one of William's daughters. Now, at any time to which we can fix
Harold's visit, all William's daughters must have been mere
children. Harold, on the other hand, seems to have been a little
older than William. Yet there is nothing unlikely in the
engagement, and it is the one point in which all the different
versions, contradicting each other on every other point, agree
without exception. Whatever else Harold promises, he promises
this, and in some versions he does not promise anything else.

Here then we surely have the kernel of truth round which a mass of
fable, varying in different reports, has gathered. On no other
point is there any agreement. The place is unfixed; half a dozen
Norman towns and castles are made the scene of the oath. The form
of the oath is unfixed; in some accounts it is the ordinary oath of
homage; in others it is an oath of fearful solemnity, taken on the
holiest relics. In one well-known account, Harold is even made to
swear on hidden relics, not knowing on what he is swearing. Here
is matter for much thought. To hold that one form of oath or
promise is more binding than another upsets all true confidence
between man and man. The notion of the specially binding nature of
the oath by relies assumes that, in case of breach of the oath,
every holy person to whose relies despite has been done will become
the personal enemy of the perjurer. But the last story of all is
the most instructive. William's formal, and more than formal,
religion abhorred a false oath, in himself or in another man. But,
so long as he keeps himself personally clear from the guilt, he
does not scruple to put another man under special temptation, and,
while believing in the power of the holy relics, he does not
scruple to abuse them to a purpose of fraud. Surely, if Harold did
break his oath, the wrath of the saints would fall more justly on