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."
This was an undertaking concerning which the good man was becoming more
and more enthusiastic. It was plain that he cared for it much more than
he did for any victories or defeats of either Norman William or Saxon
Harold.
Ned had heard him saying to himself:
"Little odds is it which of the two shall wear the crown, provided that
these millions of human beings shall be made over into something better
than so many two-legged cattle. They are little more than that now."
At first, even after exploring York, Ned had hardly agreed with him,
but he learned a great deal as they rode along and as he saw the actual
state of things in England.
Day followed day, and the mounted house-carles rode steadily onward.
Town after town, camp after camp, was reached and left behind.
Everywhere the king was welcomed with noisy acclamations. He appeared,
indeed, to be exceedingly well beloved by his subjects of every rank
and kind.
"They are all sorts, though," was a remark that Ned was forced to make
concerning them, and he added: "What they want is about forty thousand
Father Brians."
Large numbers, he discovered, were no better than slaves, the property
of the landholders. They had no hope whatever of improving their
condition. Even the freemen were only a shade better off. Not many,
even of the rich and titled, were able to read and write. There were a
great many other faults to find.
"Sometimes," said Ned, "I almost think England ought to be conquered.
Harold or somebody else ought to stir up things with a long pole."
He was hardly able to say what he would try to do first, if he were
king, and he determined to have a talk about it with Harold some day
after he should have beaten the Normans.
The country they rode through was very beautiful, after all. Some of
the towns were fairly well built. Some of the castles and palaces were
picturesque and attractive. There were numberless green fields and
fruitful orchards. The flocks of sheep and the herds of cattle looked
like prosperity.
Then, too, there were grand old forests of oaks and other trees, and
Ned saw herd after herd of beautiful red deer.
"No poor man dares to hunt them, they tell me," he said of the deer.
"They'd hang him as if he'd killed a man. Not even if he were starving.
It is a good deal as Father Brian says, the lower kinds of people in
England are treated as if they were beasts."
Above these, nevertheless, were the hundreds of thousands of
strong-armed yeomanry,--the farmers, the squires, the thanes, great and
small, and from among these King Harold was now trying to strengthen
his army. No doubt his success in doing so would have been better if
more time had been given him, but as he pushed onward messenger after
messenger came riding swiftly to tell him of the vast numbers and
warlike appearance of the host of William of Normandy. This was now all
landed, they reported, and it was almost ready for a march upon London,
where there was nothing to oppose it but a moderate force under Gyrth,
Earl of the East Angles and younger brother of the king.
"I want to see Gyrth," said Ned to the missionary. "They say he is
another hero like Harold."