The chiefs dispersed to array their troops for the morrow'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
interview. 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 remained 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 partner for a life that his
mirthful 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 disdain, and of bitter remembrance of a nobler love,
he comforted a terror which sprang from the thought of self.
"Oh, Harold!" 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 counsel; 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 then thy wife is safe, for she survives
not her lord and her land!"
The King left his wife's side, and kissed his brother's bride.
"Noble heart!" he said; "with women like thee for our wives and
mothers, England could survive the slaughter of thousand kings."
He turned, and knelt to Githa. She threw her arms over his broad
breast, and wept bitterly.
"Say--say, Harold, that I have not reproached thee for Tostig's death.
I have obeyed the last commands 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!--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 hast 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 freemen. Rejoice
that thou hast three sons left, whose arms thou mayest pray God and
his saints to prosper, and over whose graves, if they fall, thou shalt
shed no tears of shame!"
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 arms
with despairing fondness:
"O brother, brother, whom I have so dearly 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
docile pupil, and we dreamed bright dreams together of happiness and
fame to come,--when, loving thee methought too well, too much as weak
mothers may love a mortal son, I prayed God to detach my heart from
earth!--Oh, Harold! now forgive me all my coldness. I shudder at thy
resolve. I dread that thou should 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, O my brother!"
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:
"O Lord of Hosts--We Children of Doubt and Time, trembling in the
dark, dare not take to ourselves to question 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, O Disposer of events, our human
prayers are not adverse to thy pre-judged 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! But if, O 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!"