Conquest (40 page)

Hereward had another question. ‘What are these men like?’

‘They fight well enough and have helped Eadric become a sharp thorn in William’s side. They destroyed a half-finished Norman motte and bailey at Hereford and now hold the borders, more or less unopposed. William’s heavy cavalry are no match for them on high ground.’

‘Do you think they would venture beyond the borders and move east to attack Nottingham, Warwick, or even Lincoln?’

‘It is doubtful whether the Welsh would support Eadric that far from their homeland.’

‘And what of the Danes?’

‘Many messages have been sent. Their king, Svein Estrithson, says he will come when the time is right.’

Hereward spent a few moments pondering Edmund’s answer before commenting. ‘We have to think about the Danes carefully. They will demand a great deal in return for their support – perhaps the whole kingdom! There is little point in removing a Norman, only to replace him with a Dane. But it is good to know he will come. If his army has to be bought, what do we have?’

‘I have brought all of King Harold’s remaining treasury with me. Half his wealth went with his three sons to Ireland, some went to his daughters in exile in Flanders, and Edith Swan-Neck has enough for herself. What remains is sufficient to support this small force plus the men I’ve dispersed around the earldoms.’

‘But nothing left to entice the Danes?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir. Our resources are very limited, especially compared to the plundered gold and silver available to the Duke.’

Hereward left until last the vital question about the most important of England’s surviving forces. ‘What of the Earls of Mercia and Northumbria, Edwin and Morcar?’

‘I’m afraid that is the worst news of all, both have submitted to William and are at his court at Winchester.’

Hereward’s blood rose. ‘Absent on Senlac Ridge, and now they sup with the Devil!’

‘They bring shame to all of us, sir.’

‘What of their housecarls?’

‘Some, the loyal ones from Northumbria, are with us. Some of Edwin’s Mercians are with Eadric the Wild, but most have gone to ground.’

‘These are the men we have to recruit; then we will be much more powerful. So, Edmund, after that gloomy account, I hope you can offer me at least a tiny morsel to nibble on. Tell us some good news.’

‘Well, sir, your judgement to land here in the North has been vindicated. There is good news from Northumbria, and it may be the spark we need. At the turn of the year, William elevated a Norman brigand called Robert de Commines to be Earl of Northumbria. He
arrived with an escort of five hundred men and installed himself in the house of the Bishop of Durham. He and his men then went on the rampage, murdering anyone who stood in their way. Now the whole area has risen against him. Scouts arrived two days ago with news that de Commines and his entire garrison have been put to the sword by a large force, led by the Northumbrian thegns, some of Morcar’s housecarls and a vigilante group formed by the people of Durham. There is now no Norman presence in the North beyond York. What’s more, York is for the taking, as few Normans are within its walls.’

‘Excellent. That will feed our hunger, but we must act quickly.’ Hereward was galvanized. The adrenalin started to rush as he barked his orders. ‘Martin, you must organize your messengers. Their instructions need to be very precise and everyone must act in unison.’

‘How many men?’

‘At least ten. They must be able to ride like the wind and be swift of foot, as they may need to abandon their horses. Have them ready at dawn tomorrow. Edmund, is the Atheling with King Malcolm in Scotland?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. He must come south, proclaiming that he is the rightful King and that his army is on the march under my command. He must gather all the support he can in Durham and continue south to York. York will be our stronghold and, for the time being, our capital city. The Archbishop can crown Edgar as King.’

‘Sir, I’m afraid Archbishop Ealdred has sworn allegiance to William.’

Hereward’s enthusiasm turned to anger. ‘How many traitors do we have in this kingdom?’

‘Too many, sir. Far too many.’

‘Ealdred is clearly a coward, and cowards can be easily persuaded. Martin, word must be sent to our supporters in York that we will approach across the Pennines, and that Edgar will enter from Durham. Emphasize that our arrival is imminent. Convey my congratulations to Eadric the Wild for his brave resistance in Mercia. Tell him that now would be the ideal time to mount another attack on any burgh or city he feels appropriate. Finally, when our base in York is secure, he should be prepared to join us on a full-scale march to the South. Please stress that his Welsh comrades, the Princes Bleddyn and Rhiwallon, are more than welcome as part of his force. A message must go to King Harold’s sons in Dublin, encouraging them to accelerate their raids in Wessex.

‘Next, the Danes. Edwin, this is a task for you. Your blood is sufficiently noble to look King Svein in the eye and say that I would be grateful for his regal presence in England. Tell him that the spoils will be great, but that he must accept Edgar’s sovereignty of England. Edmund, where is Edith Swan-Neck?’

‘She is with the nuns at Lincoln, sir.’

‘She must know of our plans. Her presence in York in support of Edgar would be invaluable. Finally, Edmund, send for the remainder of our men and tell them to bring provisions, blacksmiths, carpenters and cooks. A general rallying call must be sent via your network of scouts for all loyal men to join any of the forces we’ve mentioned, or to instigate actions in their own areas to add momentum to
our cause. Now is the time to act swiftly and decisively. All Norman soldiers are targets; all Norman merchants are to be attacked; all Norman goods are to be plundered. Are there any questions, gentlemen?’

There was no response, only a look of steely determination in the eyes of all present.

‘Very good, let’s rest. Tomorrow we set out to regain a kingdom.’

As Hereward walked away, he took the Talisman from under his smock and looked at it. He remembered Torfida’s words and knew that her spirit was with him.

His sternest test, as leader of the great English rebellion against William and the Normans, had begun.

By midday the next day, the messengers were long gone and Hereward’s force was on the march.

At Einar’s recommendation, it had been agreed that the family, protected by a small group of housecarls under the command of the thegn Hogor, would camp at a place called Clitheroe Hill, an isolated knoll with commanding views over the heavily wooded valley of the Ribble. It would serve as the rear encampment for the approach to York, with a forward camp further into the Pennines at Einar’s birthplace, the fortified hilltop settlement at Skipton, only two days’ ride from York. The baggage train, supplies and treasury would remain on Clitheroe Hill, from where, should things not go well at York, a speedy retreat was possible into the surrounding fells.

As they made their way eastwards, the ground rose and became more remote. Other than a small settlement of monks and peasants at the Abbey of Whalley, they saw no
one between Preston and Clitheroe. The only significant presence was the great cowl of Pen Hill, which glowered at them whenever there was a clearing in the forest. Einar said it was a place of worship for those who still followed the old religion and that Druid sacrifices to the old gods were made from its summit. Hereward paid little attention to the stories, but thought the presence of the massive hill might be propitious. He also knew it was a perfect lookout, should a tactical retreat be needed in the next few weeks.

The parting at Clitheroe was a heart-rending affair. Martin and Einar warmly embraced Ingigerd and Maria, while Gwyneth and Wulfhild, in floods of tears, tugged at their tunics imploring them not to go. To Alphonso’s great embarrassment, Cristina too burst into tears. Hereward picked up his girls, one on each arm. Their beauty and boisterous personalities reminded everyone of Torfida.

Hereward smiled at his precious offspring. ‘Kiss your father goodbye; the men are waiting. I love you both very much.’

The girls spoke in unison and in perfect harmony. ‘We love you too.’

Both girls kissed their father and then joined the others. Hereward mounted his horse, rode up to the head of the column and signalled for it to move off. Edmund unfurled Hereward’s standard: in black, on a gold background, was the twin-bladed Great Axe of Göteborg. Below, in crimson, over the shaft of the axe, was the circular shield of a Saxon housecarl, crossed by two black swords. Each squadron leader carried pennons on their lances in the new colours – gold, crimson and black – the colours of the Talisman and of Hereward’s own battle-shield. As the wind blew
from the Pennines, the standard of Hereward of Bourne flew proudly in the cool air of a fresh March day.

Ahead of them was York, the city that Hereward hoped would soon be the new capital of a resurgent England.

When they arrived in the city, the streets of York reverberated with wild rejoicing. Hereward’s clarion call had been heard and the city was full to bursting with people celebrating as if a thrilling victory had been snatched from the jaws of a tragic defeat. There were camps in the woods and fields around the city, men slept in the streets, and the taverns began to run short of mead and beer. The celebrations went on for days.

Edgar the Atheling, who had arrived from Scotland, as requested, with several hundred of King Malcolm’s Scottish warriors, was paraded around the streets to wild cheering. It was remarkable that a Cerdician atheling was being greeted with such enthusiasm in Anglo-Danish Northumbria, the most Scandinavian of all England’s settlements.

Cospatrick, the Earl of Bamburgh, had arrived with a force of over 500 men; Maerlesvein, the Sheriff of Lincoln, brought 300; Earl Waltheof, a senior earl from the East Midlands, brought 200; and Siward Bjorn, a wealthy thegn from Nottingham, contributed 100 to the growing ranks. Eadric the Steersman and Aelfwold of St Benet at Holme, both men from East Anglia, brought 100 men between them. Not counting the fickle Scots, Hereward estimated that, including his own men, the English force was now 1,600 strong; not enough to meet William head-on, but it was a beginning. If they could consolidate in York, a march south could swell their ranks to many thousands.

In his private thoughts, Hereward estimated that he
needed 6,000 men to meet William in a full-scale battle. He presumed that William could not muster many more than that in one place, for fear of losing strongholds that he had already established. Disappointingly, Edith Swan-Neck had not appeared. William’s men were watching her closely and, following the rising at Durham, she had not dared to travel north.

In any case, events in York were certainly worthy of celebration.

English morale had been given a vital boost.

Hereward called a Council of War and insisted that Edgar, as heir apparent, preside.

Bowing to Edgar, Hereward began. ‘Sire, your presence here is the vital piece in our game of chess with William. Our war with William has not yet begun – and must not, until we are stronger.’

‘On whose authority do you speak here, Hereward of Bourne?’

Shaken by this unexpected dissent from Cospatrick, Earl of Bamburgh, Hereward hesitated for a moment before continuing. ‘Well, my Lord of Bamburgh, I was asked by Edith Swan-Neck to lead a revolt on behalf of Edgar the Atheling, heir to the throne of England.’

‘Edith Swan-Neck does not have authority here in Northumbria.’

‘No, but I do!’ Maerlesvein spoke with barely concealed fury. ‘When Earl Morcar was defeated at Gate Fulford by Hardrada, King Harold appointed me Governor of Northumbria until he could speak to Morcar about the earldom. As Harold is now dead, my authority here still stands. So,
with Prince Edgar’s permission, I give Hereward authority to lead this Council.’

Edgar nodded his approval and Hereward continued.

‘Thank you, Maerlesvein of Lincoln.’ He turned to Cospatrick. ‘My Lord Earl, now is not the time for us to argue. Do I have your support?’

‘Yes, but let us be clear – neither I nor my men will go scurrying south in the futile hope of removing William from the throne of Westminster. The Saxon earls have lost that battle. Wessex, Kent, East Anglia – those earldoms have gone to the Normans. Don’t expect the Northumbrians to get them back for you. What we will fight for is a kingdom here in York. I’m not sure Prince Edgar is the right choice to rule here but, if he has the support of the Danes and Malcolm Canmore, then I suppose that’s who it must be.’

‘Allow me to thank my Lord Bamburgh for such a heartfelt endorsement,’ the young Prince interjected.

His sarcasm lessened the tension a little, but it did not thwart Waltheof, Earl of the East Midlands.

‘The Earl of Bamburgh is a fool! What’s more, he’s always been a fool. He’s got a nerve to stand here and talk to us about Saxon defeats. First of all, after the Northumbrians and Mercians had been taught a lesson by Hardrada’s Norwegians at Gate Fulford, it was King Harold’s army, largely composed of housecarls from the earldoms of the South, which routed the Norse at Stamford Bridge!’

Men shouted at one another as the Council split between North and South, each faction accusing the other of cowardice and treachery.

Earl Waltheof raised his voice above the din, despite
Hereward’s attempts to stop him. ‘My Lords, consider who was missing from Senlac Ridge! Cospatrick for one …’

The Council began to resemble a riot.

Waltheof, his blood up, screamed, ‘… And those other cowards – Edwin and Morcar – who are, at this very minute, licking the fat arse of William the Bastard!’

Swords were drawn and axes raised as men closed in on one another. The gathering was in danger of turning into a civil war rather than a council of war, when, with a deafening crack, Hereward slammed the Great Axe of Göteborg into the middle of the high table. The rapidly advancing factions stopped in their tracks and silence replaced the mayhem.

Hereward took two breaths, then spoke with the strained voice of a man struggling to control his rage. ‘You have until noon tomorrow. Any man still in the city by then will, by his presence, recognize Prince Edgar as the future King of England and accept my authority over all the forces loyal to the Atheling. If any man still here does not so recognize and accept, I will split him asunder with this axe, so help me God! Now go, all of you!’