Conquest

There was only a narrow bridge between the two forces, so Harold decided to abandon the horses and mount an immediate infantry attack. His army advanced on foot in squadrons of fifty, but found their way across blocked by a huge Norse berserker, who despatched the Saxon housecarls in groups of three and four at a time with the wide arcs of his flailing axe. The Saxon squadrons tried to wade across the river but could not do so in shield formation and were easy targets for the Norwegian archers. Hereward looked at the situation and quickly gave instructions to Alphonso, who melted into the crowd of housecarls massing to reach the bridge.

Within moments, the berserker’s stubborn defence came to an abrupt end. With a scream of agony, he was impaled through the groin by a spear thrust from beneath the bridge between the planks of its footway. Alphonso had slipped under the water upstream, floated down and positioned himself directly beneath the Norwegian before delivering his fatal thrust. With an almighty splash the berserker hit the water, and the Saxons streamed over the bridge en masse.

The ensuing hand-to-hand fighting continued well into the afternoon. Hardrada had kept his hearthtroop of axemen in reserve, but eventually, they too were encircled. In a bloody encounter that would be recounted reverentially in the chronicles of both sides, English housecarl met Norwegian berserker in a prolonged fight to the death. As his loyal comrades began to die in droves, some of whom had fought with him in his youth in the Varangian Guard, Hardrada broke into the open, grounding any Saxon who came close in a frenzy of blows from his war axe. His fury was only abated by an arrow to his throat, which brought him to his knees, struggling for breath. His warriors attempted to save him with a desperate last redoubt, but it was futile.

Within moments, in a muddy field in the featureless countryside of the lowlands of York, the last great Viking died, in search of one final conquest.

Harold, mindful of the battles to come against the Normans and seeing the toll the hand-to-hand fighting was taking on his men, offered the Norwegians the chance to surrender. Tostig led the defiant refusals as Hardrada’s faithful hearthtroop pulled the stricken King back under the shadow of the Raven Land-Ravager. A cry went up.

‘Rally to the standard! Fight for the Hardrada! Prince Olaf is on his way with ten thousand comrades.’

The next phase of the slaughter commenced immediately. At King Harold’s command, the Saxon housecarls cut swathes into the Norwegian redoubt. The defenders were soon isolated in small groups and cut to pieces. Many drowned in the nearby Derwent as they tried to flee to their ships. Tostig was killed, as were the leaders of Hardrada’s Norse allies from the Orkneys, Ireland and Iceland.

At the end, an eerie calm descended on the battlefield, but within minutes yet another murderous episode beckoned. Messengers had reached Prince Olaf at midday, telling of the fighting at Stamford Bridge. Eystein Orri, Hardrada’s senior son-in-law, and Prince Olaf’s men immediately collected their weapons and armour and set off for the battlefield. It took them over four hours to reach Stamford Bridge. Although it was early evening, the day was still warm as the Norwegian force, numbering more than 8,000 men, roaring for vengeance, sprinted towards the right flank of the exhausted Saxons in a ferocious charge that became known in Norse folklore as the ‘Storm of Orri’.

Harold had to think quickly. He estimated that he had lost well over 1,000 men and now faced a superior force that outnumbered his surviving army by four to one.

He called to Hereward. ‘Take the remains of the Eagle Cohort back over the river and get them mounted. You must get them back across upstream and attack from the rear. I will hold our ground here with my two Wessex cohorts.’

As Hereward led his men away to the sound of the retreat horn, the front ranks of Orri’s Norwegians were already cascading into a Saxon shield wall, hurriedly prepared by Harold’s captains. The wall swayed and buckled and in places was breached, requiring Harold and his hearthtroop to act as reinforcements. The King became anxious as he looked at the Norwegian massed ranks in front of him, three times deeper than his own.

It was only a matter of time before they would be overwhelmed. He looked across the Derwent to the south-east, just as the setting sun touched the horizon, but there was no sign of Hereward and his cavalry. Within minutes, his wall would break under weight of numbers and his cause would be lost. Then he heard the rumble of horses on the move.

Hereward had drawn up the Eagle Cohort in squadrons of ten abreast, five ranks deep, fifty men in all. Harold counted four squadrons in line of attack, supported by four waves. He quickly calculated: eight hundred men in support; enough, he thought.