Ned, the son of Webb: What he did.

by William Osborn Stoddard

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE BATTLE OF SENLAC.

  Both armies remained within their lines, that Friday morning, andboth were busily preparing for battle. The commanders as well as thewarriors were making ready.

  The instructions given by King Harold to his men were to act altogetherupon the defensive, and to content themselves with their strongposition along Senlac ridge.

  If his orders had been rigidly obeyed by all, there would have been novictory won by William of Normandy. The generalship of the king and thevalour of his warriors were made of no avail by the headlong folly ofthe less disciplined part of the Saxon army.

  During this day, ambassadors went back and forth, more than once,as if the last possibility of peace had not already for ever passedaway. Harold could not consent to any terms which did not include theimmediate departure of the invaders, and William could not at this hourabandon his great military enterprise without fighting a battle.

  Both armies were in good spirits. The Normans might well feelconfidence in their greatly superior numbers and in the establishedreputation of Duke William as a successful general. The Saxons, on theother hand, appreciated the strength of their position, and they wereable to say to one another that Harold, the son of Godwin, had neverlost a battle. They believed him to be at least the equal of any livingarmy leader.

  Ned, the son of Webb, and Father Brian were busy all along the lines,from hour to hour, but there was nothing warlike for them to do. When,however, they returned to their camp at evening, both of them appearedto have become exceedingly English, or at least Saxon, in feeling.

  "I believe I know what's coming," said Ned. "The Normans can't breakin! We can cut them all to pieces if they try it on."

  "The fight will be long and hard," replied the missionary, veryseriously. "It will be well for thee and me to obtain places ofobservation upon as high ground as we may."

  "All right," said Ned. "I want to see it all. It will be something forme to tell about when I get home. I shall never forget it as long as Ilive!"

  "Ah, my boy!" said the good man, "a great many thousands of theseSaxons and Normans will not live to remember it."

  They slept again, and arose with the sun of Saturday, October 14, A. D.1066, the day of the great change which came to England.

  It was yet early in the forenoon when Harold the King rode slowlyalong his lines and spoke good words to all his soldiers. Everywherethey responded to him with loud, enthusiastic acclamations of love andloyalty, and fearlessness.

  Duke William of Normandy also, attended by a brilliant escort ofcelebrated warriors and men of high rank, rode from one to another ofthe serried masses of his mighty host. He addressed them with fieryeloquence, assuring them of complete and speedy victory over theinferior forces opposed to them.

  They, as well as he, however, were able to see how strong were theSenlac works, and how warlike and firm was the Saxon array behind thebarriers.

  Ned, the son of Webb, and his companion found that, from their post onthe hill, they had a good view of both armies. They had been watchingall movements and indications with almost breathless interest. It wasnot yet noon when Ned suddenly exclaimed:

  "Oh, isn't this magnificent! I don't believe there was ever anythingmore splendid in all the world!"

  "It will be a great battle, my boy," said the missionary, "one of thegreatest in all history. There! Seest thou?"

  "I see!" shouted Ned. "The Normans are advancing! William's whole armyis moving! Oh, how I wish our men were armed with breech-loaders! Iwish we had Maxim guns and cannon looking out through the palisades.The Normans would never get near enough to do any chopping on them,then."

  "Chopping?" echoed the good man. "In a very little, I think thou wiltsee good chopping done by the Saxons. The best of our ax-men are atthe front. Mark thou the slingers behind them, and note King Harold'sbowmen. I would there were more of them. The archers and slingers ofDuke William come on in advance of his horsemen."

  "They are beginning, too," said Ned. "A stone from a sling will breaka shield. They say the Norman arrows will go through armour."

  "If they hit!" said the priest. "Mark, now! This is the advantage ofthe king's position."

  Ned could understand it in a moment. The duke's archers had a highreputation, but in this beginning of the battle they laboured under aserious disadvantage. All their skill and strength were of small value,while they were shooting from low ground at enemies who were not onlyabove them, but were protected by walls of wood. It was evident thatuntil these defences were broken through stones and arrows would makeno important impression upon Harold's men.

  "Ha, ha!" exclaimed Father Brian. "They sling well, but they are inneed of more stones to throw. A man may not carry a quarry in a quiver.Small harm have they done, and the sharp arrows are wasted on thepalisades. I think Duke William must do better than this, or he willget no nearer London."

  "How lead would tell just now!" responded Ned. "The range is gettingshort enough for heavy revolvers. Hurrah! Here come the Norman spearmenand the mounted knights in full armour. What can lances do againstpalisades? This is grand!"

  The duke's archers and slingers had suffered heavy losses, and theynow fell back discomfited, leaving the Senlac slope littered thicklywith the victims of the shafts and stones of the Saxons. All was clear,however, for the desperate assault which was to test the strength ofKing Harold's lines. If it were successful, it would be proved that hisjudgment as a general had been wrong, and that he ought not to havefaced the invaders at Senlac.

  The attack was made in excellent order, and with desperate courage,by masses which seemed to be overwhelming. As they pressed onward upthe slope, the arrows and javelins of the Saxons came among them in adeath-dealing storm, slaying or disabling both horses and men by thehundred. They did not waver, however, and now their foremost ranks hadreached the palisades to be met by the long spears, the missiles, andthe terrible pole-axes.

  "How they go down, the Normans!" gasped Ned. "They have not brokenthrough at any place. They are falling back! They are beaten! What willthe duke do, now?"

  Up to this moment, the King of England and his two brothers hadremained on the hill, together, that they might better observe theoperations of both armies, and it must have seemed to them that theirplan of battle promised complete success. On the duke's left, indeed,his host of Bretons, horse and foot, had suffered such severe lossesthat they were retreating in much disorder. In their panic rout theywere confusing also his left centre, and at the same time his entireright wing had staggered back down the slope in dismay.

  Terrible was the disappointment and wild was the wrath of the Normanleader as he witnessed this first result of the stubborn valour ofthe Saxons. They had suffered small loss, comparatively, and theirconfidence in themselves and in their king was stronger than ever. Itwas only too strong, for it became a great danger.

  Sometimes the power of a really great leader of men shows at its bestunder adverse circumstances. Dark as seemed the prospect before him,Duke William had lost neither heart nor hope. He was among his troops,now, galloping from point to point, commanding, directing, encouraging,even threatening. It was by his own personal exertions and address thathis beaten forces were rallying at the very moment when the Saxon rightwing, contrary to the strict orders of King Harold, broke forth fromthe security of its defences to pursue the fleeing Bretons.

  Ned, the son of Webb, heard, or thought he heard, a terribleexclamation from the king, and then both of the earls, his brothers,Gyrth and Leofwine, spurred away. They went to recall the mistakensally of their overconfident men, but they were too late.

  The quick eyes of Duke William had instantly perceived his opportunity.He was already reinforcing with fresh troops his rallying fugitives,and at once, in the open field, their superior numbers becameavailable. In vain did their rash Saxon pursuers rally around the tworoyal brothers. In vain did they cut down hundreds of their foemenwhile they strove to fight their way back to the shelter of theirSenl
ac defences.

  "Swarms!" groaned Ned. "Oh, what swarms of Normans are pouring aroundthose men! William himself is there! More of his men-at-arms arecharging in! His very best knights! What? There! He and Earl Gyrth arefighting, hand to hand! William's horse is killed! He has fallen! Heis up again! Gyrth's horse, too, is killed! They are fighting again onfoot! Is it Gyrth? No, I can see William! Yes! Oh, dear! Gyrth is dead!"

  It was terribly exciting to watch such a struggle as this had become.Near him sat King Harold, himself, upon his horse, as motionless as abronze image.

  "Father Brian," whispered Ned, hoarsely, "Leofwine, too, is down. KingHarold hath no brothers, now. He must fight the rest of this battlealone. Oh, this is dreadful!"

  Dark, indeed, had now become the prospect before the central body ofthe Saxon army. Although the defences in front of it were unbroken,those at its right as well as at its left were very soon passed by theNormans. It was afterward said that Duke William had cunningly orderedhis troops on the Saxon right also to pretend flight, that theirenemies might be tempted to follow as those on the left had followedthe Bretons.

  "NEAR HIM SAT KING HAROLD HIMSELF, UPON HIS HORSE, ASMOTIONLESS AS A BRONZE IMAGE."]

  However that may be, the sun was now sinking, and the centre of KingHarold's army was all that was left of it in good fighting order. Ofits assailants, the number which had fallen was believed to equal, manfor man, that of all the Saxons who had been present at Senlac thatmorning. Nearly a fourth part of Duke William's army, therefore, layupon the field. The remainder of it, however, still outnumbered, fiveto one, the remnant of King's Harold's heroes.

  Firm as a rock stood these, and against them the furious tide of theinvaders, horsemen and footmen, broke in vain. Still they held theirstrong position upon the hill of the standards, the Golden Dragon ofEngland and the Fighting Man that was Harold's own personal banner.The king, himself, was now fighting on foot in the front rank of hishouse-carles, and he had performed mighty deeds of valour.

  In this hour, however, the subtle war cunning of the duke came tohis aid. The shields and the armour of the closely serried Saxonsbehind these remaining works prevented the shafts of his bowmen frominjuring greatly the solid wedge of warriors into which the thingmenand their comrades had formed themselves around and on the hill. Thebattle could not be altogether lost so long as this living wall shouldremain unbroken. All the Saxons were on foot, and the Normans, who weremounted, gained little thereby, since their unarmoured horses were sooften killed by javelins as they pressed forward.

  "Shoot up! Shoot up!" shouted the duke to his archers. "Let the shaftsfall upon them from above. They have no shields over their heads."

  Thousands of strong-armed bowmen at once obeyed him. In a momentmore, it was as if a thick hail of sharp arrows was falling amongthe Saxons behind, while those who were in front were still compelledto hold their shields before them. The cunning device of the dukemight yet have been baffled, perhaps, but for one of its first fatalconsequences. Man after man was going down, and the king himself lookedup to see what this might be. Even as he raised his head, the battlewas lost, and the crown of England passed to William of Normandy, forfrom the sky above, as it seemed, a hissing shaft came down and piercedthrough his right eye to the brain.

  "The king hath fallen!" screamed Ned, the son of Webb. "Harold is dead!He is dead! We are beaten! England is conquered!"

  "Come thou on with me, then," said Father Brian. "There are plentyof horses. We must speed away from this place. The house-carles arewearied with long fighting, but they will all die where they stand.Thou and I have no need to die with them. Quickly, now, my boy!"

  Fierce, frenzied, desperate, was the last stand of the Saxons aroundthe royal standards and the dying king. Terrible was the carnage whichthey made among the Normans, but it was as Father Brian had said: thewarriors of Harold were worn out with long fighting, and they were nowcontinually assailed by arrivals of fresh troops, men who had hithertodone little or nothing. Flesh and blood could endure no more, and thework of destruction was slowly completed. One strong body of Saxons,it was afterward related, was actually getting away when the darknesscame. It was closely followed by the duke himself and his men-at-arms.Then the Saxons turned again upon their pursuers, and William not onlylost many horsemen, but came very near losing his own life also in thehour of victory.

  "Where shall we go now?" asked Ned, as he and his friend clamberedinto the saddles of two horses which had been tethered in the rear ofthe lost position on the hill.

  "I will guide thee, my boy," replied the missionary. "Thou and I maymake good our escape, if we are prudent."

  "How on earth can we get away from the Normans?" groaned Ned. "Some ofthem are between us, already, and all the rest of England. I don't seehow we are to get through William's army."

  "We must get out of the battle, first," said Father Brian. "Then we'llride away around into the Norman camps at the seashore. We would dowell to obtain speech with him in the morning. Now that he hath slainKing Harold and considereth himself the ruler of England, he willgladly welcome any from among the Saxons who cometh to him with apeaceful tongue. Be thou mindful of that, my boy. I am glad that thouart able to speak French to him."

  "So am I," said Ned, with some energy. "I'd really like to have a goodtalk with William the Conqueror. But, oh, Father Brian! this hath beenan awful affair. They will not need so many surgeons or ambulancesor hospitals as civilised armies would. As soon as any man is down,somebody killeth him. They do not seem to know what mercy is."

  "That they do not," said Father Brian. "Thou wilt bear in mind,however, that the killing of King Harold and all of his best mengiveth to William of Normandy all the good title he hath to the crownof England. If Harold had escaped all alone from this battle-field hewould be king still."

  "The English elected him fairly," replied Ned. "Not one voter amongthem put in a ballot for the duke. I suppose they won't try to do anymore against him after this, though. Let him have it, then. All I cansay is that I hope there will never be another invasion of England byanybody."

  "No man may foretell concerning that matter," said the missionary."There hath been much fighting on this island. Even Ireland herselfhath been attacked many a time, and she might be again. It is myopinion, though, my boy, that England will for ever continue to beEnglish, whoever is king, even as Ireland continueth Irish."

  "Most likely thou art right," replied Ned. "The duke may bring indroves on droves of Normans and all sorts. He won't think of killingoff the Angles, and Saxons, and Danes, and Welsh, and Scotch. We don't,when they come to America. Every kind that lands among us becomethAmerican, and I shouldn't wonder if even the Normans became Englishmen."

  "Better for them to become civilised," said the missionary,thoughtfully. "The duke will kill none unless it may be a few earlsand other high men who may stand in his way, or such commoners asresist him. I think he will speak all others fairly and make peace withthem. Were he not to do so, there are axes enough left in England tomake away with all that the Senlac battle hath left of his army."

  "That's so!" exclaimed Ned. "I've seen some of them. Anyhow, I don'twant to be an English earl just now. It wouldn't be safe."

  "Come!" said Father Brian. "Faster! The farther we get away from Senlacthe safer we will be from sword and spear. It is getting very dark. Iam glad of it."

  After that he did not again draw his rein until they had almost reacheda line of tents a little distance inland from the town of Hastings.

  "Now do I wish I knew," he declared, emphatically, "which of these mayhappen to belong to some man who was killed in the battle. Oh, Ned,the son of Webb, let us make trial of this large one that is nearest athand. Speak thou to yonder gaily apparelled youth in thy best French."

  "Ho! whose tent is this?" Ned asked at once, as he rode nearer.

  He shouted his question at a young man who appeared to be a sort ofesquire, stepping hastily forward from the canvas doorway to meet them.

  "This is
the marquee of the Sieur Raoul de Berri," replied itscustodian. "Whether he be now alive or dead we know not. What news, ifany, have ye from the battle?"

  "Of thy master I know nothing," said Ned, "but of the battle I can tellthee that the Saxon army is beaten and that Harold the King is dead.Hard hath been the fighting, all day, and the slain are many."

  There had been hurrying feet from all directions toward the spot wherethe two newcomers had halted, and so there had been other hearersbesides the gay esquire of Sieur Raoul de Berri. Loud and prolongedwere the shouts with which the announcement made by Ned was received,for before this there had arrived doubtful news from the hard contestedfield.

  "Dismount ye and come in," said the esquire. "Well may we feast thebringers of joyful tidings. Whoever ye may be, ye are most welcome.Even while ye are eating and drinking, moreover, we pray you to talkon. We would gladly hear all that we may concerning the great battle.How was it fought? Can ye tell us the names of any that were slain? Howfareth it with our liege lord the duke, that shall henceforth be Kingof England?"

  It was truly a good thing that Ned, the son of Webb, was so wellpractised in his French, albeit the kind he spoke varied much from thatwhich was now being uttered so volubly around him. For once, indeed,Father Brian was left to something which to him painfully resembledsilence.

  Before long, however, there arrived a swarm of French and Normanclergymen, all of whom could understand the kind of Latin taught in thegreat school at Clontarf. Speedily, then, the good missionary went outwith them, and Ned was left alone to entertain his tent-full of eagerand excited listeners. All the while, moreover, the good news spreadrapidly through all that camp and was carried on to others.

  "Sir," said Ned to the esquire, at last, "I am tired out! I think thereis nothing else that will use up a man so completely as a great battle."

  "Ay!" exclaimed his new friend, hospitably. "Thy couch is prepared forthee. Thou hast fought well this day. Well am I assured that our liegelord, the Duke of the Normans, and the Sieur de Berri himself wouldhave us take all care of thee."

  "I shall be glad to get to bed," said Ned.

  "Sleep thou well," replied the esquire, "and on the morrow thou shaltsurely be brought into the presence of the duke, as thou desirest."

  The appointments of that marquee and the comfort of its arrangementsfor sleeping were more in accordance with Norman luxury than with Saxonplainness. Ned, the son of Webb, took note of them, weary as he was.Nevertheless, before his eyes closed he was thinking:

  "If here isn't another of these frauds! I didn't do any real fighting,for either side. I'm afraid it's as bad, almost, as the Stamford bridgehumbug, and what to do about it I don't know. Oh, how sorry I am that Ihad no opportunity for telling King Harold that I did not kill Sikendthe Berserker. I shall always have the credit of it, without any faultof mine. They may put it into books of history, just like other greatexploits."

  His slumbers were long and heavy, and they were broken at last by afriendly shaking at the hands of Father Brian.

  "Up! Up!" he shouted. "O Ned, the son of Webb, hasten and eat thybreakfast. The Duke of Normandy cometh. Not yet, I think, are we tocall him the King of England. That may not be until he hath been dulycrowned as king. My boy, I trust that now thou art shortly to havespeech with him."

  Ned became very wide awake while he heard what the missionary had tosay, and his mind grew very busy.

  "I thought likely," he said, "that the duke would come back to hiscamp. He won't march for London till he knoweth what the other Saxonsare doing. His army was badly mauled, yesterday, anyhow, and he mustget it into shape again."

  The army of Norman invaders had indeed been seriously damaged. If asecond English army could have attacked them on the day after Senlac,it would have found them unfit for another such struggle. There wasno such army in existence, however, and William went on with his planswithout armed interruption. He went first to inspect his fleet, and hesent the greater part of it back to Normandy and other places.

  At about the middle of the forenoon of that day, the duke was at a campa little south of Hastings, attended by a number of his great men.Among them were his brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and Lanfranc, thefamous scholar.

  Here it was that Ned, the son of Webb, and Father Brian were broughtbefore him, and they had already been named to the stern and haughtyConquerors as the persons who had brought the first tidings of thevictory.

  "They are guests of mine, my liege," said the Sieur Raoul de Berri,as he saw them approaching. "The youth is a young thane fromNorthumberland, and the priest is his tutor. They have prayed for anaudience."

  "This day will I hear but few words from any," replied the duke, "butif it will please thee, the boy may speak. Let the priest keep silence.What wilt thou, O Ned, the son of Webb?"

  Ned had recently become somewhat hardened to meetings with remarkablemen, but he was now gazing at the Conqueror with manifest admiration.Harold, the son of Godwin, himself, had not appeared more royallymajestic or carried in his face such an expression of conscious power,combined with indomitable strength of will. Ned kept his courage up,however, and boldly responded:

  "O Duke of Normandy and Conqueror of England, all I wanted to say tothee is this: The best thing thou canst do for this country, now itis thine, is to run in railroads and telegraph lines and newspapersas fast as thou art able. Also, thou hadst better have Mr. Lanfrancappointed Superintendent of Public Schools. He can set up primary andgrammar schools and academies and universities, all over the island. Ican tell him what books to get and where to get them. I will give him,now, a complete list of all I went through at Grammar School NumberSixty-eight. He couldn't beat it if he should try--"

  "Halt thou then!" interrupted the duke. "Lanfranc, this youth's matterappertaineth to thee. I know naught of such affairs. Let his tutor leadhim away now. He is but malapert to urge me at such a time as this.Forward, all! Odo, my brother, we have much to do ere sunset. Englandis yet but half won and we sheathe not our swords yet."

  Father Brian's hand had been upon the bridle of Ned's horse, and hehurried him away.

  "O Ned, the son of Webb!" he exclaimed, "what is in thee? Thou artoverdaring. The duke was all but wroth with thee!"

  "I guess that is so," said Ned. "His eyes flashed as if he had halfa mind to hit me, and I don't see why. I gave him the best kind ofadvice. Didst thou not say that thou hast some of thy clergymen friendsto consult with?"

  "That have I," replied Father Brian, "and I must go quickly to meetthem. Thou mayest amuse thyself by riding around for awhile. Then getthee back to the tent of the good Sieur de Berri. There or elsewhere Ihope to meet thee again, for our companionship hath been exceedinglypleasant and profitable. Fare thee well, for the hour. I must go."

  "Good-bye, then, Father Brian," said Ned. "Come back to the tent,if thou canst. I hope thou wilt soon have a mission school of thineown. There will be scholars enough, but where thou wilt get books andthings, I can't guess."

  Away rode the good missionary, and Ned, the son of Webb, was left tohimself. He did not feel like exploring the camps of the Normans, andhis horse galloped on with him until he was pulled in at the shore ofthe sea. It was at a place where a narrow wooden pier jutted out from asandy beach between high rocks on either hand.

  Here Ned dismounted and walked down to the water's edge, like a boyin a dream. A small scow-built punt, with a mast and sail in it, layrocking on the waves by the pier.

  "I will take off my armour before I get in," he remarked. "I'm glad Ikept on my outing shirt and my trousers under my mail, all the while.This is a very curious business. I saved my hat, too. Oh, don't I feeleasier and lighter? I never want to be an ironclad again."

  His helmet and mail and shield and weapons were pitched from him acrossthe sand in a hurry, and he stepped eagerly into the boat. A good windwas blowing offshore and he put up the sail to catch it.

  "I don't feel like rowing," he remarked, "after such a time as I havehad. This breeze ought to take m
e to the other side before sunset. Itis a good thing for me that this is Green Lake and not the AtlanticOcean or the North Sea. Oh, what a tremendous book that is. It's safein the cubby under the stern seat, too."

  On he sailed, after that, swiftly and silently, over the sparklingbillows of the little lake. Almost before he was aware of it, the puntran ashore at the place where Nanny had so skilfully pitched him overher head. He saw the two-wheeled barrow among the weeds a few yardsaway and he went and brought it to the margin. Into it he carried, withgreat care and an appearance of something like respect, the great folioHistory of the Normans.

  "I'll go home now," he thought, "but I wish I had Lars with me, andFather Brian. I'd like to show father and mother and all of them myarmour."

  He found it tiresome work to trundle the barrow, and he was both warmand weary when he reached his grandfather's gate.

  "There they are!" he exclaimed. "There's a whole crowd of them, waitingfor me."

  "Hullo, Ned!" came loudly from within the gate. "Where have you beenall day?"

  "Why, Uncle Jack--"

  "My dear child!" interrupted Grandmother Webb. "I was almost beginningto be worried about you. Why did you stay so?"

  "Did you catch anything?" asked his grandfather. "Did you get anybites?"

  "Well!" responded Ned, hardly knowing exactly what to say. "I'll tellyou how it is. It was this book."

  "My folio!" exclaimed Grandfather Webb. "I had no idea that you reallywould take it along. I'd have said no!"

  "I did," said Ned. "I've been invading England with Harold Hardradaof Norway and the Vikings. Then I went all the way from York and thebattle of Stamford bridge to the battle of Senlac, with King Harold ofEngland and Duke William the Conqueror."

  "Oh, that's it, is it?" exclaimed Uncle Jack. "I know how that is,myself. A man can sit in his own room, nowadays, and travel allaround the world. All he needs is plenty of guide-books and maps andhistories. You've been doing it, have you? I think you had better keepit up and learn something. Travel everywhere. See all there is to beseen, and know all you can."

  "That's what I think I'll do," replied Ned, "but it's hard work, ifthere's as much fighting as I've been having."

  He had the folio in his arms now, as if he were hugging it, but hisgrandfather took it away as if he were pleased to get it back unwettedby a bath in Green Lake, and carried it back to its place in thelibrary.

  THE END.

  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

  Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author'soriginal spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.