Crusade (28 page)

At length, I realized that my reminiscing was only making my depression worse. I decided to break the spell
of my melancholy by concentrating on the future and on the well-being of my friends.

It was not easy, but with an improvement in my physical condition came a revival of my spirits.

We were being cared for by the monks of Tynemouth Priory, a recent foundation in a bleak but beautiful position facing the sea at the mouth of the Tyne. Malcolm and Edward had been buried in the grounds on the order of Roger Mowbray, who wanted to insult their memory by insisting that they be buried on English soil. Malcolm’s men suffered even greater indignities. The bodies of the dead were thrown into the sea at Alnmouth, a few miles from the ambush, and the survivors were mutilated in various ways before being sent back to Scotland in carts.

Few made it back alive.

As soon as I was reasonably coherent, Roger of Mowbray came to see me with Arkil, his large and brooding steward. Although civil, he came directly to the point.

‘The King requires an explanation. Why were you with the King of the Scots when we attacked?’

‘Please tell the King that I was doing what I said I would do when I sought his permission in Gloucester to come to Scotland. I was trying to persuade King Malcolm to return home and cease his raids.’

‘So, why did you and your knights raise your swords in the attack?’

‘I would have thought the answer to that was obvious! We were trying to defend ourselves. Your ambush was executed in the murk of dusk, and you were on us like a bolt of lightning. In the mayhem, it was every man for himself.’

Roger looked at me intently and paused for a moment before answering.

‘Very well, I and the King have our suspicions and, as I’m sure you know, he has little regard for you. Nevertheless, he is prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt and has instructed me to give you an escort to Westminster for yourself and your party. You are to travel as soon as you are well enough. He will see you there.’

‘Thank you, Lord Mowbray. That is appreciated – as are your care and hospitality at Tynemouth Priory.’

I went to see Adela every day, but her improvement was slow. To our great relief, any internal bleeding had stopped and had not been life-threatening. Even so, her bones took a long time to heal and, after several weeks in bed, she was still very weak. Edwin and Sweyn were soon fit and well, although Sweyn’s scars were very prominent, as they would be for the rest of his life.

21. Vision of Beauty

It was the middle of February 1094 before we were able to begin our journey southwards. My request to travel to Scotland to pay my respects at Margaret’s grave was denied, but I was allowed to pay homage at Malcolm and Edward’s resting place. They had been interred close to the edge of the steep cliffs above the sea – a dramatic place that I felt sure Malcolm and Margaret would have approved of, had it been in Scotland.

We stayed at Durham on our journey, where much work was in progress. William of Calais, who had been appointed Prince Bishop by old King William in 1080, had just begun work on a cathedral to match the great churches of Normandy. Huge timber scaffolding was being erected to give the masons platforms from which to build the mighty walls. At ground level the stonework was already as tall as a man at the eastern end. The crypt had been dug out and the great stones of its columns were being dropped into place by fascinating mechanical devices made from pulleys and ropes, powered by the muscle of men and oxen.

The work had brought many people to the burgh, including craftsmen from Normandy and beyond. Although still a small island of modest civilization in a sea of death and desolation, it was beginning to resemble the burghs of the south.

Early the next day, as we were preparing to leave, Adela suddenly stopped herself in the middle of mounting her horse and spoke to Sweyn.

‘Do you recognize that woman – the one on horseback, in a nun’s habit?’

‘My God, she looks just like Torfida.’

‘She does.’

‘How old was Estrith when we last saw her at Ely?’

‘Thirteen, I think.’

‘So, how old would she be now?’

‘In her mid-thirties.’

‘Well, could it be her?’

Sweyn began to smile as he realized that Adela may be right.

‘It just might be.’

The two of them ran off towards her, with Edwin and myself in their wake. Sweyn got the question out first.

‘Madam, may we ask you your name? We think we may know you …’

‘I am Adeliza, a sister of Whalley Abbey. And you, sir?’

‘I am Sweyn of Bourne … I am sorry … we thought we recognized you.’

‘Who did you think I was?’

Still convinced she was right, Adela interrupted with a mix of excitement and impatience in her voice.

‘We thought you were Estrith of Melfi, the daughter of Hereward of Bourne.’

The nun looked around nervously to be sure no one was listening.

‘Come, let us go somewhere where we can talk quietly.’

The nun ushered us away behind the huts where the
masons lived, where she was sure no one could see or hear her.

‘I’m sorry, I have to be so careful … It’s Adela, isn’t it?’

Both in a deluge of tears, the two women fell into each other’s arms.

‘I recognized you and Edwin; Sweyn I didn’t recognize, he was so young when I saw him last. And you, sir, should I recognize you?’

‘I am Edgar – we have met before, but it was a long time ago.’

Edwin helped the nun with more details as Adela added Sweyn to their embrace.

‘This is Edgar, Prince of this realm.’

‘My apologies, my Lord, I intended no disrespect.’

‘Don’t apologize. I am just Edgar. These are my good friends – like your father was and, I hope, you will be too.’

‘Thank you. Yes, I am Hereward’s daughter, Estrith of Melfi, not Adeliza of Whalley. I travel incognito; the Normans have forgotten who I am, but I don’t want anything to remind them.’

Adela launched into all sorts of reminiscences. Realizing that there was a lot to talk about, I suggested we ride out into the woods beyond the River Wear so that we could relax and exchange our stories at leisure, well away from the din of the masons’ labours. Our escort came with us but respectfully kept its distance.

Adela soon resumed the eager questioning.

‘We went to Launceston and heard the terrible news about Gunnhild. It must be hard for you not to have your sister with you.’

‘It is, but her suffering was so great, her passing was a
mercy. I have tried to make my own way ever since. Our guardian, Robert of Mortain, was a good man, a typical Norman – uncompromising and strong-willed – but he was kind to us and we grew to like him. When Gunnhild died, he let me leave, which I appreciated greatly.’

Adela explained that, although we had pleaded with him, he refused to tell us where she was.

‘I’m not surprised. That was his way; he’d made me a promise and that was the end of it. He’s dead now; I heard he was banished to Normandy after his support for Odo’s rebellion in 1088 and died there a couple of years ago.’

‘We searched high and low for you, but could never find you.’

‘I would have been in Normandy at that time. I did take Holy Orders and I am an ordained nun, but my skill is masonry.’

Although we were all intrigued to know how a nun became a mason, Sweyn was the first to voice the other question we all wanted to ask.

‘Forgive me for asking you something that may be painful for you to answer, but we all think about him every day. What can you tell us about what happened to your father?’

‘Don’t be afraid to ask, he was like a father to you as well. Sadly, I can’t give you an answer. I wish I could. What happened in St Etheldreda’s Chapel will haunt me to my dying day, as it did Gunnhild, even in the agony of her death throes.’

We had found a place to sit in a beautiful glade. Even though it was late February, the bright sun of a crisp, clear day had dried the grass. Estrith got up and started to pace
around, probably so that she could turn away from us should she want to hide the anguish on her face.

‘At the end of the siege and the awful carnage, William had my father flayed close to death. We were dragged into the Chapel, where a terrible confrontation began. William demanded that our father renounce the Oath of the Brotherhood of St Etheldreda, the solemn vow that all the defenders of Ely had taken. When he refused, the King was on the verge of striking him down with our father’s own weapon, the Great Axe of Göteborg, when there was a blinding burst of sunlight. The King was transfixed for a moment, then he staggered from the Chapel and suddenly collapsed, clutching his chest. He was carried away and we were locked in, alone with our father, who was on the brink of death. It was pitiful … he was in such pain and we were just girls with no idea what to do … but he survived … he was so strong. We nursed him as best we could, until he regained some strength …’

She turned away for a while, fighting back the tears. The glade fell still, with only the faint babble of the distant Wear breaking the silence.

‘The King didn’t return for several days. When he did, he brought Robert of Mortain with him. He dragged us out of the Chapel, slamming the door behind us, leaving the two of them alone. What happened then is known only to the King and my father, and anyone they chose to confide in. Earl Robert put us in a cart and we were heading to Cornwall within minutes. Ely was soon lost in the distance, but the air was still ringing with our howls and screams.’

Estrith resumed her seat next to us, more composed
now that she had recounted the worst part of her story.

‘Although there are all sorts of stories and rumours, most people think William had my father executed and buried in secret, just like King Harold. He must have assumed that if his martyrdom could never be verified, nor his grave identified, it would make his memory less potent for the English. Earl Robert would never confirm or deny anything – except to say that the King had made one concession, which is that Gunnhild and I would be spared and placed under his care.’

Sweyn then made clear his unshakeable belief about Hereward’s fate.

‘He is alive, and one day we’ll find him.’

Estrith looked at him with a kindly, almost motherly expression.

‘He would be almost sixty years old by now. It is hard to imagine he’s still alive, given all that he suffered in his life. But I admire your faith, Sweyn. If he is to be found, then I’m sure you’re the man to do it.’

She started to sob and Adela put her arms around her. After a while, she continued her tale.

‘At first, life in Cornwall was a living hell. We hated all Normans, especially William and his henchmen such as Earl Robert, and refused to speak to him or anybody in his household. He lost patience with us and locked us in a cell, feeding us through a hole in the door. After several months and a harsh winter, Gunnhild became delirious with fever and I decided to compromise. I don’t think she ever fully recovered from that ordeal and feel certain it hastened her untimely death. We were released from the cell, given a guarded chamber, and life slowly became
more tolerable. As we conceded more, Robert gradually allowed us more comforts until eventually we became part of his household. Strange as it may seem, we grew to respect him; we could have had a much worse jailer.’

I looked at Adela, sitting side by side with Estrith. They were two remarkably strong women who, by sheer willpower, had succeeded against huge odds – one terribly traumatized who became a knight in all but name, the other similarly damaged, who, behind the facade of a learned nun, became a churchwright. Both had embraced professions that I thought were the exclusive preserve of men. I could not resist the obvious question, at the same time changing the subject to a less emotional one.

‘How did you learn the skills of masonry?’

‘Well, I’m not exactly a mason. I don’t have the skills – I’m not very good with my hands – but I help the master masons with their calculations. My mother was fascinated by architecture and mathematics, and I have inherited her passion. She and Hereward travelled all over the world and she saw all the great buildings of Byzantium, Greece and Italy and learned their secrets – except, they’re not secrets. They are strict formulae which determine how buildings are constructed.’

Adela was hanging on her every word.

‘And the masons accept you?’

‘A little. All the churchwrights are men, so I have to be careful not to claim to be one. I go by reputation and recommendation, which is why I started in Normandy, where all the great churches are being built. Some of the old masons there remembered my mother, which helped me at first. Because of my nun’s habit they see me as a
well-educated sister of the Church who has a gift for calculating, rather than as a churchwright. But, without thinking about it, they do let me help with the design.’

‘So, why are you here?’

‘This new church is going to be very special. William of Calais wants it to be the finest building in England. When I heard about it, I came to help.’

‘And you were welcomed?’

‘Yes, I was lucky to be recommended by Walkelin, Bishop of Winchester; his church has just been completed, and I did a lot of work on the vaulting for the roof. I specialize in the calculations to make the roof strong. Although I work with the master mason, I spend most of my time with the carpenters, because they make the timber frames that support the roof. Winchester has a big roof, and the beautiful stone vaulting above the nave is only decorative; the real work is done by less attractive but very sturdy oak beams above the stonework, which carry the weight of the outer roof. The design is very elegant and precise.’

I sat and watched Estrith holding court, her audience rapt. I had heard that Torfida could enthral people in the same way and that Estrith looked just like her. She was certainly a handsome woman. She had unblemished skin, the colour of rich cream, dark eyes and black hair, now greying a little at the temples, and her face had a serenity that was disarming. She possessed a slim figure, but her feminine curves were still apparent despite her heavy nun’s soutane.