Sigeric was panting hard, he was running through woods and out into meadows then back into ancient forests. He was losing track of time as the night arrived to cover the land. They had been running since leaving the field of battle, some of their number who were injured had to be left behind and, in the distance, they could hear the pounding of hooves and the screams of Saxons cut down as they fled. In the space of a few hours his whole world had changed. The events on Senlac Hill had changed his life and that of England forever. With King Harold gone there was nothing between the Normans and London.

As the night fell Sigeric and the surviving housecarls were able to stop and rest. He suddenly felt the cold; a chill wind blew the trees and somewhere above he heard an Owl announce its presence. He shivered and looked around, recognising a few faces. The group was quiet after the disaster of losing their King and much of the Saxon army.

Sigeric counted their number, thirty men, all still armed with some injured although not seriously. He gripped his axe, the head still bloody from the battle. They were in a small clearing in woodland, away from the main track two of their number were standing guard, scanning the surrounding trees for any sign of disturbance. Sigeric knelt wearily underneath a young Oak, his back resting against its hard surface.

There were two captains in their number, Cedric and Beorn. Sigeric knew Cedric and had fought with him many times before but he knew little of Beorn and had not fought with him. Both were large men well over six feet tall, Cedric had a fierce black beard whereas Beorn was cleanshaven and bald.
“We rest here tonight then press onto London tomorrow” Beorn announced to the group. There was silence as the housecarls looked at each other. Cedric spoke “I favour retreating West, my lord who was not at the battle was gathering an army in Dorset” Beorn was silent as he looked at Cedric squarely in the eye “ We go to London tomorrow and join with my lord Morcar to bring the battle back to the Norman scum “ Cedric stood up from where he had been sat down and stood in front of Beorn “And I say we go to Dorset and attack the Normans from the West once we have re-grouped, we stand little chance of making London when the Normans are mostly mounted” Beorn fingered his axe, looking menacingly at Cedric who returned the stare with equal menace.

For a moment there was silence as the men looked on at their captains. “Enough! Enough blood has been spilt this day” another soldier, Edgar piped up, a grizzled veteran his words carried weight. For a moment both captains stared each other down, not wanting to concede defeat but eventually they relented and looked at Edgar. Sigeric looked on silently, he had lost much this day including his brother who had probably died with Harold on the hill. His life had been in the West country before he had joined the ranks of the housecarls although he remembered little of it. He didn’t know what to do. “Regardless, we should rest here whilst we can and strike out tomorrow” Beorn spoke with his authority returned. Cedric nodded and lay down against an old Oak tree, still with a beady eye on Beorn. Beorn took no notice and moved to the other side of the clearing away from Cedric with his own warriors.

Edgar had come to where Sigeric was laying down lost in his thoughts, they had known each other for some years. Edgar was silent for a moment then asked what Sigeric would do. Sigeric stared ahead into the trees lost in his thoughts. “I have lost my brother and my King today, I don’t know what to do” he said morosely, he felt the pain in his heart of losing his brother but he pushed the feeling down, he was a housecarl and he wanted blood. “I too have lost today; my cousin was slain next to me when they broke the wall” Sigeric reached out with a bloodied hand and laid it on Edgar’s shoulder, both men lost in their thoughts. “With the army destroyed and the King dead there is little to stop the Normans from taking London, once they have London all of England is in peril” Sigeric said neutrally.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve faced Normans, some years previously I served the Emperor in Constantinople against the Normans in Italy, they are tough hard men” Sigeric looked at Edgar with interest, he had heard tales of the infamous Varangian guard, the bodyguard of Byzantine Emperors. They were chiefly made up of Vikings from Scandinavia but he had heard rumours of English Anglo Saxons making the long journey East. “Tell me of the Emperor and of Constantinople” Edgar exhaled and went quiet again as he gathered his thoughts. “Constantinople is the greatest city not just in Christendom but on Earth, the double walls are twice the height of London’s. The cities wealth is beyond measure and the emperors are descendants of the Romans, they’re Gods to us mortals” He carried on “I served with the Varangians for four years in my youth, we served all over the Empire. A fierce warrior is always welcomed into it’s ranks; they’re looked after and revered throughout the Empire” Sigeric was quiet as he thought on Edgars words. His life in England seemed to be over, his mother and father were both dead long ago, all he had was his younger brother who had now gone on to join them. “How does one get to Constantinople?” He asked Edgar “It is a long journey; you can go via land through France into Italy and then via ship into Greece which is the heartlands of the Empire or you can go via ship South and into the Mediterranean. Both routes are treacherous with pirates at sea and Normans throughout France and Italy”. Sigeric thought more on this, he was not young but not old, he had many years as a warrior in front of him and with little reason to stay the taste of adventure smelt like sweet wine. It didn’t take him long to decide that he would leave England and head for Constantinople.

© October 2026 Jack Harding