1066 (12 page)

One moment the people are cheering the new king, the next their heads are tilted upwards at the night sky over Westminster, fingers pointing to the heavens in wonderment and awe [scene 29]. A strange celestial body, a glowing ball of fire with a long hairy tail, has appeared above the dark world. ISTI MIRANT STELLA[M] (These men wonder at the star). In the words of the
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle
(C and D), 'throughout all England, a sign, such as men never saw before, was seen in the heavens. Some men declared that it was the star
comet,
which some men call the "haired" star; and it appeared first on the eve of the Greater Litany, 24 April, and shone thus all week.' What they saw, in fact, was a comet and it was the same comet that was observed in 1682 by the astronomer Edmond Halley, and later named after him. Halley's Comet appears in a regular 76-year cycle, and it so happened that 1066 was one of the years when it was visible. It was last seen in 1986, but in 1066 it would have seemed much brighter to the eye, for on that occasion it passed between the sun and the earth rather than on the other side of the sun. The regular laws governing Halley's Comet were, of course, unknown in this prescientific age, and it is no surprise that people looked upon this strange fiery phenomenon in the night as a divinely ordained portent. It first appeared dimly above England in February, attained maximum brightness in April and was still visible well into May. It was observed elsewhere as well; chroniclers all over Europe reported its appearance and wondered what it might mean.
¹⁶
In retrospect this became clear to the Normans. In words rhetorically addressed to Harold after his death, William of Poitiers notes coldly: 'The comet, terror of kings, which burned soon after your elevation, foretold your doom.'
¹⁷

The hand of God has descended benevolently and blessed King Edward's church at Westminster. Now he has fired a warning shot across the heavens. This is the other side of God. This is God in the image of a truculent medieval monarch. His anger, already stirred by Stigand's presumptuous hold on the see of Canterbury, has now been truly roused by Harold's breach of oath. It would have been better for Harold to have chosen exile, imprisonment, slavery or even death in Normandy than to have made a sacred oath that he had no intention of fulfilling, for it now appeared, in retrospect, that in the eyes of God an oath made upon such holy old bones could never be broken, even if it had been made under duress. What else could explain the victory of the Normans in 1066? Harold had been crowned King of England in accordance with all the laws and customs of the land; he may have sat there enthroned, majestically, with all his regalia; but this was as nothing if he did not have the approval of his God.

Perhaps the underlying meaning of the Bayeux Tapestry, this mysterious and many-layered work of genius, is at last becoming clearer. It is not a monument of Norman triumph or celebration. Nor is it a work of Norman propaganda or justification. Rather, at the deepest level, it is beginning to appear as a work of
explanation,
seen from the tragic English perspective. The artist, working under the domination of the Normans, has succeeded brilliantly in deceiving generation after generation that he is telling the story from the Norman point of view. At another level, however, the Bayeux Tapestry is nothing less than the lost chronicle of the English. It is shot through with what seems to be a true account of what happened - of Harold's journey, the involuntary nature of his oath and Edward's attitude to William - all of which directly contradicts the Norman version of events. In the final analysis, however, it reflects the belief that Duke William was to win at Hastings because Harold, Stigand and the people of England had sinned and because God ordained that the English should be punished. On this account the Normans could be regarded as merely the instruments, and not the champions, of God'swill.

Harold, like everyone else, must have seen that celestial fireball passing so wonderfully across the crisp night sky. Now we see HAROLD again on his throne, only this time he is far from the self-assured, majestic figure who was seated there a moment earlier [scene 30]. He is a changed man, a worried man. His whole demeanour seems unsteady; the crown itself seems about to topple from his head; and he points at it as if to ask: 'How much longer will I be king?' A retainer is secretly explaining something. Perhaps it is the meaning of the comet;perhaps he is conveying some intelligence, recently received, about Duke William's reaction to the turn of events. William, it seems, has not taken the matter quite as philosophically as might have been hoped. Rumour has it that he has ordered the preparation of an enormous invasion force. A ghostly fleet of ships appears in the lower border as if by way of premonition.

This is worrying news. Harold needs to know exactly what William is doing and to that end he has dispatched spies on board a ship bound for Normandy. The ship of spies catches a breath of wind in the curve of its linen sail and, tossed high upon the threaded waves, it steals in secret across a swelling sea[scene 31]. HIC NAVIS ANGLICA VENIT IN TERRAM WILLELMI DUCIS (Here an English ship came to Duke William's land). Landfall is made and now a barelegged Englishman, his tunic hitched up and tucked into his belt, wades sleekly through the shallows and on to an empty Norman beach, bearing a heavy anchor in both hands. Cunningly, he has shaved the back of his neck in order to pass himself off as a Norman. The tapestry leaves the spy's fate unrecorded, but we learn from William of Poitiers that around about the spring of 1066 an English spy was, for all his guile, captured in Normandy and swiftly taken before Duke William. William dispatched him back to Harold with the following instructions:'Take this message from me to Harold: he will have nothing to fear from me and can live the rest of his life secure if, within the space of one year, he has not seen me in the place where he thinks his feet are safest.'
¹⁸
It was a chilling riposte.

8

Invasion

Duke William's bravado was all good and well, but not everyone in Normandy was as confident about the prospect of invading England. According to William of Poitiers, many of his barons expressed reluctance, and even outright opposition, to the duke's audacious plan. They pointed out that England's resources, both military and financial, were significantly superior to Normandy's. A great army would not only have to be formed and equipped, it would also have to be transported across a hazardous sea. It was surely impossible to build all the necessary ships, let alone do anything else, within the timescale that William required; and with so many men absent from the duchy Normandy itself might be exposed to invasion. In the face of all these arguments, and anything else that the timid-hearted could bring themselves to say, the Duke of Normandy remained utterly resolute. He knew what he wanted and to that end he was as firm as granite. Was he not King Edward's blood kinsman? Had not Edward long ago told him that he would be his heir? Had he not seen with his own eyes Earl Harold utter a sacred oath that he would sup port his claim? There was no doubt whatever in William'smind that England should be his. It was he, William, who should be now seated upon that throne, but Harold had impudently seized it and (so it probably seemed) he was now sitting there, laughing at him.

William of Poitiers has the duke win over the Norman doubters by his powers of oratory at a great meeting, which may have taken place at the town of Lillebonne. If the lack of ships worried his barons, they should not worry, he said, because there would soon be enough. If it was the lack of soldiers, they should remember that wars are more often won by courage than by the number of fighting men. Harold was attempting to retain what he had wrongfully seized; the Normans would fight to acquire what was rightfully theirs. 'This fundamental confidence of our side, dispelling all danger, will give us a splendid triumph, great glory and a famous name.'
¹
During the spring and summer of 1066 there is evidence that the duke was travelling widely around Normandy, meeting with his chief men, no doubt rallying their morale and overseeing the preparations. Every aspect of the invasion, down to the finest logistical detail, must have been painstakingly planned. The army was probably to number about 10,000 men (though some have suggested a much larger force); there were horses, equipment, transport and supplies to prepare. William was a ruthless man, but it speaks much of his personal authority and powers of man-management that he was able to organise such a great army in so short a time and to hold it together for such a risky enterprise.

He was also one step ahead of Harold in the propaganda war. He sent an embassy to Rome where his wily Norman ambassadors persuaded Pope Alexander II to give his blessing to the invasion.
²
Since Harold's case went unrepresented, it may be presumed that this result was achieved by dint of the usual one-sided arguments. The Pope's sponsorship of a war, symbolised by the grant of a papal banner, was a very recent innovation and it was notably astute of William to seek it, for this emblem of the approval of the highest authority in Western Christendom at once legitimated the expedition as a sanctified quest to oust a faithless usurper and an excommunicated archbishop. In the end William had no difficulty raising his army. The bulk of it came from within Normandy but others, sometimes his former enemies, from Brittany, north-eastern France, Flanders and even Aquitaine joined his cause as well. They were lured by the spirit of adventure, the papal blessing and the promise of English land and gold. Many would die, but if the Norman side won the survivors would become rich. The most prominent of the non-Normans who pledged his support (for the time being at least) was an old rival, Count Eustace II of Boulogne, though it is only later that we see him in the tapestry.

The tapestry distils all the decision-making into a single decisive meeting within a turreted Norman palace [scene 32]. Nowhere does it mention Pope Alexander's blessing and amongst all the flags depicted in the work (of which there are many) the papal banner has never been identified with certainty. It may, in fact, not be illustrated at all. The pivotal meeting takes place between an adviser (or informant), Duke William and a tonsured cleric. This is the meeting at which the momentous decision to invade England is taken. The inscription above is unusually spread across the upper border: HIC WILLELM DUX IUSSET NAVES EDIFICARE (Here Duke William ordered ships to be built). These words, like all other sources, make it seem as if the duke was decisive in the matter, but once again the embroidered picture tells a different story. The first man stands in front of the seated William. Perhaps he is counselling caution, referring to the difficulties that William of Poitiers has all the doubters allude to. Or perhaps he is a spy bringing news of Harold's accession. Duke William sits in the middle; he is pointing to the standing man but his head is twisted towards the tonsured cleric at his side. This is a William who is uncertain and wishes to hear the cleric's views. Like William, the cleric is seated on an important throne but he is noticeably depicted higher than the rest. It is the cleric who points to the shipbuilding that follows. Evidently, on this account, it is the cleric's advice that wins over a surprisingly hesitant duke and now, as if obeying the cleric'sown words, a workman with an axe is at once hurrying out of the room in order to get down to work on the formidable task of building all the required ships.

Who is this cleric, so prominent and influential in the counsels of Duke William? He can be none other than William's half-brother Bishop Odo of Bayeux. This enormously ambitious man was as much a secular as a religious figure, and he was already growing rich thanks to William's fraternal patronage. Odo was certainly one of the duke's key advisers, but no other source gives him such a prominent role in persuading his brother to take up arms and invade England. This is another clue about the tapestry's origin. It is the first hint that the tapestry's artist is making a special point of flattering Bishop Odo of Bayeux. He is flattering him, even above the duke himself.

Shipbuilding begins in earnest [scene 33]. In the Norman forests men swing great axes to fell tall, embroidered trees; and then the wood is turned into planks and the surface rendered as plain and smooth as a stretch of white cloth. In the foreground two bearded old shipwrights are now shaping the ships out of wood with little axes; others are performing the same task in the near distance. A contemporary document, the
Ship List of William the Conqueror,
tells us that Odo contributed 100 ships to the invasion force, which is no mean contribution considering that the total fleet numbered in the high hundreds.
³
As all this activity was going on, Harold's own difficulties were becoming worse. Entirely neglected by the tapestry is the fact that in October 1065 there had been a rebellion in Northumbria against Harold's brother, Earl Tostig. It is said that the local people resented Tostig's harsh rule and wanted Morcar of Mercia in his place. The insurgents went on a rampage, killing and looting on a murderous journey into the English midlands. King Edward attempted to restore peace at a great council held at Britford, near Salisbury. Tostig, ill tempered and suspicious, now thought that Earl Harold had instigated the whole uprising and openly accused him before the whole assembly. Harold, in turn, indignantly repudiated the charge on oath. If Duke William and his brother Bishop Odo were at one about their plans, relations between the two English brothers had reached an all-time low; and they were about to become even worse.

By Christmas 1065 the dying king had resigned himself to the fact that Tostig was unpopular and that a royal army could not be raised in sufficient numbers to defeat the rebels. He gave in; the rebels had won. There can be little doubt that Harold had some hand in this pragmatic but unfortunate decision. Tostig was not only deprived of his earldom. Such was the ferocity of the insurgents that he and his wife Judith were forced to flee to Flanders. Not long afterwards Tostig must have received the news that Edward had died and that his brother Harold had ascended the throne in triumph. Maddened by fury, he was determined to revenge himself against Harold, whatever it took. He journeyed hither and thither in an attempt to find an ally in this unwavering and unnecessary vendetta. It is said by Orderic Vitalis, writing in the twelfth century, that Tostig visited Duke William of Normandy, but he was apparently rebuffed. From there it is said that he went to Norway in order to meet with King Harald Hardrada, a bloodthirsty warrior who could easily be persuaded that now was the moment to take up his own tenuous claim to the English throne.
⁴
That may be so. More contemporary sources describe Tostig raiding around the English coast throughout the spring of 1066, before sailing up to Scotland to stay at the court of King Malcolm.
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The outcome was the same. He forged an alliance with the fearsome Viking magnate and by September the Norwegian Harald was poised to unleash his own invasion of England. This was the last thing that Harold needed, and Tostig knew it.

The tapestry proceeds swiftly with its own internal logic. It ignores the Norwegian dimension and omits Harold's troubles with Tostig, though in truth these all played a part, and perhaps the telling part, in his downfall. Instead we are shown the meticulous Norman preparations. There is a swarm of activity by the seashore as everything is loaded on to ships [scene 34]. The newly made vessels are dragged down to the sea. Some of the men are heaving ships to the beach with long ropes; they are struggling against the dead weight, leaning backwards as they progress step by step into the rippling water. HIC TRAHUNT[UR] NAVES AD MARE (Here the ships are hauled down to the sea). Others are carrying suits of chain-mail armour. Each suit of armour has a pole threaded through its arms; the pole is shouldered at each end by a man;borne upright in this manner, it is almost as if an invisible knight were already clothed within and ready to conquer England. Swords, lances, helmets, axes and provisions are all carried on board. Another two men, bent forward and visibly struggling, can be seen hauling a four-wheeled cart on which an enormous barrel of wine had been loaded, together with helmets and spears. ISTI PORTANT ARMAS AD NAVES ET HIC TRAHUNT CARRUM CUM VINO ET ARMAS (These men carry arms to the ships and here they drag a cart with wine and arms). Apparently William thought it wise to take some French wine with him, rather than risk drinking any English beverage. With this on board, William himself now rides to the shore.

What an awesome spectacle he must have seen, hundreds of ships lying in wait along the narrow coast, thousands of men and horses lined up along the littoral ready to embark on their mission, a mission that William had conceived in his own ruthless mind and ordained with his own commanding words. The first part of his vision had become a reality; it remained to cross the sea and conquer Harold. If the Bayeux Tapestry were the only evidence that survived, the crossing of the Channel by the Normans would appear to be a seamless and uncomplicated affair. It is known, however, that it was a two-stage process. The fleet assembled initially at the Norman port of Dives in August 1066, where it stayed for about a month. It then moved northwards along the French coast as far as the estuary of the River Somme at St-Valery, in Ponthieu, apparently driven by westerly gales. Here they waited a further two weeks for the contrary winds to abate. Throughout a tense, uncertain September, the Duke's qualities of leadership were tested as he held his army together. He is said by William of Poitiers to have maintained good discipline and a high morale. When some of his soldiers fell in the water and drowned during the journey from Dives to St-Valery, William, not wishing to cause alarm, ordered the mishap to be kept secret.

All summer King Harold maintained his watch. A large defensive force was placed at strategic points along the southern coast and the English fleet of longships was stationed on the Isle of Wight, ready to intercept the Normans at sea. Spies may have informed the king that the Normans were busy assembling at Dives, for Dives lies directly opposite where he placed his own navy. Harold is also known to have confiscated the estate of Steyning in Sussex from the Norman abbey of Fecamp, fearing, perhaps, that it might be a centre of intelligence for the enemy.
⁶
His forces stood ready and waiting;eyes scoured the horizon on a constant watch for any sign of William's armada, but as the long days of summer grew shorter the anticipated invasion did not materialise. By 8 September there was still no sign of the Normans, and with provisions running dangerously low, and the season of autumnal storms now arriving, the king dropped his guard and decided to disband his coastal forces. It seemed that the danger of invasion, in that tense year of 1066, had at last subsided. Winston Churchill, who found himself in a not dissimilar situation in 1940, later commented dryly: 'in true English style [they came] to the conclusion that the danger was past because it had not yet arrived'.
⁷

It arrived all right, but in another place. Harold had been so preoccupied by the Norman threat that events in the north took him by surprise. King Harald Hardrada had slipped across the North Sea with a formidable army numbering over 7,000 Norsemen. He picked up allies in Orkney, joined Tostig and his Flemish mercenaries, either in Scotland or at the mouth of the River Tyne, and then proceeded darkly down the English coast. As soon as Harold learnt of the danger, he hastily assembled his army of professional housecarls and raised more men from the shires. He sped north from London, hoping to reach York by the old Roman road before the invaders could take the city. He learnt
en route
that on 20 September Hardrada's army had annihilated an English force at Fulford and had probably already passed through York. This was certainly bad news, but Harold pressed on, undaunted, and the speed of his advance took the Norwegians by surprise.