d lytel stil
to undertake. So instead of spending the Easter Feast at Winchester, as had been a long-established custom, he came to Westminster and there assembled the Witan Gemot. He had faithfully carried out every request made to him by the dying King Edward. In every way his position was stronger than it had been three months before, and this Easter festival saw him at the zenith of his power. Suddenly a sign appeared from Heaven, which brought terror and desolation to the hearts of men.
n place at Westminster in those first days of the year 1066. A messenger, who had come on an Englis
rold, demanding from him the crown. The Englishman's answer was given with no uncertain sound. Had William really been chosen king by Edward and the Witan, he would have supported him, but things were all changed now, and he, Harold, could not give up a crown set on his head by the will of the nation, except at the nation's will. William then decided on an appeal to force. His people, bold and adventurous, rallied to
sly. But from London Harold was marching at the head of his house-carls, drawing into his train ready volunteers. As they came along the Roman road with a speed almost incredible, their hearts beating high at the thought of an encounter with traitors and a foreign foe, they told one another how King Edward had appeared to Harold on the night before their start, bidding him be strong and very courageous, for the victory would be surely his. On the
nerosity to those of the conquered Norsemen who remained, and sent them back in four-and-twenty ships to their own shores. Then with the remnants of his own army he set out by the way he had come to London, having first summoned a hasty Witan Ge
e shires of the east, the south, and the west, impelled by a passionate patriotism. Even from the cloisters there came willing
NG TOMB OF JOHN OF ELTHAM
NG TOMB OF JOHN OF ELTHAM
monk, came, bearing a message to the king from Duke William. The message was a demand for submission, a challenge, and Harold proudly sent back the
iam. And while I fight the Normans, do you scour the country, burn the houses, destroy the villages, and c
stood round in t
ounsel. Let the
danger which he was called upon to face, nei
will I harm the lands or goods of any Englishman. How could I injure the people
d through Kent and Sussex to the high ground of Senlac, where
Harold, the fearless soldier, lay dead beneath the standard he had so gallantly defended, and around him lay the flower of his race, faithful to the e
h and west. He did his work all too well; even the stout hearts of the Londoners quailed, and at Berkhamstead a deputation came to him owning him as conqueror, laying the crown at his feet. It was a bitter moment for the men who undertook this shameful errand, but no other way was open to them in that dark hour, and immediately arrangements were made for the coronation ceremony. William, who consi
altar, on the gravestone of the Confessor, stood the Conqueror, on one side a Norman Bishop, on the other, Eldred, Archbishop of York. Once again the monks chanted the Te Deum, and then followed an innova
the body of the great church was empty, and in dramatic solitude the Archbishop went on with the service, surrounded only by the monks. William was greatly overcome as he stood thus alone before the altar; there was something terrible in the loneliness and the stillness of the deserted church. He trembled exceedingly, and could scarce command his voice. It seems as if he had shrunk from wearing the cro
choir the solemn service was continued to the end, and thus was William the Norman cr
o part of William's policy to hinder any of the work undertaken by the Confessor. On the contrary, he confirmed all the charters, and when Abbot Eadwine gracefully yielded to him the lands of Windsor, which the king desired to enjoy, it being very convenient; for his reti
great refectory, and close by the infirmary and St. Catherine's Chapel; overhead was the long bare dormitory. Surely it was fitting that the Abbots of Westminster should be laid in the cloisters, and so they continued to be till the year 1222. You will find the names of many of them recut on the stone benches in the south cloister, if y
tion," he was deprived and sent back to Normandy in disgrace, where he died. He was followed by Vitelus, Abbot of Bernay, held by William to be wise and a man of business, as indeed it was necessary the ruler of a
the hard rule of William, who, in the words of that honest chronicler Master Richard Wuce, "was eke so stark a man and wroth that no man durst do anything against his will, beyond all metes stark to those who withstood his will," the hear
ive the holy Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester, of his see, on the ground that "he was a very idiot, being unacquainted with t
ich it was not you who crave me. In deference to your judgment I resign it
o the tomb of th
en. Only to thee can I resign the charge of those thou didst entrust to
o Lanfranc, who had remained with the council in St. Catherine's Chapel, and he indignantly sent Gundulph, Bishop of Rochester, to put an end to this foolish story and carry the staff away.
"I pray thee give now thy decision." And
to Wulstan, begging his forgiveness, and he, having learned from the Lord
f fixed. But it is through legends that we often learn the beliefs and ideas held by the mass of t
ss. For in making war against the king of France, he set fire to the town of Nantes, and his horse, treading on a red ember, plunged vi
erd," bids us remember that he was "mild to good men that loved God, and made such good peace in the land th
iveness of his sins. And may men after their goodness choose the good in him with
h Master Wace ends his "Chronicle