Lions Red and Gold

De: Scott Anderson

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

It is a time of great Endarkenment. The year: 1066. The man rode up to Harald’s camp. He had no sword. His horse, a dappled palfrey, gray and white, was meant for pretty riding in the countryside, not war. It had no barding, and this man wore naught for armor, nor had he the colors of the kingdom which he served. While dressed in noble clothes, there was neh sign nor symbol on the man to mark his origin. The horse was skittish in among the fighting men. And wary were these men upon arrival of the stranger. This, this lonely man, he spoke their languages but naught, and did not stop to make acquaintance with a single one of them. He walked his horse without a hint of nervousness or fret until he was in earshot of the principal men’s tent. “King Harald, hail. Earl Tostig, hail,” called out the rider. He did not dismount. These Earl and King, now summoned by a man whom no one knew, came out to speak with him. “What is’t and whence ye from?” Asked Harald. “I’ve now come to parley for our land,” the rider then replied. “Th’will be no parley,” answered Tostig. “All this land be ours anon. You’ve lost already harrance .” “Aye,” replied the rider. “Of this, the thing is plain. This yours. You’ve won it. Killed or turned so many thegns and Earls. But still, the Crown cannot abide by blood what might by good agreement make to pass. Pray, hear our offer, Earl.” “What offer have ye make?” Earl Tostig asked. “The Saxon Crown doth hereby offer up the land of Umbria to Tostig, and to make him up an Earl again for perpetuity, and for his sons and sons of sons, to have this land for ever and for ever.” Tostig and Hardrada took a moment to consider this. “And what of Norway? What dost Harold offer up his better from the North for all this trouble?” Asked old Hardrade then. The rider made a mirthless smile. “Six feet of ground, or howsoever much he needs, for he is taller than most other men.” At that, the rider turned his horse around. And then behind him, “What’s thou sayest, Tostig? Shall your men come home?” The only answers that the rider got were cursing in three languages, and backs of both the men as they returned back to their tents. And so, the rider went. “Who was that brazen knave?” Asked Hardrade of his second. “’Twas my brother Harold,” Tostig then replied.