Mercia, 1080

William Rufus stood gazing towards the north. There lay the last remnants of the Saxons, still defying the might of Norman steel.

"I am sure much blood will be shed soon," he reflected, "When shall we have peace in this new land of ours? Unless these Saxons are treated justly, then we shall never have a moments peace."

With those thoughts in mind, he returned to his retainers.

"Men, we march on York!"