Tim Severin - King's Man

I slid off the pony's back, stumbling as my feet touched ground. It had taken me half the morning to reach Harald, and I felt stiff and saddle sore. I brushed aside the bodyguard who tried to intercept me as I approached Harald and his little group. They too looked completely at ease. Doubtless they were contemplating the pleasant task of how best to divide up the spoils. Among them I saw Tostig, half-brother of the English king. Until recently he had ruled these lands as its earl, but had been deposed. Now he had thrown in his lot with Harald, anticipating that he would regain his former title.

'My lord,' I called out as I approached the little group. 'I am glad to see you well. I have news from Frankia.'

Everyone in the little group turned to look at me. I realised that my voice had sounded cracked and harsh. My throat was dry and dusty from my ride.

'Thorgils. What brings you here?' asked Harald. There was an angry edge to his question. He was staring down at me from his great height, obviously irritated. I knew that he was thinking

I had abandoned my responsibilities. He would have preferred me to stay in Normandy, to act as his intermediary in dealing with Duke William.

'I had no choice, my lord. There are developments which you must know at once. I could not trust anyone else to bring the news.'

'What news is that?' Harald was scowling.

I decided that I had to be blunt. I needed to shock Harald into changing his plans, even if it meant drawing down his wrath on me.

'Duke William has betrayed you, my lord,' I said, adding hastily, 'It was my error. He used me as a tool to deceive you. He made me believe that he had agreed to your offer, and that he would time his invasion to coincide with yours. But that was never his intention. His fleet has not yet sailed. He is deliberately hanging back, giving time for the English king to attack you.'

For a long moment Harald's expression did not change. He continued to scowl at me, and then — to my surprise — he threw back his head and laughed.

'So Bastard William deceived me, did he? Well, so be it. Now I know what he is like, and that knowledge will be useful when we meet face to face and decide who really takes the realm of England. I'll make him regret his treachery. But he has miscalculated. Whoever beats Harold Godwinsson will hold the advantage. There's nothing like a recent victory to put heart into one's troops, and the English will follow the first victor. As soon as I have disposed of Harold Godwinsson, I'll drive William of Normandy back into the sea if he is so bold as to make his invasion. When he hears of my victory he may even cancel his invasion plans altogether.'

Once more, I sensed that I was swimming against a tide of events, and there was little that I could do.

'Duke William will not set aside his invasion, my lord. He has planned it down to the last detail, trained his troops, rehearsed, and committed all his resources to it. He may have as many as eight thousand fighting men. For him, there is no going back.'

'Nor for me,' Harald snapped. 'I came to take the realm of England and that is what I'll do.'

I fell silent, not knowing what to say.

Tostig intervened. 'Harold is far away. He has to march the length of England if he is to meet us on the battlefield. In the meantime our army will grow stronger. As people hear about us they will join our cause. Many in this region have Norse blood in their veins and trace their line back to the time of great Knut. The English will prefer to throw in their lot with us than with a gang of plundering Normans.'

Somewhere near us, a horse neighed. It was one of the handful of small Norwegian horses which Harald had brought with him. They were sturdy animals, ideal for long journeys across bleak moorland, but by no means as powerful as the battle chargers that I had seen in Normandy. I was wondering how they would withstand a charge of Norman knights, when someone said, 'At last! The good burghers of York are finally showing up.'

Everyone in our little group looked westward, up the slope of the hill towards the unseen city. A faint cloud of dust could be seen beyond the distant crest. The horse neighed again.

The first figures to come over the brow of the hill were indistinct, no more than dark shapes. I wiped away the sweat that was trickling down into my eyes. The black and white costume of a follower of the Rule could be very hot on a warm day. I should find myself a light cotton shirt and loose trousers and get rid of the Christian costume.

'That's not a cattle herd,' commented Styrkar, Harald's new marshal. 'Looks more like troops.'

'Reinforcements from the fleet, sent up by Prince Olaf so as not to miss the division of the booty.' The speaker sounded a little resentful.

"Where did they get all those horses, I wonder?' asked a veteran, a note of puzzlement in his voice as he stared into the distance. 'That's cavalry, and a lot of it.'

King Harald had turned and was facing up the hill. 'Styrkar,' he asked softly. 'Did we post any sentinels on the hill?'

'No, my lord. I did not consider it necessary. Our scouts reported only a few peasants in the area.'

'Those are not peasants.'

Tostig was also watching the new arrivals. More and more men, both mounted and on foot, were coming over the brow of the hill. The leading ranks were beginning to descend the slope, fanning out to make room for those behind them.

'If I didn't know otherwise, I would say those are royal huscarls,' said Tostig. 'But that's impossible. Harold Godwinsson would always keep his huscarls with him. They are pledged to serve the king and guard his person.' He turned to me. "When did you say Harold would know that the Norman fleet was delayed and was staying on in Frankia?'

'I didn't say,' I replied, 'but my guess is that Duke William deliberately planted that information on Harold soon after he left Dives. That would be about twelve days ago.'

Styrkar was making his calculation. 'Let's say it was ten days ago, and then allow Godwinsson two days in which to consult his councillors and make his plans. That would give him a little more than a week to march north and get here. It's difficult but not impossible. Those troops could be led by Harold Godwinsson himself.'

'If it is Harold,' said Tostig, 'it might be wise to fall back to our ships and gather the rest of our forces.'

But Harald seemed unperturbed. 'Well, if it does prove to be Harold, then he's got here by forced marches, and his troops will be footsore and weary. That makes them ripe for slaughter.'

He gave a snort of confidence, and I could see how his faith in his own success as a military commander was unshakeable. In the past decade he had never lost a major fight, and now he was certain that his battle luck would hold. Godwinsson, as far as Harald was concerned, was offering himself for defeat. With growing dread, I knew differently. I recalled the details of my nightmare on the night before Harald returned from Kiev on his splendid ship with silken sails. I had dreamed of a great fleet and its tall commander struck down by an arrow at the moment of victory, and when I had voiced my fears, I had been told that I had seen the death of the Greek general Maniakes, Harald's near double. Now, far too late, the image sprang into my mind of the great assembly of Harald's longships drawn up on shore or lying at anchor in the shallows of the river just ten miles away. That spectacle, I knew with absolute certainty, was the true fulfilment of my dream. Yet again I had failed. Years ago I should have warned Harald about the macabre portent.

'If it is Harold Godwinsson, then we had better get the formalities concluded,' Harald continued. He looked about him, caught my eye, and said, 'Thorgils. You're just the man. You can be my herald in your black and white gown.' He smiled grimly. 'They won't attack a man of the cloth, even if he's a fraud. Ride out and ask for a parlay.'