At length the king, unwilling to remain any longer so entirely in the dark, resolved on sending some messengers across the sea into Normandy itself, to learn positively what the true state of the case might be. Messengers going thus secretly into the enemy's territory, or into the enemy's camp, become, by so doing, in martial law, spies, and incur, if they are taken, the penalty of death. The undertaking, therefore, is extremely hazardous; and as the death which is inflicted in cases of detection is an ignominious one-spies being hung, not shot-most men are very averse to encountering the danger. Still, desperate characters are always to be found in camps and armies, who are ready to undertake it on being promised very extraordinary pay.
Harold's spies contrived to make their way across the Channel, probably at some point far to the east of Normandy, where the passage is narrow. They then came along the shore, disguised as peasants of the country, and they arrived at St. Valery while William's fleets were there. Here they began to make their observations, scrutinizing every thing with close attention and care, and yet studiously endeavoring to conceal their interest in what they saw. Notwithstanding all their vigilance, however, they were discovered, proved to be spies, and taken before William to receive their sentence.
Instead of condemning them to death, which they undoubtedly supposed would be their inevitable fate, William ordered them to be set at liberty. "Go back," said he, "to King Harold, and tell him he might have saved himself the expense of sending spies into Normandy to learn what I am preparing for him. He will soon know by other means-much sooner, in fact, than he imagines. Go and tell him from me that he may put himself, if he pleases, in the safest place he can find in all his dominions, and if he does not find my hand upon him before the year is out, he never need fear me again as long as he lives."
Nor was this expression of confidence in the success of the measures which he was taking a mere empty boast. William knew the power of Harold, and he knew his own. The enterprise in which he had embarked was not a rash adventure. It was a cool, deliberate, well-considered plan. It appeared doubtful and dangerous in the eyes of mankind, for to mere superficial observers it seemed simply an aggressive war waged by a duke of Normandy, the ruler of a comparatively small and insignificant province, against a king of England, the monarch of one of the greatest and most powerful realms in the world. William, on the other hand, regarded it as an effort on the part of the rightful heir to a throne to dispossess a usurper. He felt confident of having the sympathy and co-operation of a great part of the community, even in England, the moment he could show them that he was able to maintain his rights; and that he could show them that, by a very decisive demonstration, was evident, visibly, before him, in the vast fleet which was riding at anchor in the harbor, and in the long lines of tents, filled with soldiery, which covered the land.
On one occasion, when some of his officers were expressing apprehensions of Harold's power, and their fears in respect to their being able successfully to cope with it, William replied, that the more formidable Harold's power should prove to be, the better he should be pleased, as the glory would be all the greater for them in having overcome it. "I have no objection," said he, "that you should entertain exalted ideas of his strength, though I wonder a little that you do not better appreciate our own. I need be under no concern lest he, at such a distance, should learn too much, by his spies, about the force which I am bringing against him, when you, who are so near me, seem to know so little about it. But do not give yourselves any concern. Trust to the justice of your cause and to my foresight. Perform your parts like men, and you will find that the result which I feel sure of, and you hope for, will certainly be attained."
The storm at length entirely cleared away, and the army and the fleet commenced their preparations for the final departure. In the midst of this closing scene, the attention of all the vast crowds assembled on board the ships and on the shores was one morning attracted by a beautiful ship which came sailing into the harbor. It proved to be a large and splendid vessel which the Duchess Matilda had built, at her own expense, and was now bringing in, to offer to her husband as her parting gift. She was herself on board, with her officers and attendants, having come to witness her husband's departure, and to bid him farewell. Her arrival, of course, under such circumstances, produced universal excitement and enthusiasm. The ships in harbor and the shores resounded with acclamations as the new arrival came gallantly in.
Matilda's vessel was finely built and splendidly decorated. The sails were of different colors, which gave it a very gay appearance. Upon them were painted, in various places, the three lions, which was the device of the Norman ensign. At the bows of the ship was an effigy, or figure-head, representing William and Matilda's second son shooting with a bow. This was the accomplishment which, of all others, his father took most interest in seeing his little son acquire. The arrow was drawn nearly to its head, indicating great strength in the little arms which were guiding it, and it was just ready to fly. The name of this vessel was the Mira. William made it his flag ship. He hoisted upon its mast head the consecrated banner which had been sent to him from Rome, and went on board accompanied by his officers and guards, and with great ceremony and parade.
At length the squadron was ready to put to sea. At a given signal the sails were hoisted, and the whole fleet began to move slowly out of the harbor. There were four hundred ships of large size, if we may believe the chronicles of the times, and more than a thousand transports. The decks of all these vessels were covered with men; banners were streaming from every mast and spar; and every salient point of the shore was crowded with spectators. The sea was calm, the air serene, and the mighty cloud of canvas which whitened the surface of the water moved slowly on over the gentle swell of the waves, forming a spectacle which, as a picture merely for the eye, was magnificent and grand, and, when regarded in connection with the vast results to the human race which were to flow from the success of the enterprise, must have been considered sublime.
The splendidly decorated ship which Matilda had presented to her husband proved itself, on trial, to be something more than a mere toy. It led the van at the commencement, of course; and as all eyes watched its progress, it soon became evident that it was slowly gaining upon the rest of the squadron, so as continually to increase its distance from those that were following it. William, pleased with the success of its performance, ordered the sailing master to keep on, without regard to those who were behind; and thus it happened that, when night came on, the fleet was at very considerable distance in rear of the flag ship. Of course, under these circumstances, the fleet disappeared from sight when the sun went down, but all expected that it would come into view again in the morning. When the morning came, however, to the surprise and disappointment of every one on board the flag ship, no signs of the fleet were to be seen. The seamen, and the officers on the deck, gazed long and intently into the southern horizon as the increasing light of the morning brought it gradually into view, but there was not a speck to break its smooth and even line.
They felt anxious and uneasy, but William seemed to experience no concern. He ordered the sails to be furled, and then sent a man to the mast head to look out there. Nothing was to be seen. William, still apparently unconcerned, ordered breakfast to be prepared in a very sumptuous manner, loading the tables with wine and other delicacies, that the minds of all on board might be cheered by the exhilarating influence of a feast. At length the lookout was sent to the mast head again. "What do you see now?" said William. "I see," said the man, gazing very intently all the while toward the south, "four very small specks just in the horizon." The intense interest which this announcement awakened on the deck was soon at the same time heightened and relieved by the cry, "I can see more and more-they are the ships-yes, the whole squadron is coming into view."