His calculated rise brought him the crown, but defeat at the Battle of Hastings opened the way for a conquest that transformed England

Title: Harold: Warrior King
Author: Tom Licence
Publisher: Yale University Press
Publication Year: 2026
(Available from Amazon)

October 1066 was a profoundly consequential month for England. Historian Robert Tombs pithily summarizes what transpired as a result of Duke William of Normandy’s victory at the Battle of Hastings: “The Conquest annihilated England’s ruling class, physically and genetically.”

This, of course, applied only to the male line. Willing or otherwise, wealthy English widows and heiresses were married off to William’s key followers. To all intents and purposes, England’s aristocracy became Norman French.

And the changes went beyond land ownership. There were new building styles (Romanesque architecture and stone castles), changes to inheritance law (primogeniture), a shift in England’s external orientation from Scandinavia to France, and the introduction of feudalism.

Harold Godwineson — the loser at Hastings and the last Anglo-Saxon king — is the subject of a new biography in the Yale English Monarchs series. The author of Harold: Warrior King is Tom Licence, a professor of Medieval History and English Literature at the University of East Anglia, who comes to the subject from a running start, having previously produced a biography of Harold’s immediate predecessor, Edward the Confessor. And the picture he paints is a complicated one.

As Licence sees it, Harold was a calculating man whose background had taught him two lessons — “that what he had could be taken from him, and that it was essential to please those who had power over his interests.”

Scheming came naturally. Harold watched as others “fell victim to their own character traits. Where he could, he gave them a big shove, just to make sure.” And he ascended to the throne without a drop of royal blood in his veins, sidelining a bona fide claimant in the process.

Born circa 1027, Harold was a second son, whose father, Godwine, played the role of kingmaker in Edward’s 1042 accession. Cementing the alliance, Edward awarded the first new earldom of his reign to Harold’s older brother; married Harold’s sister, Edith; and then, in 1045, awarded Harold the earldom of East Anglia. His youth notwithstanding, Harold was now a player.

There was, however, a temporary blip that could have proved fatal. In 1051-52, Harold participated in a family revolt against Edward. Fortuitously for them, it was peacefully resolved, and the king restored their lands and titles.

Then two things happened in quick succession to raise Harold’s status. In September 1052, his older brother fell ill and died en route home from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. And six months later, his father suffered a fatal stroke. Appointed to the earldom of Wessex in his father’s stead while still shy of his 30th birthday, Harold was now the head of one of England’s most powerful families.

By the early 1060s, Harold had evolved into the kingdom’s most senior earl, but he had a serious rival — his younger brother, Tostig, had become Edward’s favourite. Sifting the evidence and reading the tea leaves, Licence concludes that Harold skilfully manoeuvred to undermine his brother, such that Edward had little option but to reluctantly send Tostig into exile just prior to Christmas 1065. The field had now been cleared of rivals. And thanks to Edward’s failing health, opportunity awaited.

As it became increasingly obvious that Edward and the much younger Edith weren’t going to produce an heir, the king had sought an appropriate blood-related successor, eventually settling on Edgar, the grandson of his late half-brother. After adopting the boy, Edward had influential figures, Harold included, swear oaths acknowledging the legitimacy of Edgar’s claim. Logically, this would have seen a regency established after Edward’s death, with Harold as the principal guarantor until Edgar came of age. That’s not what happened.

Instead, Harold moved decisively to take the throne for himself. Edward died on Jan. 5, 1066, and Harold was crowned the following morning. It was the hastiest coronation on record.

Licence neatly describes the immediate situation: “The following day, on laying claim to the dead king’s estate, Harold became the richest ruler in Britain since the mythical days of the Caesars, with the apparatus of a highly sophisticated administration at his command.” But big trouble was brewing.

Within months, Harold was faced with two invasions. The Norwegian king, Harald Hardrada, arrived via the North Sea, while Duke William of Normandy crossed the Channel. Licence categorizes Hardrada’s venture as an opportunistic attempt to grab whatever he could whereas William’s goal was very specific; he intended to seize the kingdom. To bolster his claim, he pointed to a promise of support Harold had made to him while in Normandy the previous year.

On Sept. 25, Harold decisively defeated Hardrada at Stamford Bridge in Yorkshire. Hardrada died on the battlefield. Tostig, who had thrown his support to the Norwegian, also succumbed.

Harold then pivoted to face William on the south coast 19 days later. But his luck had finally run out. When the day-long Battle of Hastings ended at dusk on Oct. 14, his battered and mutilated body was left on the field.

Had Hastings turned out otherwise — which it very well could have — the subsequent history of England would’ve been very different. And the artful chancer would be celebrated as the father of his country, the man who saw off the foreigners.

Troy Media columnist Pat Murphy casts a history buff’s eye at the goings-on in our world. Never cynical – well, perhaps a little bit.