William, Duke of Normandy, landed at Pevensey on the eve of St. Michael, 1066, and cast up fortifications for the protection of his army. Not venturing to penetrate into the country, he awaited the approach of the Saxon army. He had not long to wait. The route from York to Hastings was covered by forced marches, and, with a decimated and wearied army, Harold Godwinson took up his position before the Norman host. His rear was protected by rising ground; his front and flanks by trenches and huge wooden piles. He had especially to fear the Norman cavalry and archers, and took every precaution to defend his troops against them.

On the eve of the battle the Saxons regaled themselves with strong ale, and chanted legendary songs by their bivouac fires; but the Normans occupied themselves in religious services, as befitted hired cut-throats and the “scum of Europe.”

Harold’s banner, embroidered in gold with the figure of a warrior, in battle attitude, was fixed near the “hoar apple tree.” The men of Wessex brought with them their great banner, emblazoned with a golden dragon.

On the 14th October, Harold’s birthday, the battle was fought. The Norman army advanced in three lines: the light infantry and archers under Roger de Montgomerie; the men-at-arms under Martel; and the knights, esquires, and picked men-at-arms under the command of the Duke.

As the Normans advanced they raised the song of Roland, and the minstrel Taillefer claimed first blood, as a sturdy Saxon fell to his sword.

The Norman archers shot their arrows fast and well, point-blank against the Saxons, but the palisades proved a most efficient protection, and from their bows, and slings, and military machines, the Saxons replied, but they were not famous in missile warfare. Then the Norman lines closed on front and flanks, with thrust of lance, and fierce axe-play against the stout wooden piles, and all the while the heavy Saxon twibils rose and fell, crashing through Norman helm and shield, as horse and rider bit the dust, and from the Saxon rear the heavy javelins came whirling through the air. The dead and wounded lay thick on both sides of the palisades, and blood trickled and curdled in the dust. With unflinching courage the conflict was maintained, amid a tumult of discordant sounds: the clash and clatter of steel against steel, the groans of the wounded, and the sudden death-yells of those whose spirits fled as the axes came crashing through helm and brain-pan, or lance was driven sheer through corset and breast: above the heat and roar of the melee pealed the Saxon war-cry: “Christ’s Rood! the Holy Rood!” answered by the sonorous Norman death-cry: “Our lady of help! God be our help!”

The day sped to the heat and languor of the mid October noon, and the Normans toiled before the Saxon front, and belted it with flashing steel.

With painful anxiety Duke William saw his repeated charges spent against the Saxon army, saw his ranks shaken and thinned, without one foot of ground being won. He now bade his archers shoot high in the air, so that their arrows might descend upon the heads of the Saxons. By this the slaughter was dreadfully increased within the Saxon lines, but the warriors were unshaken in their resolution to maintain their ground.

Along the front the Saxons nobly avenged their slaughtered brethren, and William poured his whole army against them in a murderous charge. Quicker rose and fell the Saxon axes, and, recoiling from the shock, the surging mass of mail-clad warriors rolled down the ravine, between two hills, and many men were trampled to death by the struggling horses. Surely a charge of heavy cavalry would, at this crisis, have secured the throne and crown of Harold. Thrice the stalwart form of Norman William sank amid the surges, as three horses were slain beneath him. A cry arose that the Duke was slain, and panic and defeat appeared inevitable, when William rode, bare-headed, among his warriors, and reformed their ranks.

During the dreadful carnage, Harold maintained the van, fighting with heroic courage, although suffering severely from an arrow-wound which had destroyed one of his eyes. William’s strenuous efforts were nobly seconded by his officers, and especially by his half-brother, Odo, the warlike bishop of Bayeux. Foiled in every attempt to penetrate the Saxon lines, and hopeless of beating them out of their defences, William drew the Saxons by a feigned retreat of his cavalry, and on passing the broken ground, turned upon them, and cut them to pieces. Twice was the ruse repeated, and although the Saxons maintained their position with undaunted front, their ranks were terribly thinned and shaken.

The charges were repeated, again and again, and the Normans rolled back in blood. The day waned, but the desperate attacks were foiled. At length a number of palisades were displaced, and the Norman horse bit into the Saxon masses, hewing a bloody pathway, and paying heavily for every foot they won. Twenty knights vowed to take Harold’s banner, and William of Normandy, rendered desperate by his peril, was anxiously seeking the Saxon hero. The conflict inside the palisades was tremendous. Harold’s brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, perished in the van: the King was slain; there was a bloody rally round the royal banner; ten of the Norman knights were hewn down, but the banner was captured, and the Norman flag elevated in its place. Still the Saxons would not fly; the “Golden Dragon” was taken, and they were reduced to a mere mob of struggling warriors. The grey of evening merged into the dusk of night before the retreat commenced. In retreat they were almost as dangerous as in battle, and repeatedly turned and drew Norman blood. The Normans were driven back, William advanced to their succour, and while their leader, Eustace of Boulogne, was whispering in the Duke’s ear, he was struck on the back by a heavy Saxon axe, and fell, insensible, from his horse, the blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils.

The Normans, relaxing the pursuit, rode their horses over the slain Saxons, in savage elation, before returning solemn thanks to God for the victory.

Gurtha, the mother of Harold, came to beg the hero’s body, to give it burial; but William is reported to have refused, ordering the corse to be buried on the strand, remarking, with unknightly anger—“He guarded the coast while he was alive, let him thus continue to guard it after death.” The dead King was, however, interred in Waltham Abbey, which he had founded and endowed; or, if Tovi, Canute’s standard-bearer, was the original founder of the abbey, yet Harold was largely its benefactor.

On the field of Senlac King William built the famous Battle Abbey, that priests might perpetually pray for the souls of the slain, but, as Palgrave remarks:—“All this pomp and solemnity has passed away like a dream. The ‘perpetual prayer’ has ceased for ever—the roll of Battle is rent—the shields of the Norman lieges are trodden in the dust—the Abbey is levelled to the ground—and a dark and reedy pool fills the spot where the foundations of the quire have been uncovered, merely for the gaze of the idle visitor, or the instruction of the moping antiquary.”

Yorkshire endured terrible evils at the hands of the Conqueror, as he penetrated its wilds with his famous bowmen and men-at-arms.

The year 1068 witnessed a Northumbrian revolt, which was easily quelled; but a more determined effort to cast off the Norman yoke was made in the following year. The events are thus recorded in the “Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,” and were graphically realized by the acutely sympathetic mind of the Rev. Charles Kingsley in his stirring story of “Hereward, the last of the English.” The accuracy of the latter part of the title of his novel is, however, generally disputed:

“A.D. 1068—This year King William gave the earldom of Northumberland to earl Robert,[43] and the men of that country came against him, and slew him and 900 others with him. And then Edgar etheling marched with all the Northumbrians to York, and the townsmen treated with him; on which King William came from the south with all his troops, and sacked the town, and slew many hundred persons. He also profaned St. Peter’s minster, and all other places, and the etheling went back to Scotland.

“After this came Harold’s sons from Ireland, about Midsummer, with sixty-four ships, and entered the mouth of the Taff, where they incautiously landed. Earl Beorn came upon them unawares with a large army, and slew all their bravest men; the others escaped to their ships, and Harold’s sons went back again to Ireland.

“A.D. 1069—This year died Aldred, Archbishop of York, and he lies buried in his cathedral church. He died on the festival of Protus and Hyacinthus, having held the see with much honour ten years, all but fifteen weeks.

“Soon after this, three of the sons of Sweyne came from Denmark with 240 ships, together with earl Osbern and earl Thorkill, into the Humber, where they were met by child Edgar and earl Waltheof, and Merle-Sweyne, and earl Cospatric[44] with the men of Northumberland and all the landsmen riding and marching joyfully with an immense army; and so they went to York, demolished the castle, and found there large treasures. They also slew many hundred Frenchmen, and carried off many prisoners to their ships; but, before the shipmen came thither, the Frenchmen had burned the city, and plundered and burnt St. Peter’s minister. When the King heard of this, he went northward with all the troops he could collect, and laid waste all the shire; whilst the fleet lay all the winter in the Humber, where the King could not get at them. The King was at York on Midwinter’s day, remaining on land all the winter, and at Easter he came to Winchester.”

It was on the 19th of September that the Danes and Northumbrians entered York, and, amid the flame and smoke of burning houses, stormed the Norman stronghold, and put the garrison to the sword. Egbert, the seventh Archbishop of York, had founded a valuable library in the city, but it was utterly consumed in the flames.

The triumph of King William was not so easily achieved as might be supposed from the account given in the “Anglo-Saxon Chronicle;” and had he not succeeded in buying off the Danish fleet, it is quite possible that all the fruit of his great victory at Senlac might have been swallowed up at York. Although the Northumbrians were not strong enough to brave the Normans in open field, they defended York against all the attacks of the King’s troops for a period of six months, and the garrison only surrendered when they were in danger of perishing from starvation.

During the siege Waltheof Siwardsson especially distinguished himself, and on one occasion defended, single-handed, a breach in the city-wall, dashing out the brains of the Normans as they came within the sweep of his axe.

In the first burst of rage on receiving news of the slaughter of the Norman garrison, William vowed to lay the whole of Northumbria in ashes, and he carried out with ruthless severity this rash and cruel resolution. The troops who fought beneath his banner were mercenary cut-throats, the fit agents of his vengeance, and they addressed themselves to the work of destruction with a keen appreciation. The peasantry fell by the edge of the sword, neither age nor sex being respected: the shrieking children were mingled in the common ruin. Cottages were fired, orchards hewn down, the instruments of husbandry destroyed, and every energy was bent to the destruction of human life, and to ensure by starvation the death of those whom the sword failed to reach. For nine years after the storm had passed over the devoted province, the ground remained untilled, and the villages unrestored. The wretched fugitives who hid their heads in forests and caves were driven to feed upon the flesh of unclean cats and dogs, and finally they endeavoured to prolong their miserable lives by the last resort to cannibalism. It is computed that one hundred thousand persons perished in a district of sixty miles in length. The sea-ports were subjected to the same severities, that, in case of further Danish invasions, the ships might be unable to obtain supplies.

York itself was not spared by the ruthless Norman. The prisoners, who had been delivered into William’s hands by the extreme pangs of famine, were put to the sword, and the city was given to the flames.

During his expedition to Northumbria, William narrowly escaped receiving the reward of his demerits, an example of poetic justice that would have been particularly striking to the historian, and useful to the moralist.

While on the march from Hexham to York, he became involved in a wild and unknown country; his horses perished, his soldiers were reduced to the extremes of suffering and privation; and William missed his way, in the obscurity of a night-march, and was reduced to a state of great anxiety, not to say fear, being uncertain of the ground over which he wandered, and equally uncertain of the direction in which his troops were marching.

The North continued to suffer from war and invasion. Malcolm wasted Northumberland, A.D. 1079, and his wild Scots invaded the country as far as the Tyne, and re-entered Scotland with much spoil, and many prisoners.

The bishopric of Durham had been bestowed upon Walcher of Lorraine, and as he equally governed by crozier and sword, taxing the people heavily, and allowing his Norman mercenaries to plunder, insult, and slay his flock at their pleasure, he was bitterly hated; and, when his servant Gilbert murdered Liulf, a noble Englishman, who had married Jarl Siward’s widow, the mother of the heroic Waltheof, their rage knew no bounds. Walcher consented to confer with the Northumbrians at Gateshead, and was attended by a large escort. Every Englishman carried a weapon with him, concealed beneath his garment, and the bishop, becoming alarmed for his life, took refuge in the church, which was speedily fired, when the murderer and his accomplice were driven out, and received a summary requital for their crime. Compelled to sally out by flame and smoke, the bishop appeared among the raging multitude, his face wrapped in the skirt of his robe. There was silence, then a voice gave the death-words: “Good rede, short rede! slay ye the bishop!” and the protector of murderers was slain. His escort of a hundred men, Normans and Flemings, died beneath Northumbrian steel in that awful hour, only two of his servants, menials of English birth, being saved.

Vengeance was delegated to Odo of Bayeux, and there was no Hereward, no Waltheof to welcome him with blood-wet steel. He entered Durham unopposed, a Norman army at his back, and slew or maimed all the men that he could find.

Seven years later, and William lay dying in the monastery of St. Gervas, passing to his last account at sunrise on the 9th of September, as the bells of St. Mary tolled the hour of prime. His last words were: “I recommend my soul to my Lady Mary, the holy mother of God.”

Rufus succeeded, and in his reign the King’s army besieged Durham Castle, and received its surrender. This arose from the revolt of Odo of Bayeux, who was captured at Rochester Castle, and sent out of the country, to the sound of Saxon curses and the triumphant strains of Saxon trumpets, for the proud prelate who had cursed England with his presence since the day of Senlac was conquered by Saxon steel at last.

The North was again ravaged by the Scots, A.D. 1091, when Rufus marched to protect it, and “Edgar Atheling mediated a peace between the kings.” The following year saw the King again in the North, with a large following, when, “he repaired the city (Carlisle), and built the castle. And he drove out Dolfin, who had before governed that country, and having placed a garrison in that castle he returned into the South, and sent a great number of rustic Englishmen thither, with their wives and cattle, that they might settle there and cultivate the land.”

A.D. 1093.—“King Malcolm returned home to Scotland, and as soon as he came thither, he assembled his troops and invaded England, ravaging the country with more fury than behoved him: and Robert, Earl of Northumberland, with his men, lay in wait for him, and slew him unawares. He was killed by MorÆl of Bamborough, the earl’s steward, and King Malcolm’s own godfather: his son Edward, who, had he lived, would have been King after his father, was killed with him. When the good Queen Margaret heard that her most beloved lord, and her son, were thus cut off, she was grieved in spirit unto death, and she went with her priest into the church, and having gone through all befitting rites, she prayed of God that she might give up the ghost.”

The Northern province had little rest from marching armies, sieges, and battles. In the Easter of 1095, Robert, Earl of Northumberland, treated with contempt the King’s summons to attend the court at Winchester; whereon the King took an early opportunity of attacking him, seized his principal servants and officers, took Tynemouth Castle, and after vainly besieging Bamborough, built a castle, Malveisin, or “evil neighbour,” over against it, and leaving therein a strong garrison departed. After the King’s departure, the earl sallied out one night, riding towards Tynemouth, when a part of the garrison of Malveisin pursued after him, carried him off, wounded, and slew or captured his attendants. On this Rufus ordered his captains to carry Northumberland to Bamborough Castle, and summon it to surrender, threatening to put out the earl’s eyes if the castle continued to hold out. The scheme was successful, the countess—a young and beautiful woman, recently married to Northumberland—at once surrendered, when the unhappy earl was condemned to a life-long imprisonment.

The mysterious death of William Rufus, who was found in the New Forest, slain by an arrow, on the 2nd of August, A.D. 1100, was followed by the accession of Henry I., when the Northern provinces of the island enjoyed a period of unwonted repose, which was terminated by the usurpation of Stephen of Blois, when the Scottish invasions re-commenced, and the battle of the Standard was fought.

During these years York was steadily rising from its ashes, after the Conqueror’s fiery chastisement, when, on the 4th June, 1137, a fire accidently broke out, and the city was again consumed.

Of the patriots who combatted so valiantly against the Conqueror during the invasion of Northumbria, Earl Edwin was slain in 1071, being betrayed to the Normans by three of his servants; Morkar, after joining Hereward in the famous Camp of Refuge, fell into the hands of the King, and was cast into prison, pursuant to a sentence of imprisonment for life, but, when the Conqueror lay on his death-bed, he ordered his release, and William Rufus immediately re-committed him to prison; Earl Cospatrick was banished for the slaughter of the Normans at Durham and York, and received honours and lands from the King of Scotland. Hereward was murdered by the Normans, but exacted an heroic price for his life.