A Story By Lorraine Weightman – Illustration by Fr John Bagnall
I awoke so very early that morning. We had settled on top of the hill overnight and there was a damp fog enclosing us. The men were restless and it was obvious we were all having trouble sleeping. At least the light from the camp fires was reassuring as it was still a good few hours before dawn.
Tiredness enveloped the camp, it felt like we’d had no time at all to prepare for this.
The shadows from the abbey brought little comfort while flags flying in the distance told us other forces were awake.
I laid down my shield, axe and dagger and in a fitful dream imagined a sword piecing my side.
Suddenly waking from my slumber, I realised the horses were thirsty, so left my resting place and found water. The comforting nuzzle of my favourite beast gave me a resilience I hoped would carry me through the next day. I knew of my divine right and was getting thoroughly vexed with these usurpers who wanted to take it away from me.
I looked at the night sky to give me a sign, praying for victory in the early morning.
With the horses settled, I checked out and walked amongst the ranks. Some were sleeping, yet most were tense and pumped up, ready for battle.
A messenger arrived, he had just returned and gave us coordinates of the enemy and an idea of their size as he refilled my water skin.
I was hopefully prepared for their tricks as I’d heard all about their ways, yet wasn’t sure of victory, as half my men were still on the march and hadn’t arrived yet.
I stood up, surveying my army, having only been in the job nine months and here I was trying to prove my kingship.
Life is sometimes hard and cruel, trust Edward to die and leave me to rule, and now they all want the crown, especially him!
The hours passed slowly, and when dawn broke, both armies advanced.
I was at the front – obviously as king – and rushing down the hill with axes and arrows flying we watched as the enemy retreated.
There was a lull as we waited, so reaching for my water bottle I drank enthusiastically.
What sweetness was this? The messenger said nothing of it. Again I drank from the skin and feeling lightheaded, drank some more!
This joy fills my being! I gave the command to charge – elated as the magic water from the skin lifted my mood and gave me courage.
With axe in hand I screamed out my battle cry, my gallant men following me as we hacked our way through the ranks.
Stopping momentarily for more of the amber liquid, my head twirled with the scent of victory.
Then it happened, a lone arrow in flight was headed in my direction and even though I ducked, it hit me straight in the eye.
Without hesitation I pulled it out and bathed my punctured eyeball with the soothing liquid that had given me strength.
Miraculously my sight was restored, and William and his army retreated back to France!
‘The Conqueror?
my a***!’
I sought out the generous messenger and there and then made him a knight of the realm!
‘Arise Sir Tequila of Hastings – you saved my life!
14th October 1066
