Seeing
his unarmored men being mercilessly cut down was too much for King Harald ‘Hardrada.’ The English housecarles
were mowing down his warriors like harvestmen with cycles. The infectious battle lust finally seized Hardrada, himself. With a cry of “St Olafffff!” King Harald charged down the incline toward the English housecarles battling his men. “The King is caught up in the
battle lust,” exclaimed Bishop Asgaut to Tostig. “Whatever
shall we do?” “Follow the King!” shouted Tostig to Hardrada’s guards. Tostig and the rest of the Norse army surged from the
relative safety of the ridge to follow after King Harald.
Leaving his personal guard behind, Hardrada cut a
swathe through the Englishmen and joined his beleaguered berserkers. He hardly paused when he reached his men, but
continued his relentless attack, swinging his great five-foot-long sword with
both hands. The isolated berserkers took
up King Harald’s war cry of “St Olaf,”
and followed their King in his attack upon the enemy, but none of them could
keep up with their berserk King as he laid at the
enemy with vicious swipes of his sword. Hardrada got further and further ahead of his men. No Englishman could stand long before the
giant Norse king and live. Neither
helmets nor coats of mail could withstand his sword, and everyone in his path
gave way before him. Housecarle
after housecarle fell to Hardrada’s
bloody sword. Earl Waltheof
stepped before King Harald, shouting, “God
Almighty! Death to the
Norsemen!” He flailed his axe at Hardrada. With a
swipe of his sword, King Harald caught Waltheof’s descending axe on the handle just above Waltheof’s grip, cutting through the tough wood as though
it were butter. Waltheof
dumbly looked at the stub of his axe, disbelieving what had happened. Hardrada’s forward
motion carried him past Waltheof and he struck the
English Earl in the head with the butt of his sword pommel as he
proceeded. Waltheof
dropped, dazed. King Harald ignored the fallen Waltheof, stepping over him to go on to his next opponent. Waltheof’s hearthmen rushed in behind Hardrada
and picked up their liege lord, carrying him back away from the berserk Norse
King. Not far from where Waltheof had been knocked
down by Hardrada, the ‘Swan’ Banner of Aelfgar flew above the heads of the Englishmen. King Harald seemed
to be drawn to this flapping banner, in search of more English leaders. Men fled before Hardrada
as he made his way toward the ‘Swan’ banner.
Those who could not get out of Hardrada’s way
fast enough were butchered. The Norse
King’s sword swung tirelessly, clearing a ten-foot wide path through the
English lines. None of Hardrada’s Viking warriors
could keep up with him as he hewed the enemy and King Harald
soon found himself to be a single warrior in the midst of adversaries. Still, no one dared challenge the berserk
King of Norway. Edwin and Morcar both saw Hardrada coming toward them. Blooded and frothing at the mouth, swinging
his sword faster than a woodsman in a tree-chopping contest, Hardrada approached the ‘Swan’ Banner. The Viking King appeared even more menacing
to the young earls than he had at the battle of Gate Fulford. The sense of ‘deja vou’ was more than young Edwin Aelfgarson’s
bowels could stand. He fouled
himself. Morcar
looked to his brother for support.
Instead he noticed the steady stream of water running down Edwin’s
leggings. It was too much for him. Morcar threw down
his axe, turned, and ran. Edwin quickly
followed suit. Just as they had done at
Gate Fulford, the Aelfgarson
earls fled for their lives before King Harald ‘Hardrada’ of Norway.