William
October 14, 1066
The pungent scent of blood mingled with the scent of upturned, wet earth. I paced back and forth, leaves crunching beneath my feet. This battle was turning against us and fast; if we don’t act, our armies will be decimated. Harold’s forces have held their ten shield since dawn. If we do not break their ranks, this war will end my line, and all of Normandy will fall into the hands of King Harold.
“Your Grace,” Robert’s exhausted voice echoed behind me, “Eustis and I have devised a plan to break Harold’s defenses and draw his archers back.”
Eustis cut a thin branch from the tree beside us and began drawing their elaborate plan in the mud. “First, we need to move our cavalrymen to the river. Once they have made it, we will begin retreating to the south, following the cavalry.”
I studied the hastily drawn army and arrows indicating our movement south. “You want us to retreat? That would effectively end the battle, Eustis.”
“No, no,” He continued, drawing sloppily in the wet dirt. “We feign retreat. Harold’s forces will break and follow us toward the river. Where our cavalrymen will be waiting to ambush them.”
The plan was risky; we risked being pinned against the river, defeat surely guaranteed. But the fate awaiting Normandy was worse; I had to do everything in my power to stop that future from coming to fruition. If the battle turns against us once more, I’ll make a final stand against King Harold himself. Anything to save my kingdom from the ruin coming.
Eustis placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, “You confided in us the gravity of this invasion. This is our only chance to stop King Harold and his armies.”
“If we see defeat in our near future, I need both of you to help me kill King Harold.” My voice turned cold; it felt as if a rock had settled in my chest. “He can not leave this battlefield, except in a burial shroud.” My thoughts raced with memories of Harold and I. We were once friends, no confidants - no more. We fought beside each other in countless battles, laughed, and broke bread at the same table.
I shook my head, breaking myself free from the thoughts of Harold. I can not lose myself in the grief of a man not yet dead, a man who, unless stopped, will tear Normandy to ruins with dragons and ships of bronze and steel. The time for mourning Harold will come, in the near future, or I will meet him in the hereafter, and we will grieve together. Now is the time to stop his betrayal before it sets my kingdom a blaze.
The man I face on this battlefield is not my Harold. I must reconcile with that fact.
I turned away from Eustis and Robert, bracing myself against the tree, a line of tears threatening to fall. “Eustis, call the cavalry. They have until midday to reach the river and establish an ambush point. We can not afford to waste the daylight.”
“Robert, brother, go to each commander and tell them at midday, we feign retreat to the rivers, where the cavalrymen will be waiting.”
…
Just as planned, the horn sounded at midday, and my armies fell into retreat. The mass of men and horses sprinting through the blood-drenched mud created a rumble under my feet. I watched as Harold’s forces regrouped, likely discussing their own next move - I would follow as if I were hunting a stag. As if Harold and I shared a mind, he raised his sword, the metal glistening in the sun, and his armies set off in their own stampede. Pushing through the wet earth, flinging dirt and mud around them. I dare not move, not until they’ve begun to close in around me. I need Harold and his armies to follow me. I am the lure that will draw them toward the ambush.”
The sound of my own heart pounding drowned out the sounds of hooves and armor-clad feet pounding against the ground. “Three…two…one… now!” I yanked the reins of Estoile, my horse, firmly to the left, forcing her to turn around. “Yah!” I whipped the reins twice, “Run, my girl! Run fast!”
I could tell she was just as exhausted as I, “I promise, as soon as we’re through with this, you’ll never have to see another battlefield again.”
Did she have a loyalty to Harold’s horse, like I have a loyalty to Harold? Or did she feel nothing for him at all? Perhaps it was for the better if she felt nothing. Going against one’s friend - no brother - was no easy feat. I only hoped whoever dealt the killing blow does so swiftly and surely.
When I arrived at the river, my soldiers were waiting. Infantry directly in front, cavalry near the river to the left, and in the forest to the right. My archers are stationed in the trees. I took up a position at the front of the cavalry. Robert to my left, Eustis to my right.
The rumbling of the earth stirred Robert’s horse, a babe of only two years old. This was his first battle, and thus far, he’d held his confidence beautifully. The sound of hoof beats grew louder, filling my ears and refusing to allow anything, not even my own voice, to break through. I can’t be certain the words leave my throat as I say, “Hold steady, men. Hold until I give chase.”
Closing my eyes, I look up toward the sky, feeling the cold rain and gentle winds. This could very well be the last time I feel these sensations. Whether I win or lose this battle, my life will never return to what it once was. I may never return to my shores, to Normandy. My body will remain here, on the grasses of Britannia.
“Archers, knock your arrows.” Robert’s voice echoes to the left, followed by the creaking of bows.
I unsheathe my sword and raise it straight above me. The hoof beats grow louder as Harold’s armies crest over the gently sloping hill, shielding us from view.
In one swift motion, I bring the sword down, as Robert yells, “Fire!”
I kick Estoile’s side hard, sending her galloping into battle, reins in one hand and sword primed in the other. Following in perfect succession, Eustis and the soldiers set off at a heavy-footed pace behind me.
Within seconds, the scene was a blur of men running toward each other, metal clashing as they fought hand to hand. The sounds of blades ripping through flesh and men screaming in agony filled my ears. I swung my own sword in quick succession, ripping through the throats of Harold’s infantrymen. The blood of Harold’s men coated Estoile’s armor, painting her crimson.
The world around me stopped. Every soldier, cavalryman, and infantryman faded into quiet shadows around me. The only figure clearly visible was Harold. He fought on foot at the edge of the forest, his horse nowhere to be found. I dismounted and sent Estoile running toward the river, but she won’t go far. She’ll be easily tracked once this war is done. Continuing on foot, I methodically swung my sword, cutting down anyone who crossed my path.
“Harold!” I yelled through the clanging metal and shouting men. “We can end this now! We can send our men home and end this quarrel here!”
“Quarrel?” He turned to me, wiping the blood of his sword, “You invade my shores and dare to call this a quarrel.” His face twisted in anger as we closed the distance between us.
I sheathed my sword, hoping to send a message of diplomacy to Harold. “I know what hell you planned to bring to my own kingdom. I brought this war to you to protect my lands.” I stepped closer to him, his sword pressing against my armor. “Please, Harold. We can agree to end this now. All you have to do is call off your invasion, and we can keep the peace and friendship we’ve known for years.”
Harold sheathed his own sword and reached out for me, pulling me into a tight embrace. “There was no invasion planned, William. Who gave you such poisonous lies?”
Before I could respond, Harold’s body jerked violently, and he went limp. I released him from the embrace and watched him fall to the ground, blood spurting from his mouth. The arrow lodged through the center of his neck. “Harold!” I shouted, “Harold, hold on.” I frantically searched around us, looking across the river and into the forest. The archers were a great distance away. Where did this arrow come from?
“Hold on, my friend.” I hooked my arms under his leg and swung him over my shoulder. Harold’s breathing grew ragged. “You’ll be fine. I just need to get you somewhere safer.” I walked him into the woods, his body growing heavier as he grew weaker. His blood, still warm, dripped onto my armor, and through the gaps, soaking my tunic and chest.
“Here, Harold.” As tenderly as I could, I laid him down against a large oak tree. His helmet had long since come off; it must have fallen off as I carried him away from the battlefield. “Hello, my friend.” His green eyes bored a hole into mine. “I am so sorry to have gotten us into this mess, but we’ll soon be out of it. You wait here, I’ll go call my men to surrender.”
Harold reached a bloodied hand to my cheek. “No, I am not long in this world, and you will soon rule my kingdom. It’s best if the world thinks you won it in blood and battle.” His thumb caressed my lower lip, “promise me you will stay here, with me, until the end. I must admit, I am not fearsome enough to face death on my own.”
A tear rolled down my cheek to where our flesh met. “I wish I could walk with you to the other life, but all I can offer is my company on this plane. For that, I am deeply sorry.”
This battle, this failed campaign to stop an invasion never truly planned, taxed my confidence, but this was truly my last chance to speak the words neither of us ever dared utter. No matter how tempting they were on our tongues. “Harold,” I mustered the little courage I could manage, “No truer friend could have been sought, but you I have loved as more. More than a friend, more than a brother. Harold, you I have loved as a -” I looked up to find his bright green eyes, but found nothing but the cold eyes and pale skin of a dead man. How much of my confession did he hear?
I reached out a hand and gently closed his eyes, committing their color to memory. Bright and green like the fresh grasses of a new spring meadow. Not yet marred by the heat of summer, still lush and bright and soft.
…
It was difficult to see the sun’s position from this deep into the forest, but by the dimming light, I would guess the time to be early evening. The sounds of metal clashing had long since faded, or maybe I’d grown accustomed to it. Harold’s body had grown stiff, his bones rigid in the position of his last breath. I tried once to move him, to lay him flat, but he was stuck, and any true attempt would lead to me breaking his bones. I already caused the death of my dearest friend. To break his bones would ruin his peace. I must protect his peace.
The sound of footsteps crunching against dried leaves echoed behind me. “Your Majesty.” I turned to find Robert and Eustis walking toward me. “It is over, most of Harold’s forces are dead, those that remain have surrendered. You’ve won my lord.”
“You’re the king of Britannia,” Eustis added.
“I’ve won - but at what cost?”