Glory for the Vanquished

“My Lord we need your decision! Our country’s future is at stake! My Lord, please answer me!” yelled the captain.

Harold felt as though he had been caught with two blades up against his body. Should he move to defend the one in front, the one in the back would stab him in the back, and should he guard against the one behind him, the blade in front would decapitate him. He could not make a decision that had no consequences, he would have to choose which risk was greater. However, neither would be an easy decision. The blade in front of him is Harald Hadrada, the king of the Vikings from Norway. The dagger reared to strike at his back was William, Duke of Normandy who ruled the coast beyond the English Channel.

“My Liege, Hadrada has taken York! If we do not attack or at least prepare down here in the south, he will no doubt take the country. What is your plan?” the captain called again. Harold suddenly knocked his wine off the table in frustration.

“Do you think I do not know that? But with William ready to attack armed with his troops and the Pope’s blessing I cannot make this decision with such haste! You put yourself in my shoes, and you’ll see my dilemma!” Harold retorted in rage. He slammed his right hand on the table with such a force the whole room shook. But he knew there was not much time to decide either. Should he await William’s invasion and hope Harald Hadrada does not reach London by the time the imminent battle comes, or should he strike against the enemy who dares attack his land and hope he can return in time for William’s assault? Finally, Harold looked the captain right into the eye and replied, “Mobilize our forces! Hadrada will pay for his foolish transgression with blood! I will see to that myself!”

Across the outskirts of Nottingham came the thunder of men with a mission, a resolve to make the Vikings pay for all the previous years they raided England as well as this invasion. At the front rode the King himself, Harold Godwinson, successor of the great king Edward the Confessor. Harold marched his troops double time in order to take the Vikings by surprise. His most trusted general, the Duke of Hastings caught up with Harold. “My king, at this rate our soldiers will become exhausted before we even fight Harald!” he protested.

“My Lord Hastings, I will give the troops rest before we fight. You must not forget my military experience, but we must hurry to prevent Harald from slipping away. I intend to give those barbarians a message, ‘You will never return to these coasts ever again!’ Hadrada may be a warrior, but he is hardly a tactician, which as you know, is required when you need to defeat professional armies. His warriors are fierce but we have the advantage nonetheless,” Harold replied.

“My lord, I have troubling news,” yelled the Duke. Harold had a confused look on his face. But nothing could prepare him for the saddening news. “Your brother Tostig, Duke of Northumbria, has sided with the Vikings. I’m afraid we will have to face him at the battle.” Harold remained speechless, but he kept riding, he knew this was not the time for his raw emotions to pour out. His men needed morale, and to see a disheartened leader would not inspire them. The sun was setting in the distance, and Harold knew better than to march at night. The army could get lost, or worse, they could desert. Harold halted his army and ordered them to camp, but to keep the fires very low to not give away their position.

There was no ale that night, the army needed to be on its toes to pack up and continue this mad rush to Hadrada’s army. As the night rolled on, Harold was still awake because of the troubling news the Duke of Hastings gave to him. “Why?” he thought. “Why would my own brother, whom I loved beyond all condition, betray me after all I have done for him?” It soon became apparent to him that his brother did not value their relationship. His brother only engaged this relationship because he wanted wealth and power, and now that Hadrada had offered the opportunity to rule England, he took it.

As the king drowned his emotional thoughts, the Duke of Hastings walked into the tent to deliver news of the Viking forces. “My lord,” he announced, “According to our spies we are only a day’s march from York, and the Vikings are exhausted from their battle with the Earls at Fulford. We could easily march to Stamford bridge by nightfall, and fight the next day with Vikings,”

“Harold knew his troops were exhausted, but if the Vikings were allowed the chance to form a shield across the bridge, it would an impossible battle. “We will approach the Vikings tomorrow, but we must continue to sprint across the field and get over the bridge before they can see us coming and form up. If we do not hit them quickly, we will not win this battle. Your orders are to have the troops pack up as soon as the sun begins to rise, and to start sprinting for the bridge.”

The Duke did not question his king’s plan, and returned to the troops with the plan. As Harold went to bed, he still could not remove the grief that lay in his heart. How was he to face and kill his own brother? How could he put himself through that? Suddenly, the thought came to him, and he remembered his brother in law, at that time King of England, giving a speech at a traitor’s execution. A servant Edward trusted had tried to have him killed, and at his execution, Harold remembered him talking about how a true friend is one who does not care for gold, and would rather die than betray those whom he loves. Those who do are not your friends, and deserve no pity, only the Lord can give the traitor that. Finally, Harold could now rest, awaiting glory on the battlefield.

They came like a pack of wolves the next morning. In the half drunken camps of the Norse, they were too shocked to prepare, and the English cut them down with such ferocity that the berserkers that haunted all good Englishmen now trembled in their boots. Harold entered the fray and turned his view across the other side of the bridge. One Viking stood on the bridge, and yelled in bloodlust, challenging the English to a man to man battle. Some disobeyed orders and charged the bridge only to be cut to pieces. Harold, irritated with the enemy’s cheers, turned toward one of his archers. “Fire at that barbarian!” The archer drew his bow, and released the arrow. As it hung in the air, the target foolishly exposed his face as he looked up into the sky, and the arrow hit its mark right in the eye. Harold raised his sword and commanded his troops to charge across the wooden bridge. With blood lust and ferocity in their hearts, the English charged across the bridge by the masses and cut into the Viking ranks. Because of the surprising attack, the Vikings were unable to form a shield wall formation, but they fought hard nonetheless.

From the other side of the bridge, Harold saw his enemy, Hadrada, who was busy hacking down his kinsmen with his sword. Enraged, Harold bolted across the bridge on his horse and galloped around the combatants. As Hadrada was dueling with the Duke of Hasting, Harold unsheathed his broadsword. As he galloped towards Hadrada, Harold could feel the wind against his face; it stuck like a barrage of bees. When he finally reached Hadrada, and called to him, “Harald you coward face your executioner!” When Hadrada turned around, Harold swung his sword and it slashed the Viking’s face, killing him instantly.

Harold stopped his horse and turned towards his loyal friend, but the Duke had a glimmer of fear in his eyes. He called out to Harold, “My lord, look out behind you!” Harold immediately raised his shield to his face just as a mace was swung at him. Harold was knocked off his steed, but he was still able to fight. The Duke of Hastings ran to aid his King and lifted him off the ground. Harold turned the rider who dismounted him, and came face to face with his brother. Tostig got off his horse and drew his sword. The Duke proceeded to face the defector, but Harold stepped in his way, for he knew he had to confront his fears.

As Tostig approached him, Harold raised his shield, and Tostig made the first move. Tostig’s sword deflected off the shield and Harold’s sword clashed with his brother’s. After a brief struggle, Harold was knocked down, and lost his sword. Tostig was about to finish him when Harold quickly kicked him backwards and reclaimed his lost sword. The duel continued for another minute before Harold finally gained the upper hand when he cut into Tostig’s thigh and disarmed his sword. Harold thrust his sword forward and in an instant Tostig was fatally wounded. He fell backwards and drew his last breaths. Harold crept towards his brother to check if he was dead. He lay motionless and Harold could no longer hold back his tears as they rushed down his face like rivers. He dropped to his knees and wept over his brother. The Duke of Hastings approached Harold, “My lord, I do not know the words to comfort you for this loss. I know that Edward the Confessor wouldn’t be able to do the same if he were in your shoes. But I also know that he would commend you for this decisive victory and for doing what was good for our kingdom. You’ve earned the right to mourn for your loss, but also to celebrate for this victory.”

Harold faced the duke and replied to his words of comfort, “My dear Hastings, you are right, but this battle isn’t over yet. We must drive these invaders from our lands for the last time!” Harold picked up his sword and rushed to his horse. He galloped in front of his men and spoke to them. “Men, we’ve done well today! But we cannot allow those barbarians to remain on our lands. Let us drive them off for the last time!” Harold led the charge to finish the Vikings from the front and the newly inspired English army proudly followed him into the fray.

Harold went on to win the Battle of Stamford while the Vikings retreated to their ships and sailed back to Norway. Only 24 of the 300 ships returned to Norway. Harold won a decisive victory, but was soon faced with another invasion from the Normans, just as he feared. He marched back to London and faced Duke William of Normandy at Hastings. After a close battle, the Normans won and Harold was killed by an arrow. William went on to conquer England, and while many remember the Battle of Hastings, few remember the Battle of Stamford, which for the last time showed the true glory of the vanquished Anglo Saxons.