Fact or Fiction E03 King Harold

I'm standing on the exact location of one of the most famous deaths of all time, a death that marked the end of the best known battle in British history. Towards dusk on the 14th of October, 1066, an unknown archer fired an arrow into the air from somewhere beyond those ruins. By chance, it came down straight into the eye of King Harold of England. This simple twist of fate changed our country forever. As a result, a horde of Normans led by William the Conqueror marched in and removed a whole way of life. Of course, William's propaganda machine ensured that all we ever get to hear about Harold is that he was the loser at the Battle of Hastings. But there's a hidden history, a tragic story of love, violence, intrigue, and cold, hard cash. This is the real story of the last great Anglo-Saxon king. Tracking down the facts of Harold's hidden history means embarking on a quest across the length and breadth of Britain and over to the continent. Only by making this journey can we see how the events of his life conspired to set him on a countdown to the last fatal moment. It started here. This is Bosun on the South Coast. Today, it's a picturesque little pleasure harbor. A thousand years ago, it was a hub port for the Saxon territory of Wessex. Sometime around 1020, Harold was born and brought up here. The Saxon church where he would have gone to mass still stands. We don't know when exactly he was born. The chroniclers thought all you needed to know about the young Harold was his second name, Godwinson. His father was the most powerful lord in the land, Earl Godwin of Wessex. Godwin had risen from the lowest ranks of the Saxon aristocracy and was a tenacious political fighter. He needed to be. These were turbulent times. A stone church like this was also used as a military building. For centuries, the tower had been used to watch out for Viking raiders coming up the Solent. But when Harold was a boy, the Danish empire under King Cnut had taken over the English kingship. Edward, the Anglo-Saxon heir, had fled to Normandy. Earl Godwin had survived the takeover, marrying a Danish woman and giving his three oldest sons Scandinavian names, Swain, Harold, and Tostig. Yes, our English hero was in fact half Viking. In 1042, Harold appears in the chronicles in his own right. In his early 20s, he got his first taste of power when the Danish empire ended and the ancient English royal line was restored. Edward, who's known as the Confessor, returned in triumph from exile in Normandy. But with Edward came change. For the first time, he created a permanent base for the English monarchy. Here on the banks of the Thames, just outside London at Westminster. But Edward was a new boy and a stranger in his own country. He may have come from a long line stretching right back to Alfred the Great, but he'd been brought up in Normandy. He needed the support of the Saxon earls and in particular of Godwin, who ran Wessex. Edward bought Godwin's support. He married his daughter, Harold's sister, then cemented the alliance by giving Harold's older brother, Swain, an earldom in the Midlands and appointing Harold as Earl of East Anglia. It made the Godwins the most powerful family in the land. Harold was the picture of a Saxon warrior, blonde, bearded, and now with wealth, influence, and his own retinue of personal troops. Harold and his family were loyal to the king. They served for long periods with the Navy, protecting the English coast from raids. Edward felt no obligation in return. Like any new boss, Edward wanted his own people. So he started bringing in Norman nobles and giving them pockets of land. He also began replacing English clerics with Norman churchmen. These were people who wanted religious reform, but also had a political agenda. And the most dangerous of these was the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert of Jumiege. It was said by a chronicler that Robert of Jumiege had such a hold over Edward the Confessor, he could point to a crow and say, that crow is white, and Edward would agree with him. This guy was a schemer and a politician. And I believe that he was the prime mover in trying to badmouth Godwin and Harold and all the rest of the family in the eyes of Edward the Confessor, because there was so much mileage in it. If you could get rid of this most powerful family, you could leave the way open for the succession to the Duke of Norman. But this isn't just a political story, it's a personal one too. Harold's career may have been kickstarted because his father was so powerful, but his downfall was because of his family as well. His whole story is a dynastic tragedy. And the course of the nation's history was changed because his family fell apart. The first source of tension was Harold's sister. Edward's marriage had failed to produce an heir, and in those days, the woman was always to blame. Edward couldn't annul the marriage because the Earl Godwin and his sons were still so powerful, but the lack of an heir created external pressure on the family. They might have survived if their internal stability hadn't been threatened by the behaviour of Harold's maverick elder brother. Swain was a typical rich kid gone wrong. He was a bully and a hellraiser. He was exiled in 1046 to Denmark for keeping a nun prisoner as a sex slave, and all his lands were divided between Harold and his cousin, Bjorn. But in exile, he behaved so badly that eventually Denmark had him thrown out again. So three years later, he turned up in England begging Edward for forgiveness. Understandably, Harold was indignant. All this time, he'd been doing his duty, serving his king as a naval commander. Why should he now have to give back his lands to an aristocratic wastrel? Supported by his cousin, for the first time, Harold stood up to his father. Family unity was beginning to crumble. On one side stood Godwin and Swain, on the other, Harold, his brothers, and cousin. The Godwins were no longer invincible. Edward passed judgment. Swain was to sail from Bosum within three days or pay with his life. The rest of the Godwins were 70 miles along the coast. The matter seemed settled by the king's decision. As they waited in the shadow of the old Roman fort here at Pevensey, Swain turned up on horseback for one last appeal to his family to help get him reinstated. Somehow or other, he managed to persuade his cousin, Bjorn, to speak on his behalf to the king. Bjorn set off for Bosum with Swain and just three attendants. Swain was a psychopath with a grudge. We don't know what went wrong, but at Bosum, Swain had Bjorn tied up and bundled onto his boat. He killed his cousin in cold blood and dumped him in an unmarked grave. He'd gone too far. The sailors of the royal fleet declared him a kneething, the Viking word for someone who's completely beyond the pale. Even Swain's own ships deserted him. He was forced to flee to England's enemies in Flanders. In spite of this universal condemnation, Earl Godwin lobbied for Swain's return. In 1051, he used his remaining shreds of influence to pressure Edward into allowing the murderer back. His return caused tension and resentment among other nobles who had to give back land. Godwin had other families as rivals within England. Edward and he personally didn't like each other, that seems fairly clear. And so there's a lot more personal animosity, rivalries within the kingdom at the back of all that. The feuding Godwins had isolated themselves. Edward, encouraged by Robert of Jumiege, had the chance to reshuffle England's power base in his favor. He went in for the kill. Edward set a trap for Earl Godwin. He brought his brother-in-law, Eustace, over from Boulogne on the pretext of an official visit. At Dover, Eustace and his heavily armed men orchestrated a pub brawl that turned into a full-scale riot with deaths on either side. Dover was Godwin's territory. Edward gave the order for him to make an example of the town. Godwin was faced with the choice of burning, looting, and pillaging in his own homeland or disobeying the king. He chose rebellion and rallied his sons to try to persuade the king to change his mind at an emergency summit. But Edward had the support of the other barons. And when he refused to give the Godwins safe conduct to the meeting, they were forced to flee from the country. The Godwin family sailed into exile. Harold's career seemed over. But Edward had underestimated the effects of this shift in the balance of English power. The rest of the earls realized that if the king could oust the most powerful family in the land, no one was safe. Messages of support started crossing the channel. And 10 months later, the Godwins sailed back into London. Harold and his father moored here at Southwark on the south bank of the Thames. Edward faced them across the river. In those days, there weren't any bridges. So the Bishop of Winchester, Stigund, ferried back and forth negotiating a humiliating climb down for the king. The Godwins' lands were restored and many of Edward's Norman cronies were forced out, including the scheming archbishop. It was victory. Robert of Jumiege knew the game was up and he fled immediately out of London before they came back to the court. And he killed several people on the streets before he left. This is the kind of charge we're dealing with here. Then, within six months, first Swain and then Earl Godwin died, leaving Harold as the new Earl of Wessex. Harold and Edward could now start with a clean slate. But the crisis of 1051 was to continue to haunt Harold. When he fled England, Robert of Jumiege had snatched Harold's youngest brother and a nephew as hostages. He handed them over to his new master, William, Duke of Normandy. The two young relatives languishing in a foreign dungeon were a time bomb that would eventually lead to Harold's downfall. Harold Godwinson had survived exile and crisis to become the most powerful Earl in the kingdom. As Edward the Confessor's right-hand man, he commanded the army. He was about to face his first challenge. The Welsh were threatening to invade England. The border country of Hereford had always been vulnerable to attack. When Edward had brought Norman nobles to England, his motives were partly strategic. Over on the continent, the Normans had come up with the technology of the Motten-Bailey Castle, an easily defended stronghold from which a lord and his men could dash out to give battle or retreat from an invading force without giving ground. The perfect answer to Welsh raids. The Norman Castellans brought their technology with them. This is one in Ewes Harold in Herefordshire. It actually became one of Harold's personal possessions. Most people around here aren't even aware that it was a castle. It's known locally as the Mound, but it's actually of a classic Motten-Bailey design. They'd have flattened all the area around here, got all the earth, put it over there where the trees are, and then they would have protected this inner mound with a wooden palisade and also protected the outer ring round here with another palisade. So it would have been virtually impregnable. And if you look over there, you can see what a superb position it was in in order to stop the Welsh from raiding in the Golden Valley below. But King Edward had entrusted this key territory to a relative known as Ralph the Timid. The Welsh swept over the border, brushing Ralph's forces aside, overrunning Hereford and burning the Minster. There was only one man to deal with the crisis, Harold. The Welsh campaign proved Harold's worth as a politician as well as a soldier. If you go to Hereford today, you can still see Harold's legacy in the layout of the old city. He negotiated a deal, giving land in return for a withdrawal from Hereford. He then set about strengthening the town, building moats and city walls. The restored walls surrounding the razor wire of Tesco's marked the course of Harold's defenses. But Griffith, the Welsh leader, continued to cause trouble on the border. So at Christmas 1062, Harold decided to solve the Welsh problem once and for all. Wales was Afghanistan for England. It was a really dodgy place to get into because the English had heavier armed troops. You could get bogged down in there and get picked off in ambushes. Harold came up with a radical solution, the Saxon equivalent of a commando unit. He decided the way to sort out Griffith was to make a lightning raid right into the heart of his territory. He first of all marched with lightning speed past Hereford and on to the west against Griffith's own castle. I think one of the significant thing about Harold in Wales is it absolutely says that here was somebody who was an innovator of military tactics, somebody who knew that things had to change and you would adapt to circumstances. When Griffith escaped, Harold launched a second phase. His brother, Tostig, continued raiding by land while Harold sailed around the coast to destroy strongholds the Welsh thought were protected by the mountains. In the end, the demoralized Welsh signaled their submission by sending Harold the head of their leader. Harold was proving invaluable to King Edward and he reaped the rewards of his position. His role as Earl of Wessex gave him estates throughout southern England. His Welsh success gave him land on the border as well. He was the equivalent of a multimillionaire and he lived the life. He loved the sport of hawking, which had the same sort of cachet as polo does today. He was famous for taking a hawk everywhere he went and had Europe's finest collection of books on the subject. An 11th century man of means was expected to have a suitable wife and Harold was no exception. Edith Swanneck was noted for her beauty. What was unusual for the time is that they also had a genuine relationship which lasted till Harold died. As far as we can see, Harold had one of the real relationships of medieval history. There were probably others we don't know about, but certainly we know that Harold and Edith Swanneck were a very happy, if you like, a certain love affair. In other matters, Harold followed the customs of the age. Rich men had a duty to fund religious institutions. Founding a church or abbey enhanced your earthly reputation and brought credit in the afterlife. King Edward, for instance, was spending a fortune on an abbey near his new base at Westminster. Harold picked a project to rival the king's. He believed he'd been cured of some kind of paralysis when he prayed at the Shrine of the Holy Cross at Waltham in Essex. It was here that he built Waltham Abbey, which gave its name to the town. Today's church is half the size of the abbey in its heyday. Harold lavished money on the project, bringing back highly-prized relics from trips to the continent and providing costly fixtures, such as a gold and marble altar, gospel books with silver covers, and a famous vestment embroidered with eight kilos of gold thread. But just when it seemed that Harold had it all, he made the worst mistake of his life. The chronicles tell us that in 1064, Harold set off across the Channel from Bosham on a diplomatic mission to Normandy. The facts of the visit have been obscured by histories written after the Norman conquest. In order to justify William the Conqueror's invasion, they say that Harold was sent by King Edward to reaffirm a promise that William could be King of England after Edward's death. But this is Norman spin. Finding Harold's real reasons for sailing abroad involves a bit of detective work. The official Norman version is this. In 1051, King Edward promises William of Normandy the throne of England. And in 1064, King Edward sends Harold over to confirm that promise. But what this official version conveniently forgets is that between these two dates, in 1056, King Edward also sent Harold over to Hungary on a long, costly mission in order to bring back a distant relative who he'd earmarked to succeed him. And this young man was still sitting around in the English court. The official version just doesn't wash. It seems much more likely that Harold went over to France on his own account, on a courageous rescue mission. The hostages were the reason for Harold actually making his journey to Normandy. There was no reason to select an outsider, a foreigner as king, one who probably would not have been accepted by the English nobility. When Robert of Jumièges had fled back to the continent with Harold's relatives, he'd encouraged William of Normandy to believe that he'd been promised the English throne by Edward. 12 years later, Harold goes on what he thinks is a straightforward mission to negotiate the release of his brother and nephew. But he doesn't know about the promise to William. He wasn't aware of the fact that William was ambitious to take control of England and was therefore waiting to exploit any opportunity to do so. Harold basically walked into a trap. To find what happened next, you have to come here to Bayeux in Normandy to see a document made within a decade of Harold's visit. This is where Harold's history starts to be told, not just in chronicles written down by monks, but in the first comic strip ever, the Bayeux Tapestry. It's an extraordinary piece of work. If you've only seen reproductions, you haven't got any idea of its scale or the detail of the embroidery. It's 70 meters long. It was originally commissioned to be hung in the nave at the cathedral here in Bayeux, and who made it? English seamstresses at Canterbury. The tapestry shows that things went wrong for Harold from the start. He was blown off course, made a forced landing up the coast, and was taken captive by the local baron. The man who came to the rescue was William, Duke of Normandy. Harold was safe, but his bargaining power was destroyed. He now owed his life to the man who was to be his downfall at Hastings. Harold was out of the frying pan and into a blazing inferno. In the year 1064, Harold Godwinson set out on a mission to rescue his brother and cousin who'd been given as hostages to William, Duke of Normandy. But his stay soon turned into something much more complicated and sinister. Half-honoured guest, half-prisoner, he was now a member of William's entourage and was reluctantly dragged round the ducal strongholds, like this one at Caen. Between William and Harold, there now began a subtle political game of cat and mouse. You didn't keep the most powerful English earl a virtual prisoner unless you wanted something. Harold knew that he was part of a wider political agenda, hatched by a man who'd forged a reputation as one of the hard men of Europe. His father died when William was a boy on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and he spent his formative years fleeing across Normandy with various tutors and uncles to actually keep alive. So by the time he got to 1820 and actually had rule of Normandy, he would have been quite a tough person. He had formed himself in a way that he brooked no opposition. William had established a fearsome military empire. The Normans weren't French at all, but descended from Vikings. When Harold joined William on a campaign against the Duke of Brittany, it gave him a chance to assess Norman tactics and prove his own worth as a warrior. The Normans were actually very impressed by Harold. William's force was crossing the River Cuinor, which flows into the Sea of Mont Saint-Michel on the borders of Normandy and Brittany, and suddenly Harold noticed that some of the knights were sinking in the quicksand, and quick as a flash, he wrapped his arms around the chest of one of them, yanked him to safety, then went back in and rescued a second one. Harold's reward was being knighted by William, a double-edged sword that involved pledging obedience to his new lord. William's agenda was beginning to unfold. Then came the body blow. William brought Harold to the cathedral here in Bayeux. He demanded that Harold take a solemn oath sworn on sacred relics to support William's claim to the throne of England. Harold was under duress and swore with the 11th century equivalent of crossed fingers. Breaking an oath was monumental, and as far as William was concerned, Harold was bound by it. Harold swore the oath, but in the full realization that that was the only way he would escape, but knowing that he had no intention of actually supporting it later on. Harold returned home, knowing that his perjury would come back to haunt him. But even as he returned, another nail was being prepared for his coffin. There was trouble again from within his own family. Harold's next brother down, Tostig, was Earl of Northumbria, governing the whole of the north of England. The region was wild and uncivilized, but it did have advantages. The Northumbrians paid half as much tax as anywhere else in England. Then Tostig made the fatal error of trying to put this right with a tax hike. Harold and his brother would have known Lady Godiva, but unlike us, who only remember that she rode through Coventry in the nude, they would have remembered her famous ride as a tax protest to try to persuade her husband, the Earl of Mercia, to reduce the burden on his oppressed people. Tostig might have been well-advised to follow Godiva's example, but he didn't. In one fell swoop, he doubled Northumbria's taxes. The king agreed, but the people of Northumbria didn't. On the 3rd of October, 1065, local nobles stormed Tostig's stronghold in York, looting his armory and killing his men. They marched south, demanding a change of governor. Ironically, they wanted Lady Godiva's grandson instead. The rebels had got as far as Oxford when Edward put his top man on the case to negotiate. What Harold heard presented him with a dilemma. The choice was a civil war that would fatally weaken England, leaving her open to attack from William of Normandy or abandoning his own brother. Harold chose country over family and recommended that Edward give the Northumbrians the leader they wanted. Tostig was outraged. He went into exile vowing revenge on a brother who'd become his arch enemy. King Edward never saw the consecration of Westminster Abbey. The nobility who'd gathered for the grand opening were to witness a far more important drama. Edward had fallen sick on Christmas Day. He swiftly deteriorated and died on the 4th of January. On his deathbed, he altered the succession in favor of Harold. The existing heir was too young, easy meat for William of Normandy. The English nobles were on hand to approve the dying king's wish. On the 6th of January, the new abbey witnessed two events. Edward's funeral and the enthronement of King Harold of England. Harold Godwinson was the only man whom you could elect as king if you were in your right mind in England in 1066. Long before Edward died, they were expecting an invasion from Norway, a possible invasion from Denmark, and certainly an invasion from Normandy as soon as the old king died. By the time news of Edward's death reached the continent, Harold's accession was a fait accompli. William didn't take it well. He was out in the woods hunting when a messenger brought him news that Harold, his sworn man, had taken the crown for his own. They say he went straight home without a word and sat for hours with his head buried in his cloak. Harold stood with his forehead against a pillar trying to cool the rage within. Then, when he'd recovered enough to speak, he called a council of war. This is Dives-sur-Mer on the mouth of the River Dive in Normandy. And here, 950 years ago, William started to build an immense fleet of 700 warships and transports in order to invade England. It was warfare on an industrial scale. They'd have chopped down around 60,000 trees and employed about 8,000 men. But more than that, the support structure to raise the cash and feed and water the workers would have involved everyone in Normandy. When William awoke from his rage, no one was left untouched. The church at Dive has a list of all the nobles who sailed with William. But initially, he had trouble recruiting. Many thought a campaign against the powerful English was suicide. What swayed them was religion. William managed to persuade the Pope that his invasion was a crusade against an English king who broke oaths and an archbishop who hadn't been properly appointed by the church. The Pope gave his blessing and allowed William to wear one of the perjured relics into battle. The doubters fell into line. Harold called out the English reserve and stationed them along the south coast. All summer, they waited, while adverse winds prevented William's armada from sailing. Eventually, Harold disbanded the troops so they could go and get on with the harvest. And as soon as he did so, it came, an invasion. But not from the south. Harold's brother, Tostig, was out for revenge. Tostig had already had one disastrous solo attempt, but now he joined his meager force of 12 ships to the mighty fleet of the giant Viking, Harold Hardrada. Hardrada had built up a reputation right across Europe as a ruthless warrior. Physically enormous, he brought with him 7,500 battle-hardened men. They sailed up the Ouse before going on to take York. King Harold's response was swift and fearless. He decided on the same sort of lightning strike that had paid off against the Welsh. He headed north, arranging for troops to meet him as he went, force-marching 25 miles a day. It was a tremendous logistical feat. He had to march 190 miles up the Great North Road, which was little more than a cart track. On the 24th, he reached the outskirts of York. The unsuspecting invaders were waiting at the crossing of the River Derwent at Stamford Bridge. They were miles from their ships, and because it was hot, many had abandoned their armor. At dawn, Harold marched on York. The townsfolk flung open the city gates, and Harold's forces marched right through and on to Stamford Bridge, six miles beyond. As Harold arrived on the horizon, the invaders saw the Saxon weapons glittering like a field of broken ice. The Norwegians were caught on the hop. Quickly, they moved back to the far side of the bridge to give themselves the chance of forming a decent defensive formation. The story goes that the entire Saxon advance was held up by one fearsome Viking who held the bridge single-handedly, killing 45 men until a crafty English spearsman waded out into the river and thrust upwards into the unprotected area underneath his chain mail. Then the English swarmed across the bridge and battle proper was joined in the old warrior tradition, two shield walls hacking at each other until a breach was made. The front line would bend down, then the next line are like this, and then the next line, so you've got a whole built-up wall of shields interlocking. The principal weapon is still always the sword, which can be used to strike over the shield wall, either cutting or thrusting. They would also use swat squads, and that's where you would get the famous two-handed axe. Hopefully punch a hole in the enemy's shield wall, and then they could deploy back again inside their shield wall. The battle was fierce, bloody, and final. The survivors sailed off in just 24 of their original 300 ships. 60 years later, the piles of bones from the rotting corpses were still a local landmark. Harald had won an extraordinary victory against one of the most renowned warriors of the age. Ever the diplomat, he allowed the remnants of the defeated Norwegian army to leave in peace, provided they promised never ever to return. They were true to their word, and Harald Hardrada's incursion was the last great Viking assault on Britain. In other circumstances, it would have ranked alongside Trafalgar or the Battle of Britain. But the celebrations were short-lived. Devastating news arrived from the south coast. There he was, feasting with his men, having fought off the most terrible threat to England, and then news comes that this guy from Normandy has landed his peasantry. So it's like, who wants to be a millionaire? You're almost there, win the next battle, and you not only have England secure, but you are the greatest king that ever ruled. So Harald rallied his weary troops and headed south to meet his destiny. At Stamford Bridge, King Harald had pulled off one of the greatest victories in British history. But three days later, William of Normandy landed at Pevensey, 250 miles to the south. Harald had another mountain to climb. William swiftly decided that the Pevensey marshlands were indefensible. He moved to the hilly country near Hastings. The next day, news reached him of Harald's great victory. Not wanting to make the same mistake as Hardrada, William decided to dig in near his ships and ravage the nearby countryside. The Bayeux Tapestry gives the first ever portrait of the effects of war on civilians. A mother and child flee as refugees from their burning home. Harald's determination and stamina were awesome. He left much of his tired northern force behind and set off with his core professionals on the return journey south. It's likely that William knew Harald Hardrada was setting out for the north of England. And although accounts will tell us that the winds didn't allow them to sail from Normandy when they wanted to, in actual fact, they didn't sail until September, and that was a long time to wait for the winds. It's likely that William chose to wait knowing that there would be an attack from the north, and then he knew already that the troops would have been weakened. Harald rendezvoused with what reinforcements he could muster at a local landmark known as the Horry apple tree. The next day would change its name forever to battle. Harald only had to survive the battle to leave William without reinforcements or escape. He took up the perfect defensive position on this hill. The abbey was built later specifically to mark the spot. Harald had chosen his ground well. He lined his men up for about 200 meters in each direction. This wall was built to echo that formation. A shield wall, four, five, even six men thick. The king and his knights rode to the battle, but when they got here, they got off and took their place in the wall along with everyone else. Harald probably used what was the most suitable, the most appropriate technology for Hastings. He was defending a hill. He was shutting off the road to London. He was essentially a defensive action. At nine o'clock in the morning, the battle started with a blast of trumpets. As the Normans struggled up the hill in their full armor, they could hear the din of the Saxons shouting and beating their shields with their weapons. In the middle of them was King Harald with his battle cry of Holy Cross. First William's infantry, then his cavalry, broke against the shield wall like waves against a jetty. But the Saxons didn't budge. In fact, it was the Normans who broke first. A sudden panic by the men of Brittany on William's left flank spread throughout the entire army. Word had got round that William had been killed. A retreat started and threatened to become a rout. The first time that Harald's wall broke and followed the Normans down the hill, arguably, they thought the Normans were defeated. And arguably, the Normans were defeated at that point. It was perhaps Harald's mistake that he didn't commit all of his forces on that first retreat down the hill. But it was only William's horse that had been killed. Realizing the problem, he lifted his helmet so that his men could see that he was still alive. He rallied them and they regrouped. They cut off the pursuing Saxons who formed a small defensive circle over there, where slowly they were hacked to pieces. Because the horses were able to turn quickly and come back onto those men and wipe them out, maybe William then saw the advantage of this. Because time and again, William used it that afternoon and late into that evening. They would ride up to the shield wall and then feign going away and they would be parting and then turn quickly and come back onto the enemy and little by little cut down the Saxons. In the 11th century, battles used to go on for two hours at most, but here they were still fighting after nine and a half hours and Harald was so close. Just another half hour and he would have won because if night had fallen, then only he had the possibility for reinforcements the next day. But the tide was turning. As the Saxons retreated, the Norman cavalry got a purchase on the flat ground at the top of the hill. But the real key to the battle is given by all those tiny little archers who start to appear in the bottom margins of the tapestry at this point. It was one arrow that really made the difference. When Harald was critically wounded in the eye, the Saxon cause was lost. The arrow didn't kill him. We know that this is Harald with the arrow in his eye, his name's printed overhead, but other accounts tell of cavalry riding in to finish him off. It seems that this whole scene is a storyboard. This is Harald, but so is this. And if you think that the falling figure having his leg cut doesn't have an arrow, look again. The stitching's been removed sometime in the last 900 years. You can see the holes where the arrow once was. Harald's body was mutilated. The chronicles say his head was cut off, all of his right leg and half of his left. Anything of value was stripped from the corpses who were left naked to rot, or in the case of the wealthy, to be rescued for burial. The next day, this whole area was covered with hacked and dismembered corpses, stripped of their armor by bounty hunters. It was impossible to tell which one was Harald's until Edith Swanneck, searching among the bodies, found him here. She identified him, according to the chroniclers, by certain marks on his body, presumably the intimate knowledge of a lifetime's love. Harald's mother offered his weight in gold for the corpse, a final proof of the Godwin's wealth, but William refused. The last thing he wanted was a Saxon cult building up round Harald's shrine. The earliest accounts say that William buried Harald by the sea, but later tradition says that his body was taken to his own great foundation at Waltham Abbey. And that became the accepted burial place of the last Anglo-Saxon king. But now new evidence has emerged to challenge that tradition. A historian in Bosham, Harald's own home, has made a vital connection between the 11th century records and a local archeological discovery. The people of Bosham had always known that King Cnut's daughter was buried in their parish church right here. But then in the 1950s, when some heating was being put in, they discovered another important tomb next to it, here. Well, they opened up the tomb, naturally, and they thought it had been vandalised, quite frankly. And there was no head, and there was the right leg missing entirely, and two thirds of the left leg was not there either. But in the tapestry, there's only the one leg being hacked. You're talking about the head missing and the other leg. There were two accounts that came out, one by the Bishop of Amiens, which described the injuries sustained by the body. That came out in about 1067, about only a year after the conquest. And there, he gives exactly that description. The head was cut off, one leg was thrown away, and the tapestry completes the picture with the other leg being cut off. Hence, just a mutilated body. And then William of Poitiers also really confirms it. He said he was buried by the seashore. And what do we have here? The seaside. Bosom became William's personal estate after the conquest. Here, he could make sure that the grave didn't act as a focus of political discontent, while he set about the business of wiping out the Saxon aristocracy, introducing a new culture and a new language, and blackening the name of the defeated Saxon king. I think that this country should erect a splendid monument to Harold. This was a man who defended England against overwhelming odds, and who went down heroically, surrounded by his housecarls, fighting to the last man around their king. He was not a quitter. And we should celebrate him, and we should celebrate his Englishness and the achievement of 500 years of native English civilization, which stood for so much in medieval Europe, which had such a civilizing effect. And all of that is what Harold stands for. He stands for old English valor, really. I've been all over the country looking for the real Harold, and what I've found hasn't been a loser, but a charismatic leader, who, if it hadn't been for a twist of fate, might well have ended up as a national hero in the same mould as Elizabeth I, or Nelson, or Churchill. But the arrow found its mark, and the battle was lost. And in a way, England lost something, too, because although there's no doubt that the subsequent blend of Norman and Saxon culture has given us a great richness and vitality, it also gave us a new aristocratic elite who spoke a different language and were completely cut off from the people who they were ruling. And 1,000 years later, that social gulf is still taking a long time to bridge. Discover more at channel4.com slash learning.