Conquest

The English line was about 750 yards long, with housecarls at the centre and fyrdmen on the outlying flanks. The Wyvern Dragon of Wessex and his own personal standard, the Fighting Man, flew from the King’s command position. There were the standards of Leofwine and Gyrth, and banners and colours from burghs and shires throughout the land. Harold’s uncle, Aelfwig, the Abbot of Winchester, had arrived just before dawn. He was nearly sixty years of age and had not wielded a weapon in three decades, but he was determined to fight and had brought twelve monks and a score of men. As befitted their calling, the men of the cloth carried only maces, as the spilling of blood by the sharp edge of a sword was thought inappropriate for men of God. Aelfwig’s arrival meant that there were three generations of Godwins at the battle.

Horns were sounded to usher men into position; by mid-morning both sides had settled into a state of readiness.

Harold went to squadron after squadron in the shield wall, beseeching his men to give everything for the people of England.

‘Remember the stories of Alfred, told by your fathers. This land has a spirit that could not be subdued by the Danes, was not broken by Hardrada and will not be humbled by this cut-throat, William the Bastard. You are gathered here from all over our land. You fight today for your families and your homes but, most of all, for your freedom. The man you face today is a cruel and vicious warlord. He will strip us of everything we live for, burn our crops, slaughter our livestock, rape our women and murder our children. We stand between him and his evil ambition. We stand together; our shield wall will never break. Men of England, stand with me until victory is ours!’

Great cheers ran along the English line as the King galloped along in front of his men. Hereward looked at the assembled army and then at the Normans massed on the lower ground below. Somehow, close to 8,000 men had made it to the English cause. Harold’s heroism, resolve and generalship had inspired them to rush to the King’s standard, and they would fight with the ferocity of men protecting their homes.

Over six centuries, since the end of Roman rule, the strength of the Anglo-Saxon army had been forged on the anvil of frequent battles against its ferocious Celtic and Scandinavian neighbours, building a military ethos of the highest calibre. Despite its losses at Stamford Bridge and the absence of housecarls yet to arrive, including those of the treacherous Earls Morcar and Edwin, standing with Harold on Senlac Ridge was the greater part of the finest army in northern Europe — one of the most awesome the world had ever seen.

When the King returned to his standard, Hereward offered him his own encouragement. ‘Only you could have achieved this. Here stand men of Saxon, Danish and Celtic blood, bound together by their belief in you and the England that you represent.’

‘Thank you, Hereward, I am proud to have you at my side. Stay close this day.’ As Harold surveyed the battlefield sweeping down before him from Senlac Ridge, the opposing cavalry and its heavily armed knights were his greatest concern.

By his side, Hereward counted almost 1,500 Norman knights in full armour with lances, axes, maces and swords. He thought of his many battles, hoping to find a key to the encounter. He looked at the ground and the formation of the army, probing to see a feature that had been overlooked, or a nuance that would offer a hidden advantage, but he could see none. Five hundred cavalry hidden in the woods would have been invaluable, but they were not there. Edwin and Morcar, the two northern earls, had remained in their earldoms; a self-seeking act that denied England over 1,000 of its finest men.

Martin, who had taken a brief rest after his reconnaissance mission, rode up and joined Hereward, Alphonso and Einar in a position just behind the King, whose hearthtroop of two squadrons was fanned out in front of him. The four loyal comrades dismounted and Alphonso secured their horses to the rear. It was unlikely that they would be needed; this fight would not be about rapid pursuit or hasty withdrawal, it would be a fight for the ground they stood on — England’s ground.

Hereward turned to his companions. ‘If the battle goes badly, I will stand my ground with the King. If he falls, I will fall with him. Stay for as long as you can be useful to the King, then make haste to your loved ones. Take this to Torfida.’ Hereward handed Einar a small purse of leather, which held a lock of his golden hair. ‘God be with you, my friends.’

‘God be with you, Hereward,’ all three replied in unison.

Preparations in the Norman ranks were equally well advanced.