They remained wide-eyed for days afterwards, overwhelmed by the incomparable sites before them: the Emperor’s Palace and the Hagia Sophia; monasteries, schools of learning, great houses and luxuriant gardens; huge warehouses of traders’ goods and street upon street of shops, selling everything they could think of and much else besides. None of them had ever seen anything like it, and they decided to stay for several weeks.
Torfida spent hours talking to the learned and the devout pilgrims who thronged the Hagia, the greatest church in Christendom. There were travellers from as far away as Baghdad, Jerusalem and Alexandria, all with tales of Arab learning and achievements in mathematics, astronomy and architecture.
When it was time to move on, they bought passage on a Greek merchant ship bound for Brindisi via Athens. As they sailed further and further from Constantinople, Hereward’s admiration for the scale of the Byzantine Empire grew and grew. Even several days out from Athens, and hugging the Greek coastline west of the island of Corfu, they were still within the realm of the Emperor of Constantinople. After finally disembarking at Brindisi, they began their journey across the flat plains and into the rugged hills of southern Italy. They were now at the limit of the Byzantine Empire and on the border of lands under the hegemony of the Norman lords of southern Italy.
Torfida felt invigorated by the warmth of the land and its exotic atmosphere. It was May; everything was in full bloom and the countryside was alive with insects, birds and wildflowers.
Late one evening, as they relaxed in their camp after dinner, Torfida nestled close to Hereward and whispered, ‘I told you we should come south, the warm air obviously agrees with me…’ She paused. ‘… I’m pregnant.’
‘My darling Torfida! I’m so happy. Let’s hope this man, Robert Guiscard, is a man worth fighting for and that we can find a position with him. We are going to need to work for our living… and for our baby.’
‘We will find useful work, worry not.’
They told the others immediately and there was much celebrating that night. Einar, who had grown to like Byzantine wine and always seemed to have a flask somewhere in his baggage, quickly made one appear to ensure that the merriment carried on well into the night. Martin sang his Celtic verses about maidens and heroes, love and comradeship.
Hereward looked at Torfida. He loved her very much, and now she had his child growing inside her. He turned to look out over the hills to the Adriatic Sea in the distance, radiant in the moonlight. What a strange journey theirs was: where would their adventure end?
And what would be their fate when they got there?
The bastion of Robert Guiscard stood menacingly on a strategic hilltop, some way back from the fertile plain of the Adriatic.
A stone keep was under construction within its palisaded walls, and large groups of people seemed to be making their way towards the city. Every building flew a flag or banner of some kind and from the pinnacle of the keep flew the striking red and gold emblem of the Count himself. Robert was the sixth of the nine sons of Tancred de Hauteville, an adventurer of humble birth from Normandy, who had fought his way to success and power. He was like many Normans of his time: brave and daring with an overpowering desire for conquest.
Hereward and his companions soon discovered the cause of the commotion. In three days’ time, Pope Nicholas II would arrive in Melfi to invest Robert as ruler of not only Apulia, but also of neighbouring Calabria and Sicily. The Normans did not yet hold Sicily and Calabria, but there was method in the Pope’s beneficence. Nicholas had been Pope for only five months and faced two rival powers who challenged Rome’s authority. The Saracens, who were men of Islam and a great menace to Christianity, held Sicily, while Calabria was held by the Byzantine Emperor, Rome’s great rival for control of Christendom. By granting Robert Guiscard sovereignty over these lands, even if only in name, the Pope was giving him an open invitation to venture out and conquer them.
Nicholas II also had an internal squabble, which required a solution. He had a rival, Benedict X, who claimed the Holy See, and had declared himself Pope on the death of the previous incumbent. Although he had been forced to flee Rome by Nicholas, Benedict still represented a threat. Nicholas needed Norman martial prowess to make Benedict come to heel. By allying himself with the Normans, and giving holy purpose to their private ambitions, Nicholas hoped to extend his influence to the whole of Italy.
Torfida was beside herself with excitement at the prospect of seeing the Pope, the one called ‘Holiness’, the man who had the ear of God himself. Once again, Torfida took on the guise of a noble lady. She would act as if she were on a pilgrimage to Rome and had decided to make a detour on the occasion of the Pope’s visit.
When the Pope arrived, he brought an entourage of over 250 people: 200 elite guards from his own private army, plus several cardinals, bishops and advisers, as well as myriad bureaucrats, servants and cooks. Not many looked like clerics; save for a few monks in their cassocks, most looked like soldiers, for in those troubled times, most men of the cloth were also men of the sword.
Pope Nicholas was younger than Torfida had imagined. She stared intently at the great gold crucifix around his neck, gleaming in the sun, rubies and emeralds at each corner. More like a weapon of war than an instrument of a disciple of Christ, his mace, embossed with the crossed keys of the Vatican, rested across his right elbow. He wore a short red cape, edged in ermine, and a tall conical cap encrusted with yet more precious stones. As he passed in his open carriage, he opened his palms in a gesture of peace to the adoring crowds.
Two powerful men from Rome accompanied the Pope. The first was the wise old Abbot Desiderius of Monte Cassino, whom Nicholas had just appointed Cardinal Priest and Papal Legate to Campania, Benevento, Apulia and Calabria. The second was the Benedictine monk Hildebrand, Papal Ambassador at Large and thought to be the most astute man in Europe. The Pope needed these two men at his side if his reign was to have any meaning. Not only did he have military and political problems, he was also faced with deep-seated moral issues within the Church.
First of all, he wanted to reform the process of elections to the papacy, to avoid schisms and the emergence of rival popes. Secondly, simony, the sale of ecclesiastical positions, encouraged widespread corruption throughout Christendom. Thirdly, concubinage, the taking of wives by members of the Church, was common throughout Europe and led to widespread criticism of the hypocrisy of its priesthood. These issues led to frequent revolts within the clergy and the growth of radical reform groups.
In short, the Church of Rome was in tumult and Nicholas was planning a series of synods to cure it of its ills.
It would not be easy.
The investiture at Melfi was a grand affair. Robert Guiscard knelt before the Pontiff and kissed his ring before the Pope placed three crowns on his head in succession, to symbolize his lordship of the three domains. Each crowning was accompanied by loud cheering and a fanfare from Melfi’s walls by three sets of trumpeters: one from the Vatican, one from the local Italian nobility and one from Guiscard’s Norman army.
It had been announced that, following the ceremonial rites, the Pope would say mass in the open air, after which the congregation could file past for a blessing. Einar and the three women were in position early, to be close to the front, but Martin and Hereward watched from a distance, feeling rather more cynical about the sanctity of Rome.
The worshippers were brought forward in large groups and knelt before the Pope, heads bowed, to receive the papal anointing. When it came to the turn of Torfida’s group, instead of moving on after the blessing, she stood, genuflected, and spoke directly to the Pontiff.
It was unheard of for anyone to speak to the Pope without being spoken to first. The papal guards moved forward to apprehend Torfida; Einar, who was just behind her, looked back towards Hereward and Martin with an anxious glance. Pope Nicholas looked bemused and turned to his companions, Desiderius and Hildebrand, both of whom were smiling wryly. He also began to smile and signal
led to his guards to relent. Torfida had spoken in impeccable Latin and had asked him, in the most humble of ways, if he had ever read the writings of the Venerable Bede, the Anglo-Saxon scholar-monk, especially The Martyrology of the Birthdays of the Holy Martyrs.
There were a few moments of agonizing silence, as Torfida waited to hear if the Pope would respond. She kept her head bowed as far as it would go, her eyes firmly closed. Hereward shifted uneasily. He was desperate to be by her side and thought back to his moment of truth in front of Macbeth’s army.
This was Torfida’s moment.
Pope Nicholas spoke clearly and confessed that although he had heard of Bede, he had never studied his works.
‘But I have,’ interrupted Hildebrand.
‘And so have I,’ said Cardinal Desiderius. He turned to Torfida. ‘How do you know the writings of Bede, my child?’
Torfida was at least ten yards from the three holy men and had to project in a clear and loud voice. ‘My father read them to me when I was a little girl, your Eminence, I know them by heart.’
‘But there are hundreds of pages.’
‘His words are wise and easy to remember, and my father was an excellent teacher.’
The Pope, now charmed by Torfida’s exemplary Latin and, no doubt, her beauty, spoke again. ‘Who was your father?’
‘A priest of Winchester, your Holiness, a scholar and confessor to Queen Emma, mother of Edward, King of England.’
‘What became of your father?’
‘That is a long story, your Holiness. One which would delay you unnecessarily and prevent these good people from receiving your blessing.’
‘Yes, indeed. Thank you for reminding me about the works of Bede; I will be sure to read them.’
Torfida bowed deeply and moved on.
Einar, Ingigerd and Maria rushed her away from the crowds and they later rendezvoused with Hereward and Martin in a quiet part of the city. Little was said between them; they were shocked that Torfida had been so foolhardy in a strange world so far from home.
Hereward thought he understood – Torfida felt she needed to grasp every opportunity, no matter how intimidating, to find the path that would reveal their destiny.
That evening, Robert Guiscard presided over a grand feast in the Great Hall of Melfi. It was an evening of much merriment, with an inebriated Duke doing most of the talking; minstrels played and there was a clever display of juggling and trickery by a troupe from Venice.
As soon as it was polite to do so, the Pope withdrew to his rooms. He had already made inquiries about the bold young woman who had spoken to him during the day and had sent word to her that he would grant her an audience.
Hereward had insisted that he accompany her. He looked around now at the ostentatious trappings of the Pope’s quarters in wonder; he had not seen such treasures since he had had his private audience with King Edward at Winchester. Only five years had passed in what was becoming an ever more eventful life. He was still only twenty-four, Torfida just twenty. The young English couple knelt as the Pope and his companions entered the room.
For over an hour, they conversed with three of the wisest men in Europe. The men were intrigued by the story of Hereward’s turbulent life, and enchanted by Torfida as she recited from the Gospels and talked at length about Bede. She asked them about dogma, probed them about morality within the Church and queried the lack of separation between Church and State. They seemed not to be in the slightest offended or discomforted and treated her as an equal. Hildebrand, in particular, seemed to admire her broad knowledge and her grasp of theology.
Finally, with some trepidation, she raised the subject of the Talisman and, as she began to describe it, saw the benign look on the face of Cardinal Desiderius turn to consternation.
‘If the Talisman you speak of is the one I think it is, you should be careful what you say to us here. Not only that, you should hand it to us immediately, so that it can be locked away deep in the crypt of the Vatican.’
‘Why, your Eminence?’
‘The Devil’s Amulet, if that’s what it is, was hidden in the tomb of a heretic in the vaults of my monastery at Monte Cassino for many centuries. Legend says that it was a pagan amulet worn by the high priestess of a satanic cult in Ancient Rome. It was stolen in the sixth century, when the Lombards sacked the monastery, and was never seen again.’
‘But I know it as the Talisman of Truth.’
‘That may be so, but it is dangerous for you to dabble with such things. Perhaps you are a witch, come to beguile us with your sweet smile and clever words, and this husband of yours sent by Lucifer to protect you.’
Hereward stiffened at the sudden change in the mood of the Cardinal.
Torfida was shocked at the ferocity of the tirade and took a deep breath.
The Pope looked concerned. ‘Calm yourself, Desiderius. Let us hear what the young woman has to say.’
‘Thank you, Holiness. The Talisman was given to me by my father. He interpreted it differently and thought it represented the ultimate dilemma in men’s hearts: the struggle between good and evil.’
Desiderius still looked scornful, but Hildebrand cocked his head as if he knew what was coming next. The Pope saw the change of expression and listened carefully as Torfida described the Talisman in detail.
‘There is no doubt that it is the face of the Devil, surrounded by his acolytes, but it also contains the blood of our Saviour, Jesus of Nazareth. His blood entombs the Devil in stone through his ultimate sacrifice in giving his life for us. And so, the Talisman tells us how we can defeat our weaknesses by controlling our evil thoughts and deeds, thus allowing our goodness to triumph.’
‘That is very astute, Torfida.’
‘Thank you, Father Hildebrand.’
‘But dangerous! Do you believe it to be a metaphorical totem, the symbolism of which is meant to lead men to truth and wisdom?’
‘Exactly, Father Hildebrand! That is why it is so intriguing.’ Torfida smiled in admiration; Hildebrand understood her thoughts about the power of the amulet and had described its mystery far better than she could ever have done.
‘In which case, it denies that role to the Church and is thus heretical.’ Now Hildebrand, like Desiderius, looked concerned. ‘You are being naïve, Torfida. Cardinal Desiderius is right to warn you. These conundrums are not a game; they involve articles of faith, and question the very nature of our existence. There are many in the Church who would recoil in horror if they heard this conversation.’
The Pope intervened. ‘Where does it come from?’
‘I don’t know, Holy Father. Other pieces of amber have insects trapped inside them, and ancient folklore says that they are the trapped spirits of tortured souls. But the face of Lucifer and the streak of blood are a mystery. I have been talking to wise men all over Europe in the hope of finding out.’
Hildebrand interrupted with a question of his own. ‘Do you suppose it could be a freak of nature?’
‘In what way, Father?’
‘Nature plays many tricks on us; there is much we don’t understand. But if it is just a freak of nature, then there is another solution.’
‘That it is a harmless trinket?’
‘Well done, Torfida. It would have no significance at all, except in our imaginations!’
The Pope intervened again. ‘Now you are straying into the dark corners of heresy, Hildebrand. The things in nature that we don’t understand are God’s business. If he wanted us to know about them, he would tell us; or rather, he would tell me, as I’m his messenger on earth.’
The Pope smiled mischievously, which broke the tension. Then they all smiled, even Desiderius, and with that, the Pope brought the conversation to an end.
‘To our chambers; it is late. Come back and see us in the morning, and we will talk again. For now, let us sleep on your conundrum.’
Hereward was alarmed and spent a restless night.
He knew only too well that many parts of Christendom still observed
the practices of the old pagan religions, often running in parallel with their Christian beliefs. He also knew that the Church could be fanatical in rooting out heresy.
Now that he had learned that the Talisman was once called the Devil’s Amulet, nagging doubts surfaced about the coincidence of meeting Torfida in Hereford, and her father’s wild predictions about their joint destiny.
Perhaps the Talisman brought death, not wisdom?
Perhaps the Old Man of the Wildwood was a sorcerer, and Torfida a witch sent to seduce him for some nefarious purpose?
He stopped himself and tried to put such thoughts out of his head, but the next morning, Hereward accompanied Torfida to the Pope’s quarters with some trepidation.
The Pontiff tried to put them at their ease. ‘Please sit and relax. You are here as children of God; this is not an inquisition.’
‘Perhaps it should be.’ Cardinal Desiderius could not resist the caustic remark.
‘Torfida, following our conversation last night, the three of us have spoken at some length over breakfast. Hereward, let us see the amulet.’
Hereward removed it from his neck and placed it, cautiously, in the Pope’s outstretched hands.
‘It is remarkable. I have seen many things in the crypt of the Vatican, but this is truly amazing.’
He passed it to the others. Hildebrand took it with the inquisitive look of the curious intellectual; Desiderius, clearly ill at ease, glared at it with contempt.
‘Hildebrand has persuaded us that your quest for the meaning of the amulet is laudable – dangerous, but laudable. Desiderius would have me lock it away and have you two do penance in Rome, but I don’t think that is necessary. Your quest together, in search of wisdom for yourselves and for the ultimate recipient of what you call the Talisman of Truth, is commendable. Your remarkable journey so far has persuaded me that we should let you continue.
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