Conquest (21 page)

The English were even more vindictive in response, roaming the countryside and carrying out summary executions. The Welsh princes capitulated and sued for peace.
Harold, with brutal irony, asked for the head of Gruffydd as a condition of the settlement. His own people relentlessly pursued the King into the wild and desolate mountains of Snowdonia. When he was finally cornered, alone and defenceless, he was bound like a wild boar, hung upside down and beheaded.

Harold had been conciliatory in victory. Gruffydd’s brothers were made earls in Wales as vassals of King Edward. He persuaded the King to revoke the law banning intermarriage between the English and the Welsh and, as an example to all, agreed to take Gruffydd’s widow, Ealdgyth, as his wife.

Martin had much to reflect on in the passing of his king. However, he was firm in his views about the Duke: he did not like him and argued that they should find another employer.

Alphonso was also clear on the subject of service to the Duke. It was cold in Normandy and he wanted to return to the south. For him it was simply a matter of climate.

Einar was level-headed and considered, as usual. He pointed out that there was no finer army in the whole of Europe. The pay was good; Rouen was a fine city and – if Edward had nominated him as his successor – then, one day, William would be the rightful King of England. Ingigerd and Maria agreed with their men, but Torfida was strangely quiet. For her, the months since their arrival in Normandy had passed quickly. She was busy during the week, tutoring the offspring of the rich of Rouen, and on Saturdays she helped the nuns with the poor children at the alms house of Rouen Abbey.

Unusually, Torfida spoke last about the Duke. ‘If William
becomes king after Edward’s death, there will be a war, because the English nobles will not accept it. Then there are the Scandinavians; Harald Hardrada and Svein Estrithson, King of the Danes, both have envious eyes on England. We could easily have another Scandinavian ruling at Winchester. England could become an unholy battleground between three ferocious armies –’

Maria interrupted Torfida in full flow. ‘You paint a frightening picture, Torfida, but what of us? What do we do?’

Torfida’s reply was succinct. ‘As for us, Maria, we follow a path that has been pointing towards England ever since we left Melfi.’

Hereward had been thinking carefully about all that had been said. ‘Maria, it is always your choice whether you continue with us on our journey. Torfida and I have chosen our path and we will follow it. The rest of you must find your destinies. If you think they are with us, we will always be in your debt; if you choose another path, we will understand and you will go with our blessing.’

Ingigerd responded without hesitation. ‘I think I can speak for all of us. Where you go, we go; it’s as simple as that.’

Torfida embraced each of them in turn and thanked them for their loyalty.

Hereward returned to the vexing subject of the English succession. ‘It is not Edith who has failed to provide an heir; it’s the other way round. Edward likes boys, it’s well known. They say Edith is a virgin and that the King only married her to cement the alliance with her father, Earl Godwin. A queen can’t sprout an heir if her king doesn’t plant his royal seed.’

Torfida responded, repeating her catechism about destiny. ‘Perhaps you’re right. But my point is, a great war is coming and, somehow, we are going to be a part of it. I am certain that our journey has been leading us to it, so we must continue what we are doing and wait to see what our destiny brings us.’

‘I cannot fight for the Normans against the English – they are my people.’

‘And mine, Hereward. I am not suggesting that we fight our own people. We should continue as we are for now; we can make our decision about what to do when the time comes. This Duke is a fearsome man, but we have been delivered here for a reason. That reason will soon become clear, I know it.’

Hereward looked around the table.

They all nodded, even Martin.

They would stay.

William returned to his relentless quest for military excellence in early January 1064, ensuring that Hereward and the men spent several more months with the Duke in training throughout Normandy. Torfida and the family stayed in Rouen.

As time passed, it occurred to Hereward that since they had arrived in Normandy, Torfida had rarely talked about the Talisman.

It was as if she knew it had brought them to where they needed to be and that it would lie dormant until the next phase of their lives came to pass.

11. The Oath

The next crucial phase in the lives of Hereward and Torfida began, like many important happenings, without warning.

It was early May 1064, a warm spring day with nature in full bud. The Duke was mounted on his destrier in the middle of a Norman conroi, a powerful squadron of twenty-five mounted warriors led by a knight. They were practising an attack with their spears pointed downwards like lances, a devastatingly effective cavalry technique if carried out in a disciplined formation. The Duke knew that if ever it came to a fight against the English housecarls, his mounted conroi would have to break their legendary shield wall.

Riders cresting the horizon with messages for the Duke were commonplace, but these three had an urgency about them that was immediately apparent. When they reached William, they and their horses were sweating profusely and the men relayed their message breathlessly.

An important English earl had been shipwrecked on the coast, near the mouth of the River Somme, in the lands of Guy, Count of Ponthieu, William’s brother-in-law and his vassal. Guy had seized the earl under the Lagan Law of shipwrecks and was holding him in Montreuil, from where he would be ransomed for a sum befitting his status. One of the ship’s English crew had escaped and fled to Rouen – to seek Duke William’s help, and with news that the shipwrecked
mariner was none other than the Earl Marshal of England, Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex.

William bellowed at his messenger almost before he had finished his report. ‘Go to my brother, Odo, and tell him that he must take fifty men to that fool Ponthieu and have Earl Harold delivered to me immediately. I will welcome him into Normandy at Eu, six days from now. Go! Go quickly!’

William was riding hard to Rouen within the hour.

Harold Godwinson must have been both relieved and impressed as he crossed the wooden pontoon on the River Bresle at Eu. On the opposite bank was the substantial presence of the Duke, surrounded by a grandiose assortment of counts, bishops, sheriffs, knights and 250 of his finest warriors. Not only that: as a mark of his beneficence, the Duke had paid Guy of Ponthieu a preposterous sum for the Earl’s ransom.

The show of respect between the two men, as they hailed one another with their swords and then shook hands, was sincere. Here were the two most important warlords in north-western Europe – one already called ‘sub-regulus’ to King Edward, the other a king in all but name, lord of the most powerful province in the region.

As William and Harold rode off together towards Rouen, Hereward could not help but notice their similarities rather than their differences. Both were exceptionally tall, although Harold was slightly shorter; both were fair, one very blond, the other a distinct redhead, and both were proud and self-confident. They were talking animatedly in Norman French, and seemed in good humour.

For the next few days, the Duke and the Earl were rarely seen. Their discussions were held behind closed doors in William’s palace at Rouen. Nevertheless, the rumour soon spread around the city that, indeed, this was the visit William had said would happen and that the Earl of Wessex had come to pay his respects and acknowledge the Duke of Normandy as his future king.

Rouen was alive with excitement. The English King was already sixty years of age; it could not be long before William’s accession came to pass. England was known to be a rich land with prodigous harvests and sturdy beasts, a treasure trove waiting to be plundered by every opportunist in Normandy.

As Hereward and Torfida sat by their hearth and discussed the dramatic arrival, their thoughts moved quickly to the motives of Harold Godwinson. Surely, the Earl felt great unease in bowing to Duke William? He must also know of the reputation of the Normans? If William became king, Normans would rapidly fill the bishoprics and supplant the earls and thegns.

There would be war.

Perhaps he was striking a bargain with William and they were planning England’s future together, with Harold negotiating guarantees about his own position?

Or would he simply take the throne himself after King Edward’s death?

The next morning, the Captain of the Duke’s personal squadron and two sergeants-at-arms arrived at the farmhouse and summoned Hereward to the Duke’s palace.

On hearing the news, Torfida jumped to her feet and
grabbed Hereward excitedly. ‘This is the moment we’ve been waiting for; you are going to meet the Earl. By the time he leaves Normandy, we will know what we must do. But, be careful, there are great forces at work here; these are powerful and dangerous men.’

When Hereward reached the ducal palace, he marched up to the richly carved throne with the brisk step of a confident man. Queen Matilda sat to the Duke’s left, Harold was on his right.

Hereward bowed as the Duke introduced him.

‘My Lord Earl, this is Hereward of Bourne, a man you may know.’

‘I do, your Grace. I proclaimed him banished at Winchester some years ago.’

‘Indeed, he told me all about it; he has led an interesting life since then. Tell the Earl of Wessex your story, but spare us the details.’

Hereward bowed again and gave a short account of his chance meeting with Gruffydd, King of the Welsh, and of the Battle of Hereford. He described his involvement in the affairs of Macbeth, then recounted his long journey to Italy and his experiences in the service of Robert Guiscard in Apulia and Sicily.

Harold listened impassively before responding. ‘A great adventure, your Grace, but there is little in it to commend him to me. Although he nobly served your kin in Apulia, he has spent the rest of his time fighting for our enemies.’

‘Ah, but in fairness, my Lord Earl, he was an outlaw, cast out by his people. Besides, the two enemies you speak of are both dead, and Scotland and Wales now bow to Edward at Winchester.’

‘They will soon owe fealty to Westminster, on the Thames near London, your Grace. The King is building a fine new palace and cathedral there.’

‘So that is where I shall be crowned?’

Harold looked discomforted at the Duke’s provocative question. ‘Quite so, your Grace.’

Hereward scrutinized Harold as he answered. He spoke softly and submissively, as if he did not want to agree, but had to. Hereward sensed that Harold was cornered – not fearful, but trapped. He was not a man to be easily frightened; nevertheless, he seemed conspicuously uncomfortable.

‘Well, what do you say, my Lord Earl? Will you take him? He is a fine warrior and one of your own.’

Harold looked at Hereward again, this time with a hint of the warmth of kinship in his eyes. ‘His Grace, the Duke, has recommended that you accompany me on his new campaign against the Bretons, an expedition in which he has generously asked me to be at his side. I have listened carefully to Duke William. I accept that you left England without help or favour and within the terms of your banishment. I also agree that, apart from your choice of employer, your service in Wales and Scotland does you credit. I am told that you are a fine soldier; I am happy to have you in my hearthtroop, Hereward of Bourne.’

Hereward knew instantly that the die was cast, as Torfida had predicted.

Brittany was ruled by Count Conan II, but his rule was precarious. The Bretons had fierce tribal loyalties, and Conan had difficulty holding the tribal fiefdoms together. William had formed an alliance with Rivallon of Dol, a
rogue Breton whose domain was in the border region. He had recently come under attack from Conan’s army and had appealed to William for help.

This gave the Duke the opportunity to invade Brittany and make his western border secure all the way to the Atlantic.

Ten days later, William’s army was in the field, in battle order, and approaching Normandy’s border with Brittany. The Duke’s army was ready to flex its muscles and demonstrate to Harold the power of Normandy’s military machine.

With the towering citadel of Mont St Michel in the distance, Harold was impressed by the army of Normandy as it marched across in full battle regalia. There were over 2,500 men, the elite of William’s forces. Harold headed a contingent of forty Englishmen. Just behind him, carried by two of his housecarls, were the Earl’s war banners: the Dragon of Wessex and his own personal ensign, the Fighting Man. The English standards were flying as part of the colours of a Norman army, which, if events were to unfold as seemed likely, might soon be an occupying army in England.

They crossed the border with Brittany at the River Couesnon. Barely ten miles further on, Lord Rivallon was besieged behind the walls of Dol by Conan’s army. Duke William ordered a halt and then gave instructions to make ready a forward camp so that they could move off before dawn and attack on the cusp of daylight.

That evening, the strategy was agreed: with the infantry in reserve, William would advance with his cavalry and mount an immediate attack. The Earl of Wessex, his
knights, his housecarls and Hereward, with his three men-at-arms, would form their own conroi, and would attack second in line of precedence. They would be to the right of William’s personal conroi, the Matilda Squadron, each of whom carried on their lances a sky-blue riband, the favours of Duchess Matilda.

The attack the next day was swift and decisive. The Bretons were caught in the open, largely unprepared; they had expected a traditional pitched battle and were surprised by a cavalry attack in semi-darkness. Most of their cavalrymen were mounted, but not drawn up sufficiently well to rebuff a full-frontal charge. William’s attack at full gallop was an awesome sight: 300 horses sweeping across the contours of the countryside in twelve tightly formed conroi, in three waves, four conroi abreast.