spoilt by death.

* * * * *

The shameful history of the close of the campaign is familiar to every
schoolboy, and the military historian must be pardoned if he deals with
a purely civilian blunder in a few brief words.

Parliament interfered--as it always does--with what should have been a
matter for soldiers alone. Intrigues, bribery, or worse (with which the
military historian has no concern) ruined what had been, in the field,
one of the principal achievements of the Saxon arms. And William, who
could not count to hold his own against regular forces and who was
astonished to find himself free to retreat precipitately on Dover, was
still more astonished to find himself accepted a few weeks later after
an aimless march to the west and north by the politicians--or worse--at
Berkhampstead. He and England were equally astounded to find that a
broken and defeated invader could actually be accepted by the intriguers
at Westminster and crowned King of England as the price of a secret
bargain.

Such was the fruit of as great and successful an effort as ever Saxon
soldier made: the Battle of Senlac: for such--as I am now free to
reveal--was the true name of the field of action.

The ineptitude or avarice of politicians had undone the work of
soldiers, and it is no wonder that the last of Harold's veterans, who
retired in disgust to impregnable fortresses in Ely, Arthur's Seat, and
Pudsey, are recorded to have gnashed their teeth and shed tears of
indignation at the dispatches from the metropolis. At Crecy they were to