 
 " Thou canst guess not the cheering effect which this 
 banner, supposed to be charmed, and which the name 
 of Odin alone would suffice to make holy, at least with 
 thy fierce Anglo-Danes, hath already produced through 
 the army." 
 
 "It is well, Haco," said Harold with a smile. "Let 
 priest add his blessing to Hilda's charm, and Heaven 
 will pardon any magic that makes more brave the hearts 
 that defend its altars. Now fall we back, for the army 
 must pass beside the hill with the crommel and grave- 
 stone ; there, be sure, Hilda will be at watch for our 
 march, and we will linger a few moments to thank her 
 somewhat for her banner, yet more justly, methinks, for 
 her men. Are not yon stout fellows all in mail, so tall 
 and so orderly, in advance of the London burghers, 
 Hilda's aid to our Fyrd ? " 
 
 " They are," answered Haco. 
 
 The king backed his steed to accost them with his 
 kingly greeting ; and then, with Haco, falling yet farther 
 to the rear, seemed engaged in inspecting the numerous 
 wains, bearing missiles and forage, that always accom- 
 panied the march of a Saxon army, and served to 
 strengthen its encampment. But when they came iq 
 sight of the hillock by which the great body of the army 
 bad preceded them, the king and the son of Sweyn dis- 
 mounted, and on foot entered the large circle of tho 
 Celtic ruin. 
 
 By the side of the Teuton altar they beheld two forms, 
 Dcth perfectly motionless : but one was extended on the 
 
288 HAROLD. 
 
 ground as in sleep or lu death ; the other sate beside it, 
 as if watching the corpse, or guarding the slumber. The 
 face of the last was not visible, propped upon the arms 
 which rested on the knees, and hidden by the hands. But 
 in the face of the other, as the two men drew near, they 
 recognized the Danish Prophetess. Death in its dreadest 
 characters was written on that ghastly face ; woe and 
 terror, beyond all words to describe, spoke in the hag- 
 gard brow, the distorted lips, and the wild glazed stare 
 of the open eyes. At the startled cry of the intruders 
 on that dreary silence, the living form moved ; and though 
 still leaning its face on its hands, it raised its head ; and 
 never countenance of northern vampire, cowering by the 
 rifled grave, was more fiend-like and appalling. 
 
 " Who and what art thou ? " said the king ; " and how, 
 thus unhonored in the air of heaven, lies the corpse of 
 the noble Hilda? Is this the hand of nature ? Haco, 
 Haco, so look the eyes, so set the features, of those whom 
 the horror of ruthless murder slays even before the steel 
 strikes. Speak, hag — art thou dumb?" 
 
 " Search the body," answered the witch, " there is no 
 wound ! Look to the throat, — no mark of the deadly 
 gripe I I have seen such in my day. There are none on 
 this corpse, I trow ; yet thou sayest rightly, horror slew 
 her 1 Ha, ha I she would know, and she hath known • 
 she would raise the dead and the demon ; she hath raised 
 them ; she would read the riddle— she hath read it. Pale 
 king and dark youth, would ye learn what Hilda saw, 
 eh ? eh ? Ask her in the Shadow- World where she awaits 
 
HAROLD. 289 
 
 ye ! Ha ! ye too would be wise in the future ; ye too 
 would climb to Heaven through the mysteries of hell. 
 Worms 1 worms I crawl back to the clay — to the earth I 
 One such night as the hag ye despise enjoys as her sport 
 and her glee, would freeze your veins, and sere the life in 
 yt)ur eye-balls, and leave your corpses to terror and won- 
 der, like the carcase that lies at your feet 1 " 
 
 " Ho ! " cried the king, stamping his foot, " Hence, 
 llaco ; rouse the household ; summon hither the hand- 
 maids ; call henchman and ceorl to guard this foul raven." 
 
 Hao-o obeyed ; but when he returned with the shudder- 
 ing and amazed attendants, the witch was gone, and the 
 king was leaning against the altar with downcast eyes, 
 and a face troubled and dark with thought. 
 
 The body of the Vala was borne into the house ; and 
 the king, waking from his reverie, bade them send for 
 the priests, and ordered masses for the parted soul. Then 
 kneeling, with pious hand he closed the eyes and smoothed 
 the features, and left his mournful kiss on the icy brow. 
 These offices fulfilled, he took Haco's arm, and leaning 
 on it, returned to the spot on which they had left their 
 steeds. Not evincing surprise or awe, — emotions that 
 seemed unknown to his gloomy, settled, impassible na- 
 ture — Haco said calmly, as they descended the knoll, — 
 
 "What evil did the hag predict to thee?" 
 
 " Haco," answered the king, " yonder, by the shores 
 of Sussex, lies all the future which our eyes now should 
 Bcan, and our hearts should be firm to meet. These 
 omens and apparitions are but the ghosts of a dead Re- 
 
 II. —25 2s 
 
290 HAROLD. 
 
 ligion ; spectres sent from the grave . of the fearfdl 
 Heathenesse ; they may appal but to lure us from our 
 duty. Lo, as we gaze around — the ruins of all the creeds 
 that have made the hearts of men quake with unsubstan- 
 tial awe — lo, the temple of the Briton ! — lo, the fane of 
 the Roman 1 — lo, the mouldering altar of our ancestral 
 Thor 1 Ages past lie wrecked around us in these shat- 
 tered symbols. A new age hath riseh, and a new creed. 
 Keep we to the broad truths before us ; duty here ; know- 
 ledge comes alone in the Herea,fter." 
 
 " That Hereafter ! — is it not near ?" murmured Haco. 
 
 They mounted in silence ; and ere they regained the 
 army, paused, by a common impulse, and looked behind. 
 Awful in their desolation rose the temple and the altar 1 
 And in Hilda's mysterious death it seemed that their last 
 and lingering Genius, — the Genius of the dark and fierce, 
 the warlike and the wizard North, had expired for ever. 
 Yet, on the outskirt of the forest, dusk and shapeless, 
 that witch without a name stood in the shadow, pointing 
 towards them, with outstretched arm, in vague and de- 
 nouncing menace ; — as if, come what may, all change of 
 creed, — be the faith ever so simple, the truth ever so 
 bright and clear, — there is a supersiition native to that 
 Border-land between the Visible and the Unseen, which 
 will find its priest and its votaries, till the full and crown- 
 ing splendor of Heaven shall melt every shadow from 
 the world I 
 
HAROLD 291 
 
 CHAPTEB, V. 
 
 On the broad plain between Pevenscy and Hastings, 
 Duke William had arrayed his armaments. In the rear 
 he had built a castle of wood, all the framework of which 
 he had brought with him, and which was to serve as a 
 refuge in case of retreat. His ships he had run into deep 
 water and scuttled ; so that the thought of return, without 
 victory, might be banished from his miscellaneous and 
 multitudinous force. His outposts stretched for miles, 
 keeping watch night and day against surprise. The 
 ground chosen was adapted for all the manosuvres of a 
 cavalry never before paralleled in England, nor perhaps 
 in the world, — almost every horseman a knight, almost 
 every knight fit to be a chief. And on this space William 
 reviewed his army, and there planned and schemed, re- 
 hearsed and re-formed, all the stratagems the great day 
 might call forth. But most careful, and laborious, and 
 minute, was he in the manoeuvre of a feigned retreat. 
 Not, ere the acting of some modern play, does the anxious 
 manager mose elaborately marshal each man, each look, 
 each gesture, that are to form a picture on which the 
 curtain shall fall amidst deafening plaudits, than did the 
 laborious captain appoint each man, and each movement, 
 in his lure to a valiant foe: — The attack of the foot, 
 their recoil, their affected panic, their broken exclama 
 
292 HAEOLJJ. 
 
 tions of despair; — their retreat, first partial and reluct- 
 ant, next seemingly hurried and complete, — flying, but 
 iu flight carefully confused: — then the settled watch- 
 word, the lightning rally, the rush of the cavalry from 
 the ambush; the sweep and hem round the pursuing foe, 
 the detachment of levelled spears to cut off the Sason 
 return to the main force, and the lost ground, — were all 
 directed by the most consummate mastership in the stago- 
 play, or upokrisis, of war, and seized by the adroitness 
 of practised veterans. 
 
 Not now, Harold I hast thou to contend against the 
 rude heroes of the Norse, with their ancestral strategy 
 unimproved 1 The Civilization of Battle meets thee 
 now I — and all the craft of the Roman guides the man- 
 hood of the North. 
 
 It was in the midst of such lessons to his foot and his 
 horsemen — spears gleaming — pennons tossing — lines 
 re-forming ^ — steeds backing, wheeling, flying, circling — 
 that William's eye blazed, and his deep voice thundered 
 the thrilling word ; when Mallet de Graville, who was in 
 command at one of the outposts, rode up to him at full 
 speed, and said in gasps, as he drew breath, — 
 
 " King Harold and his army are advancing furiously. 
 Their object is clearly to come on us ui^awares. " 
 
 " Hold ! " said the duke, lifting his hand ; and the 
 knights around him halted in their perfect discipline ; 
 then after a few "brief but distinct orders to Odo, Pitz- 
 osborne, and some other of his leading chiefs, he headed 
 a numerous cavalcade of his knights, and rode fast to the 
 
HAROLD. 29S 
 
 outpost which Mallet had left, — to catch sight of the 
 coming foe. 
 
 The horsemen cleared the plain — passed through a 
 wood, mournfully fading into autumnal hues — and, on 
 emerging, they saw the gleam of Saxon spears rising on 
 the brows of the gentle hills beyond. But even the time, 
 short as it was, that had sufficed to bring William in view 
 of the enemy, had sufficed also, under the orders of his 
 generals, to give to the wide plain of his encampment 
 all the order of a host prepared. And "William, having 
 now mounted on a rising ground, turned from the spears 
 on the hill-tops, to his own fast-forming lines on the 
 plain, and said with a stern smile, — 
 
 " Methinks the Saxon usurper, if he be among those 
 on the height of yon hills, will vouchsafe ns time to 
 breathe. St. Michael gives his crown to our hands, and 
 his corpse to the crow, if he dare to descend." 
 
 And so indeed: as the duke with a soldier's eye foresaw 
 from a soldier's skill, so it proved. The spears rested on 
 the summits. It soon became evident that the English 
 general perceived that here there was no Hardrada to 
 surprise ; that the news brought to his ear had exagger- 
 ated neither the numbers, nor the arms, nor the discipline 
 of tne Norman ; and that the battle was not to the bold, 
 but to the wary. 
 
 " He dotb right," said William, musingly ; *' nor think, 
 
 my quens, that we shall find a fool's hot brain under 
 
 Harold's helmet of iron. How is this broken ground of 
 
 billock and valley named in our chart ? It is strange 
 
 25* 
 
294 HAEOLB. 
 
 that we should have overlooked its strength, and suffered 
 it thus to fall into the hands of the foe. How is it 
 named? Can any of ye remember?" 
 
 "A Saxon peasant," said De Graville, "told me that 
 the ground was called Senlac * or Sanglac, or some such 
 name, in their musicless jargon." 
 
 " Gramercy 1 " quoth Grantmesnil, " methinks the name 
 will be familiar eno' hereafter; no jargon seemeth the 
 sound to my ear — a significant name, and ominous — 
 Sanglac, Sanguelac — the Lake of Blood." 
 
 " Sanguelac ! " said the duke, startled ; " where have I 
 heard that name before ? it must have been between 
 sleeping and waking — Sanguelac, Sanguelac 1 — truly 
 sayest thou, through a lake of blood we must wade in- 
 deed I " 
 
 "Yet," said De Graville, "thine astrologer foretold 
 that thou wouldst win the realm without a battle." 
 
 "Poor astrologer !" said William, "the ship he sailed 
 in was lost. Ass indeed is he who pretends to warn 
 others, nor sees an inch before his eyes what his own fate 
 will be 1 Battle shall we have, but not yet. Hark thee, 
 Guillaume, thou hast been guest with this usurper ; thou 
 hast seemed to me to have some love for him — a love 
 natural, since thou didst once fight by his side ; wilt thou 
 go from me to the Saxon host with Hugues Maigrot, the 
 monk, and back the message I shall send?" 
 
 * The battle-field of Hastings seems to have been called Senlao, 
 before the Conquest, — Sanguelac after it. 
 
HAROLD. 29S 
 
 The proud and punctilious Norman thrice crossed him- 
 Belf ere he answered, — 
 
 " There was a time, Count William, when I should 
 have deemed it honor to hold parle with Harold the brave 
 earl ; but now, with the crown on his head, I hold it 
 shame and disgrace to barter words with a knight unleal 
 and a man fors-worn.'' 
 
 " Natheless, thou shalt do me this favor," said Williarj, 
 "for" (and he took the knight somewhat aside) "I can- 
 not disguise from thee that I look anxiously on the 
 chance of battle. Yon men are flushed with new triumph 
 over the greatest warrior Norway ever knew ; they will 
 fight on their own soil, and under a chief whom I have 
 studied and read with more care than the Comments of 
 Caesar, and in whom the guilt of perjury cannot blind me 
 to the wit of a great general. If we can yet get our end 
 without battle, large shall be my thanks to thee, and I 
 will hold thine astrologer a man wise, though unhappy." 
 
 "Certes,'' said De Graville gravely, "it were discour- 
 teous to the memory of the star-seer, not to make some 
 effort to prove his science a just one. And the Chal- 
 deans " 
 
 "Plague seize the Chaldeans!" muttered the duke. 
 " Ride with me back to the camp, that I may give thee 
 my message, and instruct also the monk." 
 
 " De Graville," resumed the duke, as they rode to- 
 wards the lines, " my meaning is briefly this. I do not 
 think that Harold will accept my offers and resign his 
 erown, but I design to spread dismay, and perhaps re- 
 
296 HAROLD. 
 
 volt, amongst his captains ; I wish that they may know 
 that the Church lays its Curse on those who fight against 
 my consecrated banner. I do not ask thee, therefore, to 
 demean thy knighthood, by seeking to cajole the usurper ; 
 no, but rather boldly to denounce his perjury, and startle 
 his liegemen. Perchance they may compel him to terms 
 — perchance they may desert his banner ; at the worst 
 they shall be daunted with full sense of the guilt of his 
 cause.'' 
 
 "Ha, now I comprehend thee, noble count ; and trust 
 me I will speak as Norman and knight should speak." 
 
 Meanwhile, Harold, seeing the utter hopelessness of all 
 sudden assault, had seized a general's advantage of the 
 ground he had gained. Occupying the line of hills, he 
 began forthwith to entrench himself behind deep ditches 
 and artful palisades. It is impossible now to stand on 
 that spot, without recognizing the military skill with 
 which the Saxon had taken his post, and formed his pre- 
 cautions. He surrounded the main body of his troops 
 with a perfect breastwork against the charge of the horse. 
 Stakes and strong hurdles, interwoven with osier plaits, 
 and protected by deep dykes, served at once to neutralize 
 that arm in which William was most powerful, and in 
 which Harold almost entirely failed ; while the possession 
 of the ground must compel the foe to march, and to 
 charge, up hill, against all the missiles which the Saxons 
 could pour down from their entrenchments. 
 
 Aiding, animating, cheering, directing all, while the 
 dykes were fast hollowed, and the breastworks fast rose, 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 29t 
 
 the king of Englitnd rode his palfrey from line to line, 
 and work to work, when, looking up, he saw Haco lead- 
 ing towards him, up the slope, a monk, and a warrior 
 whom, by the banderol on his spear, and the cross on his 
 shield, he knew to be one of the Norman knighthood. 
 
 At that moment, Gurth and Leofwine, and those 
 thegns who commanded counties, were thronging round 
 their chief for instructions. The king dismounted, and 
 beckoning "them to follow, strode towards the spot oa 
 which had just been planted his royal standard. There 
 halting, he said with a grave smile, — 
 
 " I perceive that the Norman count hath sent us his 
 bodes ; it is meet that with me, you, the defenders of 
 England, should hear what the Norman saith." 
 
 " If he saith aught but prayer for his men to return to 
 Rouen, — needless his message, and short our answer," 
 said Vebba, the bluff thegn of Kent. 
 
 Meanwhile the monk und the Norman knight drew 
 near, and paused ait some short distance, while Haco, ad- 
 vancing, said briefly, — 
 
 " These men I found at our out-posts ; they demand to 
 speak with the king." 
 
 " Under his standard the king will hear the Norman 
 invader," replied Harold; "bid them speak." 
 
 The same sallow, mournful, ominous countenance, which 
 Harold had before seen in the ha;lls of Westminster, rising 
 death-like above the serge garb of the Benedict of Caen, 
 •low presented itself, and the monk thus spoke, — 
 
 " In the name of William, duke of the Normans in the 
 
 26 » 
 
298 HAROLD. 
 
 field, count of Rouen in the hall, claimant of all the realms 
 of Anglia, Scotland, and the Walloons, held under Ed- 
 ward his cousin, I come to thee, Harold, his liege and 
 earl." 
 
 " Change thy titles, or depart," said Harold, fiercely, 
 his brow no longer mild in its majesty, but dark as mid- 
 night. " What says William the count of the foreigners, 
 to Harold, king of the Angles, and Basileus of Britain ? " 
 
 " Protesting against thy assumption, I answer thee 
 thus," said Hugues Maigrot. " First, again he offers thee 
 all Northumbria, up to the realm of the Scottish sub-king, 
 if thou wilt fulfil thy vow and cede him the crown." 
 
 " Already have I answered, — the crown is not mine to 
 give ; and my people stand round me in arms to defend 
 the king of their choice. What next ? " 
 
 " Next offers William to withdraw his troops from the 
 land, if thou and thy council and chiefs, will submit to the 
 arbitremeut of our most holy Pontiff, Alexander the Se- 
 cond, and abide by his decision whether thou or my liege 
 have the best right to the throne." 
 
 " This, as Churchman," said the Abbot of the great 
 coi-vent of Peterborough (who, with the Abbot of Hide, 
 had joined the march of Harold, deeming as one the cause 
 of altar and throne), " this, as Churchman, may I take 
 leave to answer. Never yet hath it been heard in Eng- 
 land, that the spiritual suzerain of Rome should give us 
 our kings." 
 
 "And," said Harold, with a bitter snrile, "the Pope 
 hath already summoned me to this tria,l, as if the laws 
 
HAROLD. 299 
 
 of England were kept in the rolls of the Vatican 1 Already, 
 if rightly informed, the pope hath been pleased to decide 
 that our Saxon land is the Norman's. I reject a judge 
 without a right to decide ; and I mock at a sentence that 
 profanes Heaven in its insult to men. Is this all ? " 
 
 " One last offer yet remains," replied the monk, sternly. 
 " This knight shall deliver its import. But ere I depart, 
 and thou and thine are rendered up to Vengeance Divine, 
 I speak the word of a mightier chief than William of 
 Rouen. Thus saith his holiness, with whom rests the 
 power to bind and to loose, to bless and to curse : — 
 ' Harold, the Perjurer, thou art accursed 1 On thee and 
 on aH who lift hand in thy cause, rests the interdict of 
 the Church. Thou art excommunicated from the family 
 of Christ. On thy land, with its peers and its people, 
 yea, to the beast in the field and the bird in the air, to 
 the seed as the sower, the harvest as the reaper, restJ 
 God's anathema 1 The bull of the Vatican is in the ten( 
 of the Norman ; the gonfanon of St. Peter hallows yon 
 armies to the service of Heaven. March on, then : ye 
 march as the Assyrian ; and the angel of the Lord awaits 
 ye on the way." 
 
 At these words, which for the first time apprised the 
 English .leaders that their king and kingdom were under 
 the awful ban of excommunication, the thegns and abbots 
 gazed on each other aghast. A visible shudder passed 
 over the whole warlike conclave, save only three, Harold, 
 and Turth, and Haco. 
 
 The king himself was so moved by indignation at the 
 
300 HAROLD. 
 
 insolence of the monk, and by scorn at the fulmen, which 
 resting not alone on his own head, presumed to blast the 
 liberties of a nation, that he strode towards the speaker, 
 and it is even said of him by the Norman chroniclers, 
 that he raised his hand as if to strike the denouncer to 
 the earth. 
 
 But Gurth interposed, and with his clear eye serenely 
 shining with virtuous passion, he stood betwixt monJs 
 and king, 
 
 " O thou," he exclaimed, " with the words of religion 
 on thy lips, and the devices of fraud in thy heart, hide 
 thy front in thy cowl, and slink back to thy master. Heard 
 ye not, thegns and abbots, heard ye not this bad, false 
 man offer, as if for peace, and as with the desire of jus- 
 tice, that the Pope should arbitrate between your king 
 and the Norman ? yet all the while the monk knew that 
 the Pope had already predetermined the cause ; and had 
 ye fallen into the wile, ye would but have cowered under 
 the verdict of a judgment that has presumed, even before 
 it invoked ye to the trial, to dispose of a free people and 
 an ancient kingdom 1" 
 
 " It is true, it is true," cried the thegns, rallying from 
 their first superstitious terror, and, with their plain English 
 s( nse of justice, revolted at the perfidy which the priest's 
 overtures had concealed. " We will hear no more ; away 
 with the Swikebode. " * 
 
 The pale cheek of the monk turned yet paler, he seemed 
 
 * Traitor messenger 
 
HAROLD. 301 
 
 abashed by the storm of resentment he had provoked ; 
 and in some fear, perhaps, at the dark faces bent on him, 
 he slunk behind his comrade the knight, who as yet had 
 said nothing, bnt, his face concealed by his helmet, stood 
 motionless like a steel statue. And, in fact, these two 
 ambassadors, the one in his monk garb, the other in h a 
 iron array, were types and representatives of the two 
 forces now brought to bear upon Harold and England^ 
 Chiyalry and the Church. 
 
 At the momentary discomfiture of the priest, now stood 
 forth the warrior ; and throwing back his helmet, so that 
 the whole steel cap rested on the nape of the neck, leaving 
 the haughty face and half-shaven head bare, Mallet de 
 G-raville thus spoke : — 
 
 " The ban of the Church is against ye, warriors and 
 chiefs of England, but for the crime of one man I Re- 
 move it from yourselves : on his single head be the curse 
 and the consequence. Harold, called King of England 
 — ^failing the two milder offers of my comrade, thus saith 
 from the lips of his knight (once thy guest, thy admirer, 
 and friend), thus saith William the Norman : — 'Though 
 sixty thousand warriors under the banner of the Apostle 
 wait at his beck (and from what I see of thy force, thou 
 canst marshal to thy guilty side scarce a third of the 
 number), yet will Count William lay aside all advantage, 
 save what dwells in strong arm and good cause; and 
 here, in presence of thy thegns, I challenge thee, in hia 
 name, to decide the sway of this realm by single battle. 
 On horse and in mail, with sword and with spear, knight 
 
 11. — 26 
 
302 HAROLD. 
 
 to knight, man to man, wilt thou meet William the Nor- 
 man ?" 
 
 Befoie Harold could reply, and listen to the first im- 
 pulse of a valor, which his worst Norman maligner, in 
 the after day of triumphant calumny, never so lied as to 
 impugn, the thegns themselves, almost with one voice 
 took up the reply. 
 
 " No strife between a man and a man shall decide the 
 liberties of thousands 1 " 
 
 "Never!" exclaimed Gurth. "It were an insult to 
 the whole people to regard this as a strife between two 
 chiefs — which should wear a crown. When the invader 
 is in our land, the war is with a nation, not a king. And, 
 by the very oflFer, this Norman count (who cannot even 
 speak our tongue) shows how little he knows of the laws, 
 by which, under our native kings, we have all as great 
 an interest as a king himself in our fatherland.'' 
 
 " Thou hast heard the answer of Eng-land from those 
 lips, Sire de Graville," said Harold : " mine but repeat 
 and sanction it. I will not give the crown to William 
 in lieu for disgrace and an earldom. I will not abide by 
 the arbitrement of a pope who has dared to afBx a curse 
 upon freedom. I will not so violate the principle which 
 in these realms knits king and people, as to arrogate to 
 my single arm the right to dispose of the birthright of 
 the living, and their races unborn ; nor will I deprive the 
 meanest soldier under my banner of the joy and the glory 
 to fight for his native land. If William seek me he shall 
 find me where war is the fiercest, where the corpses of 
 
HAROLD. 303 
 
 his men lie the thickest on the plains, defending this 
 standard or rushing on his own. And so, not monk and 
 pope, but God in his wisdom, adjudge between us 1 " 
 
 " So be it," said Mallet de Graville, solemnly, and his 
 helmet reclosed over his face. " Look to it, recreant 
 knight, perjured Christian, and usurping king I The 
 bones of the dead fight against thee." 
 
 "And the fleshless hands of the saints marshal the hosts 
 of the living," said the monk. 
 
 And so the. messengers turned, without obeisance or 
 salute, and strode silently away. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 The rest of that day and the whole of the next were 
 consumed by both armaments in the completion of their 
 preparations. 
 
 William was willing to delay the engagement as long 
 as he could ; for he was not without hope that Harold 
 might abandon his formidable position and become the 
 assailing party ; and, moreover, he wished to have full 
 time for his prelates and priests to inflame to the utmost, 
 by their representations of William's moderation in his 
 embassy and Harold's presumptuous guilt in rejection, 
 the fiery fanaticism of all enlisted under the gonfanon of 
 the Church. 
 
 On the other hand, every delay was of advantage to 
 
304 H A R li r 
 
 Harold, in giving him leisure to render his entrenchmcnta 
 yet more effectual, and to allow time for such reinforce- 
 ments as his orders had enjoined or the patriotism of the 
 country might arouse ; but alas I those reinforcements 
 were scanty and insignificant ; a few stragglers in the 
 immediate neighborhood arrived, but no aid came from 
 London, no indignant country poured forth i swarming 
 population. In fact, the very fame of Harold and the 
 good fortune that had hitherto attended his arms, con- 
 tributed to the stupid lethargy of the people. That he 
 who had just subdued the terrible Norsemen, with the 
 mighty Hardrada at their head, should succumb to those 
 dainty " Frenchmen," as they chose to call the Normans ; 
 of whom, in their insular ignorance of the continent, they 
 knew but little, and whom they had seen flying in all direc- 
 tions at the return of Godwin ; was a preposterous de- 
 mand on the imagination. 
 
 Nor was this all : in London there had already formed 
 a cabal in favor of the Atheling. The claims of birth 
 can never be so wholly set aside but what even for the 
 most unworthy heir of an ancient line, some adherents 
 will be found. The prudent traders thought it best not 
 to engage actively on behalf of the reigning king, in his 
 present combat with the Norman pretender; a large 
 number of would-be statesmen thought it best for the 
 country to remain for the present neutral. Grant the 
 worst — grant that Harold were defeated or slain ; would 
 it not be wise to reserve their strength to support the 
 Atheling ? William might have some personal cause of 
 
H A K L D . 305 
 
 quatrel against Harold, but he could have none against 
 Edgar ; he might depose the son of Godwin, but could 
 he dare to depose the descendant of Cerdic, the natural 
 heir of Edward ? There is reason to think that Stigand 
 and a large party of the Saxon Churchmen headed (his 
 faction. 
 
 But the main causes for defection were not in adherence 
 to one chief or to another. They were to be found in 
 selfish inertness, in stubborn conceit, in the long peace, 
 and the enervate superstition which had relaxed the sinews 
 of the old Saxon manhood ; in that indifference to things 
 ancient, which contempt for old names and races engen- 
 dered ; that timorous spirit of calculation, which the over- 
 regard for wealth had fostered ; which made men averse 
 to leave trade and farm for the perils of the field and 
 jeopard their- possessions if the foreigner should pre- 
 vail. 
 
 Accustomed already to kings of a foreign race and 
 having fared well under Canute, there were many who 
 said, " What matters who sits on the throne ? the king 
 mast be equally bouild by our laws." Then too was 
 heard the favorite argument of all slothful minds : " Time 
 enough yet ; one battle lost is not England won. Maixy, 
 we shall turn out fast eno' if Harold be beaten." 
 
 Add. to all these causes for apathy and desertion, the 
 haughty jealousies of the several populations not yet 
 wholly fused into one empire. The Northumbrian Danes, 
 nntaught even by their recent escape froin the Norwegian, 
 regarded with ungrateful coldness a war limited at pre- 
 26* 2t 
 
306 HAROLD. 
 
 sent to the southern coasts ; and the vast territory under 
 Mercia was, with more excuse, equally supine ; while their 
 two young earls, too new in their command to have much 
 sway with their subject populations had they been in their 
 capitals, had now arrived in London ; and there lingered, 
 making head, doubtless, against the intrigues in favor of 
 the Atheling : — so little had Harold's marriage with 
 Aldyth brought him, at the hour of his dreadest need, 
 the power for which happiness had been resigned 1 
 
 Nor must we put out of account, in summing the causes 
 which at this awful crisis weakened the arm of England, 
 the curse of slavery amongst the theowes, which left the 
 lowest part of the population wholly without interest in 
 the defence of the land. Too late — too late for all but 
 unavailable slaughter, the spirit of the country rose 
 amidst the violated pledges, but under the iron heel of 
 the Norman master 1 Had that spirit put forth all its 
 might for one day with Harold, where had been the cen- 
 turies of bondage ! Oh, shame to the absent ! All blessed 
 those present I There was no hope for England out of 
 the scanty lines of the immortal army encamped on the 
 field of Hastings. There, long on earth and vain vaunts 
 of poor pride, shall be kept the roll of the robber invaders. 
 In what roll are your names, holy heroes of the soil ? 
 Yes, may the prayer of the virgin queen be registered on 
 high ; and, assoiled of all sin, ghosts of the glorious 
 dead, may ye rise from your graves at the trump of the 
 angel ; and your names, lost on earth, shine radiant and 
 Btainless amidst the hierarchy of heaven 1 
 
HAROLD. 301 
 
 Dull came the shades of evening, and pale through the 
 rolling clouds glimmered the rising stars ; when, — all 
 prepared, all arrayed, — Harold sat with Haco and Gurth, 
 in his tent : and before them stood a man, half French 
 by origin, who had just returned from the Norman camp. 
 
 " So thou didst mingle with the men undiscovered ? " 
 Baid the king. 
 
 " No, not undiscovered, my lord. I fell in with a knight, 
 whose name I have since heard as that of Mallet de Gra- 
 ville, who wilily seemed to believe in what I stated, and 
 who gave me meat and drink, with debonnair courtesy. 
 Then said he abruptly, — ' Spy from Harold, thou hast 
 come to see the strength of the Norman. Thou shalt 
 have thy will — follow me.' Therewith he led me, all 
 startled I own, through the lines ; and, king, I should 
 deem them, indeed countless as the sands, and resistless 
 as the waves, but that, strange as it may seem to thee, I 
 saw more monks than warriors." 
 
 " How I thou jestest I " said Gurth, surprised. 
 
 " No ; for thousands by thousands, they were praying 
 and kneeling ; and their heads were all shaven with the 
 tonsure of priests." 
 
 "Priests are they not," cried Harold, with his calm 
 smile, "but doughty warriors and dauntless knights." 
 
 Then he continued his questions to "the spy ; and his 
 smile vanished at the accounts, not only of the numbers 
 of the force, but their vast provision of missiles, and the 
 almost incredible proportion of their cavalry. 
 
308 HAROLD. 
 
 As soon as the spy had been dismissed, the king turned 
 to his kinsmen. 
 
 " What think you ? " he said ; " shall we judge our- 
 selves of the foe ? The night will be dark anon — our 
 steeds are fleet — and not shod with iron like the Nor- 
 mans ; — the sward noiseless — what think you ?" 
 
 "A merry conceit," cried the blithe Leofwine. "I 
 should like much to see the boar in his den, ere he taste 
 of my spear-point." 
 
 "And I," said Gurth, " do feel so restless a fever in 
 ray veins, that I would fain cool it by the night air. Let 
 us go : I know all the ways of the country ; for hither 
 have I come often with hawk and hound. But let us 
 wait yet till the night is more hushed and deep." 
 
 The clouds had gathered over the whole surface of the 
 skies, and there hung sullen ; and the mists were cold 
 and grey on the lower grounds, when the four Saxon 
 chiefs set forth on their secret and perilous enterprise. 
 
 "Knights and riders took they none. 
 Squires and varlets of foot not one ; 
 All unarmed of weapon and weed, 
 Save the shield, and spear, and the sword at need."* 
 
 Passing their own sentinels, they entered a wood, 
 durth leading the way, and catching glimpses, through 
 
 * " Ne meinent od els chevalier, 
 Varlet k pie ne eskuier 
 Ne nul d'els n'a armes portee, 
 Forz sol escu, lanoe, et esp^e." 
 
 Roman de Rou, Second Part, v. 12, X26. 
 
BAROLD. S09 
 
 tlie irregular path, of the blazing lights, that shone red 
 over the pause of the Norman war. 
 
 William had moved on his army to within about two 
 miles from the farthest outpost of the Saxon, and con- 
 tracted his lines into compact space ; the reconnoiterera 
 were thus enabled, by the light of the links and watch- 
 fires, to form no inaccurate notion of the formidable foe 
 whom the morrow was to meet. The ground * on which 
 they stood was high, and in the deep shadow of the 
 wood ; with one of the large dykes common to the Saxon 
 boundaries in front, so that, even if discovered, a barrier 
 not easily passed lay between them and the foe. 
 
 In regular lines and streets extended huts of branches 
 for the meaner soldiers, leading up, in serried rows but 
 broad vistas, to the tents of the knights, and the gaudier 
 pavilions of the counts and prelates. There, were to'be 
 seen the flags of Bretagne and Anjou, of Burgundy, of 
 Flanders, even the ensign of France, which the volun- 
 teers from that country had assumed ; and right in the 
 midst of this Capital of War, the gorgeous pavilion of 
 William himself, with a dragon of gold before it, sur- 
 mounting the staff, from which blazed the Papal gon- 
 fanon. In every division they heard the anvils of tho 
 armorers, the measured tread of the sentries, the neigh 
 
 * " Ke d'ane augarde' u ils 'estuient 
 Cels de I'ost virent, ki pres furent." 
 
 Roman de Rou, Second I'art, v. 12, 120. 
 
 ' Angarde, eminence. 
 
310 HAROLD. 
 
 and snort of innumerable steeds. And along the lines, 
 between hut and tent, they saw tall shapes passing to and 
 from the forge and smithy, bearing mail, and swords, and 
 shafts. No sound of revel, no laugh of wassail was 
 heard in the consecrated camp ; all was astir, but with 
 the grave and earnest preparations of thoughtful men. 
 A.S the four Saxons halted silent, each might have heard, 
 through the remoter din, the other's painful breathing. 
 
 At length, from two tents, placed to the right and left 
 of the duke's pavilion, there came a sweet tinkling sound, 
 as of deep silver bells. At that note there was an evident 
 and universal commotion throughout the armament. The 
 roar of the hammers ceased ; and, from every green hut 
 and every grey tent, swarmed the host. Now, rows of 
 living men lined the camp-streets, leaving still a free, 
 though narrow passage in the midst. And, by the blaze 
 of more than a thousand torches, the Saxons saw pro- 
 cessions of priests, in their robes and aubes, with censei 
 and rood, coming down the various avenues. As the 
 priests paused, the warriors knelt ; and there was a low 
 murmur as if of confession, and the sign of lifted hands, 
 as if in absolution and blessing. Suddenly, from the out- 
 skirts of the camp, and full in sight, emerged, from one 
 of the cross lanes, Odo of Bayeux himself, in his white 
 TOrplice, and the cross in his right hand. Tea, even to 
 ,he meanest and lowliest soldiers of the armament, whe- 
 ,ber taken from honest craft and peaceful calling, or the 
 outpourings of Europe's ■ sinks and sewers, catamarans 
 from the Alps, and cut-throats from the Rhine, — yea. 
 
HAROLD. 311 
 
 even among the vilest and the meanest, came the anointed 
 brother of the great duke, the haughtiest prelate in 
 Christendom, whose heart even then was fixed on the 
 Pontiff's throne — there he came, to absolve, and to shrive, 
 and to bless. And the red watch-fires streamed on his 
 proud face and spotless robes, as the Children of Wrath 
 knelt around the Delegate of Peace. 
 
 Harold's hand clenched firm on the arm of Gurth, and 
 his old scorn of the monk broke forth in his bitter smile 
 atid his muttered words. But Gurth's face was sad and 
 awed. 
 
 And now, as the huts and the canvas thus gave up the 
 living, they could indeed behold the enormous disparity 
 of numbers with which it was their doom to contend, 
 and, over those numbers, that dread intensity of zeal, 
 that sublimity of fanaticism, which from one end of that 
 war-town to the other, consecrated injustice, gave the 
 heroism of the martyr to ambition, and blended the 
 whisper of lusting avarice with the self-applauses of the 
 saint 1 
 
 Not a word saiid the four Saxons. But as the priestly 
 procession glided to the farther quarters of the armament, 
 as the soldiers in their neighborhood disappeared within 
 their lodgements, and the torches moved from them to 
 the more distant vistas of the camp, like lines of retreat- 
 ing stars, Gurth heaved a heavy sigh, and turned his 
 horse's head from the scene. 
 
 But scarce had they gained, the centre of the wooa, 
 than there rose, as from the heart of the armament, a 
 
312 HAKOLD. 
 
 swell of solemn voices. For the night tad now come to 
 the third watch,* in which, according to the belief of the 
 age, angel and fiend were alike astir, and that church 
 division of time was marked and hallowed by a monastic 
 hymn. 
 
 Inexpressibly grave, solemn, and mournful, came the 
 strain through the drooping boughs, and the heavy dark- 
 ness of the air ; and it continued to thrill in the ears of 
 the riders till they had passed the wood, and the cheerful 
 watch-fires from their own heights broke upon them to 
 guide their way. They rode rapidly, but still in silence, 
 past their sentries ; and, ascending the slopes, where the 
 forces lay thick, how different were the sounds that smote 
 them ! Round the large fires the men grouped in great 
 circles, with the ale-horns and flagons passing merrily 
 from hand to hand ; shouts of drink-hsel and was-hsel, 
 bursts of gay laughter, snatches of old songs, old as the 
 days of Athelstan, — varying, where the Anglo-Danes lay, 
 into the far more animated and kindling poetry of the 
 Pirate North, — still spoke of the heathen time when War 
 was a joy, and Yalhalla was the heaven. 
 
 "By my faith," said Leofwine, brightening, " these are 
 sounds and sights that do a man's heart good, after those 
 doleful ditties, and the long faces of the shavelings. I 
 vow by St. Alban, that I felt my veins curdling into ice- 
 bolts, when that dirge came through the woodholt. Hollo, 
 Sexwolf, my tall man, lift us up that full horn of thine, 
 
 * Miduight. 
 
HAROLD. 313 
 
 and keep thyself within the pins, Master Wassailer ; we 
 must have steady feet and cool heads to-morrow." 
 
 Sexwolf, who, with a band of Harold's Teterans, was 
 at full carousal, started up at the young earl's greetings, 
 and looked lovingly into his smiling face as he reached 
 him the horn. 
 
 " Heed what my brother bids thee, Sexwolf," said 
 Harold, severely ; " the hands that draw shafts against 
 us to-morrow will not tremble with the night's wassail." 
 
 "Nor ours either, my lord the king," said Sexwolf, 
 boldly ; " our heads can bear both drink and blows, — and 
 [sinking his voice into a whisper], the rumor runs that 
 the odds are so against us, that I would not, for all thy 
 fair brothers' earldoms, have our men other than blithe 
 to-night." 
 
 Harold answered not, but moved on, and coming then 
 within full sight of the bold Saxons of Kent, the unmixed 
 sons of the Saxon soil, and the special favorers of the 
 House of Godwin, so affectionate, hearty, and cordial 
 was their joyous shout of his name, that he felt his kingly 
 heart leap within him. Dismounting, he entered the cir- 
 cle, and with the august frankness of a noble chief, nobly 
 popular, gave to all, cheering smile and animated word. 
 That done, he said more gravely : " In less than an hour, 
 all wassail must cease, — my bodes will come round ; and 
 then sound asleep, my brave merry men, and lusty rising 
 with the lark." 
 
 " As you will, as you will, dear our king," cried Vebba, 
 
 II. —21 
 
814 HAROLD. 
 
 as spokesman for the soldiers " Fear ns not — life and 
 death, we are yours." 
 
 " Life and death yours, and freedom's," cried the Kent 
 men. 
 
 Coming now towards the royal tent beside the stand- 
 ard, the discipline was more perfect, and the hush deco- 
 rous. For round that standard were both the special 
 body-guard of the king, and the volunteers from London 
 and Middlesex ; men more intelligent than the bulk of 
 the army, and more gravely aware, therefore, of the might 
 of Norman sword. 
 
 Harold entered his tent, and threw himself on his couch, 
 in deep reverie ; his brothers and Haco watched him si- 
 lently. At length, Gurth approached ; and with a rev- 
 erence rare in the familiar intercourse between the two, 
 knelt at his brother's side, and, taking Harold's hand in 
 his, looked him fall in the face, his eyes moist with tears, 
 and said thus : 
 
 " Oh, Harold 1 never prayer have I asked of thee, thai 
 thou hast not granted : grant me this 1 sorest of all, it 
 may be, to gr nt, but most fitting of all for me to press. 
 Think not, beloved brother, O honored king, think not 
 it is with slighting reverence, that I lay rough hand en 
 the wound deepest at thy heart. But, however surprised 
 or compelled, sure it is that thou didst make oath to Wil- 
 liam, and upon the relics of saints ; avoid this battle, for 
 I see that thought is now within thy soul ; that thought 
 haunted thee in the words of the monk to-day ; in the 
 sight of that awful camp to-night ; — avoid this battle I 
 
HAROLD. 818 
 
 and do not thyself stand in arms against the man to whom 
 the oatti was pledged I " 
 
 " Gurth, Grurth 1 " exclaimed Harold, pale and writhing. 
 
 " We," continued his brother, " we at least have taken 
 no oath, no perjury is charged against us ; vainly the 
 thunders of the Vatican are launched on our heads. Our 
 war is just : we but defend our country. Leave us, then, 
 to fight to-morrow ; thou retire towards London and 
 raise fresh armies ; if we win, the danger is past ; if we 
 lose, thou wilt avenge us. And England is not lost while 
 thou snrvivest." 
 
 " Gurth, Gurth 1 " again exclaimed Harold, in a voice 
 piercing in its pathofi of reproach. 
 
 "Gurth counsels well," said Haco, abruptly; "there 
 can be no doubt of the wisdom of his words. Let the 
 king's kinsmen lead the troops ; let the king himself with 
 his guard hasten to London, and ravage and lay waste 
 the country as he retreats by the way ; * so that even if 
 William beat us, all supplies will fail him ; he will be in 
 a land without forage, and victory here will aid him 
 nought ; for you, my liege, will have a force equal to his 
 own, ere he can march to the gates of London." 
 
 " Faith and troth, the young Haco speaks like a grey- 
 beard ; he hath not lived in Rouen for nought," quoth 
 Leofwine. " Hear him, my Harold, and leave us to shave 
 the Normans yet more closely than the barber hath al- 
 ready shorn." 
 
 * This counsel the Norman chronicler ascribes to Garth, but it in 
 BO at variance with the character of that hero, that it is here as- 
 signed to the unscrupulous intellect of Placo, 
 
S16 HABOLS. 
 
 Harold turned ear and eye to each of the speakers, 
 and as Lcofwine closed, he smiled. 
 
 " Te have chid me well, kinsmen, for a thought that 
 had entered into my mind ere ye spake — — " 
 
 Gurth interrupted the king, and said anxiously — 
 
 "To retreat with the whole army upon London, ana 
 refuse to meet the Norman till with numbers more fairly 
 matched ?" 
 
 " That had been my thought," said Harold, surprised. 
 
 " Such for a moment, too, was mine," said Gurth, sad- 
 ly ; " but it is too late. Such a measure, now, would have 
 all the disgrace of flight, and bring none of the profits of 
 retreat. The ban of the Church would get wind ; our 
 priests, awed and alarmed, might wield it against us ; the 
 whole population would be damped and disheartened ; 
 rivals to the crown might start up ; the realm be divided. 
 No, it is impossible 1 " 
 
 " Impossible," said Harold, calmly. " And if the army 
 cannot retreat, of all men to stand firm, surely it is the 
 captain and the king. I, Gurth, leave others to dare the 
 fate from which I fly 1 /give weight to the impious curse 
 of the pope, by shrinking from its idle blast ! /confirm 
 and ratify the oath, from which all law must absolve me, 
 by forsaking the cause of the land which I purify myself 
 ■when I guard 1 / leave to others the agony of the mar- 
 tyrdom or the glory of the conquest I Gurth, thou art 
 more cruel than the Norman I And I, son of Sweyn, / 
 ravage the land committed to my charge, and despoil the 
 
HAROLD. 811 
 
 fields which I cannot keep I Oh, Haco, that indeed were 
 to be the traitor and the recreant 1 No : whatever the sin 
 of my oath, never will I believe that Heaven can punish 
 millions for the error of one man. Let the bones of the 
 dead war against us ; in life, they were men like our- 
 selves, and no saints in the calendar so holy as the free- 
 men who fight for their hearths and their altars. Nor 
 do I see aught to alarm us even in these grave human 
 odds. We have but to keep fast these entrenchments ; 
 preserve, man by man, our invincible line, and the waves 
 will but split on our rock : ere the sun set to-morrow, we 
 shall see the tide ebb, leaving, as waifs, but the dead of 
 the bafiSed invader." 
 
 " Fare ye well, loving kinsmen ; kiss me, my brothers ; 
 kiss me on the cheek, my Haco. Go now to your tents. 
 Sleep in peace, and wake with the trumpet to the glad- 
 ness of noble war 1 " 
 
 Slowly the earls left the king ; slowest of all the lin- 
 gering Gurth ; and when all were gone, and Harold waa 
 alone, he threw round a rapid, troubled glance, and then, 
 hurrying to the simple imageless crucifix that stood on its 
 pedestal at the farther end of the tent, he fell on his knees, 
 and faltered out, while his breast heaved, and his frame 
 shook with the travail of his passion, — 
 
 " If my sin be beyond a pardon, my oath without re- 
 call, on me, on me, O Lord of Hosts, on me alone the 
 loom I Not on them, not on them — not on England I " 
 
 27* 
 
318 HAROLD. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 On the fourteenth day of October, 1066, the day of St 
 Calixtus, the Norman force was drawn out in battle array. 
 Mass had been said ; Odo and the Bishop of Coutanca 
 had blessed the troops, and received their vow never 
 more to eat flesh on the anniversary of that day. And 
 Odo had mounted his snow-white charger, and already 
 drawn up the cavalry against the coming of his brother 
 the duke. The army was marshalled in three great divi- 
 sions. 
 
 Roger de Montgommeri and William Fitzosborne led 
 the first ; and with them were the forces from Picardy 
 and the countship of Boulogne, and the fiery Franks ; 
 Geoffric Martel and the German Hugues (a prince of 
 fame) ; Aimeri, Lord of Thouars, and the sons of Alain 
 Fergant, Duke of Bretagne, led the second, which com- 
 prised the main bulk of the allies from Bretagne, and 
 Maine, and Poitou. Bat both these divisions were inter- 
 mixed with Normans, under their own special Norman 
 chiefs. 
 
 The third section embraced the flower of martial Eu- 
 rope, the most renowned of the Norman race ; whether 
 those knights bore the French titles into which their 
 ancestral Scandinavian names had been transformed — 
 Sires of Beaufou and Harcourt, Abbeville, and Dc Molun, 
 
HAROLD. 819 
 
 Montfichet, Grantmesnil, Lacie, D'Aincourt, and D'Aa- 
 nieres ; — or whether still preserving, amidst their daintier 
 titles, the old names that had scattered dismay through 
 the seas of the Baltic ; Osborne and Tonstain, Mallet 
 and Bnlver, Brand and Bruse.* And over this divisioa 
 presided Duke William. Here was the main body of the 
 matchless cavalry, to which, however, orders were given 
 to support either of the other sections, as need might 
 demand. And with this body were also the reserve. For 
 it is curious to notice, that William's strategy resembled 
 in much that of the last great Invader of Nations — rely- 
 ing first upon the effect of the charge ; secondly, upon a 
 vast reserve brought to bear at the exact moment on the 
 weakest point of the foe. 
 
 All the horsemen were in complete link or net mail,f 
 armed with spears and strong swords, and long, pear- 
 shaped shields, with the device either of a cross or a 
 
 * Osborne — (Asbiorn), — one of the most common of Danish and 
 Norwegian names. Tonstain, Toustain, or Tostain, the same as 
 Tosti, or Tostig, — Danish. (Harold's brother is called Tostain or 
 Toustain in the Norman chronicles.) Brand, a name common to 
 Dane and Norwegian — Bulmer is a Norwegian name, and so is Bul- 
 vcr, or Bolvar — which is, indeed, so purely Scandinavian, that it is 
 one. of the warlike names given to Odin himself by the North-scalds. 
 Bulverhithe still commemorates the landing of a Norwegian son of 
 the war-god. Bruce, the ancestor of the deathless Scot, also bears 
 in that name, more illustrious than all, the proof of his Scandina- 
 vian birth. 
 
 ■f This mail appears in that age to have been sewn upon linen or 
 cloth. In the later age of the crusaders, it was more artful, and 
 the links supported each other, without being attached to any other 
 material. 
 
320 HAROID. 
 
 dragon.* The archers, on whom William greatly relied, 
 were numerous in all three of the corps, •}• were armed 
 more lightly — helms on their heads, but with leather or 
 quilted breast-plates, and " panels," or gaiters, for the 
 lower limbs. 
 
 But before the chiefs and captains rode to their several 
 j.osts, they assembled round William, whom Fitzosborne 
 had called betimes, and who had not yet endured his 
 heavy mail, that all men might see suspended from his 
 throat certain relics chosen out of those on which Harold 
 had pledged his fatal oath. Standing on an eminence iu 
 front of all his lines, the consecrated banner behind him, 
 and Bayard, his Spanish destrier, held by his squires at 
 his side, the duke conversed cheerily with his barons, 
 often pointing to the relics. Then, in sight of all, he 
 put on his mail, and, by the haste of the squires, the 
 back-piece was presented to him first. The superstitious 
 Normans recoiled as at an evil omen. 
 
 "Tut!" said the ready chief; "not in omens and 
 divinations, but in God, trust 1 1 Yet, good omen indeed 
 is this, and one that may give heart to the most doubt- 
 ful ; for it betokens that the last shall be first — the duke- 
 dom a kingdom — the count a king ! Ho there, Rotr de 
 Terni, as hereditary standard-bearer take thy right, and 
 hold fast to yon holy gonfanon." 
 
 "Grant Merci," said De Terni, "not to-day shall a 
 
 * Bayeux tapestry. 
 
 f The cross-bow is not to be seen in the Bayeux tapestry — the 
 Norman bows are not long. 
 
HAROLD 321 
 
 standard be borne by me, for I shall have need of my 
 right arm for my sword, and my left for my charger's 
 rein and my trusty shield." 
 
 " Thou sayst right, and we can ill spare such a warrior. 
 Gautier Griffart, Sire de LongueTille, to thee is the gon- 
 fanon." 
 
 "Beau Sire," answered Gautier-; "par Bex, Merci 
 But my head is grey and my arm weak ; and the little 
 strength left me I would spend in smiting the English at 
 the head of my men." 
 
 "Per la resplendar D&" cried William, frowning ; — 
 "do ye think, my proud vavasours, to fail me in this great 
 need?" 
 
 " Nay," said Gautier ; " but I have a great host of 
 chevaliers and paid soldiers, and without the old man at 
 their head will they fight as well?" 
 
 " Then, approach thou, Tostain le Blanc, son of Ron," 
 said William ; " and be thine the charge of a standard 
 that shall wave ere nightfall over the brows of thy — 
 king ! " A young knight, tall and strong as his Danish 
 ancestor, stepped forth and laid gripe on the banner. 
 
 Then William, now completely armed, save his helmet, 
 sprang at one bound on his steed. A shout of admira- 
 tion rang from the qnens and knights. 
 
 " Saw ye ever such beau rei?"* said the Vicomte de 
 Thouars. 
 
 The shout was caught by the lines, and echoed far, 
 
 * Boman de Bou. 
 27 • 2u 
 
322 HAROLD. 
 
 wide, and deep through the armament, as in all hia 
 singular majesty of brow and mien, William rode forth : 
 lifting his hand, the shout hushed, and thus he spoke 
 "load as a trumpet with a silver sound:" — 
 
 "Normans and soldiers, long hallowed in the lips of 
 men and now hallowed by the blessing of the Church 1 — 
 I have not brought you over the wide sea for my cause 
 alone ; — what I gain ye gain. If I take the land, you 
 will share it. Fight your best, and spare not ; — no re- 
 treat and no quarter 1 I am not come here for my cause 
 alone, but to avenge our whole nation for the felonies of 
 yonder English. They butchered our kinsmen the Danes^ 
 on the night of St. Brice ; they murdered Alfred, the 
 brother of their last king, and decimated the Normans 
 who were with him. Yonder they stand, — malefactors 
 that await their doom 1 and ye the doomsmen ? Never, 
 even in a good cause, were yon English illustrious for 
 warlike temper and martial glory.* Eemember how 
 easily the Danes subdued them ! Are ye less than Danes, 
 or I than Canute ? By victory ye obtain vengeance, 
 glory, honors, lands, spoil, — ay, spoil beyond your 
 wildest dreams. By defeat, — yea even but by loss of 
 ground, ye are given up to the sword I Escape there is 
 not, for the ships are useless. Before you the foe, behind 
 you the ocean I Normans, remember the feats of your 
 countrymen in Sicily I Behold a Sicily more rich 1 Lord- 
 ships and lands to the living, — glory and salvation to 
 
 * William of Poitiers. 
 
HAEOLD. 323 
 
 those who die under the gonfanon of the Church ! On 
 to the cry of the Norman warrior ; the cry before which 
 have fled so often the prowest Paladins of Burgundy and 
 France — 'Noire Dame et Dex aide / ' " * 
 
 Meanwhile, no less vigilant, and in his own strategy 
 no less skilful, Harold had marshalled his men. He 
 formed two divisions ; those in front of the entrench- 
 ments, those within it. At the first the men of Kent, as 
 from time immemorial, claimed the honor of the van, 
 under "the Pale Charger," — famous banner of Hengist. 
 This force was drawn up in the form of the Anglo-Danish 
 wedge ; the foremost lines in the triangle all in heavy 
 mail, armed with their great axes and covered by their 
 immense shields. Behind these lines, in the interior of 
 the wedge, were the archers, protected by the front rows 
 of the heavy-armed ; while the few horsemen — few indeed 
 compared with the Norman cavalry — were artfully dis- 
 posed where they could best harass and distract the 
 formidable chivalry with which they were instructed to 
 Bkirmish and not peril actual encounter. Other bodies 
 of the light-armed ; slingers, javelin throwers, and archers, 
 were planted in spots carefully selected, according as they 
 were protected by trees, brush-wood, and dykes. The 
 Noi ^/humbrians (that is, all the warlike population north 
 the Humber, including Yorkshire, Westmoreland, Cum- 
 ber) md, &c.) were, for their present shame and future 
 rulo, absent from the field, save, indeed, a few who had 
 I'oif id Harold in his march to London. But there were 
 
 * J)ieu nous aide 
 
6)ii HAROLD. 
 
 the mixed races of Hertfordshire and Essex, with the 
 pure Saxons of Sussex and Surrey, and a large body of 
 the sturdy Anglo-Danes from Lincolnshire, Ely, and 
 Norfolk. Men, too, there were, half of old British blood, 
 from Dorset, Somerset, and Gloucester. 
 
 And all were marshalled according to those touching 
 and pathetic tactics which speak of a nation more accus- 
 tomed to defend than to aggrieve. To that field the 
 head of each family led his sons and kinsfolk ; every ten 
 families (or tything) were united under their own chosen 
 captain. Every ten of these tythings had again some 
 loftier chief, dear to the populace in peace ; and so on 
 the holy circle spread from household, hamlet, town, — 
 till, all combined, as one country under one earl, the 
 warriors fought under the eyes of their own kinsfolk, 
 friends, neighbors, chosen chiefs ! What wonder that 
 they were brave ? 
 
 The second division comprised Harold's house-carles, 
 or body-guard, — the veterans especially attached to his 
 family, — the companions of his successful wars, — a select 
 band of the martial Bast-Anglians, — the soldiers sup- 
 plied by London and Middlesex, and who, both in arms, 
 discipline, martial temper, and athletic habits, ranked 
 high among the most stalwart of the troops, mixed as 
 their descent was, from the warlike Dane and the sturdy 
 Saxon. In this division, too, was comprised the reserve. 
 And it was all encompassed by the palisades and breast- 
 works, to which were but three sorties whence the de- 
 fenders might sally, or through which at need the van 
 
HAROLD. 325 
 
 guard might secure a retreat. All the heavy-armv/l had 
 mail and shields similar to the Normans, though gome 
 what less heavy ; the light-armed had some tun'os of 
 quilted linen, some of hide ; helmets of the last material, 
 spears, javelins, swords, and clubs. But the main arm 
 of the host was in the great shield and the great axe 
 melded by men larger in stature and stronger of muscle 
 than the majority of the Normans, whose physical raco 
 had deteriorated partly by intermarriage with the mc.*e 
 delicate Frank, partly by the haughty disdain of foot- 
 exercise. 
 
 Mounting a Swift and light steed, intended not for 
 encounter (for it was the custom of English kings to 
 fight on foot, in token that where they fought there was 
 no retreat), but to bear the rider rapidly from line to 
 line,* King Harold rode to the front of the van guard ; 
 — his brothers by his side. His head, like his great foe's, 
 was bare, nor could there be a more striking contrast 
 than that of the broad uuwrinkled brow of the Saxon, 
 with his fair locks, the sign of royalty and freedom, parted 
 and falling over the collar of mail, the clear and stead- 
 fiist eye of blue, the cheek somewhat hollowed by kingly 
 cares, but flushed now with manly pride — the form stal- 
 wart and erect, but spare in its graceful symmetry, and 
 void of all that theatric pomp of bearing which was 
 assumed by William — no greater contrast could there be 
 
 * Thus, when at the battle of Baruet, Earl Warwick, the king- 
 maker, slew his horse and fonght on foot, he followed the old 
 traditional custom of Saxon chiefs. 
 II.— 28 
 
326 HAEOLD. 
 
 than that which the simple, earnest hero-king presented 
 to the brow furrowed with harsh ire and politic wile, the 
 shaven hair of monastic affectation, the darli, sparkling 
 tiger eye, and the vast proportions that awed the gaze 
 in the port and form of the imperious Norman. Deep 
 and loud and hearty as the shout with which his arma- 
 ments had welcomed William, was that which now greeted 
 the king of the English host : and clear and full and prac- 
 tised in the storm of popular assemblies, went his voice 
 down the listening lines. 
 
 " This day, friends and Englishmen, sons of our 
 common land— this day ye fight for liberty. The count 
 of the Normans hath, I know, a mighty army ; I dis- 
 guise not its strength. That army he hath collected 
 together, by promising to each man a share in the spoils 
 of England. Already, in his court and his camp, he 
 hath parcelled out the lands of this kingdom ; and fierce 
 are the robbers who fight for the hope of plunder I Bnt 
 he cannot offer to his greatest chief boons nobler than 
 those I offer to my meanest freeman — liberty, and right, 
 and law, in the soil of his fathers I Ye have heard of 
 the miseries endured in the old time under the Dane, but 
 they were slight indeed to those which ye may expect 
 from the Norman. The Dane was kindred to us in lan- 
 guage and in law, and who now can tell Saxon from 
 Dane ? But yon men would rule ye in a language ye 
 know not, by a law that claims th'e crown as the right 
 of the sword, and divides the land among the hirelings 
 of an army. We baptized the Dane^ and the Church 
 
HAROLD. 827 
 
 tamed his fierce soul into peace ; but yon men make the 
 Church itself their ally, and march to carnage under the 
 banner profaned to the foulest of human wrongs 1 Out- 
 Bcourings of all nations, they come against you ! Ye 
 fight as brothers under the eyes of your fathers and 
 chosen chiefs ; ye fight for the women ye would save from 
 the ravisher ; ye fight for the children ye would guard 
 from eternal bondage ; ye fight for the altars which yon 
 banner now darkens 1 Foreign priest is a tyrant as ruth- 
 less and stern as ye shall find foreign baron and king I 
 Let no man dream of retreat; every inch of ground that 
 ye yield is the soil of your native land. For me, on this 
 field I peril all. Think that mine eye is upon you wher- 
 ever ye are. If a line waver or shrink, ye shall hear in 
 the midst the voice of your king. Hold fast to your 
 ranks, remember, such amongst you as fought with me 
 against Hardrada, — remember that it was not till the 
 Norsemen lost, by rash sallies, their serried array, that 
 our arms prevailed against them. Be warned by their 
 fatal error, break not the form of the battle ; and I tell 
 you on the faith of a soldier who never yet hath left field 
 without victory, — that ye cannot be beaten. While I 
 speak, the winds swell the sails of the Norse ships, bear- 
 ing home the corpse of Hardrada. Accomplish this day 
 the last triumph of England ; add to these hills a new 
 mount of the conquered dead ! And when, in far times 
 and strange lands, scald and scop shall praise the brave 
 man for some valiant deed wrought in some holy cause, 
 tney shall say, ' He was brave as those who fought by the 
 
328 HAROLD. 
 
 Bide of Harold, an.i swept from the sward of England the 
 hosts of the haughty Norman.'" 
 
 Scarcely had the rapturous hurrahs of the Saxons 
 closed on this speech, when full in sight, north-west cf 
 Hastings, came the first division of the invader. 
 
 Harold remained gazing at them, and not seeing the 
 other sections in movement, said to Gurth, " If these are 
 all that they venture out, the day is ours." 
 
 " Look yonder 1 " said the sombre Haco, and he pointed 
 to the long array that now gleamed from the wood through 
 which the Saxon kinsmen had passed the night before ; 
 and scarcely were these cohorts in view, than lo 1 from a, 
 third quarter advanced the glittering knighthood under 
 the duke. All three divisions came on in simultaneous 
 assault, two on either wing of the Saxon vanguard, the 
 third (the Norman) towards the entrenchments. 
 
 In the midst of the duke's cohort was the sacred gon- 
 fanon, and in front of it and of the whole line, rode a 
 strange warrior of gigantic height. And as he rode, the 
 warrior sang, — 
 
 "Chanting loud the lusty strain 
 Of Roland and of Charlemain, 
 And the dead, who, deathless all, 
 Fell at famous Roncesval." * 
 
 * Devant li Dus alout cantant 
 De Karlemaine fe de RoUant, 
 Ed 'Olever e dea Vassalls 
 Ki morurent en Ronchevals. 
 
 Roman de Rou, Part ii. 1. 13, 151. 
 Much researeli has been made by French antiquaries, to discovei 
 the old Chant de Rolaad, but in vain. 
 
HABOLD. 329 
 
 And the knights, no longer singing hymn and litany, 
 swelled, hoarse through their helmets, the martial chorus. 
 This warrior, in front of the duke and the horsemen, 
 seemed beside himself with the joy of battle. As he rode, 
 and as he chanted, he threw up his sword in the air like 
 a gleeman, catching it nimbly as it fell,* and flourishing 
 it wildly, till, as if unable to restrain his fierce exhilara- 
 tion, he fairly put spurs to his horse, and, dashing for- 
 ward to the very fi'ont of a detachment of Saxon riders, 
 shouted, — 
 
 "A Taillefer 1 a Taillefer I " and by voice and gesture 
 challenged forth some one to single combat. 
 
 A fiery young thegn who knew the Romance tongue, 
 started forth and crossed swords with the poet ; but by 
 what seemed rather a juggler's sleight of hand than a 
 knight's fair fence, Taillefer, again throwing up and catch- 
 ing his sword with incredible rapidity, shore the unhappy 
 Saxon from the helm to the chine, and riding over his 
 corpse, shouting and laughing, he again renewed his chal- 
 lenge. A second rode forth and shared the same fate. 
 The rest of the English horsemen stared at each other 
 aghast ; the shouting, singing, juggling giant seemed to 
 them not knight, but demon ; and that single incident 
 preliminary to all other battle, in sight of the whole field, 
 mio-ht have sufBced to damp the ardor of the English, 
 had not Leofwine, who had been despatched by the king 
 with a message to the entrenchments, come in front of the 
 
 * W. PiCT. Chron. de Nor 
 28* 
 
330 HAROLD. 
 
 detacliment ; and his gay spirit, roused and stnng by the 
 insolence of the Norman, and the evident dismay of the 
 Saxon riders, without thought of his graver duties, he 
 spurred his light half-mailed steed to the Norman giant ; 
 and, not even drawing his sword, but with his spear raised 
 over his head, and his form covered by his shield, he cried 
 In Romance tongue, " Go and chant to the foul fiend, O 
 croaking minstrel 1 " Taillefer rushed forward, his sword 
 shivered on the Saxon shield, and in the same moment he 
 fell a corpse under the hoofs of his steed, transfixed by 
 the Saxon spear. 
 
 A cry of woe, in. which even William (who proud of 
 his poet's achievements, had pressed to the foremost line 
 to see this new encounter) joined his deep voice, wailed 
 through the Norman ranks ; while Leofwine rode de- 
 liberately towards them, halted a moment, and then flung 
 his spear into the midst with so deadly an aim, that a 
 young knight, within two of William, reeled on his sad- 
 dle, groaned, and fell. 
 
 " How like ye, O Normans, the Saxon gleemen ?" said 
 Leofwine, as he turned slowly, regained the detachment, 
 and bade them heed carefully the orders they had received, 
 viz., to avoid the direct charge of the Norman horse, but 
 to take every occasion to harass and divert the stragglers ; 
 and then blithely singing a Saxon stave, as if inspired by 
 Norman minstrelsy, he rode into the entrenchmeots. 
 
HA£OLD. 331 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TuE two brethren of Waltham, Osgood and Ailred, 
 had arrived a little after daybreak at the spot in which, 
 about half a mile to the rear of Harold's palisades, the 
 beasts of burden that had borne the heavy arms, missiles, 
 luggage, and forage of the Saxon march, were placed in 
 and about the fenced yards of a farm. And many human 
 beings, of both sexes and various ranks, were there as- 
 sembled, some in breathless expectation, some in careless 
 talk, some in fervent prayer. 
 
 The master of the farm, his sons, and the able-bodied 
 ceorls in his employ, had joined the forces of the king, 
 under Gurth, as earl of the county.* But many aged 
 theowes, past military service, andyoung children, grouped 
 around : the first, stolid and indifferent — the last, prat- 
 tling, curious, lively, gay. There, too, were the wives of 
 some of the soldiers, who, as common in Saxon expe- 
 ditions, had followed their husbands to the field ; and 
 there, too, were the ladies of many a Hlaford in the neigh- 
 boring district, who, no less true to their mates than the 
 
 * For, as Sir F. Palgrave shrewdly conjectures, upon the dis- 
 memberment of the vast earldom of Wessex, on Harold's accession 
 to the throne, that portion of it comprising Sussex (the old govern- 
 ment of his grandfather Wolnoth), seems to ha-pe been assigned to 
 Gurth. 
 
33a HAROLD. 
 
 wives of humbler men, wore drawn by their English heart* 
 to the fatal spot. A small wooden chapel, half-decayed, 
 stood a little behind, with its doors wide open, a sanc- 
 tuary in case of need ; and the interior was thronged 
 with kneeling suppliants. 
 
 The two monks joined, with pious gladness, some of 
 their sacred calling, who were leaning over the low wall, 
 and straining their eyes towards the bristling field. A 
 little apart from them, and from all, stood a female ; the 
 hood drawn over her face, silent in her unknown thoughts. 
 
 By and by, as the march of the Norman multitude 
 sounded hollow, and the trumps, and the fifes, and the 
 shouts rolled on through the air, in many a stormy peal, 
 — the two abbots in the Saxon camp, with their attend- 
 ant monks, came riding towards the farm from the en- 
 trenchments. 
 
 The groups gathered round these new comers in haste 
 and eagerness. 
 
 " The battle hath begun," said the abbot of Hide, 
 gravely. " Pray God for England, for never was it3 
 people in peril so great from man." 
 
 The female started and shuddered at those words. 
 
 "And the king, the king," she cried, in a sudden and 
 thrilling voice; "where is he? — the king?" 
 
 " Daughter," said the abbot, " the king's post is by his 
 standard ; but I left him in the van of his troops. Where 
 he may be now, I know not. Wherever the foe presses 
 sorest." 
 
 Then dismounting, the abbots entered the yard, to be 
 
^ABOLD. 333 
 
 accosted instantly bj all the wives, who deemed, poor 
 souls, that the holy men must, throughout all the field, 
 have seen their lords ; for each felt as if God's world hung 
 but on the single life in which each pale trembler lived. 
 
 With all their faults of ignorance and superstition, the 
 Saxon churchmen loved their flocks ; and the good abbots 
 gave what comfort was in their power, and then passed 
 into the chapel, where all who could find room followed 
 them. 
 
 The war now raged. 
 
 The two divisions of the invading army that included 
 the auxiliaries, had sought in vain to surround the Eng- 
 lish vanguard, and take it in the rear : that noble pha- 
 lanx had no rear. Deepest and strongest at the base of 
 the triangle, everywhere a front opposed the foe ; shields 
 formed a rampart against the dart — spears a palisade 
 against the horse. While that vanguard maintained its 
 ground, William could not pierce to the entrenchments, 
 the strength of which, however, he was enabled to per- 
 ceive. He now changed his tactics, joined his knighthood 
 to the other sections, threw his hosts rapidly into many 
 wings, and leaving broad spaces between his archers — 
 who continued their fiery hail — ordered his heavy-armed 
 foot to advance on all sides upon the wedge, and break 
 its ranks for the awaiting charge of his horse. 
 
 Harold, still in the centre of the vanguard, amidst the 
 men of Kent, continued to animate them all with voice 
 and hand ; and, as the Normans now closed in, he flung 
 
834 HAROLD. 
 
 himself from his steed, and strode on foot, with his mighty 
 battle-axe, to the spot where the rush was dreadest. 
 
 "Now came the shock — the fight hand to hand : spear 
 and lance were thrown aside, axe and sword rose and 
 Rhore. But before the close-serried lines of the English, 
 with their physical strength, and yeteran practice in their 
 own special arm, the Norman foot were mowed as by the 
 scythe. In vain, in the intervals, thundered the repeated 
 charges of the fiery knights; in vain, — throughout all, 
 came the shaft and the bolt. 
 
 Animated by the presenee of their king, fighting 
 amongst them as a simple soldier, but with his eye ever 
 quick to foresee, his voice ever prompt to warn, the men 
 of Kent swerved not a foot from their indomitable ranks. 
 The Norman infantry wavered and gave way ; on, step 
 by step, still unbroken in array, pressed the English. 
 And their cry, " Out 1 out I Holy Crosse I " rose high 
 above the flagging sound of " Ha Ecu 1 Ha Ron 1 — ■ 
 Notre Dame 1 " „j. 
 
 " Per la resplendar De," cried William. " Our sot- 
 diers are but women in the garb of Normans. Ho, spears 
 to the rescue I With me to the charge. Sires D'Aumale 
 and De Littain — with me, gallant Bruse and De Mor- 
 tain ; with me, De Graville and Grantmesnil — Dex aide ! 
 Notre Dame." And heading his prowest knights, Wil- 
 liam came, as a thunderbolt, on the bills and shields. 
 Harold, who scarce a minute before had been in a remo- 
 ter rank, was already at the brunt of that charge. At 
 his word down knelt the foremost line, leaving nought 
 
HAROLD. 335 
 
 but their shields and their spear-points against the horse. 
 While behind them, the axe in both hands, bent forward 
 the soldiery in the second rank, to smite and to crush. 
 And, from the core of the wedge, poured the shafts of 
 the archers. Down rolled in the dust half the charge of 
 those knights. Bruse reeled on his saddle ; the dread 
 right-hand of D'Aumale fell lopped by the axe ; De Gra- 
 ville, hurled from his horse, rolled at the feet of Harold ; 
 and William, borne by his great steed and his colossal 
 strength into the third rank — there dealt, right and left, 
 the fierce strokes of his iron club, till he felt his horso 
 sinking under him — and had scarcely time to back from 
 the foe — scarcely time to get beyond reach of their wea- 
 pons, ere the Spanish destrier, frightfully gashed through 
 its strong mail, fell dead on the plain. His knights 
 swept round him. Twenty barons leapt from selle to 
 yield him their chargers. He chose the one nearest to 
 hand, sprang to foot and to stirrup, and rode back to his 
 lines Meanwhile De Grraville's casque, its strings broken 
 by the shock, had fallen off, and as Harold was about to 
 strike, he recognized his guest. 
 
 Holding up his hand to keep off the press of his men, 
 the generous king said briefly — " Rise and retreat ! — no 
 time on this field for captor and captive. He whom thon 
 hast called recreant knight, has been Saxon host. Thou 
 hast fought by his side, thon shalt not die by his hand I 
 — Go." 
 
 Not a word spoke De Graville ; but his dark eye dwel. 
 one minute with mingled pity and reverence on the king ; 
 
336 HAROLD. 
 
 then rising, he turned away ; and slowly, as if he dia- , 
 dained to fly, strode back over the corpses of his coun- 
 trymen. 
 
 " Stay, all hands 1 " cried the king to his archers ; " yon 
 man hath tasted our salt, and done us good service of 
 old. He hath paid his weregeld." 
 
 Not a shaft was discharged. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Norman infantry, who had been before 
 recoiling, no sooner saw their duke (whom they recog- 
 nized by his steed and equipment) fall on the ground, 
 than, setting up a shout — "The duke is dead!" they 
 fairly turned round, and fled fast in disorder. 
 
 The fortune of the day was now well-nigh turned in 
 favor of the Saxons ; and the confusion of the Normans, 
 as the cry of " The duke is dead 1 " reached, and circled 
 round, the host, would have been irrecoverable, had Ha- 
 rold possessed a cavalry fit to press the advantage gained, 
 or had not William himself rushed into the midst of the 
 fugitives, throwing his helmet back on his neck, showing 
 his face, all animated with fierce valor and disdainful 
 wrath, while he cried aloud — 
 
 "I live, ye varlets 1 Behold the face of a chief who 
 never yet forgave coward ! Ay, tremble more at me than 
 at yon English, doomed and accursed as they be 1 Ye 
 Normans, ye 1 I blush for you I " and striking the fore- 
 most in the retreat with the flat of his sword, chiding, 
 stimulating, threatening, promising in a breath, he suc- 
 ceeded in staying the flight, re-forming the lines, and dis- 
 pelling the general panic. Then, as he joined his own 
 
BABOLD. 831 
 
 chosen knights, and surveyed the field, he beheld an open- 
 ing which the advanced position of the Saxon vanguard 
 had left, and by which his knights might gain the en- 
 trenchments. He mused a moment, his face still bare, 
 and brightening as he mused. Looking round him, he 
 saw Mallet de Graville, who had remounted, and said 
 shortly, 
 
 "Pardex, dear knight, we thought you already with 
 St. Michael I joy, that you live yet to be an English earl. 
 Look you, ride to Fitzosborne with the signal-word, 'Li 
 Hardiz passent avant." Off, and quick." 
 ■ De Graville bowed, and darted across the plain. 
 
 "Now, my quens and chevaliers," said William, gaily, 
 as he closed his helmet, and took from his squire another 
 spear; "now, I shall give ye the day's great pastime. 
 Pass the word. Sire de Tancarville, to every horseman — 
 ' Charge l0- to the Standard !' " 
 
 The word passed, the steeds bounded, and the whole 
 force of William's knighthood, scouring the plain to the 
 rear of the Saxon vanguard, made for the entrenchments. 
 
 At that eight, Harold, divining the object, and seeing 
 this new and more urgent demand on his presence, halted 
 the battajions over which he had presided, and, yielding 
 the command to Leofwine, once more briefly but strenu- 
 ously enjoined the troops to heed well their leaders, and 
 on no account to break the wedge, in the form of which 
 lay tJjeir whole strength, both against the cavalry and tht, 
 greater number of the foe. Then mounting his horge, 
 and attended only by Haco, he spurred across the plajn, 
 
 11—29 - 2v 
 
338 HAROLD. 
 
 in the opposite direction to that taken by the Normans. 
 In doing so, he was forced to make a considerable circuit 
 towards the rear of the entrenchment, and the farm, with 
 its watchful groups, came in sight. He distinguished the 
 garbs of the women, and Haco said to him — 
 
 "There icait the wives, to welcome the living victors." 
 
 " Or search their lords among the dead I " answered 
 Uarold. " Who, Haco, if we fall, will search for us ?" 
 
 As the word left his lips, he saw, under a lonely thorn- 
 tree, and scarce out of bow-shot from the entrenchments, 
 a woman seated. The king looked hard at the bended, 
 hooded form. 
 
 "Poor wretch!" he murmured, "her heart is in the 
 battle I " And he shouted aloud, " Farther off I farther 
 offl — the war rushes hitherward I " 
 
 At the sound of that voice the woman rose, stretched 
 her arms, and sptang forward. But the S^on chiefs 
 had already turned their faces towards the neighboring 
 ingress into the ramparts, and' beheld not her movement, 
 while the tramp of rushing chargers, the shout and the 
 roar of clashing war, drowned the wail of her feeble cry. 
 
 "I have heard him again, again!" murmured the 
 woman, " God be praised I " and she reseated herself 
 quietly under the lonely thorn. 
 
 As Harold and Haco sprang to their feet within the 
 
 entrenchments, the shout of "the king — the king I 
 
 Holy Crosse I " came in time to rally the force at the 
 farther end, now undergoing the full storm of the Nor 
 man chivalry. 
 
HABOLD. 839 
 
 The willow ramparts were already rent and hevveci 
 beneath the hoofs of horses and the clash of swords ; and 
 the sharp points on the frontals of the Norman destriers 
 were already gleaming within the entrenchments, when 
 Harold arrived at the brunt of action. The tide was 
 then turned ; not one of those rash riders left the en- 
 trenchments they had gained ; steel and horse alike went 
 down beneath the ponderous battle-axes ; and William, 
 again foiled and baffled, drew off his cavalry with the 
 reluctant conviction that those breast-works, so manned, 
 were not to be won by horse. Slowly the knights re 
 treated down the slope of the hillock, and the English., 
 animated by that sight, would have left their strong-hold 
 to pursue, but for the warning cry of Harold. THr 
 interval in the strife thus gained was promptly and vigor- 
 ously employed in repairing the palisades. And this 
 done, Harold, turning to Haco and the thegns round him, 
 said, joyously — 
 
 " By Heaven's help we shall yet win this day. And 
 know you not that it is my fortunate day — the day on 
 which, hitherto, all hath prospered with me in peace and 
 in war — the day of my birth ? " 
 
 " Of your birth ! " echoed Haco, in surprise. 
 
 "Ay — did you not know it?" 
 
 " Nay I — strange ! — it is also the birth-dAy of Dukn 
 William ! What would astrologers say to the meeting 
 of such stars ? " * 
 
 * Harold's birih-day was certainly the 14th of, October. Accord- 
 ing to Mr. Koscoe, in his life of "'WilliaiB the CoDqueror," William 
 was born also on the 14th of October. 
 
840 HAROLD. 
 
 Harold's cheek paled, but his helmet concealed tl>e 
 paleness ; his arm drooped. The strange dream of hia 
 youth again came distinct before him, as it had come in 
 the hall of the Norman at the sight of the ghastly relics 
 — again he saw the shadowy hand from the cloud-— 
 again heard the voice murmuring — "Lol the star that 
 shone on the birth of the victor ; " again he heard the 
 words of Hilda interpreting the dream — again the chant 
 which the dead or tne fiend had poured from the rigid 
 lips of the Vala. It boomed on his ear ; hollow as a 
 death-bell it knelled through the roar of battle — 
 
 " Never 
 Crown and brow shall Force dissever. 
 Till the dead men, unforgiving, 
 Loose the war-steeds on the living; 
 Till a sun whose race is ending. 
 Sees the rival stars contending. 
 Where the dead men, unforgiving, 
 Wheel their war-steeds round the living ! " 
 
 Faded the vision, and died the chant, as a breath that 
 dims, and vanishes from, the mirror of steel. The breath 
 was gone — the firm steel was bright once more ; and 
 suddenly the king was recalled to the sense of the present 
 hour by shouts and cries, in which the yell of Norman 
 triumph predominated, at the farther end of the field. 
 The signal-words to Fitzosborne had conveyed to that 
 chief the order for the mock charge on the Saxon van- 
 guard, to be followed by the feigned flight; and so art- 
 fully had this stratagem been practised, that despite all 
 the solemn orders of Harold, despite even the warning 
 
HAROLD. 341 
 
 ery of Leofwine who, rash and gay-hearted though he 
 was, had yet a captain's skill — the bold English, their 
 bloed heated by long contest and seeming victory, could 
 not resist pursuit. They rushed forward impetuously, 
 breaking the order of their hitherto indomitable phalanx, 
 »nd the more eagerly because the Normans had unwit- 
 tingly taken their way towards a part of the ground con- 
 cealing dykes and ditches, into which the English trusted 
 to precipitate the foe. It was as William's knights re- 
 treated from the breast-works that this fatal error was 
 committed ; and pointing towards the disordered Saxons 
 with a wild laugh of rerengeful joy, William set spurs to 
 his horse, and, followed by all his chivalry, joined the 
 cavalry of Poitou and Boulogne in their swoop upon the 
 scattered array. Already the Norman infantry had turned 
 round — already the horses, that lay in ambush amongst 
 the brushwood near the dykes, had thundered forth. The 
 whole of the late impregnable vanguard was broken up 
 — divided corps from corps — hemmed in; horse after 
 horse charging to the rear, to the front, to the flank, to 
 the right, to the left. 
 
 Gnrth, with the men of Surrey and Sussex had alone 
 kept their ground, but they were now compelled to ad- 
 vance to the aid of their scattered comrades ; and coming 
 up in close order, they not only awhile stayed the 
 slaughter, but again half turned the day. Knowing the 
 jountry thoroughly, Gurth lured the foe into the ditches 
 concealed within a hnndred yards of their own ambush 
 and there the havoc of the foreigners was bo great, tba' 
 29=^ 
 
342 HAROLD. 
 
 the hollows are said to have been literally made level with 
 the plain by their corpses. Yet this combat, however 
 fierce, and however skill might seek to repair the formef 
 error, could not be long maintained against such disparity 
 of numbers. And meanwhile the whole of the divisioa 
 under Geofifroi Martel, and his co-captaius, had by a 
 fresh order of William's, occupied the space between the 
 entrenchments and the more distant engagement ; thus 
 when Harold looked up, he saw the foot of the hillocks 
 so lined with steel, as to render it hopeless that he him- 
 self could win to the aid of his vanguard. He set his 
 teeth firmly, looked on, and only by gesture and smothered 
 exclamations showed his emotions of hope and fear. At 
 length he cried, — 
 
 " Gallant Gurth ! brave Leofwine, look to their pen- 
 nons ; right, right ; well fought, sturdy Vebba I Ha I 
 they are moving this way. The wedge cleaves on — it 
 cuts its path through the heart of the foe.'' And in- 
 deed, the chiefs now drawing off the shattered remains 
 of their countrymen, still disunited, bn*, still each section 
 shaping itself wedge-like, — on came the English, with 
 their shields over their head, through the tempest of 
 missiles, against the rush of the steeds, here and theie, 
 through the plains, up the slopes, towards the entrench- 
 ment, in the teeth of the formidable array of Martel, and 
 harassed by hosts that seemed numberless. The king 
 could restrain himself no longer. He selected five hun 
 dred of his bravest and most practised veterans, yet com 
 paratively fresh, and commanding the rest to stay firm. 
 
HAROLD. 343 
 
 descended the hills, and charged unexpectedly into the 
 rear of the mingled Normans and Britons. 
 
 This sortie, well timed, though desperate, served to 
 cover and favor the retreat of the straggling Saxons. 
 Many, indeed, were cut off; but Gurth, Leofwine, and 
 Vebba hewed the way for their followers to the side of 
 Harold, and entered the entrenchments, close followed 
 by the nearer foe, who were again repulsed amidst the 
 shouts of the English. 
 
 "But, alas I small indeed the band thus saved, and 
 hopeless the thought that the small detachments of 
 English still surviving and scattered over the plain, would 
 ever win to their aid. 
 
 Yet in those scattered remnants were, perhaps, almost 
 the only men who, availing themselves of their acquaint- 
 ance with the country, and despairing of victory, escaped 
 by flight from the field of Sanguelac. Nevertheless, 
 within the entrenchments not a man had lost heart ; the 
 day was already far advanced, no impression had been 
 yet made on the outworks, the position seemed as im- 
 pregnable as a fortress of stone ; and, truth to say, even 
 the bravest Normans were disheartened, when they looked 
 to that eminence which had foiled the charge of William 
 hiriself. The duke, in the recent melee, had received 
 more than one wound, his third horse that day had been 
 slain under him. The slaughter among the knights and 
 nobles had been immense, for they had exposed their per- 
 sons with the most desperate v^or. And William^, after 
 gurveying the rout of nearly one-half of the English army. 
 
344 H A & L D . 
 
 □eard everywhere, to his wrath and his shame, mnrmnrs 
 of discontent and dismay at the prospect of scaling the 
 heights, in which the gallant remnant had found their 
 refnge. At this critical juncture, Odo of Bayenx, who 
 had hitherto remained in the rear,* with the crowds of 
 monks that accompanied the armament, rode into the full 
 field, where all the hosts were re-forming their lines. He 
 was in complete mail ; but a white surplice wag drawii 
 over the steel, his head was bare, and in his right hand 
 he bore the crozier. A formidable club swung by a 
 leathern noose from his wrist, to be used only for self- 
 defence : the canons forbade the priest to strike merely 
 in assault. 
 
 Behind the milk-white steed of Odo came the whole 
 body of reserve, fresh and nnbreathed, free from the terrors 
 of their comrades, and stung into proud wrath at the 
 delay of the Norman conquest. 
 
 "How now — how now I" cried the prelate; "do ye 
 flag ? do ye falter when the sheaves are down, and ye 
 have but to gather up the harvest ? How now, sons of 
 the Church 1 warriors of the Cross I avengers of the 
 Saints I Desert your count, if ye please ; but shrink not 
 back from a Lord mightier than man. Lo, I come forth 
 to ride side by side with my brother, bare-headed, the 
 crozier in my hand. He who fails his liege is but a 
 coward — he who fails the Church is apostate!" 
 
 The fierce shout of the reserve closed this harangue, 
 
 * William Pict. 
 
HAROLD. 345 
 
 and the words of the prelate, as well as the physical aid 
 he brought to back them, renerved the army. And now 
 the whole of William's mighty host covering the field till 
 its lines seemed to bleud with the grey horizon, came on 
 serried, steadied, orderly — to all sides of the entrench- 
 ment. Aware of the inutility of his horse till the breast- 
 ■srorks were cleared, William placed in the van all his 
 heavy-armed foot, spearsmen, and archers, to open the 
 way through the palisades, the sorties from which had 
 now been carefully closed. 
 
 As they came up the hills, Harold turned to Haco and 
 said, " Where is thy battle-axe ? " 
 
 " Harold," answered Haco, with more than his usual 
 tone of sombre sadness, "I desire now to be thy shield- 
 bearer, for thou must use thine axe with both hands while 
 the day lasts and thy shield is useless. Wherefore thou 
 strike and I will shield thee." 
 
 "Thou lovest me then, son of Bweyn ; I have some^ 
 times doubted it." 
 
 " I love thee as the best part of my life, and with thy 
 life ceases mine : it is my heart that my shield guards 
 when it covers the breast of Harold." 
 
 "I would bid thee live, poor youth," whispered Ha- 
 rold ; " but what were life if this day were lost ? Happy, 
 then, will be those who diel" 
 
 Scarce had the words left his lips ere he sprang to the 
 breast-works, and with a sudden sweep of his axe down 
 dropped a helm that peered above them. But helm after 
 irelm succeeds. Now tbey come on, swarm upon swarm, 
 
 29* 
 
346 HAROLD. 
 
 as wolves on a trareller, as bears round a bark. Connt- 
 less, amidst their carnage, on they come ! The arrows 
 of the Norman blacken the air : with deadly precision to 
 each arm, each limb, each front exposed above the bul- 
 warks — whirrs the shaft. They clamber the palisades, 
 the foremost fall dead under the Saxon axe ; now thou- 
 sands rush on ; vain is the might of Harold, vain had 
 been a Harold's might in every Saxon there 1 The first 
 row of breast-works is forced — it is trampled, hewed, 
 crushed down, cumbered with the dead. " Ha Rou I Ha 
 E.0U 1 Notre Dame I Notre Dame 1 " sounds joyous and 
 shrill, the chargers snort and leap, and charge into the 
 circle. High wheels in air the great mace of William ; 
 bright by the slaughterers flashes the crozier of the Church. 
 
 " On, Normans ! — earldom and land !" cries the duke. 
 
 "On, sons of the Church! Salvation and heaven 1" 
 shouts the voice of Odo. 
 
 The first breast-work down — the Saxons yielding inch 
 by inch, foot by foot, are pressed, crushed back, into the 
 second enclosure. The same rush, and swarm, and fight, 
 and cry, and roar: — the second enclosure gives way. 
 And now in the centre of the third — lo, before the eyes 
 of the Normans, towers proudly aloft and shines in the 
 rays of the westering sun, broidered with gold, and blaz- 
 ing with mystic gems, the standard of England's king I 
 And there are gathered the reserve of the English host ; 
 there, the heroes who had never yet known defeat — un- 
 wearied they by the battle — vigorous, high-hearted still, 
 and round them the breast-works were thicker, aod 
 
HAROLD. Sil 
 
 btronger, and higher, and fastened by chains to pillars 
 of wood and staves of iron, with the wagons and carts 
 of the baggage, and piled logs of timber — barricades at 
 which even William paused aghast, and Odo stifled ar. 
 exclamation that became not a priestly lip. 
 
 Before that standard in the front of the men, stood 
 Gurth, and Leofwine, and Haco, and Harold, the last 
 leaning for rest upon his axe, for he was sorely wounded 
 in many places, and the blood oozed through the links of 
 his mail. 
 
 Live, Harold ; live yet, and Saxon England shall not 
 die! 
 
 The English archers had at no time been numerous ; 
 most of them had served with the vanguard, and the 
 shafts of those within the ramparts were spent ; so that 
 the foe had time to pause and to breathe. The ITorman 
 arrows meanwhile flew fast and thick, but William noted 
 to his grief that they struck against the tall breast-works 
 and barricades; and so failed in the slaughter they should 
 inflict. 
 
 He mused a moment and sent one of his knights to call 
 to him three of the chiefs of the archers; They were soon 
 at the side of his destrier. 
 
 " See ye not, maladroits," said the duke, "that your 
 FJiafts and bolts fall harmless on those osier walls ? Shoot 
 in the air : let the arrow fall perpendicular on those 
 within — fall as the vengeance of the saints falls — direct 
 from neaven I Give me thy bow, archer, — thus." He 
 drew the bow as ho sate on his steed, the arrow flashed 
 
348 HAROLD. 
 
 op and descended in the heart of the reserve, within a 
 few feet of the standard. 
 
 "So; that standard be your mark," said the dulce, 
 giving baels the bow. 
 
 The archers withdrew. The order circulated through 
 their bands, and in a few moments more down came the 
 iron rain. It took the English host as by surprise, 
 piercing hide cap and even iron helm ; and in the very 
 surprise that made them instinctively look up — death 
 came. 
 
 A dull groan as from many hearts boomed from the 
 entrenchments on the Norman ear. 
 
 "Now," said William, "they must either use their 
 shields to guard their heads — and their axes are useless 
 — or while they smite with the axe they fall by the shaft. 
 On now to the ramparts. I see my crown already resting 
 on yonder standard ! " 
 
 Yet despite all, the English bear up; the thickness of 
 the palisades, the comparative smallness of the last en- 
 closure, more easily therefore manned and maintained by 
 the small force of the survivors, defy other weapons than 
 those of the bow. Every Norman who attempts to scale 
 the breast-work is slain on the instant, and his body cast 
 forth under the hoofs of the baffled steeds. The su i sinks 
 near and nearer towards the red horizon. 
 
 " Courage ! " cries the voice of Harold, " hold but till 
 nightfall and ye are saved. Courage and freedom ! " 
 
 " Harold and Holy Crosse 1 " is the answer. 
 
 Still foiled, William again resolves to hazard his fatal 
 
HAROLD. 849 
 
 Stratagem. He marked that quarter of the enclosnre 
 which was most remote from the provident wavch of 
 Harold, whose cheering voice ever and anon he recognized 
 amidst the hurtling clamor. In this quarter the palisades 
 were the weakest and the ground the least elevated ; but 
 it was guarded by meti on whose skill with axe and shield 
 Harold placed the firmest reliance — the Anglo-Danes of 
 his old East-Anglian earldom. Thither, then, the duke 
 advanced a chosen column of his heavy-armed foot, tu- 
 tored especially by himself in the rehearsals of his favoritu 
 ruse, and accompanied by a band of archers ; while at 
 the same time, he himself, with his brother Odo, headed 
 » considerable company of knights under the son of the 
 great Roger de Beaumont, to gain the contiguous level 
 heights on which now stretches the little town of "Bat- 
 tle ; " there to watch and to aid the manceuvre. The foot 
 column advanced to the appointed spot, and after a short, 
 close, and terrible conflict, succeeded in making a wide 
 breach in the breast-works. But that temporary success 
 only animates yet more the eiertions of the beleagured 
 defenders, and swarming round the breach, and pouring 
 through it, line after line of the foe drop beneath their 
 axes. The column of the heavy-armed Normans fall 
 back, down the slopes^tbey give way — they turn in dis- 
 order — they retreat — they fly ; but the archers stand firm, 
 midway on the descent — those archers seem an easy prey 
 to the English-^ the temptation is irresistible. Lofrg 
 galled, and harassed, atid maddened by the shafts, the 
 Anglo-Danes rush forth at the 'heels of the Normai 
 
850 HAROLD. 
 
 swordsmen, and sweeping down to exterminate the arch- 
 ers, the breach that they leave gapes wide. 
 
 " Forward," cries William, and he gallops towards tho 
 breach, 
 
 "Forward," cries Odo, "I see the bands of the holy 
 saints in the air 1 Forward ! it is the dead that wheel 
 our war-steeds round the living I " 
 
 On rush the Norman knights. But Harold is already 
 in the breach, rallying round him hearts eager to replace 
 the shattered breast-works. 
 
 " Close shields 1 Hold fast I " shouts his kingly voice. 
 
 Before him were the steeds of Bruse and Grantmesnil. 
 At his breast their spears ; — Haco holds over the breast 
 the shield. Swinging aloft with both hands his axe, the 
 spear of Grantmesnil is shivered in twaiu by the king'j 
 stroke. Cloven to the skull rolls the steed of Bruse. 
 Knight and steed roll on the bloody sward. 
 
 But a blow from the sword of De Lacy has broken 
 down the guardian shield of Haco. The son of Sweyn 
 is stricken to his knee. With lifted blades and whirling 
 maces the Norman knights charge through the breach. 
 
 "Look up, look up, and guard thy head," cries the 
 fatal voice of Haco to the king. 
 
 . At that cry, the king raises his flashing eyes. Why 
 halts his stride ? Why drops the axe from his hand ? 
 As he raised his head, down came the hissing death-shaft. 
 It smote the lifted face ; it crushed into the dauntless 
 eye-ball. He reeled, he staggered, he fell back several 
 yards, at the foot of his gorgeous standard. With des- 
 
HA BOLD. 351 
 
 perate iand he broke the head of the shaft, and left the 
 barb, quivering in the anguish. 
 
 Gurth knelt over him. 
 
 "Fight on," gasped the king; "conceal my death i 
 Holy Crosse ! England to the rescue I woe — woe 1 " 
 
 Rallying himself a moment, he sprang to his feet, 
 clenched his right hand, and fell' once more, — a corpse. 
 
 At the same moment a simultaneous rush of horsemen 
 towards the standard bore back a line of Saxons, and 
 covered the body of the king with heaps of the slain. 
 
 His helmet cloven in two, his face all streaming with 
 blood, but still calm in its ghastly hues, amidst the fore- 
 most of those slain, fell the fated Haco. He fell with 
 his head on the breast of Harold, kissed the bloody cheek 
 with bloody lips, groaned, and died. 
 
 Inspired by despair with superhuman strength, Gurth 
 striding over the corpses of his kinsmen, opposed him- 
 self singly to the knights ; and the entire strength of the 
 English remnant, coming round him at the menaced dan- 
 ger to the standard, once more drove off the assailants. 
 
 But now all the enclosure was filled with the foe, the 
 whole space seemed gay in the darkening, air with ban- 
 derols and banners. High through all rose the club of 
 the Conqueror; high through all shone the crozier of the 
 Churchman. Not one Englishman fled ; all now center- 
 ing round the standard, they fell, slaughtering if slaugh- 
 tered. Man by man, under the charmed banner, fell the 
 lithsmen of Hilda. Then died the faithful Saexwolf. Then 
 
85i HAROLD. 
 
 died the gallant Godrith, redeeming, by the death of 
 many a Norraan, his young fantastic love of the Norman 
 manners. Then died, last of such of the Kent men as 
 had won retreat from their scattered vanguard into the 
 circle of closing slaughter, — the English-hearted Vebba. 
 
 Even still in that age, when the Teuton had yet in his 
 veins the blood of Odin, the demi-god, — even still one 
 man could delay the might of numbers. Through the 
 srowd, the Normans beheld with admiring awe, — here, 
 in the front of their horse, a single warrior, before whose 
 axe, spear shivered, helm dropped ; — there, close' by the 
 standard, standing breast-high among the slain, one still 
 more formidable, and even amidst ruin un vanquished. 
 The first fell at length under the mace of Roger de 
 Montgommeri. So, unknown to the Normau poet (who 
 hath preserved in his verse the deeds bat not the name), 
 fell, laughing in death, young Leofwine 1 Still by the 
 enchanted standard towers the other ; still the enchanted 
 standard waves aloft, with its brave ensign of the soli- 
 tary "Fighting Man" girded by the gems that had 
 flashed in the crown of Odin. 
 
 " Thine be the honor of lowering that haughty flag," 
 cried William, turning to one of his favorite and most 
 famous knights, Robert de Tessiu. 
 
 Overjoyed, the knight rushed forth, to fall by the axe 
 of that stubborn defender. 
 
 "Sorcery," cried Fitzosborne, "sorcery. This is no 
 man, but fiend." 
 
HAROLD. 353 
 
 " Spare him, spare the brave," cried in a breath Brusc 
 D'Aincouft, and De Graville. 
 
 William turned round in wrath at the cry of mercy, 
 and, spurring over all the corpses, with the sacred banne." 
 borne by Tonstain close behind him, so that it shadowed 
 his helmet, — he came to the foot of the standard, and for 
 one moment there was single battle between the knight- 
 duko and the Saxon hero. Nor, even then, conquered 
 by the Norman sword, but exhausted by a hundred 
 wounds, that brave chief fell,* and the falchion vainly 
 pierced him, falling. So, last man at the standard, died 
 Gurth, 
 
 The sun had set, the first star was in heaven, the 
 " Fighting Man " was laid low, and on that spot where 
 now, all forlorn and shattered, amidst stagnant water, 
 stands the altar-stone of Battle Abbey, rose the glitter- 
 ing dragon that surmounted the consecrated banner of 
 the Norman victor. 
 
 * Thus Wace : — 
 
 "Guert (Gurth) vit Engleiz amenuisier, 
 Vi K'il n'i ont nnl rocovrier," etc. 
 "Gurth saw the English diminish, and that there was no hope 
 to retrieve the day; the dulte pushed forth with such force, that 
 he reached him, and struck him with great violence (fntr grant air). 
 1 know not if he died by the stroke, hut it is said that it laid hint 
 low." 
 
 30* 2w 
 
Sbi HAROLD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Close by liis banner, amidst the piles of the dead, 
 William the Conqueror pitched his pavilion, and sate at 
 meat. And over all the plain, far and near, torches were 
 moving like meteors on a marsh; for the duke had per- 
 mitted the Saxon women to search for the bodies of their 
 lords. And as he sate, and talked, and laughed, there 
 entered the tent two humble monks ; their lowly mien, 
 their dejected faces, their homely serge, in mournful con- 
 trast to the joy and the splendor of the Tictory- Feast. 
 
 They came to the Conqueror, and knelt. 
 
 " Rise up, sons of the Church," said William, mildly, 
 ' for sons of the Church are we ! Deem not that we 
 'hall invade the rights of the religion which we have 
 come to avenge. Nay, on this spot we have already 
 sworn to build an abbey that shall be the proudest in the 
 land, and.where masses shall be sung evermore for the 
 repose of the brave Normans who fell in this field, and 
 for mine and my consort's soul." 
 
 " Doubtless," said Odo, sneering, " the holy men have 
 heard already of this pious intent, and come to pray for 
 cells in the future abbey." 
 
 "Not so," said Osgood, mournfully, and in barbarous 
 Norman ; " we have our own beloved convent at Waltham, 
 
HAROLD. 355 
 
 eivdowed by the prince whom thine arms have defeated. 
 We come to ask but to bary in our sacred cloisters the 
 corpse of him so lately king over all England — our 
 benefactor, Harold." 
 
 The duke's brow fell. 
 
 "And see," said Aired, eagerly, as he drew out a 
 leathern pouch, " we have brought with us all the gold 
 that our poor crypts contained, for we misdoubted this 
 day ; " and he poured out the glittering pieces at the 
 Conqueror's feet. 
 
 " No ! " said William, fiercely, " we take no gold for a 
 traitor's body ; no, not if Githa. the usurper's mother, 
 offered us its weight in the shining metal ; unburied be 
 the Accursed of the Church, and let the birds of prey 
 feed their young with his carcase 1" 
 
 Two murmurs, distinct in tone and in meaning, were 
 heard in that assembly ; the one of approval from fierce 
 mercenaries, insolent with triumph ; the other of generous 
 discontent and indignant amaze, from the large majority 
 of Norman nobles. 
 
 But "William's brow was still dark, and his eye still 
 etern, for his policy confirmed his passions ; and it was 
 only' by stigmatizing, as dishonored and accursed, the 
 memory and cause of the dead king, that he could justify 
 the sweeping spoliation of those who had fought against 
 himself, and confiscate the lands to which his own quens 
 and warriors looked for their reward. 
 
 The murmurs had just died into a thrilling hush, when 
 a woman, who had followed the monks unperceived and 
 
R56 HAROLD. 
 
 unheeded, passed, with a swift and noise' ess step to the 
 duke's foot-stool; and, without bending- knee to tho 
 ground, said, in a voice which, though low, was heanl 
 by all: — 
 
 "Norman, in the name of the women of England, I 
 tell thee that thou darest not do this wrong to the hero 
 who died in defence of their hearths and their children ! " 
 
 Before she spoke, she had thrown back her hood ; her 
 hair dishevelled, fell over her shoulders, glittering like 
 gold, in the blaze of the banquet-lights; and that won- 
 drous beauty, without parallel amidst the dames of Eng- 
 land, shone like the vision of an accusing angel, on the 
 eyes of the startled duke, and the breathless knights. But 
 twice in her life Edith beheld that awful man. Once, 
 when roused from her reverie of innocent love by the 
 holiday pomp of his trumps and banners, the child-like 
 maid stood at the foot of the grassy knoll ; and once 
 again, when in the hour of his triumph, and amidst the 
 wrecks of England on the field of Sanguelac, with a soul 
 surviving tho crushed and broken heart, the faith of the 
 lofty woman defended the hero dead. 
 
 There, with knee unbent, aud form unqnailing, with 
 marble cheek, and haughty eye, she faced the Conqueror; 
 and, as she ceased, his noble barons broke into bold 
 applause. 
 
 "Who art thou?" said William, if not daunted, at 
 least amazed. "Methinks I have seen thy face before ; 
 thou art not Harold's wife or sister ? " 
 
 "Dread lord," said Osgood, "she was the betrothed o* 
 
HAROLD. 851 
 
 Harold ; but, as within the degrees of kin, the Charch 
 forbade their union, and they obeyed the Church." 
 
 Out from the banquet-throng stepped Mallet de Gra- 
 ville. " O my liege," said he, " thou hast promised me 
 lands and earldom ; instead of these gifts undeserved, 
 bestow on me the right to bury and to honor the remains 
 of Harold ; to-day I took from him my life, let me giye 
 all I can in return — a gravel" 
 
 William paused, but the sentiment of the assembly, so 
 clearly pronounced, and, it may be, his own better nature 
 which, ere polluted by plotting craft, and hardened by 
 despotic ire, was magnanimous and heroic, moved and 
 won him. " Lady," said he, gently, " thou appealest not 
 in vain to Norman knighthood : thy rebuke was just, and 
 I repent me of a hasty impulse. Mallet de Graville, thy 
 prayer is granted ; to thy choice be consigned the place 
 of burial, to thy care the funeral rites of him whose soul 
 hath pajised out of human judgment." 
 
 The feast was over; William the Conqueror slept on 
 his couch, and round him slumbered his Norman knights, 
 dreaming of baronies to come ; and still the torches moved 
 dismally to' and fro the waste of death, and through the 
 hush oi night was heeri near and far the wail of women. 
 
 Accompanied by the brothers of Waltham, and attended 
 by link-bearers. Mallet de Graville was yet engaged in 
 the seai^h for the royal dead — and the search was vain. 
 l>eeper and stiller, the autumnal moon rose to its melan- 
 cholj noon, and lent its ghastly aid to the glare of the 
 redder lights. Put, on leaving the pavilion, they had 
 
3&S HAROLD. 
 
 missed Edith ; she had gone from them alone, and wai< 
 lost in that dreadful wilderness. And Aired said, de- 
 spondingly — 
 
 " Perchance we may already have seen the corpse we 
 search for, and not recognized it ; for the face may be 
 mutilated with wounds. And therefore it is that Saxon 
 wives and mothers haunt our battle-fields, discovering 
 those they search by signs not known without the house- 
 hold."* 
 
 "Ay," said the Norman,' "I comprehend thee, by the 
 letter or device, in which, according to your customs, 
 your warriors impress on their own forms some token of 
 affection, or some fancied charm against ill." 
 
 " It is so," answered the monk ; " wherefore I grieve 
 that we have lost the guidance of the maid." 
 
 While thus conversing, they had retraced their steps, 
 almost in despair, towards the duke's pavilion. 
 
 " See," said De Graville, "how near yon lonely woman 
 hath come to the tent of the duke — yea, to the foot of 
 the holy gonfanon, which supplanted 'the Fighting 
 Man ! ' Pardex, my heart bleeds to see her striving tii 
 lift up the heavy dead!" 
 
 The monks neared the spot, and Osgood exclaimed in 
 a voice almost joyful, — 
 
 * The aaggestions implied in the text will probably be admitted 
 ae correct ; when we read in the Saxon annala of the recognition 
 of the dead by peculiar marka on their bodies ; the obvious, or at 
 least the more natural explanation of those signs is to be found In 
 the habit of puncturing the skin, mentioned by the Malmesbnt; 
 chronicler. 
 
HAROLD. 359 
 
 " It is Edith the Fair 1 This way, the torches 1 hitner, 
 qnick I " 
 
 The corpses had been flung in irreverent haste from 
 either side of the gonfanon, to make room for the banner 
 of the conquest, and the pavilion of the feast. Huddled 
 together, they lay in that holy bed. And the woman 
 silently, and by the help of no light save the moon, was 
 intent on her search. She waved her hand impatiently 
 as they approached, as if jealous of the dead : but as she 
 had not sought, so neither did she oppose, their aid. 
 Moaning low to herself, she desisted from her task, and 
 knelt watching them, and shaking her head mournfully, 
 as they removed helm after helm, and lowered the torches 
 upon stern and livid brows. At length the lights fell red 
 *nd full on the ghastly face of Haco — proud and sad as 
 in life 
 
 De Graville uttered an exclamation: "The king's 
 nephew : be sure the king is near 1 " 
 
 A shudder went over the woman's form, and the moan- 
 ing ceased. 
 
 They unhelmed another corpse ; and the monks and 
 the knight, after one glance, turned away sickened and 
 awe-stricken at the sight : for the face was all defeatured 
 and mangled with wounds ; and nought could they recog- 
 nize save the ravaged majesty of what had been- man. 
 But at the sight of that face, a wild shriek broke from 
 Edith's heart. 
 
 She started to her feet — put aside the monks with a 
 wild and angry gesture, and bending over the face, 
 
S60 HAROLD. 
 
 Bought with her long hair to wipe from it the clotted 
 blood; then, with convulsive fingers, she strove to loosen 
 the buckler of the breast-mail. The kaight knelt to assist 
 her. " No, no," she gasped out. " He is mine — mine 
 now 1" 
 
 Her hands bled as the mail gave way to her efforts ; 
 the tunic beneath was all dabbled with blood. She rent 
 the folds, and on the breast, just above the silenced 
 heart, were punctured in the old Saxon letters, the word 
 " Edith ; " and just below, in characters more fresh, the 
 word "England." 
 
 " See, see 1 " she cried in piercing accents ; and, clasp- 
 ing the dead in her arms, she kissed the lips, and called 
 aloud, in words of the tenderest endearments, as if she 
 addressed the living. All there knew then that the 
 search was ended; all knew that the eyes of love had 
 recognized the dead. 
 
 " Wed, wed," murmured the betrothed ; " wed at last ! 
 Harold, Harold I the words of the Vala were true — 
 and Heaven is kind I " and laying her head gently on the 
 breast of the dea4, she smiled and died. 
 
 At the east end of the choir in the abbey of Waltham, 
 was long shown the tomb of the last Saxon king, inscribed 
 with the touching words — "Harold Infelix." But not 
 under that stone, according to the chronicler who should 
 best know the truth,* mouldered the dust of him in whose 
 grave was buried an epoch in human annals. 
 
 * The contemporary Norman chronicler, William of Poitiers. 
 
HAROLD. 361 
 
 "Let his corpse," said William the Norman, "let his 
 corpse guard the coasts, which his life madly defended. 
 Let the seas wail his dirge, and girdle his grave ; and his 
 spirit protect the land which hath passed to the Norman's 
 sway." 
 
 And Mallet de Graville assented to the word of his 
 chief, for his knightly heart turned into honor the latent 
 taunt ; and well he knew, that Harold could have chosen 
 no burial-spot so worthy his English spirit and his Roman 
 end. 
 
 The tomb at Waltham would have excluded the faithful 
 ashes of the betrothed, whose heart had broken on the 
 bosom she had found ; more gentle was the grave in the 
 temple of Heaven, and hallowed by the bridal death- 
 dirge of the everlasting sea. 
 
 So, in that sentiment of poeiry and love, which made 
 half the religion of a Norman knight. Mallet de Graville 
 suffered death to unite those whom life had divided. In 
 the holy burial-ground that encircled a small Saxon 
 chapel, on the shore, and. near the spot, on which William 
 had leapt to land, one grave received the betrothed ; and 
 the tomb of Waltham only honored an empty name. 
 
 Eight centuries have rolled away, and where is the 
 Norman now ? or where is not the Saxon ? The little 
 nrn that sufficed for the mighty lord * is despoiled of hia 
 
 * "Rex magnus parvS, jacet hio Gulielmus in urna. — 
 SufBcit et niagno p arva Domus Domino." 
 From William the Conqueror's epitaph (ap-Gemitioen). His 
 
 IL — 31 
 
362 HAROLD 
 
 very dust ; but the torabless shade of the kingly freeman 
 still guards the coasts, and rests upon the seas. In many 
 a noiseless field, with Thoughts for Armies, your relics, O 
 Saxon Heroes, have won back the victory from the bones 
 of the Norman saints ; and whenever, with fairer fates, 
 Freedom opposes Force, and Justice, redeeming the old 
 defeat, smites down the armed Frauds that would conse- 
 crate the wrong, — smile, soul of our Saxon Harold, 
 smile, appeased, on the Saxon's land I 
 
 cones are said to have been disinterred some centuries after his 
 death. 
 
 THE SffC. 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 4910.A1 1884 
 
 Harold, the last of the Saxon kings. 
 
 3 1924 013 518 158