in, the danger is past; if we lose, thou wilt avenge us. And England
is not lost while thou survivest."

"Gurth, Gurth!" again exclaimed Harold, in a voice piercing in its pathos
of reproach.

"Gurth counsels well," said Haco, abruptly; "there can be no doubt of the
wisdom of his words. Let the King's kinsmen lead the troops; let the
King himself with his guard hasten to London and ravage and lay waste the
country as he retreats by the way [261]; so that even if William beat us,
all supplies will fail him; he will be in a land without forage, and
victory here will aid him nought; for you, my liege, will have a force
equal to his own, ere he can march to the gates of London."

"Faith and troth, the young Haco speaks like a greybeard; he hath not
lived in Rouen for nought," quoth Leofwine. "Hear him, my Harold, and
leave us to shave the Normans yet more closely than the barber hath
already shorn."

Harold turned ear and eye to each of the speakers, and, as Leofwine
closed, he smiled.

"Ye have chid me well, kinsmen, for a thought that had entered into my
mind ere ye spake"--

Gurth interrupted the King, and said anxiously:

"To retreat with the whole army upon London, and refuse to meet the
Norman till with numbers more fairly matched!"

"That had been my thought," said Harold, surprised.

"Such for a moment, too, was mine," said Gurth, sadly; "but it is too
late. Such a measure, now, would have all the disgrace of flight, and
bring none of the profits of retreat. The ban of the Church would get
wind; our priests, awed and alarmed, might wield it against us; the whole
population would be damped and disheartened; rivals to the crown might
start up; the realm be divided. No, it is impossible!"

"Impossible," said Harold, calmly. "And if the army cannot retreat, of
all men to stand firm, surely it is the captain and the King. I, Gurth,
leave others to dare the fate from which I fly! I give weight to the
impious curse of the Pope, by shrinking from its idle blast! I confirm
and ratify the oath, from which all law must absolve me, by forsaking the
cause of the land, which I purify myself when I guard! I leave to others
the agony of the martyrdom or the glory of the conquest! Gurth, thou art
more cruel than the Norman! And I, son of Sweyn, I ravage the land
committed to my charge, and despoil the fields which I cannot keep! Oh,
Haco, that indeed were to be the traitor and the recreant! No, whatever
the