Conquest moe-1
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‘But I am sure he would want you to wear it, my Prince.’
‘I am flattered, but I don’t think it is necessary. Your story has taught me all I need to know about kingship. I think I understand the Talisman’s message.’ Prince John Comnenus placed his hand on Godwin of Ely’s shoulder. ‘I hope I can live my life as bravely and nobly as Hereward of Bourne did.’
‘You have made a good beginning, my Prince. Your father is a great Emperor and an even better man. You seem to have many of his qualities. Follow his advice, live by his example, and you will become a worthy successor. Byzantium will flourish under your reign and you will leave a legacy that will be remembered for generations to come. But remember, you are only a man; even emperors are mortal. Lives, even great ones, soon become memories. Learn from the past, but live your life in the present and hope that the future will benefit from what you do on earth.’ The old man leaned over and grabbed the Prince’s arm. ‘Remember, once your time is over, it has gone for ever.’
As the Old Man of the Wildwood had become wise beyond the grasp of ordinary men, so the Old Man of the Mountain had acquired extraordinary intuition and insight. Now he was able to guide the young prince, as his mentor had once guided him.
Prince John Comnenus, deep in thought, looked to the east towards his home in Constantinople. He realized that the story of Hereward, Thegn of Bourne, would always be with him. He hoped that when his reign as Emperor came to be judged by history, his deeds would stand comparison with those of Hereward, England’s last and finest warrior.
Leo of Methone abruptly interrupted his contemplation.‘My Lord Prince!’
John Comnenus turned back towards Godwin of Ely. His eyes were closed and he seemed very still.
The three men rushed to his side to rouse him, but the drama of his long life was finally over.
Godwin was facing north-west, towards England, and looked content. As he died, he would have been remembering those he loved. The faithful Edwin, the young envoy; Ingigerd and Maria, the family’s heart and soul, and their lovely daughters, Gwyneth and Wulfhild; Edmund of Kent, who finally committed Abbot Thurstan to the fate that he deserved; mighty Einar, his loyal second-in-command; Alphonso of Granada, the finest soldier he had ever known; Martin Lightfoot, a mercurial companion who could sing as well as he could fight, and whose stories filled their lives with humour; and his delightful daughters, Gunnhild and Estrith, whose love and understanding nursed him through the terrible ending of the Siege of Ely.
Finally, he would have thought of Torfida, the remarkable woman whose life had shaped his own. The prediction made by the Old Man of the Wildwood had come to pass; she did indeed become his guide and his inspiration, and it was her destiny to help him find his.
He would also have been contemplating his homeland; a realm he must have assumed had already forgotten him. In truth, he had changed it more than he could have imagined. His legacy would be generations in the making, but would be part of a new England, where the storytellers would one day call Hereward of Bourne ‘The Last of the English’.
In fact, he was not the last of his kind; he was the foremost. He was ‘The First of the English’.
John Comnenus organized an honour guard for the funeral. A soft piece of ground was chosen, not far from where they had spent the long days and nights of storytelling, and Godwin of Ely – for that was now his name – was buried facing England.
Men of the Varangian Guard dug a deep grave, so that he would never be disturbed, and so that they could place in it all his precious belongings.
Leo blessed each one as it was arranged around his body: the neatly wrapped robe of a Captain of the Varangian Guard of the Old Order; an awesome arsenal of weapons, including his English battle-shield in ash, his Byzantine bronze shield and his father’s sword; his personal standard in gold, crimson and black; and his astrolabe, a gift from Rodrigo of Bivar and the lodestone that he always carried.
The Great Axe of Göteborg was positioned on his chest, resting under his chin, and smaller items were laid either side of it: the Order of the Cotentin, given to him in Sicily; an array of medals awarded by the Emperor Alexius; the old iron key to Bourne Church; and his mother’s jewels, a few simple stones set in bronze.
A single gold piece from the reign of King Cnut, which King William had placed on the tomb of St Etheldreda, was put carefully into the palm of one hand. And in the other was placed a handful of bullion from the reign of Edward the Confessor, wrapped in a scroll from Osbjorn, Prince of Denmark. Finally, the Virgin Martyr’s rosary was draped over them.
The most precious items were arranged in a fine inlaid chest, a gift from John Comnenus, and placed above his head: the Roll of Honour of the Brotherhood of St Etheldreda; Torfida’s wooden inscription, his beloved’s last and most important message to him; her wedding ring of Russian gold; and her valued personal possession – a parchment map of the world.
Last of all, the Talisman of Truth, the ancient amulet that had given meaning to his life, was placed around his neck for the final time.
At the last, Prince John hesitated. He signalled to the funeral party to pause. The heir to the Purple of Byzantium then fell to his knees and reached into the grave to retrieve the Talisman from the neck of Godwin of Ely.
He turned to John Azoukh. ‘He sacrificed so much in its cause; I don’t think he would have wanted the Talisman to lie in his grave for eternity. After all, he was only its guardian. We will take it back to Constantinople; perhaps one day we’ll have need of it.’
Each of the Varangians present then took it in turns to cover the body of Godwin of Ely with the parched earth of the Peloponnese. Afterwards, Prince John ordered that everything on the hilltop be destroyed so that, in keeping with his oath to King William, no trace of his final resting place would ever be found.
Leo of Methone read an epitaph. ‘Here lies Godwin of Ely, known in a previous life as Hereward of Bourne. No nobler man has ever lived. May he rest in peace.’
John Azoukh placed a simple wreath of olive leaves on the grave.
Prince John Comnenus looked towards the north-west. ‘I would like to go to England one day. They are an interesting people; I feel certain we will hear more of them… I wonder if the domain of the Wodewose of England’s wildwoods extends all the way to the Peloponnese?
‘But I don’t suppose it matters – I’m sure he will welcome back the Old Man of the Mountain to the earth that gave him life.’
Postscript
In the year 1118, following the death of his father, Alexius I, John Comnenus became the Emperor of Constantinople. His reign was the high point of a Comneni dynasty noted for the wisdom and justice of its rule. Despite his less than handsome features, his own tenure as Emperor was so highly regarded that he became known as ‘John the Beautiful’.
The Norman dynasty prospered in England long after William’s death, and there were no more risings by the English people. A revolt of the earls in 1075 was little more than a dispute about levels of taxation within the feudal aristocracy. The wild reaches of Wales were soon subdued and King Malcolm of Scotland had to bow to William by the Treaty of Abernathy in 1072.
Harald Hardrada was the last of the great Viking warriors as Scandinavian power in the world began to decline. Prince Olaf, the son of Hardrada and the only senior Norwegian aristocrat to survive Stamford Bridge, became known as Olaf the Quiet and ruled over a peaceful Norway for twenty-five years.
Prince Osbjorn never became King of Denmark. Upon the death of his brother, Svein Estrithson, in 1076, the King was succeeded by five of his many sons in turn: Harald, Cnut, Olaf, Eric and Niels. Svein Estrithson had so many children, all of them illegitimate, that chroniclers lost count of the total.
William ‘the Conqueror’, as he became known, died near Rouen on 9 September 9 1087. He had become so fat that he ruptured his stomach on the pommel of his horse as it stumbled, and never recovered from the injury. Awful scenes followed his death as those around him scrambled to cla
im his possessions. At his funeral, as they tried to force his body into its stone sarcophagus, it burst open, causing an unbearable stench. His tomb was later defiled four times so that, by 1793, only a single thighbone remained.
Pope Nicholas II was succeeded in 1061 by Alexander II, who was Pope until 1073. However, in 1075 Father Hildebrand became Pope Gregory VII. During the ten years of his papacy, he became widely respected for his wisdom and kindness.
Rodrigo of Bivar continued his military prowess and became Lord of the Taifa of Valencia. He died peacefully in his bed in July 1099. Doña Jimena outlived him and died a few years later.
In 1074 Edgar the Atheling led a force against Normandy from his base in Montreuil-sur-Mer, but it failed when a storm destroyed most of his ships. He finally submitted to William, and was reconciled with him. He became a friend of Robert Curthose, William’s son, fought with the Normans in Apulia and accompanied Robert on the First Crusade in 1100, leading the English contingent. He returned to England and lived into the reign of Henry I. He died in 1125, becoming the only one of Hereward’s contemporaries to outlive him.
Earl Morcar remained imprisoned by William, who, in a moment of remorse on his deathbed, ordered his release. Unfortunately, William ‘Rufus’, the King’s second son and successor, had him rearrested and he died in prison sometime after 1090.
Even though he is now known as Hereward ‘the Wake’, Hereward of Bourne was not given the suffix ‘Wake’ until many years after his death. The term is thought to come from the Old French ‘wac’ dog, as in wake-dog, the name for dogs used to warn of intruders.
Nothing is known about the fate of any of the survivors of Hereward’s extended family. However, through his daughters, Gunnhild and Estrith, there are intriguing claims linking several modern-day families to Hereward of Bourne. In particular, a family of ancient origin from Courteenhall, Northamptonshire, claims that the present baronet, the fourteenth Sir Hereward Wake, is directly descended from one of Hereward’s twin daughters. The present-day Wakes of Courteenhall are certainly directly descended from a Geoffrey Wac, who died in 1150. His son, Hugh Wac, who died in 1172, married Emma, the daughter of Baldwin Fitzgilbert and his unnamed wife. That wife, it is claimed, was the granddaughter of either Gunnhild or Estrith in the female line from Hereward and Torfida. It is suggested that the woman’s mother had married Richard de Rulos and that her grandmother had married Hugh de Evermur, a Norman knight in the service of King William. It is a tenuous link, but an intriguing possibility.
There are also other claimants to the lineage of Hereward the Wake, including the Harvard family (the founders of Harvard University) and the Howard family (the Dukes of Norfolk and Earls Marshal of England).
The cruelty of Norman rule diminished in the years following the Conquest and although hardly benign in its outlook, England settled into a long period of relative calm and growth. England was never invaded again, but Normandy ultimately fell to the French and was ruled from Paris. Ironically, therefore, the long-term heritage of the Normans became better exemplified in England than in Normandy itself. But England’s future was not entirely cast in the Norman image. The invaders gradually adopted English ways and the English language and although the Norman system of government remained paramount, English culture gradually regained its status.
William’s fourth son, Henry I, became the third Norman King of England in the year 1100. He had married Edith (who took the name Matilda), the daughter of St Margaret of Scotland and her husband Malcolm Canmore. Fittingly, Margaret was the granddaughter of Edmund II (Ironside), King of England in 1016, and could claim fourteen generations of Cerdician royal blood. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle rejoiced that the new Queen was of ‘the right royal race of England’.
Henry and Matilda’s firstborn son was named William, in honour of his grandfather, ‘the Conqueror’, but also ‘Atheling’ in honour of his Cerdician blood. Thus, less than forty years after Hastings, English pedigree was once more embodied in the monarchy. In the reign of King John, William’s great-great-grandson, much of what Hereward and the Brotherhood fought for at Ely was enshrined in Magna Carta. The ‘Great Charter’ was signed by the King in a meadow at Runnymede on 15 June 1215 and became the first milestone on the road to modern democracy.
The legends of Wodewose, the Green Man, and the ancient beliefs of the peoples of the British Isles in the harmony of the natural world, did survive the coming of the Normans. The Old Man of the Wildwood would be content to know that throughout the length and breadth of England and its Celtic neighbours, the folk memories of the distant past remain enshrined in legends, never to be forgotten. Just as they did centuries ago, they remain part of the art, literature and customs of these islands and help define its unique identity and that of its peoples.
The Harrying of the North, 1070
The true scale of the atrocities committed by King William in northern England in 1070 will never be known, but the brutality of the crimes shocked the whole of Europe. Even scribes writing under Norman rule could not hide their contempt for what had been done.
Within a lifetime of the events, the Anglo-Norman chronicler Orderic Vitalis wrote the following account. He described the event in the first person, thus emphasizing William’s personal responsibility.
I fell upon the English of the Northern shires like a ravening lion. I commanded their houses and corn and all their chattels to be burnt without distinction and large herds of cattle and beasts of burden to be butchered wherever they were found. It was then I took revenge on multitudes of both sexes. I became so barbarous a murderer of many thousands, both young and old. Having therefore made my way to the throne of that kingdom by so many crimes, I dare not to leave it to anyone but God.
Orderic Vitalis’ estimate of the number of English dead in the Harrying of the North was 100,000. This figure was also reported in other chronicles of the time.
Acknowledgements
To the wonderful friends and outstanding professionals who have helped me transform a vague idea and a very amateurish transcript into a moderately decent story, my eternal thanks and gratitude.
Genealogies
The Lineage of the Cerdician Kings of Wessex and England from the Ninth Century to Edward the Confessor
The Lineage of Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex and King of England
The Lineage of William the Bastard, Duke of Normandy and King of England
The Lineage of Harold Hardrada, King of Norway
The Descendants of Hereward of Bourne and Torfida (conjectural)
The Lineage of the Cerdician Kings of Wessex and England from the Ninth Century to Edward the Confessor
The Lineage of Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex and King of England
The Lineage of William the Bastard, Duke of Normandy and King of England
The Lineage of Harold Hardrada, King of Norway
The Descendants of Hereward of Bourne and Torfida (conjectural)
This conjectural genealogy, through a succession of marriages to Norman nobles, would confirm that the Wake family of Courtenhall, Northamptonshire, England may have claim to descendancy from Hereward and Torfida. The present Baronet, Sir Hereward Wake, BT, MC, DL, is a direct descendant of Geoffrey Wac
‘Hereward the Wake’
Hereward of Bourne is better known as Hereward the Wake, especially after the publication in 1871 of Charles Kingsley’s popular novel of that title. However, the name ‘Wake’ is not contemporary with Hereward of Bourne, who has also been called ‘Hereward of the Fens’, ‘Hereward the Saxon’ and ‘Hereward. Last of the English’
The name ‘Hereward the Wake’ was first used by John of Peterborough in his chronicle, completed in 1368. Its meaning is obscure but is likely to refer to Hereward’s persistence in ‘disturbing’ the Normans; his attacks meant that they were constantly kept awake. There is support for this in the accounts of Fulk, Count of Anjou, who was at war with Count Herbert of Maine (1015 – 1036). The latter was so persistent in his night atta
cks that even the dogs were kept awake by his frequent sallies and Fulk’s men-at-arms got no sleep. So, Count Herbert was called the ‘Wake’ or ‘Wake-dog’ Hereward
Maps
The Great Journey and the Journey to Spain
Normandy in the 1060s
The Battle of Stamford Bridge
The Battle of Senlac Ridge (Hastings)
The Campaigns of September/October 1066
The Rising of 1069–1070
The Seige of Ely 1071
About the Author
Stewart Binns began his professional life as an academic. He then pursued several adventures, including a stint at the BBC, before settling into a career as a schoolteacher, specializing in history. Later in life, a lucky break took him back to the BBC, which was the beginning of a successful career in television. He has won a BAFTA, a Grierson, an RTS and a Peabody for his documentaries. Stewart’s passion is English history, especially its origins and folklore. Conquest is his first novel.
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