TOSTIG'S REVENGE

Note: This story is fiction, but based upon real historical events.

Tostig Godwinson, the man who had been Earl of Northumbria, one of the most powerful men in England, lay dying on the battlefield, his household troops slaughtered around him. The battle still raged, but he knew the day was lost. His thoughts fled back to what led him to this. Regret for his shattered plans, for his sins which would now never be forgiven, because he would die unshriven with them heavy on his conscience. How had it all gone so wrong?

‘Pride, my son,’ the Archbishop of York had told him. ‘Pride is a sin, an offense against God.’

‘But may not a man be proud of his achievements?’ he had replied. ‘And must a man be meek and humble?’

‘That is what our Saviour tells us, my son. You are a proud man, and quick to anger, and you are vengeful, far beyond what is right. It will come to evil in the end.’

And now he saw what his pride, his anger and bitterness had brought him to. Death, death all around. What had possessed him to take this path of revenge? Knowing that if he were to succeed his own brother must die? And now he had failed, having achieved nothing but his own death and the deaths of so many of his own countrymen.

He remembered growing up as the son of Earl Godwin, most powerful man in England, more powerful even than the King. His brothers, Harold and then himself. Gyrth, Leofwine, and his sister Edith. Harold, best friend of his childhood, comrade in adolescence, brother in arms in adulthood, and betrayer, destroyer of his life.

He remembered his pride at nineteen years old when his sister Edith married King Edward. The family’s flight to Flanders when their father fell foul of the king, and his outrage that his sister the Queen was put in a nunnery. His diplomatic marriage while in exile to the Count of Flanders’ sister. And his family’s triumphant return the following year, their lands and titles restored to them. Their father’s death two years later, his brother Harold becoming Earl of Wessex in his place. And his own elevation to the Earldom of Northumbria two years later – he and his brother the two most powerful men in England after the king himself. His close friendship with King Edward, better than any of his brothers.

And the nobles of Northumbria and their resistance to his attempts to reduce corruption. And to his shame, his conspiring with his sister the Queen to have two particularly bothersome thanes murdered.

And then just last year it had all boiled to the surface while he was down south, hunting with the King. An army of Northumbrians attacked his headquarters in York, killing his people, looting his possessions, carrying people off into slavery. They had demanded Tostig be removed and replaced with young Morcar, brother of the Earl of Mercia.

And the king had sent Tostig’s brother, Harold, to negotiate with them. And Harold had betrayed him! He still felt the bitterness, even now. His older brother, his best friend, his mentor, his comrade-in-arms, had told the king that the rebels must be appeased, that he, Tostig, must be exiled, disgraced, stripped of his lands and titles.

And he had fled to seek refuge and help from his brother-in-law, the Count of Flanders. And he had been given them.

And then the king died childless, and Harold, the smiling betrayer, the double-dealer, had taken his place. Tostig’s rage rose in flame and smoke and bitterness. So that was it! Harold had got rid of him as a rival for the throne!

And he had gone to William, the Duke of Normandy, who was his relative by marriage, for help. But he found William was already gathering an army to claim England for himself, and was not interested in helping the brother of the King of England, whose loyalties he could not rely on.

He had gone to Norway, and spoken to another King Harald – Hardrada, the hard-ruler. Tall – they said he was seven feet tall – blonde, and ruthless, a gaze direct and cruel as a hawk’s. But he was not interested in conquering England and returning Tostig to his Earldom. ‘Why would I invade across the sea,’ he snapped, and risk life and wealth to restore your Earldom? For I see that is your reason for talking to me.'

‘That and revenge, Sire. Revenge on the brother who betrayed me. But you have a claim to the throne better than my brother’s, dating back to before the late king.’

And in his resentment and fury he had lied to Hardrada and told him that he would find a warm welcome from the people of Northumbria, that they would rise up and help him conquer the rest of the land. Though he had not told Hardrada that the northerners would not be so welcoming to their former Earl. And Hardrada had finally agreed, and gathered an army of invasion.

He remembered his own raids on England, the Isle of Wight and elsewhere, with ships and men provided by Baldwin of Flanders, and how Morcar the new Earl of Northumbria and his brother had defeated his forces, and how they had begun to desert. So he had sailed to Scotland, where the king was a friend, and waited for Hardrada’s fleet. And it came, enormous and formidable. And the combined fleet sailed up the Humber River to York and they defeated Morcar and his brother in front of the city with great slaughter. And he thought he had achieved his aim.

But King Harold of England arrived from the south five days later with an army, when Hardrada was at Stamford Bridge a few miles from York, waiting for the northerners to provide him with hostages and supplies. And the battle was fierce and many of the invaders died, and many of the English defenders. And so here he was now, cut down in the press of battle, his bodyguard slain around him, Hardrada dead, the invaders defeated. And he would die unshriven, his sins on his conscience, unable to be forgiven. His regrets – was his earldom worth this? Or revenge on his brother, who he had admired all his life, but who had betrayed him a scant year ago? So many dead.

And Harold rested in York after the battle, but it had taken a great toll on his best warriors, and mere days later they discovered that William of Normandy had landed in the south, and they must march three hundred miles to face him. And Tostig had his revenge though he never knew - on October 14th, 1066 Harold, the last English king of England, met defeat and death at the Battle of Hastings, and William of Normandy became the William the Conqueror.