Ned, the son of Webb: What he did.

Under the Land Waster standard at last an arrow slew the King of Norway. There, also, fighting valiantly, fell Tostig the Earl, and with their slaying the battle ended, for the remaining Northmen lost heart and fled.

Then, to the surprise of some, Harold the King forbade further following, and commanded that his forces should once more come into close order. It may be that he was not quite assured as to how many Vikings might yet remain, at the shore or on the ships. At all events, there were excellent reasons why he should be willing to waste neither men nor time at that place, and why he should offer generous terms to the remnant of the invaders. That he intended doing this was to be made known somewhat later, and now he sat upon his horse, not far from the raven standard, giving directions concerning the bodies of his brother Tostig and of King Hardrada.

Ned, the son of Webb, was not a great many yards away, for he and the missionary had followed the charge of the Saxons and had been almost in the front of the battle. He was now staring around him at the gory evidences of how hard the fight had been. Almost at his feet lay a heap of slain Norwegians, and from under one edge of it somebody appeared to be struggling out.

"Lars, the son of Vebba!" shouted Ned. "Come here, Father Brian. Thou and I must save him! Get up, Lars!"

"No man will harm him now," shouted back the priest. "Is he badly wounded?"

"I have not a cut," responded Lars himself. "I was knocked down by a mace, that is all, and these others fell upon me. O Ned, the son of Webb! We are ruined! Ruined! There will be sad mourning among the fiords of Norway!"

"Vebba!" exclaimed Ned. "Where is he?"

"I saw him escape to the ships among the first," replied Lars, almost weeping.

"Go thou after him, thyself," said Ned. "Harold the King hath commanded that all like thee may go. Tell Vebba that I am to stay here. Run if thou canst! Get on board a ship."

"Thou art right to stay," said Lars. "This is thine own country. Thou hast lost thine Earl Tostig, but mind not that too much. There are always plenty of earls."

"Good-bye!" said Ned, and in a moment more Lars was walking away briskly.

He was safe from spear or blade, for the commands of Harold the King would surely be obeyed by all his men.

CHAPTER XII.

A RIDE IN OLD ENGLAND

Ned, the son of Webb, stood still, gazing very earnestly at the King of England.

"I suppose he feels badly about his brother," Ned was thinking. "I would, no matter what he'd been up to. I'm sorry Tostig was killed, anyhow. He was a friend of mine. I didn't see King Harold do any hand to hand fighting, either. I guess he kept back on purpose."

"My boy!" sharply whispered Father Brian. "The king wheeleth his horse toward thee. Stand thou still, for he hath his eye upon thee."

In a moment more the hot blood was flushing Ned's cheeks to redness, for the king drew rein in front of him and spoke in Saxon. If Ned could have understood him he might have been astonished, for he was saying:

"I saw thee row under the bridge, O boy with a battered shield. Thou art the cunning spearman that slew for me the Berserker and opened the way for the advance. I thank thee, whoever thou art. Thou art but young, too, for such a doing. What is thy name?"

Ned more than half guessed that such a question was asked him, and he promptly responded in Latin:

"I am Ned, the son of Webb, O king!"

"Aha! Thou speakest Latin?" exclaimed the king. "Thou seemest to be well born, and thou art a scholar. What can I do for thee? Speak quickly!"

"O Harold the King," said Ned. "I would that I might ride with the army when it marcheth away from York. William the Norman is coming. I wish to be with thy house-carles and fight the Normans for thee and for England."

He felt that he had made a tremendously long speech, and he had, but a bright smile shot across the face of the king.

"That thou shalt have," he said, and he added, to a horseman near him, "Wolfram of Hythe, get good horses for this youth and for his teacher that attendeth him. O priest, remain thou with thy pupil. Go both of you now to York. Ned, the son of Webb, I will see thee again."

"I will be with him, O king," replied Father Brian, loudly. "He is a youth of much promise, and he needeth my continual instruction."

King Harold spurred away, followed by his chiefs and thanes and earls, while the good missionary turned almost indignantly upon Ned.

"This is wrong!" he exclaimed. "Thou art deceiving the king. I did not understand at first, but I heard others of them repeat his words. He believeth thee the slayer of Sikend the Berserker from under the bridge. Thou art not!"

"Was that it?" almost gasped Ned. "I never said I was. I think it was a mean thing to do, anyhow, to stab Sikend in the legs, in that way, so he couldn't stand up and fight. I'm sorry the king should think I would do anything so unfair as that."

"So am I," said Father Brian, "for a lie is a bad thing, any day. Thou must yet find an opportunity to tell him the truth of that matter. But I am glad, nevertheless, that we are to have horses and get away from York in good company. I have a great desire to get speedily to London, whatever may happen afterward."

Wolfram of Hythe did not have far to go for his horses, and those which he was now bringing forward were big enough for war-horses. They had a somewhat jaded appearance, for they had travelled far that day. They had lost their riders in the battle, it was explained, and in a moment more Ned and the missionary were as well mounted as if they both were house-carles of the king.

"It is well for us, indeed," said Father Brian. "We shall have good quarters, and rations, too, while we are on the march. Thou wilt set the king right concerning Sikend in due season, for truth's sake. Thou didst not harm thy fellow soldier, and yet I tell thee that the world cannot be civilised until there are no more Berserkers. Small matter it is how they are killed."

"I didn't even hurt the Saxon that did kill him," said Ned. "He was drowned."

"I am glad of that, almost," replied Father Brian. "It will be better for thee to make thine own explanation than for that house-carle to come and tell the king thou art a false witness."

"It's awful!" said Ned. "I'm a fraud! It isn't any fault of mine, though, and I can straighten it, as soon as I've a chance."

The shadows of evening were deepening when the two friends rode over Stamford bridge and galloped on toward York. When they reached the city it was almost dark, and in all directions hundreds of men were going about with torches and rude lanterns.

"The panes of glass in those lanterns," said Ned to himself, "are all made of cow's horn, scraped thin. I guess they don't break easily. They are better than nothing, though, and we can find our way to the tavern."

So they did, and once more Ned had something to say about lights.

"There's an awful difference," he remarked, "between these rush-light smokers and electric bulbs or gas, or even kerosene or candles. Hollow rushes with fat poured into them! They stand up pretty well in the sticks, but they don't last long, and how they do smoke!"

He did not allow his own rush-light to burn down, however. As soon as the horses were cared for and supper was eaten, he was glad enough to get into bed.

"I do believe there is nothing else in all the world," he said, "that will tire a fellow out like a great battle. Father Brian was right, though, about the trap that was set for King Hardrada. Those two English earls, Edwin and Morcar, knew well enough that Harold was coming, and they had everything ready when he got here. Hardrada ought to have watched. He knew he was dealing with his enemies. So did Tostig, and I believe he suspected something."

Sleep stopped him there, and he arose the next morning with a feeling that he was going to walk out into something entirely new. He was now no longer a Norway Viking, invading England with Harold Hardrada the Sea King. Nor was he any longer under the special protection of Tostig the Earl. All of his previous experiences, as he said of them, were so many back numbers, and he was now King Harold of England's devoted follower. He winced a little, also, when he remembered that he was regarded as one of the heroes of the great battle of Stamford bridge.

During this day and several more which followed, he was left almost altogether by himself, for Father Brian had affairs of his own to attend to.

"It is just the way I'd like to have it," said Ned. "Now I've a good horse that won't pitch me over his head, as Nanny did, I'm going to ride all around and see the country. I'll see the city better, too. I'd like to tell father and mother what I'm doing, too."

The city gates were open now, and all men came and went at their will. There were throngs of them, for all the country people were eager to get a glimpse of their victorious king and his wonderful army. Ned found nothing to hinder him, therefore, and he made his horseback excursions industriously. The very first of them carried him once more over Stamford bridge and across the battle-field. He had thought he would wish to look at it and remember the fighting, but he did not linger there for a moment.

"It is too dreadful!" he exclaimed, urging his horse forward. "I never want to see a battle-field again, that is, not after all the battle is over. I'll ride on and see if I can visit Lars and Vebba."

It was not so very long a gallop to the bank of the Humber. Large numbers of Norway war-ships were still there, anchored or moored to the shore, but Ned searched among them in vain for a glimpse of his old friend, the Serpent. The fact was that these ships which remained were such as had been surrendered after the defeat of Hardrada's army. Quite a number, which had been ready for sea, had sailed away at once, carrying such Vikings as had not marched to the Derwent at all, and with them a great many of the first arriving fugitives.

"I guess she got away," said Ned. "She belonged to Vebba. I hope he and Lars are on board of her. Some day I mean to visit Norway again and go and see them, but they'd do better if they'd emigrate to America."

King Harold of England was dealing very mercifully with the beaten invaders. It was said that he had given two dozen of the captured vessels for his prisoners to go home in.

"It wouldn't do for him to kill them," remarked Ned, as he rode homeward. "I guess he was glad to be rid of them."