long; and even before Gurth rejoined him, he knew by an unanimous
shout of fury, to which the clash of countless shields chimed in, that
the mission had been in vain.

Tostig had refused to hear Gurth, save in presence of the Norwegian
chiefs; and when the message had been delivered, they all cried, "We
would rather fall one across the corpse of the other [249], than leave
a field in which our King was slain."

"Ye hear them," said Tostig; "as they speak, speak I"

"Not mine this guilt, too, O God!" said Harold, solemnly lifting his
hand on high. "Now, then, to duty."

By this time the Norwegian reinforcements had arrived from the ships,
and this for a short time rendered the conflict, that immediately
ensued, uncertain and critical. But Harold's generalship was now as
consummate as his valour had been daring. He kept his men true to
their irrefragable line. Even if fragments splintered off, each
fragment threw itself into the form of the resistless wedge. One
Norwegian, standing on the bridge of Stanford, long guarded that pass;
and no less than forty Saxons are said to have perished by his arm.
To him the English King sent a generous pledge, not only of safety for
the life, but honour for the valour. The viking refused to surrender,
and fell at last by a javelin from the hand of Haco. As if in him had
been embodied the unyielding war-god of the Norsemen, in that death
died the last hope of the vikings. They fell literally where they
stood; many, from sheer exhaustion and the weight of their mail, died
without a blow [250]. And in the shades of nightfall, Harold stood
amidst the shattered rampart of shields, his foot on the corpse of the