"I cannot ravage the country which has been committed to my care," answered Harold. "By my faith, that were indeed treason; and I prefer taking the chances of battle with my courage, my good cause, and the few men I have." But ere long the Saxon chiefs had reason to doubt the goodness of Harold's cause. While this conversation as to the expediency of a retreat was taking place, a monk from William arrived with a message for Harold, and found his way to the presence of the Saxon king. "William, Duke of Normandy," said the monk, addressing Harold, "requires thee to do one of three things: either to surrender to him, the crown of England; or to submit your quarrel to the arbitration of the pope; or to refer its decision to the chances of a single combat." "And my answer," said Harold, briefly, "is, that I will not resign the crown; I will not refer the matter to the pope; and a single combat I will not fight." "Then," said the monk, solemnly, "Duke William denounces thee as perjurer and liar; and all who support thee are excommunicated. The papal bull is in the Norman tent." The mention of excommunication produced an instantaneous effect on the Saxon chiefs, and they looked at each other like men suddenly seized with superstitious terror. "This is a business of great danger," they murmured. "Whatever the danger may be, we ought to fight," said a thane; "for here is not a question of receiving a new lord as if our king were dead; the matter in hand is very different. William of Normandy has given our lands to his barons and his people, most of whom have already rendered him homage for them. They come not only to ruin us, but to ruin our descendants also, and to take from us the country of our ancestors." "It is true," cried the Saxons, recovering their courage. "Let us neither make peace, truce, nor treaty with the invader." "Let us swear," cried all, "to drive out the Normans, or die in the attempt." An oath was accordingly taken by the Saxon chiefs. But when their enthusiasm evaporated, the thought of fighting for national existence under the auspices of a man branded as "perjurer and liar" troubled every conscience. Even Harold's brothers could not conceal their uneasiness, and Gurth frankly and honestly expressed his sentiments. "Harold," said Gurth, "let me persuade you not to be present in the battle, but to return to London and seek fresh reinforcements, while we sustain the Norman's attack." "And why?" asked Harold. "Thou canst not deny," replied Gurth, "that, whether on compulsion or willingly, thou hast sworn an oath to Duke William upon the relics of saints. Why risk a combat with a perjury against thee? For us, who have taken no oath, the war is just: we defend our country. Leave us, then, to fight the battle. If we retreat, thou canst aid us; if we fall, thou canst avenge us." "My duty," said Harold, "forbids me to remain apart while others risk their lives."