Stewart Binns: Conquest

Hereward thought about the Old Man of the Wildwood and his long journey with Torfida and the Talisman. Now, it all made sense.

‘I am going to spare you, Hereward of Bourne.’

‘But, sire, I cannot live when all around me have died. I will happily face execution. My journey is at an end.’

‘You have no choice; I have made my decision. You will not die here and become the focus of more English resistance. If there are more risings, I will have to suppress them as ruthlessly as I have suppressed this one; you cannot want that. You must leave this land, never to return, your whereabouts always an enigma. Hereward of Bourne must fade away as mysteriously as he, his wife and their infernal amulet appeared. In exchange, I will spare you and your family. Most importantly, and this is my real concession to you, I will endeavour to understand this land and its people.’

Hereward was torn between two wildly contrasting emotions: elation at the King’s words, which were at least the beginnings of justice and compassion, and ignominy that he would live when so many had died.

‘Sire, I am ashamed at the prospect of survival amid so much death.’

‘Why feel shame? Isn’t it what you fought for?’

William summoned Robert of Mortain and told him to take the girls away. Hereward begged to be allowed to see them, but the King was adamant.

‘Your girls will stay in England as guarantors of your future conduct. You have my word that they will live and prosper for as long as you remain beyond England’s shores and well away from its affairs.’

Hereward could hear Gunnhild and Estrith’s howls of protest as they were taken away. They were harrowing sounds that he would hear for the rest of his life.

‘Sire, you have my word as to my conduct, but please let the girls go to their home in Aquitaine with the others.’

‘I believe you now, but circumstances change over the years. The presence of your children here will ensure that you are never tempted to change your mind. They will be well treated at Mortain’s court; he is a good man. They will be given a dowry and allowed to marry by choice; husbands will not be forced on them.’

‘And what of my other family, sire?’

‘They will be given a safe escort to Aquitaine with the young English knight, Edwin. They may take their money with them, but they must know nothing of your fate, or your whereabouts; neither must your daughters. It will be for the best if they come to accept that you are dead. They will all leave Ely today, your girls with Count Robert to live in Cornwall, the rest of the family on a ship to Normandy. You will stay hidden in this chapel under guard until you are fit enough to travel.

‘When you are ready, you will be spirited away to Normandy’s border with France. From there, you can go anywhere you choose, on condition that no one knows your true identity and that your destination is far from England and Normandy. Nobody must know what has been said in this chapel. Your fate will become a mystery and your deeds the stuff of legend; you should be content with that.’

Without another word or parting gesture, William turned and left.

St Etheldreda’s Chapel was sealed, except for one of the King’s physicians who came and went under cover of darkness.

After ten days of treatment and healing, Hereward and all his belongings were packed on to a cart. A month later, he was in Paris, recovering from his ordeal; he would never see England again.

Hereward’s struggle and the resistance of the people of England were over.

The events surrounding the end of the Siege of Ely were soon woven into legend. Some stories suggested that Hereward had escaped into the Bruneswald to fight another day; others said he had died under torture at William’s own hand and that his body had been taken for burial at nearby Crowland Abbey.

The most fanciful tale claimed that he had died from his wounds, but that his soul would never leave his body until England was free and that on dark nights his spectre could be seen high above Ely Abbey, hovering over the Great Fen like a beacon.

The sun had been up for an hour over the western Peloponnese by the time Godwin of Ely came to the end of his story, a story that had been almost three days in the telling.

Godwin of Ely and Hereward of Bourne were one and the same man. Godwin, the old recluse, who had lived for years in his lonely eyrie, was indeed the guardian of the Talisman and the leader of the English resistance to the Norman Conquest.

Only three men had heard his account of the life and times of the Lincolnshire thegn, Hereward of Bourne: Prince John Comnenus, the son of Alexius I, the Emperor of Byzantium; Prince John Azoukh, close friend and lifelong companion to John Comnenus; and Leo of Methone, priest of this remote valley in Hellas.

Godwin was exhausted. He was very pale and was lying heavily in his padded resting place amid the rocks of his mountain hermitage. Prince John Comnenus ordered the fire to be built up and told his stewards to prepare food. But when hot soup was served, the old warrior was too weak to raise the bowl to his mouth and refused it.

Godwin looked very frail, so much so that John Comnenus became concerned. ‘Godwin of Ely, we must take you down the mountain so that we can take care of you properly.’

‘No thank you, sire. I will spend my remaining time here in my home. I have been here for many years; I’ve grown very fond of it.’

‘How can we make you more comfortable?’

‘I am fine; the morning sun will refresh me.’

John Comnenus realized that Godwin would not be persuaded to move. Although he looked feeble, he seemed content.

‘Then, if you will permit me, I have one final question for you. How did my father come to wear the Talisman?’

Godwin took a deep breath, as if summoning the last of his strength and resolve. ‘After a long period of recovery and reflection, Hereward of Bourne became reconciled to never seeing his country or his family again. He found modest contentment in knowing that he had made some impact on the brutality of William’s rule. He was sure that the King would keep his word about his daughters, who had a good chance of a happy life, and that the survivors of his loyal family would live out their days in safety at St Cirq Lapopie.

‘As for England, he was relieved to hear that, as the years passed, the cruelty diminished and Norman rule became more bearable. He travelled to Constantinople and joined the Varangian Guard of the Byzantine Emperor, and served with distinction for many years. When your father became Emperor in 1081, Hereward, who had by then created a new name for himself, rose through the ranks to become Captain of the Guard, of what we now call the Old Order. They campaigned together until Hereward was well over fifty years of age, when he retired with Alexius’ blessing. Despite repeated pleadings, Hereward would take no title nor accept a gratuity of estates or wealth, asking only for anonymity, which your father gladly gave him.

‘Hereward asked your father if he would accept the Talisman, which, knowing its significance for Hereward, Alexius agreed to. So Hereward withdrew to a remote part of the Empire, the whereabouts of which were known only to the Emperor and a few men he trusted. He has been there for over twenty years and is now a very old man.’

‘That is quite a story, Godwin of Ely. I am grateful to you for sharing it with me. Now that my father has entrusted me with the Talisman, I wonder if you would return it to Hereward of Bourne for me?’

‘But I am sure he would want you to wear it, my Prince.’