Conquest (22 page)

It was futile for the Bretons to try to engage. Count Conan, realizing that the day was lost before it had begun, joined his men in flight. When the horn sounded for lances to be couched, a great roar went up from the walls of Dol to match the thunder of the hooves of the Norman horde, and the slaughter began. For the Norman cavalry it was like sticking pigs in the forest, as they cut the Bretons down one by one.

Eventually, some pockets of resistance did form, as a few men decided to turn and fight. In one incident, a large group of Bretons managed to unseat three Norman knights by luring them into soft ground. The Normans were obviously in peril and Harold, leading the nearest conroi, went to their aid. He ordered his men to dismount and attack on foot, to avoid the same fate that had befallen the heavy Norman horses. With his housecarls behind him and
Hereward and his companions in the midst of them, he set about the enemy.

It was an impressive onslaught, conducted in William’s full view. Harold, advancing at the point of a wedge of flailing yet precisely choreographed English battle-axes, cut his way through the melee. Using their shields as a solid defensive wall, and striking either side of them with their axes, the Anglo-Saxon housecarls demonstrated to William their renowned battle technique at its best. Hereward was in his element, not only because it was hand-to-hand combat, but because the men he was fighting with were his kith and kin and he was but a yard from Harold, the Earl Marshal of England. Supported by Martin, Einar and Alphonso, he kept a close eye on Harold, constantly protecting his flanks and rear.

It did not take long to rescue the beleaguered Normans and get them mounted on their destriers. William was doubly delighted: the Bretons had been routed and taught a lesson they would never forget; and his English guest had not only witnessed the victory, but had also played a heroic part in it.

The Duke decided that he liked the Earl of Wessex; he was a brave warrior and a man worthy of standing with Normans in battle. He hoped that, following his succession, Harold Godwinson would agree to be his Earl Marshal and thus avert a revolt by the English earls.

William’s dreams of wealth and power were becoming more and more tangible by the day.

Harold talked at great length to Hereward on the march back from Dol. The Earl was impressed by the carnage
wrought by Hereward’s Great Axe during the skirmish and thanked him for staying so close to him. Harold described himself as a soldier at heart, a man who felt more comfortable on the battlefield than at court. Nevertheless, he had gradually grown to respect King Edward, whose effete manner and Norman sympathies he had initially despised. At first, he had refused to travel to Normandy for a meeting with William, but the King had finally convinced him. He was a persuasive man and a shrewd and clever ruler who had done much to bring stability and prosperity to England. Now that his long reign was in its twilight years, Edward feared the uncouth barbarians from Scandinavia, especially Harald Hardrada, the King of Norway.

Edward was convinced that to secure England’s future, he had to forge an alliance with the Normans. Hemmed in by the French to the south, and the Holy Roman Empire to the east, the Normans needed land and a kingdom to call their own. In exchange, England would get what it needed: a bridge to mainland Europe and its sophistication; the Norman spirit of adventure and conquest; and their rigid system of social discipline. To achieve this, Edward knew that William would have to be his successor; there was no other choice.

Hereward was appalled to hear Harold’s account of Edward’s reasoning. It would mean the end of everything he cared for as an Englishman. England’s traditional Anglo-Saxon culture would be transformed from its pastoral simplicity into the harsh efficiency of a Norman state.

He decided to say what was on his mind. ‘But, my Lord, you could be King.’

Harold smiled at him warmly. ‘Most people think that I
want the throne, but I’m a soldier, not a king. Edward says the days of warrior kings will soon be over, that there are far more important things for a king to do than rampage across the country fighting battles.’

‘I’m not sure, my Lord. The Duke of Normandy is a warrior; he fights his own battles and rules his domain as firmly as any in Europe.’

‘The King says men like the Duke of Normandy and Harald Hardrada are a dying breed; that England must be ready to change from its ancient customs and practices and become a land with an ordered system of government like the empires of Europe.’

‘Perhaps, but I still believe you could guide England’s future just as forcefully as William.’

‘The King doesn’t think I have a good enough claim. Although my Anglo-Saxon pedigree is noble, I have no claim to the Cerdician line of Edward’s family; that honour rests with Edgar the Atheling. Both the Duke and Hardrada have blood much closer to the King’s.’

‘But you would be the choice of the Witan; all the earls would support you.’

‘Edward doesn’t believe kings should be chosen by the earls and the thegns; he thinks that it leads to intrigue and anarchy. He says that monarchs should rule by dint of their bloodline, so that succession is beyond argument.’

‘My Lord, I can’t begin to think of England under Norman rule. All Anglo-Saxons will fight to the last man to prevent that.’

‘I think you’re right; our people will fight and thousands will die. Edward knows that if I support the Duke and he gives me and my fellow earls appropriate concessions, we
might create an alliance that most of England could be persuaded to accept and war would be averted. However, what no one knows is whether William would make such a bargain and, if he did, whether he would keep it.’

Sensing that these matters would be talked of many times before a decision was made, Harold abruptly changed the subject of the conversation to a preoccupation more typical of soldiers on campaign. He reminisced about the seductive qualities of Edith Swan-Neck, who had given him five children, before moving on to the merits of Norman women. Few had impressed him, but there was a young girl at William’s court to whom he had taken a particular liking. If William would agree, he intended to bed her as soon as they reached Rouen. He had been away for many weeks and a romp with a soft and slender young beauty was long overdue, especially one as sweet as the girl he had in mind.

Hereward smiled inwardly at Harold’s earthy manner. There was nothing devious or complicated about him; he had simple virtues and easy vices, just like his soldiers. The more Hereward thought about it, the more he was convinced that, after Edward’s death, England had to be ruled by Harold. Plain man or not, Harold would do what was right according to the old ways: merciless in battle, magnanimous in victory; harsh with wrongdoers, kind to the righteous.

Hereward looked at the Earl of Wessex riding beside him and, in that moment, resolved that he would do all in his power to persuade him to become king, and that if he took power, he would stand at his side and fight to the death for him and his kingdom. He reached for the Talisman, grasped it under his smock and added another personal
conviction: should Harold be crowned King of England, he would place the Talisman around his neck and bring to an end his odyssey as its envoy.

On the evening of the triumphant return to Rouen, William hosted a celebratory banquet in the Great Hall of his palace. William retained control throughout the proceedings, while most around him became more and more inebriated and raucous.

Harold was no exception. William had granted him his young concubine, and he had eyes only for her during the feast. But William had devised a trap which he was about to spring.

The Duke had taken care to invite the Bishops of Cluny, Paris and Rheims to the great celebration to bear non-partisan witness to the devastating coup de grâce he was about to deliver.

The Duke rose with a solemnity of purpose and addressed Harold directly. There was an instantaneous silence among the gathering, abrupt enough to suggest a rehearsed event.

‘My Lord Earl, Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, Earl Marshal to King Edward of England, our noble and esteemed friend from the north, I invite you to join me in an oath.’

Harold shook himself out of his drunken and lustful euphoria. Hereward looked at him anxiously. As in a game of chess, a disguised gambit was about to be revealed, a move that would seal the fate of a kingdom. Harold, swaying a little, joined William at the head of his great oak dining table.

‘In the presence of our revered guests, my Lords temporal
and ecclesiastical, I do swear, when God determines it should be so, to place myself at the service of England as its King in succession to Edward, that most wise and noble of monarchs. I hereby further swear that I entrust the command of my army in England to my gracious and worthy friend, the noble Lord, the Earl of Wessex, who will serve as my Earl Marshal, answering to no one in England or Normandy save me.’

William beckoned Harold closer to him, smiling benignly as he did so. ‘My lord Earl, place your hands on mine on this ancient Bible, carried here by the monks of Mont St Michel, the most holy relic in our land, and swear with me this oath.’

William had called ‘check’ but Harold knew it was ‘mate’; there was nothing for him to do but to swear. Harold pulled himself up, found some clarity of thought and voice through the fog of inebriation, placed his hands on William’s on the Holy Book and uttered the fateful words.

‘I do swear.’

Even before Harold sat down, the Norman scribes had begun to commit the proceedings to parchment.

History’s course was set.

William looked triumphant, but Harold’s jaw was set, his face stern and his fury barely disguised. The future of England, the destiny of the Anglo-Saxons, and of all the peoples of Britain, had turned in a trice.

It was a moment that would seal the fate of the British Isles for generations to come.

12. Return to England

There was great excitement in Rouen and throughout Normandy at the news of Harold’s acknowledgement of William’s right of succession. To the Normans, it was the penultimate step on the road to vast new wealth and power. Now, it was only a matter of waiting for the ageing English King to die.

Four days after he had sworn his calamitous oath to William, Harold agreed to take food with Hereward and Torfida at their farmhouse outside the city.

Harold was very subdued when he arrived. Since the banquet, he had taken too much solace in flasks of the Duke’s wine; he looked worn out, with bloodshot eyes and swollen eyelids.

At first he played with the four young daughters of the household, who were then sent off to bed before the eight adults sat down to eat. The Earl obviously enjoyed the boisterousness of the children. Torfida was impressed, noticing how gentle he was with them and how they warmed to him, despite his imposing size and all the finery of his office. Harold began to relax as the adults shared a horn of wine, some pleasantries and good food. When Harold began to talk about the spider’s web of political intrigue in which he was trapped, the other members of the family excused themselves, realizing that sensitive issues
were about to be raised, leaving Hereward and Torfida to their discussions with Earl Harold.

‘Torfida, I have talked with Hereward about the unfortunate circumstances I find myself in, and he has offered me firm words of advice. I hear your knowledge and wisdom extend to many things. What would your counsel be?’

In response, Torfida gave a lucid account of her time with Hereward.

She then talked about her father and how he had predicted her destiny and that of Hereward. ‘He could predict the climate in the affairs of men. He knew from where the political wind blew and sensed when a storm was brewing in a kingdom’s skies.’

‘He sounds like the old seers at the court of the Danish kings, in the days before King Edward.’

‘Seers are wise men, my Lord. My father was the wisest of them all, I believe.’

‘What would he have said to me?’

Torfida looked solemn. ‘Forgive my forthright answer, my Lord, but you have asked me a direct question. You are a man of noble spirit. You know right from wrong by second nature, because your heart is good and true. You hold the future of England in your hands. William’s avarice knows no bounds and he has been promised the throne of England. No one can stop him taking it – except you.’

‘I have sworn a holy oath in front of many witnesses. Word will already be on its way to Rome. I cannot renege on an oath.’

‘But if King Edward were to change his mind about the succession, the oath would be null and void. No matter
how reluctant you were, you acted only in good faith, as your King had asked.’

‘But the King will not be swayed.’

‘My Lord, you must tell him what Duke William is like and of the cruelty he will mete out to the people of England.’

Hereward reinforced Torfida’s view with his opinion of William. It was a view that Harold had been reluctant to hear during their march back from Brittany.

This time Hereward did not seek permission. ‘I have seen many acts of ruthlessness in war and many atrocious things done in the pursuit of vengeance, but this man is like no other. There is a sinister darkness in him. Not only is he driven by perverted passions, he is also a master of intrigue and deceit. It is a frightening combination.’

Harold thought for several minutes about what had been said to him, before rising to stand by the fire, kicking at its ashes. ‘I miss the fire in my hall at Glastonbury. I pine for England and a people I care about so much, but it is hard for me to accept your argument, no matter how forcefully you put it.

‘I may be the Earl Marshal of England and the Earl of Wessex, but my family is not of royal descent. Godwin, my father, was an exceptional man who elevated our family from obscurity to be the most powerful in England. His father, Wulfnoth, was like you, Hereward. He was a local thegn, from Compton, a small village in Sussex. Godwin was a splendid warrior, became a favourite of King Cnut and rose rapidly. Cnut made him Earl of Wessex. Now, four of my brothers are earls of England and my sister, Edith, is King Edward’s queen; all thanks to my father’s prowess.
But, despite our positions, we are new blood and there is much barely concealed resentment among some of the old English families. So imagine my anxiety at now contemplating becoming King.’