Harold Godwinson smiled to the throngs of people who had come to London to witness this historic moment in English history. It had taken two years and countless lives, but Harold had done it. He had conquered Scotland and revived the ancient title of bretwalda, meaning “lord of the Britons.” Not since the days of Aethelstan the Glorious had it been whispered by a king of England. Truly it was a great day for England.
Kneeling before the Archbishop of Canterbury, Harold reflected upon the last two years. In 1100, chroniclers had found a claim on the throne of Scotland, and Harold had decided to push it. Norse, Norman, Breton, Anglo-Saxon, Friesian, and Flemish troops were assembled from the far corners of the empire, creating a mighty force of one hundred thousand troops. Harold would never forget the way the sunlight had glittered off their armor on that faithful day when the declaration of war had been sent out. Under one banner, the many peoples of the empire charged into Scotland, ready to bring fame and glory for their king and country.
Harold remembered the long marches through hilly Scotland; attrition killed more men then the Scots themselves, and the Scots seemed to crawl out from behind every tree and rock, but nothing could stop Harold and his men; eventually they reached Fife.
Harold had eventually lost count how many times his armies had fought over Fife, but people told him it had been at least five. He did remember the First Battle of Fife with bitterness. The Scots had beaten him back during that one, and king Duncan II had delivered something few men could boast: he given Harold his first defeat, and Harold had found it bitter indeed. But Harold had never been one to give up, and called upon the rest of his forces and marched into Fife again, this time with ten thousand troops. Duncan wisely chose to retreat in the face of such a great force and let attrition do its nasty work. When Duncan had returned to Fife, this time with a force to match Harold’s, he found a shadow of it. Of the original ten thousand, only two thousand remained. Now Harold retreated, but not before letting his men run willed through Fife, destroying most of the city.
By all signs, Harold wasn’t the only one surprised by the deadly effectiveness of the Scottish terrain; in the north, Wulfnoth and an army of nearly ten thousand Norse, had been given the simple task of occupying northern Scotland. To Harold and Wulfnoth’s dismay, Wulfnoth was soon calling for more Norse troops to help defeat the Scottish forces, despite the fact Wulfnoth had a five-to-one advantage against the Scots. Forsaking northern Scotland for the moment, Wulfnoth had marched back to Caithiness and waited for reinforcements. Wulfnoth would have to retreat from northern Scotland three more times, before finally being able to hold the area.
Back in Fife, Harold was yet again exchanging blows with Duncan. Duncan was using the terrain to his advantage, as was destroying Harold’s forces, whom were trying to keep Fife in English hands. Harold tasted defeat again, as he was forced into a retreat. Harold called from more troops from the continent, and was surprised to find that most of them were already fighting in Scotland. Greatly disturbed by this development, Harold found some new men and called them to Scotland. Meanwhile, he had his Spymaster contact the Duke of Galloway and the Duke of Lothian, two of the main supporters for a Scottish republic.
Harold marched into Fife for the fourth time, swearing not to retreat until all the Scots in his sight were dead. But he didn’t have to do much work; dysentery was sweeping through Fife, and had already killed a sizable number of Duncan’s troops. Enough that Harold won a quick victory against the king.
Back in England, Harold’s Spymaster was busy sending supplies to the Dukes of Lothian and Galloway, and at the beginning of 1102, the rebellious dukes declared themselves independent republics. Suddenly, Duncan II had lost nearly half his troops, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying to remove Harold from Fife for the fifth, and last, time. During the Fifth Battle of Fife, a stray arrow hit Duncan, killing him instantly. The last Scot to rule Scotland died that day. Harold would later allow him to be buried with the dead kings of England, calling him the greatest foe he’d ever known.
Peace was signed with Duncan’s son, Duncan III, and Scotland was added to England. With Scotland in the kingdom, Harold set about returning Galloway and Lothian to the kingdom, quickly marching on their respective capitals. He would remember the surprised look on their faces until the day they died; they had actually though he would let them go on their own as republics. It was laughable.
So now, all of Scotland, and nearly all of the Britain, with the exception of the Welsh duchies, called Harold liege. Harold’s empire spanned across Europe, and many feared his name as well as held it in awe. Truly, God loved the English empire.