A cairn on the SouthSaxon shore, raised high upon the rocks of Hastings, should be the only memorial of the usurper. But the royal corpse was still unrecognized; it had been thrown aside among the other bodies which lay around the Standard, when the ground was cleared for William's midnight meal. Who could undertake to find one single body in an Aceldama? Who could under take to recognize a form mangled and mutilated by the base malignity of unworthy foes? Ealdgyth was far away; Gytha could not be asked to take upon her such an office. The two faithful priests did their best, and failed in the attempt.
There was one alone who could be trusted for the mournful duty; one who knew him, alas, too well; one who had loved the man and not the King, and whose love, it may be, had been sacrificed to the duty or the policy of the ruler. The proud daughter of Ealdormen, the widow of two Kings, had left him to his fate; it was one of humbler rank, whose love had brought him not crowns or earldoms, but who had been the well-beloved of his less exalted days, who was called on to do the last bidding of affection upon earth. His former mistress, Eadgyth of the Swan's Neck, was brought to the spot by Osgod and Aethelric, and was bidden to search for Harold amid the slain. Her eye at last recognized the disfigured corpse, not by its mangled features, but by marks which his faithful priests, perhaps even his mother, knew not. The body thus found awaited the bidding of the Conqueror. -- Freeman
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