Isabella's Journal

September 1066

18th September 1066
Journal, today something terrible happened. I was out collecting food for Mother, when suddenly I saw lots of people approaching. They were different from the people here in York. A lot of them had blonde hair and thick beards. They had axes and swords with them and were shouting. I was terrified, Journal. I had no idea who these people were. I almost dropped my basket full of food. Fortunately, I took a better grip on the basket and ran home, hardly daring to look back over my shoulder.
Life has been so hard now that Edward is dead. He was never a good king, but at least he kept the land under control.
Mother started scolding me when I came running in – I had dropped almost half of my food while I was hurrying away from the wicked looking men. But then she saw that I was crying.
“Isabella! You aren’t crying like a child, are you? You’re 14 years old!”
I swallowed my tears. Then, not saying anything I took Mother’s hand and lead her outside.


20th September 1066
The people I saw the other day, Journal, were VIKINGS! Yesterday they came, almost bashing down everyone’s door. The leader of them is called Harald Hardrada and is king of Norway. He wants to be king in England also because he says Edward stole the throne from Swegen Forkbeard, king of Denmark, and from 1013-1042, England! Harald also said that here in Northumberland, Vikings have ruled for 1½ centuries. He said he’d take the throne by force if we didn’t support him!
Journal, you must be wondering how a little girl who lives on a normal farm with her Mother, Father and 2 older brothers, can know such things. I am surprised myself I’m telling you such things. The Viking soldiers came to the door and told everyone to come out, early this morning. After what the soldiers had told us yesterday, we weren’t very willing. But we came out all the same. I walked onto the market square with Mother, holding her hand. She tried to pretend that she didn’t want to hold my hand; however, I knew she was just as frightened as me.
“We have fought against the Earls Edwin and Morcar. They have now fled from terror. You may either surrender now or we can fight for it” boomed Harald Hardrada.
The Vikings raised their axes and swords, shouting and cheering on their king. I clutched Mother’s hand harder, scared. Our priest stood up and bowed to Harald.
“We surrender, my Lord.”

25th September 1066
For 4 days now Journal, Father, Gilbert and Thomas have been training with the Vikings. They live with them down by Riccal, on the River Ouse with the other men from our town. Mother and I try to continue the farm duties, but it’s hard and sometimes, in the night, I cry myself to sleep. Father came home quickly last night to tell us that the battle shall be held on part of our fields. Then, he left.

Later…
Journal, the battle is going on; right now outside my window! There are many more English than Viking. Harald said that he thought Harold would stay in the south to wait for William but it looks like he was wrong. I am petrified that Father or Gilbert or Thomas will die in the battle against Harold. Out of my window I see nothing but blood, fighting and more blood. I hear nothing but the yells of people screaming and shouting. I sit here, with you Journal, and cry and cry even though I am 14 years old.




26th September 1066
Journal, it’s over. Everything. We have lost. Father and Gilbert survived but Thomas…he died. I still can’t believe it. So many people died yesterday, almost all of them Vikings or people from our village.
When Father and Gilbert came home yesterday, covered in blood and wounds, they said that because Harald had been so sure that Harold would wait for William, he left one third of the troops (Father was with them) at the camp base, at Riccal. Then early in that morning, the other two thirds (with Gilbert) left to Stanford Bridge and were taken completely by surprise when Harold and his armies arrived. Harald stood up and began to fight, a couple of people ran back to the camp base to fetch the others.
Father said that he and the others fought as hard as he could but they were no match for the English.
As they were telling their story, I had sat still as stone, afraid but still finding the story interesting, but now, as Father began the gruesome details of the actual battle, Gilbert had slipped over beside me and given me a hug.
“Don’t worry, Isabella” he’d said. “They can’t get us now”
Father finished the story telling us that Harald Hardrada had been killed as had his sidekick, the exiled Earl Tostig, brother to Harold Godwineson.
Journal, the battle is over. The Vikings left in 24 boats when they came in 300. Thomas is dead but I still have one brother. I will remember this event for the rest of my life.

(By Amy McCormick)