The Last Englishman by Hebe Weenolsen

Author:Hebe Weenolsen [Weenolsen, Hebe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2015-05-26T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten — On the Ancient Walls

With incredible speed the Conqueror appeared before the gates of York, once again proving his magnificent ability to overcome all obstacles. He himself led his army north through blinding storms of snow and sleet; indifferent alike to cold, fatigue or hunger; enduring privation with the meanest of his men; killing horses with his own hand to feed them; lending his own mount to those no longer able to walk, only to heartlessly abandon those same men to the wolves when their sickness grew too great a burden; reaching York at last with only half his army to sight, beyond the snowy heath, the castle rising gray and formidable, and at its feet the city girdled by her ancient Roman walls and swept by icy winds that blew in from the sea across bleak Yorkshire moorlands.

Yet despite his haste, William had chosen to make an ally of patience, it having cost him much time and effort to circle around in order to avoid enemy outposts and thus appear unexpectedly from out of the northwest when the English, if they were looking for him at all, would be watching the southern roads. His plan was to strike suddenly, to bottle up the rebels within the city before they got wind of his approach and had time to scatter, and in this, according to his scouts, he was entirely successful. His army had surrounded the city in the dark of night and his camp was now set up on the open heath betwixt the city and the Galtres Forest to the north. Here the Norman pavilions were so skillfully arranged as to give the appearance of being twice their number, and his knights and men were ordered to circulate continuously and thus create the illusion that the Conqueror’s army was twice its actual size.

But William was ever circumspect. It was not his way to engage in the hazards of battle if the fight could be won by threat or negotiation, and thus it came about that one day in early January three Norman horsemen sped across the heath, unarmed and beneath a flag of truce, and headed straight for the city. As they drew near they could see, from the large number of mail-clad forms stationed at their posts, that the walls were fully manned, and by the time they drew rein before the north gate the officer on guard was already waiting them in the tower above the portal, challenging them to state their business without delay.

“I come as King William’s nuncius,” replied the central horseman, “with orders to speak with your leader, Hereward Leofricsson.”

“We recognize no king of yours, Sir Norman, wherefore his orders matter little to us,” came the blunt reply. “If you desire to have speech with the lord Hereward, be so good as to identify yourself and I will acquaint him of your coming.”

“I am Sir Guy de Lussac of Cruc Maur.”

The officer disappeared and the Normans sat and waited, glancing about

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