The Conqueror Read online

  Raoul‚Äôs fingers clenched suddenly on the folds of the tent-flap. He turned his head, watching the monk with painful eagerness.

  Hugh Maigrot picked up his tale again. ‚ÄòThey drew their swords with a mighty shout, and waved them aloft, declaring, ‚ÄúWe follow Harold, our true King!‚Äù Then Harold, being somewhat moved, as I thought, put his brother aside, and beckoning to me to come closer, spoke with me in good Latin, bidding me begone and tell your Grace that he would meet you in battle, when God should declare between you. And so I left the camp, pausing only to speak with certain monks from the Abbey of Waltham. My lord, the levies of Edwine and Morkere have not yet come up to join Earl Harold.‚Äô

  He stopped, and bowed. No one spoke for a moment; then the Duke said: ‚ÄòSo be it. We march at daybreak.‚Äô

  The Normans spent a great part of the night in confessing their sins, and receiving the Sacrament. The camp was in a bustle of preparation which did not cease until the moon rode high. Men curled up in their cloaks then upon the ground; the sentries paced slowly up and down with the starlight on their helmets; the priests were shriving penitents until the dawn, but Odo, the Bishop of Bayeux, lay sound asleep in his silken tent, with his shirt of mail hung from the pole behind him, and his mace ready to his hand.

  The Duke was up until midnight in conference with his barons, but he laid himself down on his couch then, and soon dropped off into an easy slumber. Raoul had a pallet in his tent, but he could not sleep. He went out into the night, and stood looking towards the line of dark hills that lay between Hastings and the Saxon encampment. Somewhere beyond those tree-crowned heights Edgar was lying, perhaps wakeful too, thinking of the morrow. Raoul tried to picture him: was he confessing his sins? or was he spending the night in feasting, as he had once said Saxons were wont to do before a battle?

  Tomorrow, thought Raoul, tomorrow ‚Ķ O God, let me not encounter Edgar! Let me not remember him, not see his face confronting me, nor meet his sword on mine, with death in both our hearts!

  A howl rose in the stillness, eerie and melancholy. Raoul started, and crossed himself involuntarily, but it was only one of the wolves that prowled round the camp at night, hunting for scraps thrown out on to the garbage heaps.

  At daybreak, when Mass had been celebrated, the Duke broke camp, and led his host in three divisions up the road that led to the hill called Telham, and over it to the fringe of the Andredsweald.

  The first division, which was composed mainly of French, Flemings, Ponthevins, and the men of Boulogne and Poix, was commanded by Count Eustace of Boulogne, and was to form the right wing of the army. Young Robert de Beaumont led a thousand Normans in this division. It was his first trial of arms, and he was eager to acquit himself worthily. He rode a restive destrier, and the badge of his house was blazoned on his shield.

  The second division, Norman to a man, was commanded by the Duke in person, riding the horse brought to him by Walter Giffard from Spain. He wore a plain tunic of steel rings sewn flat on leather, with loose sleeves reaching just below the elbows, and skirts to the mid-leg, slit before and behind to allow him greater freedom of movement. His hauberk and helmet, which were borne by his squire, were both quite plain, the helmet being sharply conical, and having a neck-piece as well as a nasal. The only weapons he carried were his lance, and the mace which hung from his saddle-bow.

  Near to him rode his brother and the Bishop of Coutances. The Bishop wore his robes, and held his crozier, but Odo had put on his mail shirt over a long white albe, and had armed himself with a formidable baston.

  The Count of Mortain was joined with N√©el de Saint-Sauveur, in the leadership of the C√¥tentin troops. His squire carried the standard of St Michael before him on the end of a lance.

  Close behind them rode Roger de Montgom√©ri at the head of the vast forces of Belesme, and near at hand were the veterans, Giffard and Gournay, and William FitzOsbern with the men of Breteuil, and of Bec-Crespin. None of the men yet wore their armour, since the weight of hauberks would only add to the fatigue of the march.

  The third division was to form the left wing. It was led by Alain Fergant and Count Haimer of Thouars, and was composed of Bretons, Manceaux, Poictevins, and auxiliaries from the banks of the Rhine.

  The way led over the foothills above the Pevensey marshes. When the sun grew warmer men sweated freely, and the long line of spears glittered like a metal snake winding along the road.

  From the summit of Telham Hill the Saxon army came in sight at last. The Norman host halted, and rested awhile in the shade of giant trees. The Duke had ridden forward a little way with Counts Eustace and Alain, and was closely observing the English position, and the ground that lay between.

  Harold had pitched his two standards on the opposite height, a narrow hill about a mile in length, which sloped gently down to the Senlac bottom at its foot. A hoar apple-tree marked its summit, and by this Harold‚Äôs own standard of the Fighting Man was planted. Across the valley the Normans could see the sheen of its golden folds; beside it the Dragon of Wessex floated red against the sky.

  The hill seemed to be completely covered with armed men. The Normans, straining their eyes to see more closely, whispered amongst themselves that a forest of spears awaited them.

  ‚ÄòHear me, Count Eustace!‚Äô the Duke said. ‚ÄòIf God grant me victory this day, I will build an Abbey where that standard waves now.‚Äô He pointed across the valley. ‚ÄòThat I swear, before God and the Pheasant.‚Äô He wheeled his horse, and came cantering back to the lines. He put on his hauberk, and taking his helmet from his squire set it on his head before he realized that he was holding it hind part before. He saw that some who were watching him were inclined to regard this accident as an ill abodement, and he said with a laugh: ‚ÄòA sign! My Dukedom shall be changed to a Kingdom, even as I now change this helm.‚Äô

  The army was in movement by this time, deploying along the sides of the hill, archers to the fore, the heavy foot immediately behind them, and the chivalry drawn up in the rear. Bardings jingled: caltraps caught the sun and flashed points of light; pennons and gonfanons fluttered a medley of devices.

  The Duke summoned up De Toeni with a nod, and held out his gonfanon. ‚ÄòBear my gonfanon, Ralph de Toeni,‚Äô he said, ‚Äòfor I would not but do you right, and by ancestry your family are Gonfanoniers of Normandy.‚Äô

  De Toeni rode up close. ‚ÄòMy thanks to you, beau sire, for the recognition of our right, but by my faith the gonfanon shall not be borne by me this day! Seigneur, I claim quittance of that service for one day alone, for I would serve you in another guise, and fight the English at your side.‚Äô

  The Duke laughed. ‚ÄòAs you will, De Toeni.‚Äô He looked round; his eye alighted on old Walter Giffard; he said: ‚ÄòLord of Longueville, I know none worthier than you to carry my standard.‚Äô

  Walter shook his head vigorously, and reined back. ‚ÄòFor the mercy of God, beau sire, look on my white hairs!‚Äô he begged. ‚ÄòMy strength is impaired; I am short of breath. Let Toustain here bear your gonfanon: I warrant he will be glad.‚Äô

  Toustain FitzRou Le Blanc, a knight of Caux, coloured up, and looked eagerly at the Duke. William held out the gonfanon. With a gasp Toustain took it in his reverent hold.

  Facing the ranks of his army the Duke made a short invigorating speech to the listening soldiers. ‚ÄòNow is the time for you to prove with what courage you are endowed,‚Äô he said. ‚ÄòFight like men, and you will have victory and honour and riches! Fail, and you will be swiftly slain or live to serve cruel enemies.‚Äô His voice lifted; he said strongly: ‚ÄòThere is no road for retreat. On one side arms and a hostile country bar the way; on the other the sea and the English ships oppose flight. It is not for men to be afraid. Try only that nothing shall make you retreat, and soon triumph shall rejoice your hearts.‚Äô

  He ended on