Conquest (23 page)

He paused, not moving, or even blinking; he just stared, wide-eyed, as the reflections of the flames flickered across his face.

Then, he stirred from his musing. ‘I mustn’t tarry any longer with idle thoughts. I have stayed long enough here in the land of the Normans. I have done my worst. I wish it were otherwise, but the deed is done.’ He turned to Hereward and Torfida with a new resolve. ‘England beckons, my friends. I must speak with the King about all that has happened here. Hereward, if I seek your release from the Duke, will you return to England with me? I will gladly have you in my service as a captain in my housecarls. Torfida, you can bring your wisdom and fill our heads with knowledge and ideas.’

‘My Lord, Hereward is banished from England. There are many who would not welcome his presence.’

‘It is ten years since he was made an outlaw. I will recommend him to the King as part of my retinue. His banishment will be revoked; you have my word on that.’

Hereward answered for both of them. ‘My Lord, we will be honoured to serve you and return to England. We pledge ourselves to you and to the people of England with all our hearts.’

It took only a day for word to reach Hereward that Harold had secured his release from Duke William. In two days’ time they would ride north to Fécamp, where Harold’s ship was at anchor, to embark for England.

Before their departure, Hereward was summoned by William for an audience.

‘You have obviously made a good impression on the Earl of Wessex. He was most insistent that you accompany him to England.’

‘The Earl has told me that my banishment will be revoked. It is a very important opportunity for me, and I thank you for releasing me from your service.’

‘Is Normandy not to your liking? I thought I had found a warrior who would be in my service for many years to come.’

‘My Lord Duke, I hope I have served you well, but I never imagined that one day I might have the chance to return to my home.’ Hereward found himself employing a subtle feint, knowing full well that William was weighing his position and manoeuvring himself to his best advantage. ‘But I am not entirely lost to you, your Grace. If I now go into the service of the Earl of Wessex, then, in accordance with the oath you have both sworn, I will soon be returned to you. When you are made King of England, the Earl of Wessex will be your Earl Marshal. He will answer to you, as I will to him, and we will both do your bidding.’

‘I wonder about you, Hereward of Bourne. Are you far shrewder than your muscle-bound frame might suggest, or are you just well rehearsed by that clever wife of yours? You have served me well enough, but there is a reticence about you that makes me think you are not truly loyal.’

‘Your Grace, I hope that I have been diligent in my service to you. My desire to serve the Earl of Wessex is not meant to be disrespectful to you in any way, quite the opposite. I
have learned much about Norman ways that will be of great benefit to the English army.’

Hereward was becoming adept at the diplomatic language of dukes and kings and hoped that William did not notice the irony of his answer.

‘Train them well; I will need a strong army to protect my northern borders against the Scandinavians. Fair winds to England; I will see you there in due course. You will be at my coronation in Westminster.’

‘Thank you, your Grace.’

As Hereward turned and reached the door of the Great Hall for the last time, he congratulated himself on the successful outcome of his verbal sparring with William. He thought he had done well in responding to William’s doubts about his sudden desire to throw in his lot with the Earl of Wessex.

However, just as he was about to step through the doorway, he was suddenly robbed of his moment of satisfaction.

‘Hereward, remember, when we meet again, I will be your King and you will be my subject. You would be wise to remember that.’

With eleven extra bodies in the Earl of Wessex’s flagship, conditions were cramped for the crossing to England.

For the children, it was their first experience under sail and a daunting one as, mid-Channel, the ship began to heave in a heavy sea. Torfida told them some of her exotic stories and Martin sang their favourite lullabies; as he sang, the entire ship’s company listened in silence. The only other sounds were the cracking of the great sail and the creaking
of the vessel’s timbers as they were tossed and twisted by the waves.

For Hereward and Torfida it was a poignant moment. They had been away for a long time and were returning to a land they thought they would never see again.

For Harold, with every league they travelled, he was getting closer to a kingdom, the fate of which would soon be his to determine.

They made landfall close to the mouth of the river Rother in Sussex and, within an hour, were tying up at the small settlement of Rye in the manor of Rameslie. Men were despatched to find horses for their long journey along the Downs to Winchester, which, as it was mid-November and the wind from the west was likely to be raw, would be a demanding ride.

Traversing the Downs at speed was an exhilarating experience; even Alphonso, who did not care much for northern climes, appreciated the sense of vitality it brought. It had been agreed that Hereward and his party would stay in Bosham, the harbour settlement of Chichester, where Harold had lands and from where he had set sail for Normandy. Harold would see the King privately at Winchester, to gauge his mood and to hear his current thoughts about the succession. If the King could be persuaded to see him, Harold would send for Hereward, whose first-hand experience might persuade Edward to reconsider his nomination of William as his heir.

The two parties went their separate ways at Arundel. Harold took twelve men north-west towards Winchester, while Hereward and the rest of the retinue headed directly west on the old road to Chichester and Bosham.

To everyone’s dismay, several months passed, during which little was heard from Harold.

The inference was obvious: all was not well with the King. The winter of 1064 turned to the spring of 1065, and Hereward and his loyal band busied themselves to help the people of Bosham. Although they were guests of the Lord of the Manor, they were still a burden on the resources of the area and its people, so they dutifully bent their backs to the mundanity of agriculture and the tedium of domesticity.

To everyone’s relief, word eventually came from Harold in May. The King was to travel to London to see his new abbey church at Westminster. After many years of toil, Edward’s masterpiece, the epitome of his ambition to build a new England, was finished. The most impressive structure in his realm, it was built in the Romanesque style of his Norman kin.

Harold’s message told them to meet him in London on the first day of June. The fact that they had been summoned to London must mean that there had been a development of some kind. Hereward and Torfida travelled alone, while the others went west to Glastonbury, Harold’s seat in Wessex.

London was a thriving community within the old Roman fortress, and an important strategic stronghold. Under Edward’s influence, new houses and wharves were being built all around the old Roman city – to the east at Wapping, across the River Thames at Southwark and Lambeth, and to the west around his new cathedral at Westminster.

They had been told to meet at a large house on Ludgate Hill, the home of Edith Swan-Neck, who enjoyed the bustle of London much more than she did the sedate atmosphere
of Glastonbury. Her house was a sight to behold, decorated with fine furniture, silks, tapestries and silver plate more fitting for a queen than a concubine. As her name suggested, she was statuesquely tall with a long, willowy neck. Her blonde hair was tied tightly and cascaded down the length of her back. Her svelte frame was draped in a beautiful crimson silk dress, embroidered with a fine gold border and topped by an upright collar. She had slim hips, a taut stomach – remarkable for a woman who had produced five children – and, to the fascination of everyone who saw her, prodigious breasts, accentuated by her slender build.

Edith was not self-conscious about her womanly assets. She did not try to disguise her femaleness, but was proud of her sexuality. Her face was not beautiful, but it had strikingly sensual features that struck Hereward immediately: strong cheekbones and jaw, an aquiline nose, large emerald-green eyes and full lips.

Harold greeted Hereward and Torfida, before making the introductions. Edith displayed the same flirtatiousness with Torfida as she did towards men, but Torfida responded warmly. She recognized that Edith was a woman who commanded respect and was able to hold her own in a man’s world.

‘I’m afraid I have few intellectual gifts, Torfida, but I try to make the best of the generous assets God has given me. How I wish I had been granted your marvellous blend of beauty and brains. Hereward is a lucky man …’ She grabbed both Hereward and Torfida. ‘And you’re a lucky woman; look at him, what a beast he is.’ She laughed aloud, and pulled them over to sit with her.

The four of them talked for several hours as they enjoyed
good English fare and copious amounts of mead. It had been a long excursion in Normandy for Harold, and an even longer exile for Hereward and Torfida. There was much to talk about and, for the most part, it was domestic and mundane chatter.

There would be ample opportunity only too soon for a debate about the perils facing Harold and England.

On the second evening at Ludgate Hill, the conversation finally turned to the pressing issue of the succession to the English throne.

Edward’s health was beginning to decline and he was becoming more and more sullen and cantankerous. Harold did not think he had much more than a few months to live, perhaps less. He had spoken to the King many times on the subject of the succession, but Edward remained steadfast in his view that England needed a new future and that it had to come from Normandy.

Hereward came to the point quickly. ‘My Lord, did you suggest yourself to the King as his successor?’

‘Now is not the time. Edward will talk of only one other candidate besides William: Edgar, the true Atheling, a Saxon of the ancient Cerdic bloodline of the West Saxons, and the grandson of Edward’s half-brother, Edmund Ironside, who was King of England fifty years ago.’

The Cerdician kings could trace their ancestry back many generations through Alfred the Great to Egbert, King of the West Saxons, and, beyond him, to the original Saxon settlers of England, a lineage spanning hundreds of years. Except for the recent rule of the Scandinavians, every King of England had been of Cerdician blood.

‘Unfortunately, Edgar is only a boy of fourteen, and the King doesn’t think he will be strong enough to keep the Scandinavians at bay. He remains convinced that only William can do that.’

Hereward saw an opportunity for a compromise position. ‘But what if you were to be the Atheling’s Regent? With your army behind him, England could repel Hardrada and anyone else, even William.’

‘Sadly, Edward remains preoccupied with moving England closer to Europe. Nominating Edgar to succeed him would, in his mind, move England further away from his ambition for its future.’

‘When we spoke in Normandy, you said that Edward believed that kings should be born, not chosen by the Witan or by popular acclaim. Surely he contradicts himself by avoiding a successor who is of true royal blood?’

‘There are many contradictions in the character of our King. As for the right to rule through blood, if he thought Edgar would support Norman ways and bring more Normans to his realm, he might agree. But Edgar is a Saxon, part of a hidebound tradition the King is determined to break. And remember, Edgar was born in the home of the Magyars, in the land of Hungary. His father sought protection from their king after he had been exiled to Sweden when Cnut the Dane became our king. He had never set foot in England until a few years ago, and there are even doubts about how loyal the Saxon earls would be to him.’

Harold continued his discourse, outlining a story in which he himself played a controversial role. ‘Edgar’s father, Edward, was announced as the Atheling, Edward’s
chosen successor, in 1054. Two years later, I was charged with bringing the young Edward from Hungary and escorting him and his family to England. He arrived laden with treasure and to much excitement. Here was the son of Edmund Ironside, grandson of Athelred, great-grandson of the good King Edgar, the perfect Saxon solution to the dilemma of the childless King Edward. Not a warrior by any means, but an astute and honourable young prince. Most importantly for the King’s long-term plan for his realm, he had been raised in the heart of sophisticated Europe, amid the heritage of Charlemagne’s noble tradition, a legacy that the King much admired. Edward was thrilled: his prayers for an heir, whom he could nurture and mould, had been answered.

‘Then, within days of the Prince’s arrival, there was a catastrophe. He fell seriously ill at Rochester and, to this day, no one knows why. He wasn’t even well enough to travel to Winchester to see the King. He couldn’t eat, his bowels emptied like a torrent and he died in just four days. The physicians suspected an assassin had poisoned him.’

‘It could only have been at William the Bastard’s bidding!’ Hereward spat out his instantaneous condemnation, remembering the gleam in the Duke’s eye as he contemplated the prospect of the English throne.

Edith joined the conversation animatedly. ‘Many said it was Harold who had planned it, as he had most to gain, and that I, a wicked temptress, had given the boy a deadly potion.’

Harold remembered the events with evident irritation. ‘Of course, the King knew I wasn’t responsible. Why would I travel all the way to the banks of the Danube to rescue
the lad and then have him poisoned in Rochester?’ Harold paused and looked at his companions with a forlorn expression, seemingly tired of the intrigues of emperors, kings and princes. ‘So there you have it. Edgar is now the true Atheling of the Saxon line.’

Torfida, like Hereward, could see the potential for Edgar to succeed in his minority, with Harold as Regent. ‘What is young Edgar like? Could he be King?’