Conquest (16 page)

There seemed to be tears in his eyes, but he soon closed them. Within moments, he had fallen into a deep sleep.

It had been a long night; dawn would soon be bringing a new day to the old man’s precious haven.

Prince John Comnenus got to his feet and stretched himself. He ordered that an extra bearskin be placed over their ancient storyteller and that the fire be replenished. Leo the priest had also fallen asleep.

As the two princes walked towards the east and the rising sun, John Azoukh smiled to himself. ‘He tells the story as if it happened yesterday. But it was sixty years ago!’

‘I suppose he has had plenty of time to remember everything in detail; there’s not much else to do up here in the mountains. I suspect that’s part of the reason he’s here, so that he can remember.’

‘Our storyteller is obviously Hereward of Bourne. Why do you think he has assumed the identity of Godwin of Ely?’

‘I’m sure that will become clear as the story unfolds. We’re still only in 1057. My father was just a nine-year-old boy then. This man has lived a very long time.’

‘Isn’t it interesting how his life has moved in a great circle? Now, he’s a wild hermit, living out his days in isolation.’

‘Exactly as the Old Man of the Wildwood foretold.’

The two princes strolled for a while, deep in thought. After several minutes of reflection, it was John Comnenus who ended the quiet introspection.

‘The Talisman hasn’t yet revealed itself as an object worthy of the respect my father gives it. The King of the Welsh seemed wary of it, while its influence on Macbeth didn’t seem to help his cause!’

John Azoukh looked at his friend and smiled. ‘I suspect the importance of the Talisman is also part of the story to come. It would not have ended up adorning the neck of the Emperor of Byzantium if it didn’t have some significance.’ He paused, seeming concerned for his friend. ‘Would you risk a fight to the death for the Purple of Byzantium, as Macbeth did for his throne?’

‘That is a good question, my friend. I have been thinking about that. Would I have the courage? Would I be prepared to lose everything to fight for what I thought was right?

‘I’d like to think so, but it’s easier to say than to do. Macbeth must have known he had little chance against a stronger, younger man. Perhaps it was his way of regaining his self-esteem after the crushing blow of losing his crown and his sad personal decline. Now, at least, he will be remembered for his courage, not for his defeat.

‘I hope I’m never in the same position and that I never have to make that choice.’

John Azoukh placed his arm around the heir to the throne. ‘I hope so too. Let’s get some sleep.’

It was well past noon before Godwin of Ely was ready to continue his story.

The day had become typically hot. There was no need for bearskins and log fires. Instead, the stewards built shades from leafy branches and drew fresh cool water from the lake.

After a long and relaxed lunch, with much good humour and a little wine, the four men settled themselves for the continuation of the saga of the life of Hereward, Thegn of Bourne.

8. Ancient Wonders

Although Hereward had the trappings and demeanour of a nobleman, he still used the simple title Hereward of Bourne. Even so, wherever they went, they were in demand; everyone wanted to know what sort of man carried such mighty weapons, to meet the beautiful woman at his side and admire their formidable companions.

They journeyed to Göteborg to visit Thorkeld and his father. The old man was delighted to meet the owner of his lethal masterpiece – the Great Axe of Göteborg, as it had come to be known – and thrilled to hear that it had already drawn blood in battle. In Scandinavia, they wandered to most of its major settlements, all the while absorbing Norse culture. Einar and Hereward, in particular, felt a great affinity with the lands of their ancestors.

They then travelled, via the Baltic port of Riga, to the Viking city of Novgorod, where Norse craftsmen were building a new cathedral, a project which captured Torfida’s imagination. She spent countless hours with the master carpenters, learning the many intricate joints they used in their magnificent timber structures.

Martin and Einar both found Viking wives during their extended stay in Novgorod. Martin’s spouse, Ingigerd, was short and slim with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes. Einar had married Maria, a buxom redhead, who treated Ingigerd
like a younger sister. And so, the quartet that had left Scotland became a sextet.

They moved on, travelling down the mighty rivers of Russia to Kiev, the southern capital of the Viking Rus. Viking rule was firm in the Rus, a territory that extended from the Baltic to the Black Sea, and the native Slavs had long since given up their armed resistance against the colonizers from the north. Kiev was the seat of the kingdom; it was a bustling, lively city at a crossroads of routes that stretched from the ancient lands of the Mediterranean to the military powerhouse of Scandinavia.

The Rus was still enjoying the benefits of the benign rule of King Jaroslav the Wise, whose long reign had only just ended. Through astute alliances and marriages, as well as skilful military campaigns, Jaroslav had created a powerful empire across a vast tract of territory. Trade from there to the south, to Constantinople – the celebrated capital city of the Empire of Byzantium – was constant, and they saw furnishings, jewellery and clothes of breathtaking finery being carried by caravans of traders.

Torfida longed to continue to Constantinople and then into the Mediterranean to see the cities of the ancient world, especially Rome. There, she could learn more languages, refine her Greek and Latin and hear of new advances in medicine, astronomy and mathematics.

Hereward preferred to return to Scandinavia. In Göteborg, they had heard of the famous exploits of Harald Hardrada, King of Norway, a great warrior, said to be six and a half feet tall. Hereward had been intrigued to learn that while still in his early twenties, Hardrada had been Captain of the Varangian Guard of the Emperor of
Constantinople. Hardrada was waging a long-term campaign for supremacy in Denmark against Svein Estrithson, King of the Danes. If ever there was a man worth fighting for, it was surely Hardrada. He might also be a man whose qualities of leadership were such that he would be a worthy recipient of the Talisman, fulfilling Hereward’s mission as a messenger.

Torfida tried to force a decision. ‘We must go south; our destiny leads us to the Mediterranean. I must see Constantinople.’

Hereward was rarely short-tempered with Torfida, but he had yet to come to terms with the death of Macbeth. ‘And what of the rest of us? What of our destinies?’

‘All our destinies are the same; we have already made that choice. My destiny is your destiny.’

‘I would rather fight with Hardrada. He is a Norseman, a man with the blood of my Danish ancestors.’

‘I sense that your quest lies to the south, not to the north. I have heard of a man like Harald Hardrada. He is a Norman called Robert Guiscard. He fights in the Mediterranean from a city called Melfi, in the south of Italy. He has just been proclaimed Count of Apulia following the death of his brother.’

‘Torfida, removing the burden of this Talisman is more important than the direction of our journey.’

‘We have to be patient until we find the man who should wear it. It is not yet time to part with it; your journey still has many twists and turns. A great battle is coming, Europe is in turmoil, I have been listening to all the accounts. Strong leaders are emerging and one of them will bring our mission to an end. One of them will be the right man; you will know.’

‘Macbeth was a great king and a brave man. What he did that day at Lumphanan, in saving all those lives, and accepting a challenge he had little chance of winning, was surely worthy of the Talisman.’

‘Yes, it was.’

‘I don’t understand; you said it wasn’t the right time.’

‘I’m not suggesting Macbeth didn’t have the right to wear the Talisman; I’m sure he did. But you gave it to him to help him win, and it couldn’t do that for him. His life had run its course; he had all the wisdom he needed and the courage to do the right thing.’

‘I should have given it to him earlier, when he paid off his men and began to act like a king again.’

‘It still wouldn’t have altered his destiny. You would still have been with him at the end to retrieve it from the battlefield. Its journey, and ours, goes on.’

Torfida smiled at him with a warmth he had not seen in a long time. He reflected on what she had said before getting to his feet.

‘Give me the Talisman; it is time for me to wear it again.’ He pulled Torfida into a tight embrace. ‘Isn’t it time we got married? I think the Talisman of Truth has just imparted an important message: it’s time I made an honest woman of you!’

They laughed together and swung one another round in a whirl of joy.

At long last, the pain of the events in Scotland could begin to recede. Kiev in the spring presented itself as the ideal place for their union. April was on the fulcrum between the formidable winters of the heartlands of Asia and its equally prodigious summers. And so, as the
temperate air of the Levant began to exert its influence, they decided that the time was right to marry in the eyes of God.

Hereward and Torfida were married in April 1059, in the historic wooden cathedral of Kiev by Theodore, Archbishop of the Rus. The cathedral was a towering masterpiece in elaborately carved oak, and the wedding was a glorious occasion. Martin and Einar stood either side of Hereward; Ingergerd and Maria flanked Torfida.

When it came to the time for the two principals to step forward and proclaim their vows, Torfida lost her composure and began to sob. With Hereward holding her firmly and whispering sympathetically, she eventually gathered herself a little. The spontaneous joy of Torfida’s outburst brought tears to the eyes of her female companions.

Hereward had never seen Torfida so unable to control herself, and he realized how vulnerable she was under her veneer of wisdom and self-confidence.

Although she had said her destiny was to be his guide to the intangible mysteries of the Talisman, Hereward knew he would need to be Torfida’s constant guardian in the much more corporeal challenges they would face on their journey together.

Hereward, Torfida and their extended family set sail from Kiev two days after their wedding. It was a week before the festival of Easter and the Dnieper was hectic, with merchants, soldiers and pilgrims hoping to reach their destinations before the festivities began. After a short stay in the bustling Black Sea port of Odessa, they sailed through the Bosporus, the gateway between two worlds, and were
soon staring at the immense walls of the golden city of Constantinople.

They remained wide-eyed for days afterwards, overwhelmed by the incomparable sites before them: the Emperor’s Palace and the Hagia Sophia; monasteries, schools of learning, great houses and luxuriant gardens; huge warehouses of traders’ goods and street upon street of shops, selling everything they could think of and much else besides. None of them had ever seen anything like it, and they decided to stay for several weeks.

Torfida spent hours talking to the learned and the devout pilgrims who thronged the Hagia, the greatest church in Christendom. There were travellers from as far away as Baghdad, Jerusalem and Alexandria, all with tales of Arab learning and achievements in mathematics, astronomy and architecture.

When it was time to move on, they bought passage on a Greek merchant ship bound for Brindisi via Athens. As they sailed further and further from Constantinople, Hereward’s admiration for the scale of the Byzantine Empire grew and grew. Even several days out from Athens, and hugging the Greek coastline west of the island of Corfu, they were still within the realm of the Emperor of Constantinople. After finally disembarking at Brindisi, they began their journey across the flat plains and into the rugged hills of southern Italy. They were now at the limit of the Byzantine Empire and on the border of lands under the hegemony of the Norman lords of southern Italy.

Torfida felt invigorated by the warmth of the land and its exotic atmosphere. It was May; everything was in full
bloom and the countryside was alive with insects, birds and wildflowers.

Late one evening, as they relaxed in their camp after dinner, Torfida nestled close to Hereward and whispered, ‘I told you we should come south, the warm air obviously agrees with me …’ She paused. ‘… I’m pregnant.’

‘My darling Torfida! I’m so happy. Let’s hope this man, Robert Guiscard, is a man worth fighting for and that we can find a position with him. We are going to need to work for our living … and for our baby.’

‘We will find useful work, worry not.’

They told the others immediately and there was much celebrating that night. Einar, who had grown to like Byzantine wine and always seemed to have a flask somewhere in his baggage, quickly made one appear to ensure that the merriment carried on well into the night. Martin sang his Celtic verses about maidens and heroes, love and comradeship.

Hereward looked at Torfida. He loved her very much, and now she had his child growing inside her. He turned to look out over the hills to the Adriatic Sea in the distance, radiant in the moonlight. What a strange journey theirs was: where would their adventure end?

And what would be their fate when they got there?

The bastion of Robert Guiscard stood menacingly on a strategic hilltop, some way back from the fertile plain of the Adriatic.

A stone keep was under construction within its palisaded walls, and large groups of people seemed to be making their way towards the city. Every building flew a flag or
banner of some kind and from the pinnacle of the keep flew the striking red and gold emblem of the Count himself. Robert was the sixth of the nine sons of Tancred de Hauteville, an adventurer of humble birth from Normandy, who had fought his way to success and power. He was like many Normans of his time: brave and daring with an overpowering desire for conquest.