King Harold, Godwin’s Son, and the Battle of Stamford Bridge
(1066)
The king who succeeded Edward was in every way unlike him. The fair
hair and beard and blue eyes of Edward, described by our chroniclers,
his long, feminine fingers, his florid complexion and thin form,
belonged to quite a different type from the strong, able man who
succeeded him. Harold had, in fact, been the real ruler of the
kingdom since his father died; and he seems to have inherited much
of his father’s genius for administration. He, like all his family,
was strongly opposed to the Norman influence which was creeping into
England, and he was looked upon by the people as the guardian of their
liberties and the representative Englishman of his day. There was
no dispute or hesitation about his accession to the throne: had all
his race been royal he could not more quietly have succeeded to the
crown. His troubles arose, not from the English people, but from his
own family. The English chronicles say that he was the eldest son of
Godwin, but there seems some probability that the Norse sagas are right
in making him a younger son, who had been the favourite with his own
father and also with the King, and that it was Tosti’s anger at this
preference that made him, as the eldest son, take up arms against
Harold. They tell us that when Edward was dying Harold bent down over
the King, and then, straightening himself, he turned to those who were
standing by, saying, “I take you to witness that the King has now made
over to me the realm of England.” When the news reached Tosti, who
was, we remember, in exile in Flanders, he at once set out for Denmark
and Norway, to persuade their kings to help him to recover his own
possessions in England. To Sweyn, King of Denmark, he offered his help
to win the country for him and make him King of England, as Canute, his
uncle, had been, if he would dethrone Harold and restore to him, Tosti,
his possessions in Northumbria. But Sweyn, who was in perpetual warfare
with Norway, would not be induced to take another expedition on his
hands.
“I,” he replied, “am so much smaller a man than Canute the Great that
I can hardly defend my own dominions against the Northmen. My uncle
Canute got the Danish throne by inheritance: he took England by slash
and blow. Norway he took without a blow at all. But it suits me much
better to do what I can with the little ability I have than to try
to imitate King Canute’s lucky hits.” Tosti was angry at this, and
replied: “The result of my errand is not what I expected of a gallant
man like thee when a relative came to ask thy help in time of need. It
may be that I shall seek help where it might be less likely to be got,
and that I may come across a chief less afraid than thou art, King, to
undertake a great enterprise.” The King and the earl parted, not the
best of friends.
Then Tosti went on to the new King of Norway, Harald Sigurdson, called
“Hardrada,” and talked him over to his cause, and at last he promised
to go and attack England, Tosti having persuaded him that he could
easily conquer England and add it to the dominions of Norway. Harald
Hardrada sent out the split arrow, the sign of a war levy, through
Norway, while Earl Tosti sailed to Flanders to collect the men who had
accompanied him or had gathered to join his forces. There King Harald
Hardrada joined him with a large fleet of nearly 300 vessels, besides
provision-ships and smaller craft. Before leaving Nidaros, Harald had
visited St Olaf’s shrine, opened it, and taken out a piece of the
Saint’s hair; then he locked the shrine, and threw the keys into the
sea, since which time it has never been opened again.
But it was with bad omens and many forebodings that Harald went on this
expedition. A man in his army dreamed that he saw a huge witch-woman
riding in front of the host on the back of a wolf, and she was feeding
the wolf with the bodies of men, and blood was dripping from its
jaws. Another dreamed that all over the fleet he saw a raven of death
sitting on every ship’s stern, waiting to devour the slain. And the
King himself dreamed that King Olaf met him and prophesied his death.
These visions made the whole host gloomy and fearful. The King took his
wife and two daughters and one of his sons with him to England, but he
caused his son Magnus to be proclaimed king over Norway in case he did
not return again.
Harold, Godwin’s son, was hardly seated on the throne when he heard
that his brother Tosti was come to the South of England and was
gathering great multitudes of men in the Isle of Wight. Harold had
been collecting an army, fearing an invasion by William of Normandy,
for he knew well enough that William would never forgive him for having
broken his oath to him, or for forgetting his promise to come back from
England to marry his young daughter, to whom he had been betrothed in
Normandy. He immediately prepared to lead his army south toward the
place where he heard that Tosti was; but the earl took ship again and
slipped away north to his own old earldom of Northumbria, where, in
spite of his cruelties during his rule, he hoped to find some men to
help him. Harald Hardrada had crossed over with his fleet to Orkney,
where the Earls of Orkney, Paul and Erlend, joined him with a great
force; and there he left his wife and daughters, taking his son Olaf
with him, and sailing south to meet Tosti in Northumbria. When Tosti
arrived he found the Norwegian King already plundering the country,
and subduing the people all along the coast. At Scarborough, which
lies beneath a high cliff, the King had fought his way inland, and
on mounting the hill behind the town he had caused a great pile of
brushwood to be made and set on fire; then his men with pitchforks
threw the burning wood down upon the town, so that one house after
another caught the flame, and the people surrendered. Then he passed on
to the Humber, where Tosti joined him, and together they sailed up the
river, awaiting the coming of Earl Morcar, whom Harold, Godwin’s son,
had made earl when Tosti fled abroad, and who was advancing from York
with a large army.
The King of Norway drew up his men near Fulford, south-east of York.
They stood with one end of their line toward the River Ouse, and the
other ran along a ditch on the land side. A deep morass, full of
water, lay beside them. The earl’s army came down along the ditch,
advancing bravely, for at first it seemed that the Northmen at the end
of the ditch would give ground before them. But King Harald Hardrada
heard that the enemy were approaching; he ordered his war-charge to be
sounded, and with his banner, the Land-ravager, borne before him, he
urged on his men. Very vigorous was the charge, and the earl’s army
broke before it; they turned and fled, some up and some down the river,
while many leaped into the ditch. So thick lay the bodies that it is
said the Norsemen could go dry-foot over the morass, walking on the
slain. The song called “Harald Hardrada’s Stave” says about this:
“Earl Morcar’s men
Lay in the fen,
By sword down-hewn,
So thickly strewn
That Norsemen say
They paved a way
Across the fen
For brave Norsemen.”
Earl Morcar is said by the Northern chronicles to have been slain, and
the rest of his men shut themselves up in York.
It was at this moment that King Harold of England heard what was
happening in the North. With incredible quickness he turned his army
northward, marching night and day the long journey to York. On the 25th
of September, 1066, that fateful year for England, the two armies met
at Stamford Bridge, or Stanforda Bryggiur, as the Norsemen called it.
The Norsemen were far from expecting his appearance; only the night
before, York had surrendered into the hands of the Norwegian King, and
it had been promised that on the Monday morning a general “Thing” would
be held in the castle to receive the King of Norway’s officers and to
accept his laws. The King had gone to his ships in a merry mood and
was feasting with his men. It was at this very moment that Harold of
England arrived with his great army from the South. On his appearance
at York, the city had instantly opened its gates to him, amid the joy
and good-will of all the people in the castle. So closely did Harold’s
army beset the town that no news was allowed to pass out to let the
Norwegian King know what was happening inside. This was on Sunday night.
On Monday morning the King of Norway called a levy, and ordered that
two out of every three men should follow him on shore, the remaining
third to stay and guard the ships with his son Olaf, and the Earls
of Orkney, Paul and Erlend. The weather was uncommonly hot, and the
sun blazing. The men therefore laid aside their armour, and went on
shore only with their shields, helmets, and weapons. They were very
merry, for all had given way before them. They were on their way to the
“Thing” at York, and they knew nothing about the arrival of Harold’s
troops. As they came near the castle they saw a cloud of dust rising
before them, as from horses’ feet, and shining shields and bright
armour seemed to be visible through the dust. The King halted his
people, and calling Earl Tosti he asked him what this could be. He said
it seemed like a hostile army, but on the other hand it might be some
of his relatives come to make peace with them. The King commanded a
halt to discover what army it was; and as it drew nearer it seemed to
increase in size, and the shining arms were to the sight like glancing
ice.
The King said that there could be no doubt that this was a hostile
army, and he asked what counsel they should take in this strait. Tosti
advised that they should turn about to their ships and either take
refuge there or at least get their armour and weapons. But the King was
not of that opinion. He was for making ready for fight there and then.
He placed three of his swiftest lads on horses and sent them to gather
the rest of their people, and he ordered his banner, the Land-ravager,
to be set up, and arranged his army in a long, shallow, curved line,
with himself and his banner and choice followers in the centre. And he
said that the Englishmen should have a hard fray of it before they gave
themselves up for lost.
The vast English army, both of cavalry and infantry, was not far off.
Harald, King of Norway, rode once round his troops, to see that all
were in position. As he came near the front, on his black horse, the
horse stumbled and the King fell off. He sprang up in haste, crying
out: “A fall is lucky for a traveller.” The English Harold saw his
namesake fall. He turned to the Northmen who were with him and said:
“Do you know the stout man who fell from his horse, with the blue
kirtle and the beautiful helmet?” “That is the King himself,” said
they. “A great man,” quoth Harold, “and of stately appearance; but I
think his luck has left him.”
Then twenty horsemen, in full armour, with their horses also clothed
in armour, rode forward with King Harold at their head to speak to
his brother, Earl Tosti. The brothers had been long separated, and
neither of them at first recognized the other. Harold rode up to Tosti
and asked: “Is Earl Tosti in this army?” “It is not to be denied
that ye will find him here,” said the earl. Then Harold, feigning to
be a herald, said: “Thy brother, King Harold of England, sends thee
salutation, and offers thee the whole of Northumbria; and if this is
not enough, he will give thee a third of the kingdom, if thou wilt
submit to him.”
The earl said: “This is something different from the scorn and enmity
he showed us last winter. But if I accept his offer what will he give
the King of Norway for his trouble?”
“He has also spoken of this,” replied the horseman. “This will he give
him: seven feet of English ground to lie in, or as much more as he may
need if he be taller than other men.”
“If that is so,” said Tosti, “go back and tell Harold to prepare for
battle; for never shall it be said that Tosti failed the King of Norway
when he came to England to fight for him. Rather we will resolve to die
with honour if we may not gain England by a victory.”
When the horsemen rode back King Harald Hardrada said to the earl: “Who
was that man who spoke so well?” “That,” said Tosti, “was King Harold
Godwinson, the King of England.” “Had we only known that,” said the
King angrily, “never would Harold have returned alive to tell the tale.”
But the earl said: “Although I knew my brother, I would not betray him
or be his murderer when he came to offer me peace; but that he was
bold to come thus so near us and ran a great risk, that is true, as you
say.”
“He was but a little man,” said Harald, “yet I saw that he sat firmly
in his stirrups.”
On this the fight began; and so long as the Northmen kept their ground
the English could do nothing against them, and kept riding round their
close ranks, seeking a weak spot. At length the Norse grew tired of
this, and broke their line, thinking to drive back the English in
flight; but from that time all went against them, and they fell in
multitudes under the English spears and arrows. King Harald Hardrada
became wild with rage, and burst forth from his men, fighting and
hewing down with both hands, so that no one could stand before him;
but at length he was hit in the windpipe with an arrow, and he fell,
for that was his death-wound. When they saw that the King was dead
the whole army paused awhile, and Harold again sent forward offers of
peace; but the Norsemen said they would rather fall one across the
other than accept quarter from the English. It is told in the English
chronicles that the hardest fight was on the bridge, where one single
Norseman stood at the entrance to the way to cover the flight of the
Norse to their vessels, cutting down all who ventured their feet upon
the structure. So many had he killed that at last the English feared
to attempt to pass, and all stood back, for the bridge was piled with
dead. They offered him peace, but scornfully he rejected it, and
called on them to advance, deriding them as cowards because they were
afraid of one single man. At length an iron javelin, thrown from afar,
transfixed the brave warrior, and on his death the English passed
the bridge and pursued the flying Norsemen. Many of the enemy fell
through pure weariness, dying without a wound, and darkness came on
before the slaughter was ended. Tosti was among the slain, but King
Harold protected Olaf, the young son of Harald Hardrada, and sent him
and the Earls of Orkney safely home, when they had sworn allegiance to
him. This prince was known as Olaf Kyrre, or “the Quiet,” in Norway,
where he reigned from 1068 to 1093. It is said that Harold would allow
no spoil to his soldiers; and on account of this many of them were
discontented, and stole away from him.
Hardly was the battle of Stamford Bridge concluded than the news
was brought to Harold that William had landed at Pevensey, and was
overwhelming the South of England with his vast army. Seventeen days
later the battle of Senlac, or Hastings, as it is usually called, was
fought and won, Harold falling at set of sun, pierced by an arrow in
the eye.
Thus came to an end at one time the English dynasty and the rule of
Danish kings. No future King of Norway or Denmark laid claim to the
Crown of England as part of his rightful heritage; but the Norman kings
who reigned in England were themselves part of the same stock, and the
fresh blood they brought was still Northman’s blood, come round by way
of Normandy.
The body of King Harald Hardrada was a year later transported from
England to Nidaros,[48] and was there buried in a church that he had
built. From the time when, at fifteen years of age, he had fought with
his brother, St Olaf, at the battle of Stiklestad until his death, he
had ever been a bold and lucky warrior; but his luck turned at Stamford
Bridge.[49] He was of great height--four Danish ells, or nearly eight
feet. It was on this account that Harold offered him seven feet of
English ground to be buried in, “or more if he needed it.”