Sykes coughed and I ploughed on.
‘Right, situation update. The Pope has ruled that Harold is a perjurer and given William a consecrated banner as a token of papal support. The deal is that William will hold England as a fief of Rome and pay tribute to the Pope.’
‘Always good to see an impartial decision,’ muttered Bashford.
‘Because of this, England is in turmoil. In what many people see as a punishment from God, the northern army has been shattered. The Normans have landed in the south. Harold is racing down from Stamford Bridge, and just to make things even worse – Halley’s Comet is back. This is a deeply superstitious age, and the Norman propaganda machine has swung into action, claiming the sighting is in their favour, although even William has been heard to mutter that in that case, it’s pointing in the wrong direction.
‘In England, the comet is widely regarded as a sign of God’s anger at Harold the Oath Breaker and the Normans are quick to capitalise on this. William of Jumièges says it portends a change in kingdoms. And it will, one way or another because if William had failed at Hastings, then it would have been very unlikely he’d have found his dukedom waiting for him, even if he had survived the battle and returned home. Always willing to utilise the social media of the day, the Normans later incorporate the appearance of the comet into their version of Facebook, the Bayeux Tapestry.’
Sykes pulled out her scratchpad. ‘Yes, everyone seems to feel it was a bad sign for the English. Elmer of Malmesbury seems to have taken the comet’s appearance quite personally. He says, “You’ve come, have you? … Source of tears to many mothers, you evil. I hate you. It is long since I saw you, but as I see you now you are much more trouble, for I see you brandishing the downfall of my country. I hate you.” Strong stuff.’
‘It certainly is. Everyone knows this is a fateful time. This is a key point in History. There are many of those, obviously, but this is one of the … key-est.’
It was only a very tiny joke, but people smiled, relaxed and reached for the biscuits. This was better.
‘Right then, back to specifics. Harold has won at Stamford Bridge. His losses are heavy however and he’s forced to march south to meet William, leaving the northern army behind to regroup under Earls Morcar and Edwin and follow on as best they can.
‘He spends a few days in London, resting his men, recruiting, replenishing supplies, and repairing weapons. They finally set off, picking up the shire levies on the way, arriving at Caldbec Hill on the night of the 13th October. Eighteen days after Stamford Bridge. It’s a good position – on a slight rise with good all-round visibility. And close to Duke William’s forces camped only eight miles away.
‘On to William now. He’s been busy since we last saw him. He’s sent out a call to anyone and everyone, offering land, money, or both, for their support. Adventurers and mercenaries have flocked to his banner. Reports say he was able to put together nearly seven hundred ships. They carried twelve thousand mounted men and twenty thousand men at arms.
‘The fleet lands between Pevensey and Hastings, where William strengthens an existing Roman stronghold and then pushes on towards Hastings, where he builds the first of his trademark motte and bailey castles.
‘Harold is still in London at this point, and would have done better to have waited there and drawn William further and further from the coast, but he’s sworn an oath that William will not advance into England,’
‘Oh,’ said North, nastily. ‘He’s going to keep that one, is he?’
Sykes opened her mouth to respond and then jumped in the manner of one kicked under the table by Mr Bashford.
I moved hastily along. ‘William has been at Hastings for two weeks. His troops are fresh and ready to go, but he has to move soon, because his supplies are running out and feeding his army is becoming a problem. Harold’s arrival solves this for him. He cannot afford to be surrounded and starved into submission. He must close with Harold as soon as possible.
‘The battle will take place the next day. No one knows why Harold allowed his hand to be forced in this way. He’s known to be impetuous and impatient, however, and let’s face it, politically and personally, these two have been at war for years. Perhaps they just can’t wait to get at each other. Any questions so far?’
Nope. I pulled out a map of the battleground.
‘Right. Mr Bashford, Miss Sykes and Mr Evans will be with me in Number Eight. I looked over at Dieter who gave me a confident thumbs up.
‘Mr Clerk, Miss North, Mr Atherton and Mr Keller will be in Number Six…’
Again, I looked at Dieter, whose thumb was slightly less confident this time.
‘Number Eight will be behind Harold’s lines. We’ll be a good way back with the Andredsweald Forest to protect our rear.
‘By the way, you will have noticed that Mrs Enderby is not present today. Hastings is a long and bloody struggle, people. The Saxon army will be almost obliterated. Even the Norman losses are not much less. This is a battle for a kingdom. To the death. Dr Bairstow has forbidden us to leave the pods, so no costumes will be required.’
‘Why do we need security then?’ enquired Atherton.
‘Insurance,’ said Evans with a grin, and whether they would be there to keep invaders out or us in was anybody’s guess, and Evans certainly wasn’t saying.
I was pleased with the way this briefing was going. We’d all suffered a huge personal loss – our hangar was wrecked, our pods destroyed or damaged, but we were still functioning.
‘The other pod, Number Six, will be situated just north of the Hastings Road.’ I pointed to the map. ‘You’ll be to the east of William’s army, again on a slight rise. You should have an excellent view.
‘Inside your mission folders you will find details of the composition of both armies, and a map of the battlefield and the surrounding area. Each team will focus on their own particular protagonists, while Mr Atherton will give us an overview of the whole battle. It’s going to be a long day, people, so team leaders make sure both pods are well provisioned.
‘Any questions?
There were none.
‘Right, we meet in Hawking at 09:30 Monday morning. Thank you, everyone.’
We arrived an hour before dawn on the 14th October. I called up Number Six. Clerk reported they were all present and correct. We wished each other good luck and closed the link.
Remembering the stuffiness at Stamford Bridge, we had the door open while we could, listening in the dark. In the distance we could hear the noises made by tens of thousands of men, their horses, the armourers, blacksmiths, cooks and so on. You can’t keep an army quiet. We could see their cooking fires dotting the landscape. An occasional voice was raised in song.
‘This time tomorrow it will all be over,’ I said.
‘It will all be gone,’ said Bashford. ‘A nation, a way of life, a culture, a language.’
‘Not so,’ said Atherton. ‘Yes, it all disappears for a while, but it’s the Normans who eventually vanish, don’t they? Swallowed up, you could say. And what emerges three hundred years from today, is England and the English.’
We stood quietly, radiating Englishness. Except for Sykes, of course, proud daughter of Caledonia, stern and wild.
The sun rose and we got cracking.
Admittedly, we were a long way off, but it did seem to us that it was William who made the effort to avoid the conflict.