Conquest (43 page)

‘Yes, sir. The Normans have split their force at Tadcaster. The Duke has sent two of his most senior men to York. They are to re-garrison the city, help the locals rebuild their houses and businesses and erect a new Norman stronghold. William has gone east to the Humber to negotiate with the Danes.’ Uhtred had lowered his voice for the final sentence.

‘He’s done what? My God, he must have passed within a couple of miles of us.’

‘Sir, he moves so quickly, it is impossible to keep pace with him.’

Hereward turned away in fury. ‘Will he never give us breathing space? Will he never make a mistake? He outflanks us, out-thinks us, outpaces us. And now he’s ambushing us by going to parley with our own allies! Damn him! Damn him to Hell!’

He started to pace up and down silently, then barked at Uhtred. ‘How many men?’

‘Arkil thinks two thousand on their way to York and another two thousand with the Duke. All heavy cavalry, in full armour, with plenty of provisions. We counted at least a dozen lords with gonfalons and more than a hundred knights’ pennons.’

‘Thank you, Uhtred, for an excellent report – and well ridden. Go and get some rest.’

‘Thank you, sir. I’m sorry it’s not better news.’

Einar waited for a moment before addressing Hereward, who had his head thrown back in exasperation and was inhaling deeply.

‘There is still a chance to talk to the Danes; they have no love for the Normans.’

‘I know, but then we should take Prince Edgar with us. Osbjorn is brother to a king. If he’s going to ask his men to put their lives at risk on foreign soil, the covenant has to be between Edgar and Osbjorn.’

Prince Edgar spoke without hesitation. ‘Hereward, I am happy to go, whatever the risk.’

‘Thank you, my Lord Prince, but I must insist that you don’t. It’s not safe. William will have set a trap.’

Einar spoke much more forcefully than usual. ‘Then you
and I will go, with Edwin. You are Regent in all but name; they will listen to you.’

‘No, we would go to our certain deaths. I don’t trust the Danes. It is obvious now why they returned to their ships and took William Malet and Gilbert of Ghent as hostages. They never had any intention of standing with us against William’s army.’

Einar waited patiently, giving his friend time to think.

Eventually, Hereward spoke. ‘We wait. We wait to hear the outcome of William’s parley with the Danes. Double the sentries and post men all the way to York. At the first hint of any Normans moving towards us, we must know immediately so that we can be ready to move before they snare us like Cospatrick’s men. Keep everyone busy and alert.’

Einar and the others then left Hereward alone to ponder their fate.

No matter how brilliant Hereward’s strategy, William responded in equal measure; no matter how carefully he prepared, misfortune seemed to dog every fleeting success.

Even more disheartening was the ever more evident reality that the great majority of the English simply lacked the will to resist the Norman occupation.

25. The Harrying of the North

The news Hereward feared most arrived just three days after Uhtred’s report of William’s march north and his audacious plan to negotiate with Osbjorn of Denmark.

The young messenger spoke clearly and without emotion. ‘Duke William and the Danes have come to an agreement. A major part of the Danish army will spend the winter on the Humber, on the Isle of Axholme. They will be allowed to hunt and forage within a radius of fifty miles of their camp and the Normans will send them additional supplies from York and Lincoln if needed. William Malet and Gilbert of Ghent and their families have been released. In addition, a Danegeld has been paid and sent to Denmark on this morning’s tide. It is an amount so large that it took three hours to load the chests of silver and gold on to the Danish longships. But the treasure represents only half of the levy; an equal amount will be paid in the spring of next year, when the remaining Danes sail home.’

Hereward questioned the messenger further. ‘What of William and his army, will they return to Winchester?’

‘No, sir. The Duke has sent to Winchester for his crown and regalia. He is to celebrate his Christmas crown-wearing at York in his new motte and bailey.’

‘Yes – and, at the same time, keep an eye on the Danes of course!’ Hereward observed. He was becoming hardened to misfortune and reversals.

This time, Prince Edgar was the first to ask what their new plan would be.

Hereward was succinct in his reply. ‘It will soon be October. The Danes will not fight, but will sit on their ill-gotten gains and grow fat in their winter camp. William will light fires and eat Yorkshire’s game in his Great Hall and parade around in his crown, thinking he is Charlemagne. As for us, we must lie low once more. Don’t go to Malcolm – I don’t trust him not to be seduced by William’s riches and hand you over to the Normans. Go north, high into the Pennines, and make a secure winter camp there. Wait for news from me; we will launch a new campaign in the spring.’

‘Do you still have the heart for this, my brave Hereward?’

‘As long as the Normans plunder this land, I have the heart for it.’

The Prince thanked Hereward warmly, while Einar gave Edgar advice about where he should go.

‘My Lord, go to the head of the valley of the Swale; no one will find you there. There is some good pasture, and the valley is deep and will protect you from the winter gales. I know the area well. We can reach you from our camp without having to leave the sanctuary of the Pennines. There is an old housecarl who lives in the Swale. His name is Osulf – I served with him for Aelfgar, Earl of Northumbria. He will be invaluable to you. Winters can be very hard there.’

‘Thank you, Einar. What will you do, Hereward?’

‘We will return to our base on Clitheroe Hill for the winter. It is better if our forces are spread far and wide; it will keep William guessing. I will send for news of Eadric
in Mercia, and of the forces of Godwin Haroldson in the South West, and pass it on to you.’

‘Be careful, my good and loyal friend.’

‘I will, my Prince. God’s speed to your safe haven.’

Edgar’s force rode off at a gallop. He took many good men with him, including Waltheof and Siward Bjorn.

Hereward wondered if he would ever see any of them again.

Within a few hours of the Atheling’s departure, Hereward had made a decision.

‘Einar, lead the men back across the Pennines to Clitheroe Hill. Edwin, Edmund and I are going to see a Danish prince.’

The Danish camp at Axholme was a flurry of activity. A significant wooden palisade was being built on what was, in effect, an island. The ground was being cleared for wooden barracks and a massive centre post was being driven into the ground for Prince Osbjorn’s Great Hall.

The Englishmen were given a warm welcome. Osbjorn was tall, but lacking the heavy build of a typical Danish warrior, and more resembled a diplomat or a cleric. Paradoxically, the cleric standing to Osbjorn’s right – Christian, the Bishop of Aarhus – had both the build and demeanour of a housecarl. Harold and Cnut, King Svein’s sons, were imposing men who looked more than capable of leading an army into battle. Osbjorn introduced several senior Danish nobles and magnates from Poland, Saxony and Lithuania, all of whom would be taking home significant shares of the bounty from William’s treasury.

‘Prince Osbjorn, thank you for seeing us. I am Hereward
of Bourne, commander of the forces of Edgar the Atheling, rightful heir to the throne of England. You have met Edwin before, my aide-de-camp. This is Edmund of Kent, my standard-bearer.’

‘Gentlemen, please sit and eat with us. We are roasting some fine English mutton.’

‘Thank you, sire.’

‘Hereward of Bourne, we are honoured to have you in our camp. Your reputation goes before you. Edwin we know well. He is a fine young soldier. We were delighted to have him at our court in Aarhus.’

‘Prince Osbjorn, I will come to the point.’

‘Of course.’

‘William, Duke of Normandy has been here.’

‘He has. I am amused that you still refer to him as the “Duke of Normandy”. I thought he had ruled here as King for almost three years.’

‘Only by force of arms.’

‘Many kings win their throne by force of arms.’

‘That is true. But many kings are also unseated by force of arms, and that will be William’s fate. Isn’t that why you came here – to help us do that?’

Prince Osbjorn was a man of palpable intelligence and cunning and did not take offence at the bluntness of Hereward’s question. ‘Following your pleas, conveyed by Edwin, I was asked to lead our forces by my brother, King Svein. Our objective was to bring a large enough army to help the English in their campaign against King William – the “Duke”, as you call him. We destroyed his navy, as you asked. We caused disruption along the east coast, as you asked. And then, with Prince Edgar and his men, we
stormed the gates of York and put the Normans to flight … as you asked.’

‘Yes, you did all that we asked of you, and for that we are grateful. But the final piece of the strategy was to rout William in the North with an attack on his main force, after which we would sweep south together and claim the Kingdom.’

‘Yes, we know.’

‘But then you parleyed with him and filled your longships with gold and silver!’ Hereward’s voice was rising in anger. ‘Why?’

‘Let me do some reckoning for you. We are close to six thousand; William has four thousand heavy cavalry and more could be summoned at any time. How many men could you have brought to the field?’

‘Several thousand, Prince Osbjorn.’

‘Our estimate is two thousand at best. And your cavalry is light cavalry; you don’t have heavy Norman horses.’

‘It would have been enough, sire.’

‘Forgive me, it would not. Six thousand Danes … two thousand Englishmen … Should it not have been the other way round? Aren’t we on English soil, fighting for an English crown? If the circumstances were reversed, and we were in Denmark, we would be able to put twenty-five thousand men into the fray.’

Prince Osbjorn’s blunt analysis was difficult to accept, but Hereward knew it was accurate. ‘So, you’ve taken William’s geld instead.’

‘Of course! We have an army to feed and many supporters to reward.’

The pragmatic summary delivered by the Prince was the
only logical position that the Danes could have taken. Nevertheless, it made Hereward angry – angry that only two thousand Englishmen could be mustered to stand with the Danes.

‘I am sorry, Hereward of Bourne. We respect William’s heavy cavalry. Our view is that, without cavalry, we would need to have an advantage of at least two to one for our shield wall to hold. Remember what your cavalry did to Hardrada at Stamford Bridge, and bear in mind that Harold’s mighty shield wall eventually gave way to the destriers at Senlac Ridge.’

Hereward, angry and saddened, rose to leave, resigned to the brutal reality that Osbjorn had described. ‘My Lord Prince, I thank you for your candour. Many a man would have engaged in platitudes and tried to exact an advantage from us.’

The Prince beckoned Hereward to one side, away from everyone’s hearing, and spoke in a hushed voice. ‘Let me tell you frankly our position. William is no lover of the sea and has no skills as commander of a fleet. Therefore, as it has been for centuries, England’s east coast will be vulnerable to us for a long time to come. Malcolm, King of the Scots, is our ally and a serious threat to England. Then there is Edgar and your English rebellion; there is much we can exploit here and William is rich. We will take William’s money for as long as he’s prepared to offer it. As for you, we will stand with you only if you can muster six or seven thousand housecarls and at least four thousand men on war horses.’

‘And your price, my Lord?’

‘A new Danelaw: Lincoln, Nottingham, Gloucester and
everything to their north would be Danish. Our capital would be at York. The South would be English.’

‘That is a high price, even for a Dane!’

‘Yes, it is half your kingdom – and we Danes would say it’s the better half! But when you have found ten thousand men, we can haggle about the price. As you know, we have decided to stay for the winter. We thought there would be a few more twists in this tale before it ran its course. Come back and talk in the spring; you will always be welcome here.’

‘Thank you. But you must realize that if I had ten thousand men, I wouldn’t need the support of the Danes.’

‘Perhaps, but William is an awesome opponent. Never underestimate him.’

‘I’ve learned not to. Winter well here in Axholme.’

‘Thank you. Good luck in your noble attempts to rouse your English comrades.’

The two men parted far more amicably than at first seemed possible. At least Hereward now knew the full extent of the dilemma he faced.

It was going to be a long hard winter of reflection in his Pennine eyrie.

Clitheroe Hill, his family and his girls were an uplifting sight as Hereward approached the camp – a home that was beginning to have an air of permanence about it. Gohor’s men had built a wooden hall with a stone hearth for the family, and his men were building longhouses to replace their canvas tents and pelt lean-tos; the Pennines was not a place to be huddled in a makeshift shelter through the long winter months.

Hereward’s band had become smaller. Some men were ill, some had injuries or wounds that refused to heal, and some had asked to go, weary of the fight. When the four squadrons which had been campaigning with Eadric returned, the 80 men who had gone with him had dwindled to 56. A roll-call was taken. Only 268 Englishmen remained at Hereward’s side.

The winter of 1069 was particularly hard. Pen Hill was enveloped by deep snow from mid-November onwards, and the camp was engulfed by several heavy blizzards. At the turn of the year, although it did not seem possible, the weather worsened. Hunting became difficult, even dangerous; nights were long and black; firewood became sparse and spring seemed a long way off. The only comfort was that the dead of winter made England subdued. Few men stirred, offering at least a chimera of peace and tranquillity.