‘Fear not, Hereward, you may speak frankly in front of Jimena.’
Hereward continued quickly, to spare his own shame, as he described the Talisman’s return to him by Edith Swan-Neck. He related the trauma of Torfida discovering them in the forest, her disappearance and illness and, finally, her tragic death.
As he finished his story, Jimena exclaimed,‘The thing is a curse! Give it to the Bishop of Oviedo in the morning. He can bury it in the cathedral crypt; it will never haunt you again.’
‘It is not as simple as that, Jimena. It is at least a thousand years old, and I am entrusted with its safekeeping. Besides, in her death throes, Torfida sent me a message. I keep it with me always.’ He took a small, tightly wrapped linen bundle from his bag, unfolded it carefully and handed the wooden inscription to Jimena.
The young woman’s Latin was perfect; she read it aloud.
Hereward’s eyes filled with tears as he continued his story. ‘Her death and her message helped me understand the symbolism of the Talisman. It carries five messages of abiding truth that are the key to wisdom and kingship. The first is courage – to overcome our fears and anxieties. The second is discipline – to control the darkness within us. The third is humility – to know that only God can work miracles. The fourth is sacrifice – to forfeit ourselves for God and for one another, as Christ did. The fifth is wisdom – to understand the stone, not to fear it. At first, I thought of it as a lucky charm from which the wearer would acquire the gifts it holds, but Torfida helped me understand that it is a catechism, a constant reminder of the truths it carries. It doesn’t protect you, it only helps you protect yourself.’
Jimena and Rodrigo looked at one another.
Rodrigo spoke first. ‘Torfida was right, you are destined to be its next recipient; no one could be more worthy.’
Jimena pressed Hereward’s arm. ‘They were Torfida’s dying words; you must believe in the Talisman and accept her wisdom that you are the one to wear it’.
Hereward’s two Castilian friends embraced him as Rodrigo placed the Talisman over his friend’s head.
‘I can’t thank both of you enough for your friendship; it is more than I could have dreamed of. I came here knowing it was my duty to go back to England, but I also knew that I wasn’t ready in mind or body. You have helped me become a soldier again – and a much better one – but, most importantly, you have helped me clear my mind and revive my spirit. I am now ready to face the task ahead of me. My eternal thanks to you both.’
They returned to the Great Hall of Count Diego for a farewell banquet. It was an evening of good humour and fine food. Count Diego, despite his stern demeanour, was a good host, and Doña Viraca brought the dignity and manners appropriate to the high table of an important city.
At dawn the next morning, Hereward and Alphonso were ready to leave. Alphonso’s romance with Cristina had become serious. Within twenty-four hours of their return from the winter camp, she had gathered all her worldly possessions, obtained permission to leave from her mistress and even been granted a small dowry.
She was charming, hung on Alphonso’s every word and clung to him like a leech. Cristina would be a source of great delight at St Cirq Lapopie.
Rodrigo and Jimena had risen early to bid them farewell. Jimena hugged Cristina and wished her much love and happiness and then gave Alphonso a stern reminder about his responsibilities to care for her.
She turned to Hereward and kissed him on his cheek in a fond embrace. ‘God’s speed to England. If Rodrigo ever forgets that one day he is supposed to marry me, I promise to come to England as a poor unfortunate spinster and throw myself on your mercy.’
Rodrigo walked with Hereward to his horse, both men contemplating all that had been said during the course of their winter together.
Hereward voiced his thoughts first. ‘In truth, my mission in England has little chance of success. The English may already be a beaten people. The Saxons to the south are overrun, the Celts are mercurial and will probably only fight if William crosses into their own territory, and the Anglo-Danes, who live mainly in the northern realms of the earls Edwin and Morcar, have been badly led and failed England at the moment of its greatest need. As for foreign support, Denmark is the solitary possibility, but their only motivation will be plunder.’
‘What of the remnants of Harold’s army?’
‘So many were killed with Harold. He does have sons, and some housecarls will rally to them. However, the true heir is Edgar of the Cerdician line. When I get back to Aquitaine, I will know if he has survived and if he has the stomach to fight for his birthright.’
‘If anyone can do it, you can. I am very tempted to come with you, but my mission is here in Spain and I have Jimena to think of.’
The two men parted with one last warrior’s embrace.
Hereward did not allow himself even a moment to savour the prospect of returning to England with The Cid at his side. ‘We would be a formidable partnership, but you must follow the path that fate has ordained for you.’
‘So must we both.’
* * *
In order to significantly reduce the journey time from Oviedo to Cahors, passage had been arranged on a merchant ship from the nearby port of Gigon, bound for Bordeaux. Strong winds off the Atlantic carried them along Spain’s northern coast and across the Bay of Biscay at a good rate of knots.
With Alphonso’s help, Hereward had mastered the astrolabe and constantly irritated the ship’s captain with endless observations about their course and arrival times. Their progress up the River Garonne was much slower; sail was often no match for the strong current, and draught animals had to be used. They took a trader’s barge as far as Aiguillon, where the Lot joined the Garonne, and then employed oarsmen to row them up the Lot with as much speed as their broad shoulders could generate.
When they arrived at St Cirq Lapopie there was much rejoicing, and Cristina was made welcome. Everyone could see that Hereward was in fine health and had returned to his former self. His daughters were overjoyed; their father had been restored to them.
Edwin had already arrived at St Cirq Lapopie, accompanied by a senior housecarl from Harold’s hearthtroop at Glastonbury. Between them, they gave a detailed account of events in England.
With most of the Normans holed up in their mottes and baileys, the winter had been a period of relative calm for the beleaguered English. However, the harsh winter had done little for people’s spirits, and the fear and despondency throughout the land had become worse. Now that spring had arrived, everyone was bracing themselves for more harsh campaigns from the Duke.
The housecarl, Edmund, a taciturn man of very solid appearance, gave Hereward a frank assessment of the current political and military situation. In the south and east, many Saxons were beginning to make money thanks to the Norman presence. Buildings were under construction at great pace and in vast numbers. Trade in the burghs was brisk, and money from the defeated Saxon aristocracy was finding its way into the pockets of merchants and artisans as the Normans disposed of their new wealth on enhancing their homes and possessions. The ports were flourishing as trade with Normandy and Europe increased at a startling rate. Farmers were prospering – at least, those close to Norman strongholds.
The losers were the provinces and the poorer parts of the community. Most of the hinterland was still not under direct Norman control. There, the people were living in a vacuum of destitution, with neither trade nor security. The peasants of the south, left to their miserable existence, continued to toil for scant reward as they always had. The Saxon aristocracy and the ecclesiastical elite, whose lands and possessions were all but gone, were dispirited and dejected and many had gone into hiding.
Finally, Edmund described the status of England’s surviving professional soldiers. Some had returned to their homes and hidden their weapons. Others, determined to fight the Normans in any way they could, had formed small bands of irregulars. Many had left England to find a life elsewhere.
&
nbsp; Hereward interrupted Edmund’s account. ‘Is no one gathering the men together and organizing them?’
‘We are trying, but it is difficult. We lack a leader. Sir, we need you back in England.’
Edmund finished by describing Edith’s attempts to form a coherent group to begin a rebellion. Edwin and Morcar had pledged Northumbrian and Mercian forces to the cause. Harold’s sons had a few hundred men in Ireland and would sail as soon as summoned. She had an agreement with the Danes that they would set sail if an English rebellion began, but there had been no commitment from the Scots or the Welsh.
‘What of the men of the southern earldoms – how many housecarls could be mustered?’
‘It is difficult to estimate. Another winter has passed and skirmishes go on all the time where men die. William has ordered searches for weapons and armour. If any are found, all men of military age in that household or village are executed. Hundreds must be in hiding, but we don’t know exactly how many.’
‘How many men are at Glastonbury, or could be available upon our return?’
Edmund, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, gulped a little. ‘Five, maybe seven hundred.’
Everyone was shocked.
Hereward tried to hide his disappointment. ‘Not an army of biblical proportions!’ He paced around in circles, deep in thought. ‘If that is the number in the south, those in Ireland make it a thousand. Edwin and Morcar should be able to muster two thousand more. If we can attract a few sturdy men back from their mercenary endeavours overseas, we have the beginnings of an army. It depends on their quality and whether they have the stomach for the fight. Remember, things went against us on Senlac Ridge by only a few minutes and a few hundred men.’
‘You are right, sir. If you will return and lead us, we have a chance.’
‘Thank you, Edmund. Worry not, I intend to return and fight. England is too precious to me; I cannot grow old and fat here as her lifeblood drains away.’ He paused, deep in thought. ‘Would it be possible to raise the Fyrd – or, at least, some of them?’
‘Some would come but, I think, in small numbers. Besides, if many came, we wouldn’t have the resources and organization to look after them, or use them effectively; they might be more trouble than they’re worth.’
‘You’re right. Thank you for your excellent and candid report. Stay close to me over the next few months; I’m going to need men like you.’
‘I am yours to command, sir.’
‘What about you, young Edwin?’
‘I’m going to fight with you, sir… if you’ll have me.’
‘I will. Stay close to Alphonso and Einar; watch what they do, and follow their orders to the letter. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Hereward took a deep breath. ‘From what we’ve heard, we must make for the North of England. It is beyond William’s immediate reach and is Edwin and Morcar’s stronghold. We can sail around the south-west coast and meet Harold’s sons in Ireland on the way. The North is also a good place to meet representatives of the Danes. Einar, that is your homeland – what do you think?’
‘It is a good plan. Most of the wealth is east of the Pennines, but William may well have York under his heel by now. The same might be true of Chester, although you could make contact with the Welsh from there. Lancaster may be too far north, but there is a settlement at a place called Preston, near the mouth of the River Ribble. Although it is isolated, it is on the westerly route to Scotland. York is due east, accessible by an ancient track through the Pennines via a hamlet called Skipton. It is a place I know well; it is where I was born.’
‘There could be no finer recommendation, Einar. We will make landfall in England at Preston on the Ribble, in the earldom of Northumbria. Edmund and Edwin, return to England as quickly as you can. We have much to do here, but we will follow as soon as we can and rendezvous in exactly one month. Tell Edith Swan-Neck to stay where she is; there are too many spies around and we don’t want to alert William. Bring only two hundred men to Preston, but be sure they are the best available; all must be trained housecarls, fit and eager to fight. We must have a small and mobile baggage train; no wives, children, camp followers of any kind.
‘Finally, and this is important, tell no one where they are going; just tell them that they are to meet me in the North to form a new army. They should expect to be away until the autumn harvest at the earliest, but that is all you can tell them. Is that clear?’
‘It is, sir.’
Much needed to be done at St Cirq Lapopie before the departure for England.
To Hereward’s surprise, not only did Martin change his mind about staying, so did the rest of the family. At an emotional gathering, Martin led the discussion and all agreed that, having been through so much, they should face this final challenge together. Even when Hereward gave them his truthful assessment of the odds against success, they were not discouraged.
Only Cristina said anything negative – and that was about the English weather, which Alphonso had told her would chill her blood.
The bastide of St Cirq Lapopie was entrusted to the care of an estate manager, and a feast was prepared to mark the departure to England. It was a gathering tinged with doubts on both sides. The local Quercynoise feared their landlords would never return, leaving the estate to face an uncertain future, while Hereward and his family knew they were leaving behind a tranquil and happy existence to face a perilous destiny.
As they loaded their weapons and belongings on to the barge of a Lot trader to begin their journey to England, Hereward checked his astrolabe and made his calculations.
It was 8 March 1069.
Blowing from the cool heartland of Europe, a freshening gale from the Massif Central hastened them on their way. Everyone huddled together and turned their backs to the piercing gusts. High above them, flurries of snow swirled around the crags of St Cirq Lapopie as birds of prey rode the currents in search of food. Their occasional screech and the incessant chop of the water against the boat were the only sounds to be heard above the howling elements.
Hereward knew that the next birds of prey they saw would be high above the fells of northern England.
23. The Rising Begins
Hereward and his devoted followers were once more on the move and yet again journeying by sea, but this was a particularly extended excursion. They needed to avoid Normandy, so decided not to make landfall between Bordeaux and Plymouth.
After anchoring off Plymouth Sound to take on water and provisions, they were soon at sea again, on course for Dublin. There, if all went well, they would be able to plan a strategy with Harold’s sons and their supporters. As they sailed towards Ireland, Hereward thought back to the first time he had crossed the Western Sea. He and Torfida had just become lovers and, as they stood together on deck, she had given him the Talisman.
It had been the beginning of their odyssey.
Soon he would be in England once more – this time without Torfida. The pain of her absence had barely diminished over time. On occasions like this, the sharp stab of her tragic loss cut into him. He had but one comfort – his children and extended family. And just one distraction – plotting to topple William from the throne of England.
The first part of the plan did not go well. Diarmaid, Lord of Dublin, was sheltering Harold’s sons. Edith Swan-Neck had sent word that Hereward was returning to lead a rebellion. However, to Hereward’s fury, only Godwin Haroldson was there to greet him; the other two, Magnus and Edmund, had gone hunting. To make matters worse, Godwin was less than enthusiastic about Hereward’s plans. He did not agree that Edgar the Atheling should be King, arguing that the boy had relinquished his right to the throne when Harold became monarch.
Godwin regarded himself as the rightful heir to the throne of England.
The young pretender exclaimed that his priority was Wessex, that he had many loyal supporters in Devon, Cornwall and the South West, and that Exeter would be his bridgehead into his father’s earldom. He ex
pressed little affection for the North and suggested that it should lie in the bed it had made for itself.
Hereward, scarcely able to contain his anger, begged to be allowed to speak directly to Godwin’s housecarls, but he steadfastly refused. Finally, when Hereward asked if they could at least coordinate the timings of Godwin’s raids in the West Country so that William could be put under pressure on two fronts, he replied, haughtily, that he would consider it at the time. Hereward’s blood boiled and he stormed out, bellowing at Godwin’s callousness and stupidity.
They were at sea again on the next tide and, with only a brief stop on the Island of the Manx, were soon sailing up the Ribble to their rendezvous at Preston.
None of them had thought they would ever see England again – especially Hereward – and they were greeted by a bright, fresh spring day. Cristina smiled at Alphonso; her first sight of England was a very pleasant surprise compared with the dreary prospect that her beloved had described.
In the distance they could see the dark mounds of the Pennines, brooding and hostile. Few people ever went there, and only tiny isolated communities were to be found along the narrow routes that snaked into the deep valleys. Above the treeline were desolate moors where no one ventured. It was a bleak world without landmarks where, in moments, a dank mist could envelop the unwary and make them disappear without trace.
As their vessel rose on to the north bank of the Ribble at Preston’s old Roman bridge and the party disembarked, Edwin and Edmund were there waiting for them. Hereward’s mood improved dramatically when he saw the contingent of men they had with them. The housecarls were assembled in squadrons of twenty and stood smartly to attention with their mounts tethered in orderly lines.
They were still the finest body of fighting men Hereward had ever seen.
‘Sir, you asked for two hundred of the best. Here they are, and our baggage train is trim, just as you wanted it. Also, sir, twenty-three thegns of England have come to join your cause. You will know many of them.’ Edmund waved towards the trees in the middle distance.
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