Ned, the son of Webb: What he did.
Brave as they were, the Saxons fell back for a moment from before this awful shape. It had happened that the first of them to cross the bridge were not of the thingmen of Harold.
These were still busily destroying the remainder of the Vikings on the York side of the river. Again a rush was made, and again Sikend drove it back. It was afterward said that not less than forty warriors fell dead under the terrible blows of the Berserker.
"Yonder is King Harold, on the bank," said Ned, the son of Webb, "but look at that Saxon in the boat under the bridge! He is after Sikend! He is stabbing upward with his spear, through the cracks between the planks!"
"They can't be wide enough," said Father Brian. "Ha! Sikend is hurt! He is down upon one knee! He can stand and fight no longer!"
"I'll stop that man!" shouted Ned, pulling hard upon his oars. "Sikend is a friend of mine – "
"Let thou alone!" exclaimed Father Brian. "It is no affair of thine!"
He was too late, for Ned had now arisen, in his sudden excitement, and his angry yell had drawn upon him the attention of the house-carle. Louder was the response of the tall Saxon, and as he shouted he hurled at Ned the long javelin with which he had smitten the Berserker.
"Thou hast it!" gasped the missionary.
"On my shield," said Ned. "It went through it as if it had been cardboard, but my mail stopped it. There! He is over! I need not spear him!"
"Praise the saints!" muttered Father Brian. "He hath upset! But for me thou wouldst have done the same."
That was not strictly correct. The Saxon's boat was floating well, but the very energy of his furiously angry spear-throwing had tipped his tiny punt and sent it out from under him, plunging him into the swiftly eddying current of the Derwent.
"Can he swim," whispered Ned, "with all his armour on?"
"That is the last of him!" remarked Father Brian. "He will throw no more javelins. He is gone!"
Not even once did the overweighted house-carle come to the surface. He may indeed have been no swimmer. In the meantime, however, with wild hurrahs, the Saxons on the bridge had charged forward, and thrust after thrust had been given to the prostrate body of the wounded Berserker. He had fallen as he had wished to fall, a hero defying a whole army.
"King Harold's men are pushing across the bridge," said Ned, as his boat drifted out from under it. "Why on earth did the Vikings leave it to be defended by one man?"
"It is only one more of Hardrada's blunders," replied the missionary. "He is only a sea king, and not a good general on the land. A man may be the biggest pirate in all the world and not know enough to handle an army. He hath done little more than to fight hard and to blunder all the while, ever since he landed. Seest thou now? The mounted house-carles gallop forward. Behind them the Saxon army will form on the other bank, and then Hardrada's army is doomed. Thou and I will cross quickly, that we may obtain a good place from which to watch the shutting of this death-trap."
"The Vikings that are left will be awfully outnumbered," said Ned. "Oh, how I wish I could do something for Lars and Vebba and our men!"
"The invading host hath no hope," said his friend. "They are to be struck by one of the best generals in the world, leading the best fighters. Thou canst do nothing at all for thy friends."
"It's too bad!" groaned Ned. "I like Lars."
The boat was soon left behind them. Not a great while afterward they were standing upon a moderate elevation of rocky ground, at the right of the level upon which the Saxon forces were rapidly forming in order of battle, under the eyes of their king. They were doing so at this precise place, for the reason that immediately in front of them were assembled all that was now left of the forces of King Hardrada.
"My boy," exclaimed the missionary, "both sides are looking splendidly. I am glad to be where I can see, but any man running in between those two fronts would be like a corn of wheat between millstones. See thou! All of the house-carles are dismounting. They will fight on foot. They do not mean to lose too many horses. I would not, if I were they, with mayhap a long ride near to come."
"William of Normandy's horses wear armour," said Ned. "I have seen pictures of them, – as much armour as a man weareth."
"Not many of them," replied Father Brian. "Here and there one, perhaps, if the owner of the horse can afford that kind of harness. Not many can, for armour costeth money. The man that made the pictures may have had some of that armour in his head."
"Thou meanest in his eye," said Ned. "There were loads of it, anyhow, and if a horse loaded like that were to stumble and fall, he'd be likely to stay down."
"Any man that goeth down to-day will stay down," responded the missionary. "The Northumberland levies that follow in the rear have come to take revenge for the slaughter at Fulford. It is a cruel, heathenish business, from first to last. I will be glad when the whole world shall be civilised, as it is around Clontarf."
The great invasion of England by the sea king was already a complete failure. He and his brave but now dispirited Vikings had rallied to make their last stand against the unexpected and now overwhelming host of the hero King of England. Upon that very day, Hardrada of Norway and Tostig the Earl were to have entered York as conquerors. Here they were, instead, at a little after midday, confronting sure ruin and probable death.
All the remaining fighting strength of York and its vicinity had zealously joined King Harold, so that all the while the Stamford bridge was still thronged with marching men. The marvel that Tostig or Hardrada had not ordered it to be burnt or chopped away was on the tongues of many. They may have vainly thought of again using it to recross the Derwent, and, if so, this was one more bad blunder, for they had left it in the hands of King Harold, and he was a general.
The army front presented by the Northmen was exceedingly dangerous looking, nevertheless. They had formed in close order with the raven standard, the Land Waster, near the centre. In front of this, at first, were the sea king, himself, and Tostig the Earl, but their duty as leaders shortly called upon them to ride to and fro among their half-disheartened followers, uttering loud sounding words of encouragement and hope. Norwegians were very brave men, and they responded with loud shouts and the braying of thousands of war-horns, while every harp among them sounded.
There was yet a wide open space between the two army fronts. Into this rode out from that of the Northmen a herald sounding a parley. The agreement for one being made at once, from the same side rode out Tostig the Earl, accompanied by Vikings of rank, and he was met about half-way by a similar party of Saxons.
"What terms," asked Tostig, "will Harold of England offer, if Harold Hardrada and Tostig, the son of Godwin, will now make peace with him? What will he offer to the earl, and what part of England will he surrender to the King of Norway?"
A loud, ringing voice from among the Saxon horsemen at once responded:
"To Tostig, the son of Godwin, full pardon and an earldom. To Harold Hardrada of Norway, seven feet of English ground for his burial. Or, since he is said to be taller than other men, he will be allowed twelve inches more."
"Then tell thou him," replied the earl, "that Tostig will not desert the comrades who have trusted him, and that he will fight to the last."
Back rode both of the embassies to their own friends, and Hardrada, who had heard all of the loudly uttered questions and answers, exclaimed to Tostig:
"Good was thy speech, my friend; but who was the man who heard and answered thee?"
"He was Harold, the son of Godwin," replied the earl.
"What?" shouted the angry king. "Then he should never have gotten back in safety to his own!"
"Not so," said Tostig, sadly. "I have erred much, but my royal brother I might not betray to thee and thine."
Other things were said on both sides, but none of them was heard by Ned, the son of Webb. It was indeed no time for any quarrel between Tostig and Hardrada, for the war-horns were sounding and the Saxons were advancing along their whole line. Firmly, steadily, with desperate courage and magnificent prowess, they were met by the close array of the Northmen.
Although these were not so well disciplined, and were inferior in numbers, they were, individually, equally skilled in arms, and they were fighting for their lives. They fought on with almost an appearance of possible success until the resistless pressure of the trained thingmen broke their front and disordered them. Even then they would not yield, and all who afterward told stories of the battle had wonderful things to relate concerning the feats of arms performed by the sea king himself, and by Tostig the Earl, and by many of the heroes of the Vikings.
Under the Land Waster standard at last an arrow slew the King of Norway. There, also, fighting valiantly, fell Tostig the Earl, and with their slaying the battle ended, for the remaining Northmen lost heart and fled.
Then, to the surprise of some, Harold the King forbade further following, and commanded that his forces should once more come into close order. It may be that he was not quite assured as to how many Vikings might yet remain, at the shore or on the ships. At all events, there were excellent reasons why he should be willing to waste neither men nor time at that place, and why he should offer generous terms to the remnant of the invaders. That he intended doing this was to be made known somewhat later, and now he sat upon his horse, not far from the raven standard, giving directions concerning the bodies of his brother Tostig and of King Hardrada.
Ned, the son of Webb, was not a great many yards away, for he and the missionary had followed the charge of the Saxons and had been almost in the front of the battle. He was now staring around him at the gory evidences of how hard the fight had been. Almost at his feet lay a heap of slain Norwegians, and from under one edge of it somebody appeared to be struggling out.
"Lars, the son of Vebba!" shouted Ned. "Come here, Father Brian. Thou and I must save him! Get up, Lars!"
"No man will harm him now," shouted back the priest. "Is he badly wounded?"
"I have not a cut," responded Lars himself. "I was knocked down by a mace, that is all, and these others fell upon me. O Ned, the son of Webb! We are ruined! Ruined! There will be sad mourning among the fiords of Norway!"
"Vebba!" exclaimed Ned. "Where is he?"
"I saw him escape to the ships among the first," replied Lars, almost weeping.
"Go thou after him, thyself," said Ned. "Harold the King hath commanded that all like thee may go. Tell Vebba that I am to stay here. Run if thou canst! Get on board a ship."
"Thou art right to stay," said Lars. "This is thine own country. Thou hast lost thine Earl Tostig, but mind not that too much. There are always plenty of earls."
"Good-bye!" said Ned, and in a moment more Lars was walking away briskly.
He was safe from spear or blade, for the commands of Harold the King would surely be obeyed by all his men.
CHAPTER XII.
A RIDE IN OLD ENGLAND
Ned, the son of Webb, stood still, gazing very earnestly at the King of England.
"I suppose he feels badly about his brother," Ned was thinking. "I would, no matter what he'd been up to. I'm sorry Tostig was killed, anyhow. He was a friend of mine. I didn't see King Harold do any hand to hand fighting, either. I guess he kept back on purpose."
"My boy!" sharply whispered Father Brian. "The king wheeleth his horse toward thee. Stand thou still, for he hath his eye upon thee."
In a moment more the hot blood was flushing Ned's cheeks to redness, for the king drew rein in front of him and spoke in Saxon. If Ned could have understood him he might have been astonished, for he was saying:
"I saw thee row under the bridge, O boy with a battered shield. Thou art the cunning spearman that slew for me the Berserker and opened the way for the advance. I thank thee, whoever thou art. Thou art but young, too, for such a doing. What is thy name?"
Ned more than half guessed that such a question was asked him, and he promptly responded in Latin:
"I am Ned, the son of Webb, O king!"
"Aha! Thou speakest Latin?" exclaimed the king. "Thou seemest to be well born, and thou art a scholar. What can I do for thee? Speak quickly!"
"O Harold the King," said Ned. "I would that I might ride with the army when it marcheth away from York. William the Norman is coming. I wish to be with thy house-carles and fight the Normans for thee and for England."
He felt that he had made a tremendously long speech, and he had, but a bright smile shot across the face of the king.
"That thou shalt have," he said, and he added, to a horseman near him, "Wolfram of Hythe, get good horses for this youth and for his teacher that attendeth him. O priest, remain thou with thy pupil. Go both of you now to York. Ned, the son of Webb, I will see thee again."
"I will be with him, O king," replied Father Brian, loudly. "He is a youth of much promise, and he needeth my continual instruction."
King Harold spurred away, followed by his chiefs and thanes and earls, while the good missionary turned almost indignantly upon Ned.
"This is wrong!" he exclaimed. "Thou art deceiving the king. I did not understand at first, but I heard others of them repeat his words. He believeth thee the slayer of Sikend the Berserker from under the bridge. Thou art not!"
"Was that it?" almost gasped Ned. "I never said I was. I think it was a mean thing to do, anyhow, to stab Sikend in the legs, in that way, so he couldn't stand up and fight. I'm sorry the king should think I would do anything so unfair as that."
"So am I," said Father Brian, "for a lie is a bad thing, any day. Thou must yet find an opportunity to tell him the truth of that matter. But I am glad, nevertheless, that we are to have horses and get away from York in good company. I have a great desire to get speedily to London, whatever may happen afterward."
Wolfram of Hythe did not have far to go for his horses, and those which he was now bringing forward were big enough for war-horses. They had a somewhat jaded appearance, for they had travelled far that day. They had lost their riders in the battle, it was explained, and in a moment more Ned and the missionary were as well mounted as if they both were house-carles of the king.
"It is well for us, indeed," said Father Brian. "We shall have good quarters, and rations, too, while we are on the march. Thou wilt set the king right concerning Sikend in due season, for truth's sake. Thou didst not harm thy fellow soldier, and yet I tell thee that the world cannot be civilised until there are no more Berserkers. Small matter it is how they are killed."
"I didn't even hurt the Saxon that did kill him," said Ned. "He was drowned."
"I am glad of that, almost," replied Father Brian. "It will be better for thee to make thine own explanation than for that house-carle to come and tell the king thou art a false witness."
"It's awful!" said Ned. "I'm a fraud! It isn't any fault of mine, though, and I can straighten it, as soon as I've a chance."
The shadows of evening were deepening when the two friends rode over Stamford bridge and galloped on toward York. When they reached the city it was almost dark, and in all directions hundreds of men were going about with torches and rude lanterns.
"The panes of glass in those lanterns," said Ned to himself, "are all made of cow's horn, scraped thin. I guess they don't break easily. They are better than nothing, though, and we can find our way to the tavern."
So they did, and once more Ned had something to say about lights.
"There's an awful difference," he remarked, "between these rush-light smokers and electric bulbs or gas, or even kerosene or candles. Hollow rushes with fat poured into them! They stand up pretty well in the sticks, but they don't last long, and how they do smoke!"
He did not allow his own rush-light to burn down, however. As soon as the horses were cared for and supper was eaten, he was glad enough to get into bed.
"I do believe there is nothing else in all the world," he said, "that will tire a fellow out like a great battle. Father Brian was right, though, about the trap that was set for King Hardrada. Those two English earls, Edwin and Morcar, knew well enough that Harold was coming, and they had everything ready when he got here. Hardrada ought to have watched. He knew he was dealing with his enemies. So did Tostig, and I believe he suspected something."
Sleep stopped him there, and he arose the next morning with a feeling that he was going to walk out into something entirely new. He was now no longer a Norway Viking, invading England with Harold Hardrada the Sea King. Nor was he any longer under the special protection of Tostig the Earl. All of his previous experiences, as he said of them, were so many back numbers, and he was now King Harold of England's devoted follower. He winced a little, also, when he remembered that he was regarded as one of the heroes of the great battle of Stamford bridge.
During this day and several more which followed, he was left almost altogether by himself, for Father Brian had affairs of his own to attend to.
"It is just the way I'd like to have it," said Ned. "Now I've a good horse that won't pitch me over his head, as Nanny did, I'm going to ride all around and see the country. I'll see the city better, too. I'd like to tell father and mother what I'm doing, too."
The city gates were open now, and all men came and went at their will. There were throngs of them, for all the country people were eager to get a glimpse of their victorious king and his wonderful army. Ned found nothing to hinder him, therefore, and he made his horseback excursions industriously. The very first of them carried him once more over Stamford bridge and across the battle-field. He had thought he would wish to look at it and remember the fighting, but he did not linger there for a moment.
"It is too dreadful!" he exclaimed, urging his horse forward. "I never want to see a battle-field again, that is, not after all the battle is over. I'll ride on and see if I can visit Lars and Vebba."
It was not so very long a gallop to the bank of the Humber. Large numbers of Norway war-ships were still there, anchored or moored to the shore, but Ned searched among them in vain for a glimpse of his old friend, the Serpent. The fact was that these ships which remained were such as had been surrendered after the defeat of Hardrada's army. Quite a number, which had been ready for sea, had sailed away at once, carrying such Vikings as had not marched to the Derwent at all, and with them a great many of the first arriving fugitives.
"I guess she got away," said Ned. "She belonged to Vebba. I hope he and Lars are on board of her. Some day I mean to visit Norway again and go and see them, but they'd do better if they'd emigrate to America."
King Harold of England was dealing very mercifully with the beaten invaders. It was said that he had given two dozen of the captured vessels for his prisoners to go home in.
"It wouldn't do for him to kill them," remarked Ned, as he rode homeward. "I guess he was glad to be rid of them."
Other days went by, and Ned spent most of the in on horseback, so that he saw a great deal of that part of Northumberland. He returned to the tavern pretty well tired out, one evening, and, just as he was carrying a sputtering rush-light up-stairs, he heard heavy footsteps behind him and a cheery voice that shouted:
"My boy! Our luck hath come! A messenger came from London to the king, to-day, to tell him that the fleet of Duke William of Normandy hath been seen off the southern coast. Before Harold and his army can get there, the Normans will all be landed. They will have before them, soon, a greater battle than the one that was fought with the Norwegians, putting Fulford and Stamford bridge together."
"That's bad news for England," said Ned. "A host of men will be killed. I'm ready, anyhow. I want to see King Harold win another victory."
"Thou knowest very little about that," replied the missionary, going on up the stairs with him. "No man may say how a battle will turn out until after the fighting is over. I will ask thee one thing, however. Canst thou speak at all in French?"
"Of course I can," said Ned. "I learned it at home, when I was a little chap."
"It may yet be a good thing for thee," said Father Brian. "I have it upon my mind, however, that the greater part of Duke William's motley army speak tongues of their own, and not a word of French. It is a speech I have not yet heard. It may be that thou and I will listen to it before long."
"I guess so," said Ned. "I'll have a talk with King Harold's French prisoners, after he whips the duke."
Ned's admiration for the Saxon king had been strengthening rapidly from day to day, as he heard men talk about him. He did not now entertain any idea that his hero could really be beaten by Duke William. At the same time, he had begun to pick up rapidly a number of words of several kinds of Saxon. This had helped him very much in a number of conversations with the king's house-carles. It had also proved convenient at the tavern, among the citizens of York, and among the country people.
The Saxon army had been resting well during all these days, and it had been preparing for the long, severe march which its royal commander had known it must soon perform. He, statesman as well as general, had been setting in order the tangled affairs of the great northern earldoms. The two Earls of Mercia and Northumberland, Edwin and Morcar, had professed utter loyalty to him. They had promised to bring all the forces they could muster to join the army which was to oppose Duke William of Normandy.
This, nevertheless, would require time, and the king could not now wait for any new levies. He was needed to defend the southern counties of England, and, especially, to prevent the speedy capture of London by the Normans.
The mounted house-carles, the thingmen, were ready to march on the day following the arrival of the messenger who brought the tidings concerning Duke William's fleet. It may be that even then King Harold was aware of the terrible truth, that the landing of the Normans had already begun at Pevensey, on the southern coast, only three days after the battle of Stamford bridge. He was also aware, nevertheless, that the transfer from ship to shore of such a host as that of William, with its supplies, and with a vast number of horses for its cavalry, was a task which would surely require a number of days. More time would necessarily be consumed, after that, in getting the invading army into shape for any considerable forward movement. It was still possible, therefore, for Harold and his army to get to London in season. If he could save his capital city, then would follow the awful struggle that was sure to come for England's throne and freedom.
Out of the Ouse gate of the old city of York rode the mailed horsemen, in close array. Behind them, in endless columns, strode the footmen, thousand after thousand. Perhaps not a man who saw them march away could have believed what a fate was waiting for them on the southern shore of the land they were going to defend.
"My boy," said Father Brian, "thou and I will keep close along toward the front. The king himself rideth far ahead of all. He intendeth to stir up, as he goeth along, all the fighting strength of the middle counties."
"I'm afraid I won't have a chance to get at him," replied Ned. "I want to let him know the truth about that affair of Sikend the Berserker."
"Thou mayest let that rest," said the good missionary. "He hath quite enough to busy him just now. I think he may be caring very little who it was that speared one Viking. Only I bid thee keep good care of thy tongue and speak only the truth. It is always bad for a man to win upon false pretences. See that thou maintain thy honesty, my boy."
"I guess I will," said Ned. "There isn't anything crooked about me. If a man will tell a falsehood, the next thing he will be caught passing counterfeit money."
"Thou hast a great many of thy York Saxon sayings," remarked Father Brian, "that thou art not able to turn into good Latin. I have found it so with all the heathen I have ever been among. It sometimes maketh me wish that I were back at Clontarf, to hear men talking good sense once more. I give that up, however, for my duty biddeth me to remain, that I may do somewhat for the civilisation and instruction of these ignorant English people."
