Chapter 15 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

"I see thy glory, like a shooting star,

Fall to the base earth from the firmament!

Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west."

-Shakespeare.

TOC, INDX Early in the summer there was a sound of wood-chopping and a crash of falling trees in the forests of Normandy, and along her shores in the shipyards the noise of shipwrights' mallets began,