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he had been deeply attached. He knew that there was before him a struggle

even more serious than that from which he had just emerged a victor, and

there was no saying how that struggle might end.

"I thank God that you are spared to me, Wulf," he said as the young thane

came up. "I marked you near me all through the battle, and none fought more

bravely. It has been a terrible day, and our victory is dearly purchased

indeed. I have sent a messenger to York, praying that every monk skilled in

surgery will at once hasten hither, that all men and boys shall come and

help to collect the wounded, and that such women as can aid will accompany

them. I cannot ask the men who have marched well-nigh night and day since

we left London, and borne the brunt of the day's battle, to do more.

England has need of their strength. The messenger was to stop at Helmsley,

and bid every soul left there to hurry to the field. It is but two miles

away, and in half an hour they will be here. The first thing for them to do

is to carry water to the wounded; there are no lack of vessels in the

Norsemen's camp."

"I will go to the bridge, my lord, and take them in charge when they

arrive, and set them at the work."

"You need rest as much as any, Wulf."

"I can rest to-morrow," Wulf said; "and at any rate could not sleep

to-night, for I must see to Osgod, who will, I fear, lose an arm."

"I am sorry to hear it," Harold said, "for one could ill spare so brave a

fellow. I saw the Norsemen going down under his axe, and assuredly no man

did more than he to-day."

"I will tell him what you say, my lord; it will do him good. I left him

sitting down on a bank bemoaning himself that he might not be cured in time

to fight the Normans."

Harold shook his head. "I would give half my estates, Wulf, that he should

be well enough to fight by your side in our first battle with the Normans.

That would mean that they would not land before two months have passed, and

by that time I would have all the force of England gathered to receive

them. As you are willing that it should be so, I will leave you in charge

of the camp to-night. It will be three hours before help can arrive from

York. Till then there is nought to do but to carry water to the wounded.

When they arrive the monks will dress the wounds, and the men and women

carry such as can be moved down by the river, where they can be treated

more easily than lying in the fields. Have a strict search made for the

body of my brother, and place a guard over it. Sweyn is in charge of the

Norse camp. There is great treasure there, which shall to-morrow be partly

divided among the troops."

Wulf went at once down to the bridge, while Harold and his thanes lay down

like the soldiers on the field of battle. In a short time men, women, and

children came in from Helmsley. Having been told what they were required

for, they had brought with them jugs and drinking cups, and also a supply

of torches. The first search was made over the ground west of the river.

Here few English had fallen, but the Norsemen lay thickly. Wulf ordered

that water should be given to all, foe as well as friend. The number of

living was small, for the heavy two handed axes had done their work

thoroughly. When such as survived had been seen to, Wulf led the villagers

over the bridge.

"Scatter right and left," he said, "and then move forward. You cannot go

wrong." Having seen them all at work, he hurried away to the spot where he

had left Osgod sitting. He had before leaving him staunched the flow of

blood by winding a bow string round the arm above the wound and then

twisting it tightly.

"How fares it with you, Osgod? Here is a ewer of water."

"That is good," Osgod said, after taking a mighty draught. "Truly I felt

as if the moisture of my body had all dried up, and not only my mouth but

my whole frame was parched."

"Why, Osgod," Wulf exclaimed, as he held the torch he carried close to him,

"your arm has gone!"

"That is so, master, an arm after the bone has been cleft through is of no

use to anyone, so I thought the sooner I got rid of it the better, and

having my knife handy I just cut through the flesh that remained. That was

the end of it. Would that we could get rid of all our evils as readily.

To-morrow I will walk to York and get the wound seared."

"The king sent to York for aid directly the battle was over, and we shall

have all the townsfolk here soon, among them monks and others skilled in

the dressing of wounds. I told the king of your misfortune." And he then

repeated what Harold had said.

"It does me good to hear that Harold is satisfied with me. I hope to

strike many a good blow for him yet."

"How still it is here, Osgod! There is scarce a sound to be heard from all

those lying round."

"There are but few with life in them, I reckon," Osgod said. "A Norse

sword and an English axe let out the life quickly when they strike fair.

This blow fell on my arm as my axe was raised to strike, and it were well

it did so, or it would have taken me in the neck, and then neither monk nor

leech could have brought me back to life. Had it been my right arm I would

as lief have been killed at once, for what good is a man without his right

arm?"

"You would have learned to use your left in time, Osgod. Now if you can

walk, come down to the river, and I will see that you are among the first

attended to."

"I will lie down here," Osgod said, "for in truth I feel as if I need

sleep. For the last two days I have been scarce able to keep my eyes open,

and now that I have had a drink I feel that a few hours' rest will do me

more good than any monk."

Osgod's words came slowly and heavily, and as he ended he lay down on his

back. Wulf saw that it was best that he should sleep, and so left him. In

two hours a great number of lights were seen along the road, and soon a

crowd of men and women from York appeared and scattered themselves over the

battlefield, the monks pouring balm into wounds and bandaging them up,

while the men and women carried the wounded, as fast as they were attended

to, down to the river. The bodies of Tostig and of the King of Norway were

both found, and a guard placed over them, and in the morning that of Tostig

was carried to York for burial in the cathedral, while Harold Hardrada was

buried where he fell.

Harold sent messengers to the Norsemen's fleet offering mercy to them if

they would surrender, and their chiefs come to York and swear never again

to raise their swords against England--an offer which was thankfully

accepted, for the English fleet had entered the Humber, and their retreat

was cut off.

The next day the Norse chiefs went to York and took the required oath, and

were then escorted back to their ships. So terrible had been the

slaughter, so complete the destruction of the invading army, that, even

including the guard that remained at the fleet, twenty-four ships sufficed

to carry away home the survivors of the mighty host. The task of burying

the slain was too great to be undertaken, and for many years afterwards the

field of battle was whitened with the bones of the invaders who had fallen

there.

On the day after the battle Harold returned with his army to York. Here all

who had fallen away from the cause of England were pardoned. Measures were

taken for making the fighting strength of the North available for the

general defence of the country. The wounded were cared for in the houses of

the citizens, and for five days the troops rested after their prodigious

exertions.

Early in the morning after the battle Osgod's wound had been seared with

red-hot irons. He had borne the pain unflinchingly, saying that he had

suffered as much from burns more than once while learning his trade as an

armourer. Wulf was not present, as he had thrown himself down to sleep as

soon as he had been relieved at daylight, but he saw him before he started

with the king for York.

"Yes, it hurts a bit, master," Osgod replied in answer to his inquiries. "I

could not expect otherwise. You will have to do without me for a few days.

I have made friends with some peasants at Helmsley. I shall stay with them

till the army marches south. If I were at York I should never keep quiet;

and the monks tell me the quieter I am the sooner my wounds will heal. They

are poor creatures, these monks; they wanted to make out that it might be

two or three months before I was fit for service again. I told them it

would be a shame to my manhood if in a fortnight I could not wield an axe

again. It is not as if I had been brought up softly. I have burnt myself

with hot irons many a time, and know that a few days suffices to heal a

sore."

"It is not the sore, Osgod; it is the veins that might burst out bleeding

again."

"That is what they said, master; but at present there is not much blood

left in me, I think, and by the time it comes again my veins ought to have

healed themselves. This plaguey bowstring hurts me well-nigh as much as the

smart of the irons; but the monks say I must bear it for a couple of days,

when they will put on some tight bandages in its place, but if I can bear

the pain it were better that it should be kept there for a week or two."

Five days passed. The king laboured incessantly at making a settlement of

the affairs of the North. The thanes came in from all Northumbria. They

were full of thankfulness at the deliverance that had been wrought for

them, and the victor of Stamford Bridge was far more to them than the King

of England had ever been. All were received with kindness and courtesy, and

Harold felt that at Stamford Bridge he had conquered not only the host of

Norway but the Northern earldoms. On the evening of the fifth day after

the battle they held a great banquet at York. The feasting was at its

height when Harold was told that a messenger had arrived with urgent news,

and the man was at once brought in. He had ridden in two days from the

South, and brought the momentous news that on the third day after the

victory of Stamford Bridge the Norman host had landed in Sussex.

CHAPTER XX.

THE LANDING OF THE FOE.

While Harold with his army had been anxiously and impatiently watching the

sea on the southern coast of England, the mixed host of the Duke of

Normandy had been no less anxiously awaiting a favourable breeze at the

port where the whole of the expedition was gathered. William had, however,

one great advantage. While Harold's army and navy were composed of levies,

bound by feudal obligations to remain but a certain time under arms, and

eager to return to their harvest operations, their wives and families,

William's was made up to a great extent of seasoned troops and professional

soldiers, gathered not only from his own dominions but from all parts of

Europe.

These were far more amenable to orders than were the English militia.

Tempted by the thought of the plunder of England, they had enlisted under

the duke's banner for the expedition. They had no thought of returning

home, and as long as they were well supplied with food, the delay in

starting mattered comparatively little to them; and thus while at length

the fleet and army of Harold scattered to their homes the Normans remained

in their camp, ready to embark on board the ships as soon as a favourable

wind blew. They were kept in good temper by receiving regular pay and

provisions, and as all plundering was strictly forbidden the country people

freely brought in supplies, and for a month the great army was fed without

difficulty; but as the resources of the country became exhausted the duke

grew more and more anxious to move to another port, and taking advantage of

a change of wind to the west he embarked his army and sailed north along

the coast of Normandy to the mouth of the Somme, and the troops disembarked

and encamped round the town of St. Valery.

Here there was another long delay, and while Harold was marching north to

meet the King of Norway the Normans were praying for a favourable wind at

the holy shrine at the Abbey of St. Valery. Two days after the host of

Harold Hardrada had been destroyed the wind suddenly shifted to the south.

There had on the previous day been a great religious ceremony; the holy

relics had been brought by the priests into the camp; the whole army had

joined in a solemn service; precious gifts had been offered at the shrine,

and as the change of wind was naturally ascribed to the influence of the

saint, the army was filled with enthusiasm, and believed that heaven had

declared in their favour.

From morning till night the scene of bustle and preparation went on, and

when darkness fell the whole host had embarked. Every ship was ordered to

bear a light, and a huge lantern was hoisted at the masthead of the

_Mora_, the duke's own ship, and orders were issued that all vessels

should follow the light. The _Mora_, however, was a quick sailer, and

was not, like the other vessels, deeply laden down with horses and men.

When daylight broke, therefore, she had so far outstripped the rest that no

other sail was in sight, and she anchored until the fleet came up, when the

voyage was continued, and at nine on the morning of Thursday the 28th of

September the Normans landed on English soil, near the village of Pevensey.

The landing was unopposed; the housecarls were away north with their king,

the levies were scattered to their homes. To the surprise of the Normans

who landed in battle array no armed man was to be seen. Parties of mounted

men at once examined the country for miles round, but without finding signs

of the defending army they expected to meet. On the following morning a

small force was left in the Roman fortifications near Pevensey to guard the

ships, hauled up on the beach, from attack, and the duke with his army

marched away along the Roman road to Hastings, where William established