HOW THE DUKE AND HIS HOST LANDED NEAR TO HASTINGS,
AND MADE THEMSELVES A FORT.
The ships steered to one port; all arrived and reached the shore
together; together cast anchor, and ran on dry land; and together they
discharged themselves. They arrived near Hastings, and there each ship
ranged by the other's side. There you might see the good sailors, the
Serjeants and squires sally forth and unload the ships; cast the
anchors, haul the ropes, bear out shields and saddles, and land the
warhorses and palfreys. The archers came forth, and touched land the
foremost; each with his bow bent, and his quiver full of arrows slung at
his side. All were shaven and shorn, and all clad in short garments,
ready to attack, to shoot, to wheel about and skirmish. All stood well
equipped, and of good courage for the fight; and they scoured the whole
shore, but found not an armed man there. After the archers had thus gone
forth, the knights landed next, all armed; with their hauberks on, their
shields slung at their necks, and their helmets laced. They formed
together on the shore, each armed upon his warhorse. All had their
swords girded on, and passed into the plain with their lances raised.
The barons had gonfanons, and the knights pennons. They occupied the
advanced ground, next to where the archers had fixed themselves. The
carpenters, who came after, had great axes in their hands, and planes
and adzes hung at their sides. When they had reached the spot where the
archers stood, and the knights were assembled, they consulted together,
and sought for a good spot to place a strong fort upon. Then they cast
out of the ships the materials, and drew them to land, all shaped framed
and pierced to receive the pins which they had brought, cut and ready in
large barrels; so that before evening had well set in, they had finished
a fort. Then you might see them make their kitchens, light their fires,
and cook their meat. The duke sat down to eat, and the barons and
knights had food in plenty; for he had brought ample store. All ate and
drank enough, and were right glad that they were ashore.
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Before the duke left the Somme, a clerk had come to him, who knew, he
said, astronomy and necromancy, and held himself a good diviner, and
predicted many things. So he divined for the duke, and predicted that he
should pass the sea safely, and succeed in his expedition, without
fighting at all; for that Harold would make such promises, and come to
such terms, that he would hold the land of the duke, and become his
liegeman, and so William would return in safety. As to the good
passage, he predicted right enough; but as to not fighting, he lied.
When the duke had crossed, and arrived safely, he remembered the
prediction, and inquired for the diviner. But one of the sailors said he
had miscarried and was drowned at sea, being in one of the lost ships.
"Little matters it," said the duke; "no great deal could he have known.
A poor diviner indeed must he be about me, who could predict nought
about himself. If the things to come were known to him, he might well
have foreseen his own death; foolish is he who trusts in a diviner, who
takes heed for others but forgets himself; who knows the end of other
men's work, and can not discern the term of his own life." Such was the
end of the diviner.
As the ships were drawn to shore, and the duke first landed, he fell by
chance upon his two hands. Forthwith all raised a loud cry of distress,
"An evil sign," said they, "is here." But he cried out lustily, "See,
seignors, by the splendour of God! I have seized England with my two
hands; without challenge no prize can be made; all is our own that is
here; and now we shall see who will be the bolder man." Then one of his
men ran forward and put his hand on a hut, and took a handful of the
thatch, and turned to the duke, saying heartily, "Sire, come forward and
receive seizin; of this land I give you seizin; without doubt the
country is yours." And the duke said, "I accept it; may God be with us."
Then he ordered proclamation to be made, and commanded the sailors that
the ships should be dismantled, and drawn ashore and pierced, that the
cowards might not have the ships to flee to[1].
All cannot be told or written at once; but, passing backward and forward
to each matter in its turn, I have now to tell that the duke immediately
after his arrival made all his host arm themselves.
The first day they held their course along the sea-shore; and on the
morrow came to a castle called Penevesel[2]. The squires and foragers,
and those who looked out for booty, seized all the clothing and
provisions they could find, lest what had been brought by the ships
should fail them; and the English were to be seen fleeing before them,
driving off their cattle, and quitting their houses. All took shelter in
the cemeteries[3], and even there they were in grievous alarm.
[Footnote 1: The Bayeux tapestry is considered to contradict Wace's
supposed story of the ships being destroyed. _Benoit_ says nothing of
it. Is it clear that the ships are not meant to be represented in the
tapestry as drawn ashore, dismantled, and in a state unfit for service?
This probably was done, and it may be all that was meant to be reported.
We venture to give this mitigated sense to 'despecies,' particularly as
the operations in the next line of 'drawing ashore and piercing,' are
hardly consistent with previous destruction. The dismantling of the
ships, left under protection of the fort, when going inland, seems a
prudent precaution against a surprise by Harold's fleet, as well as
against any sudden fit of despair arising in the Norman army; but their
destruction would have been a rash step. From such dismantling may have
arisen the report of destruction, which the chronicle of Battel Abbey,
_MS. Cott. Dom. A. ii._ improves into actual burning. It would appear
that they were soon refitted, and followed William's cautious course
along the coast to Dover. The _Carmen de hello Hastingensi_ makes
William rest five days at Hastings after the battle.]
[Footnote 2: Pevensey.]
[Footnote 3: This use of the cemeteries is again mentioned in _Wace_,
ii. 381. 'As cimetieres tot atraient,' See also _Ordericus Vit_. xi.
815.]
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