Conquest

Harold applied himself to the task like a man possessed.

Harold’s recalcitrant brother Tostig moved on from his missions to Duke William in Normandy and Svein Estrithson in Denmark, to attend a gathering at the court of Harald Hardrada, King of the Norwegians.

Hardrada had assembled the entire aristocracy of Norway in his Great Hall in the Viken. He knew what Tostig wanted, and he knew he would need the full support of his warriors if Tostig’s wish was to be fulfilled. Hardrada recognized that Tostig had the potential to be the power-broker in the unfolding drama, so the full panoply of the Norwegian royal court was unveiled for the English lord.

Tostig’s opening address was eloquent and succinct. It needed to be, as Hardrada was a ferocious character who did not suffer fools easily.

Hardrada had fought his first battle at the age of fifteen, barely escaping with his life. Immensely tall at six and a half feet, he was strong of arm like his adversaries, Harold of England and William of Normandy, and had lived his life as a warrior. He had fought with great distinction for Yaroslav, Prince of Kiev, in his campaigns against the Poles, before journeying south to Byzantium to join the Emperor’s fabled Varangian Guard. Manned by formidable Scandinavians, the Varangians were known throughout the civilized world for their military prowess and loyalty. He served the Guard with great distinction, both as a marine in the Imperial Fleet and as an infantryman in Palestine, North Africa, Armenia and Sicily. He emerged as Captain of the Varangians, before leaving Byzantium with a fortune in gold and silver from the booty of war. Still only twenty-eight years of age, he returned to Norway as the most illustrious warrior of his day.

As Tostig stood before Hardrada, he was staring into the face of a legend. Not only was he the subject of the great sagas, he was often their author, rightfully acknowledged as an epic poet on a par with his reputation as an exceptional warrior. Now over fifty years of age, he still had the bearing of a mythical hero.

‘My lord King, I come to Viken to pay homage to a great tradition. This land has given birth to famous warriors whose descendents hold sovereignty over vast lands in the north, in Russia and in the Mediterranean. Vikings are feared wherever they tread. In my own country, the Viking tradition is strong. I am of Norse blood through my Danish mother, Gytha, daughter of Earl Thorkils, and proud of it. Sire, England is in turmoil. The North is in revolt and William, Duke of Normandy, is building a fleet with all speed to mount an invasion. England will soon be lost to the Normans.’

Tostig was interrupted by Vik Ospakson, Hardrada’s loyal Earl Marshal, who had fought with him in the Varangian Guard. Ospakson rose and stood in silence, waiting in the Viking tradition for Tostig to yield the floor, which he did with a bow.

‘Earl Tostig, you speak well. It is to your credit that you address this gathering with such composure. But you failed to mention that Vikings also hold sway over much of Europe as well. Is not William of Normandy a Viking, directly descended from William Longsword, son of Rolf?’

‘He is, my Lord. But he is no longer a Scandinavian. He, like King Edward, has been seduced by the trappings of Rome and the soft life of the learned cloister. The Normandy he governs is turning to Paris, to Rome and to Aachen for its wisdom; it has forgotten its northern roots.’

This time a younger warrior stood up, Skule Konfrostre, a close friend of the King’s son, Olaf.

‘Earl Tostig, noble lord of the English, if you are contemptuous of the Normans, why were you at William’s court recently? Were you not also at the court of Estrithson? How many allies do you seek?’

There were hoots of derision in support of the young warrior’s caustic remarks.

He continued his barracking. ‘Also, is it not true that your own wife, Judith, is kinswoman of the midget Matilda, Duke William’s wife?’

More laughter ensued, amid derisory yells from the warriors. Tostig seemed to be losing his audience.

He turned squarely to Hardrada. ‘I was at William’s court in January to ask him his intentions. He told me he would invade as soon as his fleet was ready. I told him that the Saxons would fight him to the death until Edgar the Atheling, the true Cerdician King of England, was on the throne and I was reinstalled to my Earldom in Northumbria. My brother Harold has made himself King, but Harold is a general of armies, not a king. He has seen an opportunity and taken it; it is an ignoble act. I asked William to support the Atheling as King, and to act as guarantor against any threat to Edgar from my brother, but the Duke rejected my suggestion.’

Hardrada spoke for the first time. ‘Tell me of your brother, the new King Harold. Is he liked?’

‘He has support, especially in the South, and the army is loyal to him. It is well trained, but it numbers only a few thousand. In the North he is weak; that is where fealty is shown to me.’