Crusade (36 page)

Edwin was more pragmatic.

‘You were a few feet away; you could have been mistaken. As for the Emperor’s reaction, he probably thought it discourteous of us to ask.’

Although I had not seen the Talisman as many times as
Estrith, I was also sure it was the amulet Hereward had worn. But I thought it unlikely to be still linked to Hereward after all these years.

‘Even if it is the Talisman, it could have gone through many hands before arriving here – anyone could have picked it up at Ely. But, I agree, it is an amazing coincidence that we should find it hanging from the gilded belt of the Emperor of Byzantium.’

The others had been too far away to see what Estrith and I had seen, but Sweyn was adamant.

‘The Emperor is hiding something. All he needed to do was show it to us and that would have been an end to it. It’s the amulet all right. And when we’ve finished our business in the Holy Land, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Then it will lead us to Hereward.’

Robert pointed out that that might be easier said than done.

‘Sweyn, emperors are not usually in the habit of bending to the will of anybody – let alone a lowly duke and an even lowlier knight.’

‘On the contrary, chivalry demands that he return it to Estrith. It is a sacred relic, entrusted to the care of Hereward and Torfida by her father, the Old Man of the Wildwood, and before him by Emma, Queen of England, and a long line of forebears stretching back to the emperors of Rome. Estrith is Hereward and Torfida’s only surviving relative, thus she is now the guardian of the Talisman. It belongs to her and her alone.’

Robert did not respond. Like the rest of us, he was impressed by the clarity of Sweyn’s answer and the forthright way in which he delivered it.

Edwin brought the discussion to an end by reminding us of the practicalities we faced in the expedition we were about to undertake.

‘We have three weeks to get ready for the crossing. There is much to do. Let’s deal with the dilemma of the Talisman when we return.’

Ships arrived from every port in the Mediterranean for the crossing. The distance was not great – only about half a mile in places – but the number of Crusaders was huge and the volume of supplies immense. The Emperor rode down to the quays every morning to check on progress and each time was hailed as the great leader of Christendom and cheered wherever he went.

Alexius had brokered a flimsy compromise with the Latin Princes about the campaign’s leadership, strategy and objectives, but the details were vague and few of us expected the agreement to last for long.

First of all, Raymond of Toulouse was to act as primate of a Crusade Council of War, a body consisting of all the leaders of the various contingents. It would be his job to ensure a consensus on routes and battle planning.

Secondly, all inhabitants of liberated cities and territories were to be treated humanely, and freedom of worship would be permitted.

Finally, the Princes were at liberty to create their own fiefdoms in the freed cities, but subject to the above conditions and their original oath to the Emperor – to bow to his sovereignty over all land and people restored to Christian rule.

I was by far the most junior member of the Council of
War, leading the smallest contingent, and was surrounded by powerful individuals who made little attempt to hide their personal ambitions. I feared men like Bohemond of Taranto and Tancred of Hauteville were going to do just as they pleased, regardless of what the Council said – or the Emperor, for that matter.

The day before our departure, we were summoned to see Alexius. A feverish sense of anticipation began to course through our veins. None of the other contingents’ leaderships had been asked to go to the Palace, so we hoped and prayed that the call had something to do with the Talisman.

When we arrived in the inner sanctum of the Blachernae, we were ushered into a much smaller but no less ornate room than before. It was deserted; there was no furniture, just a bare room of tapestries and mosaic. Then a wide door to our right was opened and two Varangians appeared and stood guard as the Emperor walked in.

We all bowed.

The Emperor addressed us directly.

‘The man who gave me the Talisman is waiting next door to see you. There is a reason why I denied that the amulet was what you said it was – but he will explain that. He would like to see Estrith alone first, then the rest of you. Forgive me; there is much to do before tomorrow.’

The Emperor then turned and left. As he did so, a steward appeared and beckoned Estrith towards an identical door on the opposite side. Sweyn was not happy for Estrith to go alone, but she was halfway to the door before he had time to raise an objection.

The wait seemed like an eternity. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like an hour.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open to reveal Estrith all but dragging a large and unmistakable figure behind her. She was crying and laughing at the same time, almost hysterical with emotion. Adela immediately started to weep as well, as she joined Estrith in embracing the man none of us had seen in over twenty-five years.

The men stood back, but Sweyn had tears in his eyes and his chest heaved in spasms.

I quickly calculated that the man before us must have been sixty-one or so years of age, but he looked ten years younger. His girth was more substantial than I remembered, and his hair was full of grey streaks amidst the flowing golden-blond locks, but there he stood, Hereward of Bourne, England’s great hero, a man of legend.

Sweyn and Adela had been right: he was alive still.

It was a miracle.

Then Hereward spoke, and I was transported back to 1069 and the measured but powerful voice of his rousing oratory during the rebellion. I was the Prince Atheling, the heir to the throne of England, high born, with a royal pedigree centuries old, and he was a minor thegn from a tiny village in the shires; yet he was the giant, I was the sprat. He was all that I wanted to be: a leader of men in reality, not one whose only claim to leadership was his conception twixt royal bed-sheets. He had become the towering presence in my life; now, when it did not seem possible that he could still be alive, he had appeared again.

I knew that, as before, he would be an inspiration to me and our Brethren.

‘Emperor Alexius has given us a room where we can sit and talk, and has had food prepared for us.’

We all embraced and I introduced Hereward to Robert.

‘My Lord Duke, I didn’t think I would ever see my family and friends again. That I should do so in the presence of the son of King William is, to say the least, somewhat of a surprise. However, Estrith tells me that you are sworn together as brethren, so I am honoured to meet you.’

‘The honour is mine, Hereward of Bourne; I have heard so much about you. I look forward to hearing more.’

Beneath a heavy ruby-red cloak fastened by an intricate bronze clasp, Hereward wore the blood-red tunic, trimmed with gold embroidery, of a Captain of the Varangian Guard. Over one shoulder, held by a finely tooled leather strap, he carried a large circular shield adorned with the motif of the winged lion of the Guard. Slung over the other shoulder was a heavy battle sword with a fine gilt handle and delicately worked sheath. Along his belt were leather pouches for two shorter stabbing swords, a small close-quarters axe and a jewelled dagger.

But there was something missing, the most fearsome weapon I had ever seen – the Great Axe of Göteborg.

‘Where is your axe?’

‘It’s over there, in the corner; I’m getting a bit old to carry it around all day.’

He beckoned to one of the Varangians to get it for him. Even though the soldier was a large man himself, he struggled to carry it, holding it with reverence, as if it had magical powers. When he handed it to Hereward, he grasped it easily in one hand and lifted it at arm’s length. It seemed even bigger than I remembered; the shaft was
the diameter of a man’s wrist and its head stood almost at shoulder height. The two huge, crescent-shaped blades still shone as brightly as when they had first been made.

‘Do you remember this?’

Sweyn went up to him and asked to hold the Great Axe.

‘I remember it well …’

He did not continue his sentence; dealing with the weight of the weapon took all his concentration and breath.

Several hours of fascinating conversation followed, as we told our stories and Hereward told his. Although he had obviously told Estrith a more intimate version during their private meeting together, he did share with us a brief account of what happened between him and the King in St Etheldreda’s Chapel at Ely.

Estrith held him around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder as he described the bitter-sweet paradox of William finally acknowledging the courage and worthiness of the cause of the Brotherhood, and deciding to spare Gunnhild and Estrith, but demanding that a dreadful price be paid. The King insisted that Hereward was never to see his daughters again, who would be put in the care of Robert of Mortain. He must agree to leave England in secret, never to return.

The King had devised an infernal pact between them, a perfect example of William’s fiendish cunning. Hereward had no choice but to agree – it did represent an acknowledgement of sorts that the sacrifices of the Brotherhood had not been in vain – so the pact with the Devil was done.

He created a new identity for himself – Godwin of Ely,
soldier of fortune – cut off his distinctive blond locks and, after a few years’ service in the bodyguard of a German prince, slowly made his way to Constantinople. He enlisted in the imperial army of Byzantium, which already included several of King Harold’s housecarls who had survived Senlac Ridge. A handful of them recognized him, but never revealed his identity, following the strict code of honour practised by the Emperor’s soldiers.

When Alexius became Emperor in 1081, Hereward joined the elite Varangian Guard. He soon rose rapidly through the ranks and won universal acclaim as its most formidable warrior. The new Emperor, a 24-year-old seasoned soldier himself who had first gone to war as a boy of fourteen, soon picked out Hereward to be the man around whom to rebuild Byzantium’s shattered army and appointed him Captain of the Varangians.

He became close to Alexius, for whom he had immense respect, both as a man and a soldier. He revealed to him his real identity and the truth about his life before his arrival Constantinople.

Hereward led the Guard in the great victory against the Pechenegs at Levunium in 1091, after which he was paraded, garlanded, through the streets of Constantinople. He was fifty-five years old by then and his many injuries, scars and broken bones were getting the better of his ageing body. His eyesight was not as keen as it once was, and his reactions were slowing. He decided to retire and entrust Alexius with the Talisman in recognition of his great achievement in neutralizing an enemy of the Empire that had been plaguing its northern border for years.

Alexius wanted to award Hereward a huge pension and vast estates in gratitude for his faithful service. Hereward refused the offer, content with a modest casket of silver and a small plot of land in the western Peloponnese. It was one of the most remote places in the empire, and the grant of land was entirely virgin territory – almost all of it comprised Mount Foloi, a heavily wooded, rugged mountain with commanding views to the west and out to sea. Hereward had seen it many years earlier and decided it would be the ideal place to retire to.

He built his own shelter above the oaks and pines, just beneath the top of the mountain, where the chill and the winds of winter would remind him of England. He hunted, foraged and farmed just as he had done as a young man in England’s wildwood after he had been banished by King Edward at Winchester.

He said he never got lonely; he had so much to reflect on. And so many memories to keep him company, he added poignantly, with a tear in his eye and a kiss for Estrith.

‘And I had Torfida for company. She said she would always be with me. She has kept her promise and she still is.’

I suddenly remembered the giant blond Varangian on the prow of the Byzantine ship at the Battle of Mazara, whom Ibn Hamed had said was the Captain of the Guard.

Adela had remembered too and got the question out before me.

‘Surely it cannot have been you leading the attack on Mazara in Sicily? It was in the autumn of the year 1084, I think … but we believed the Captain had been killed?’

‘Were you there?’

‘Yes, we were in the service of Roger of Sicily.’

Hereward looked at Estrith. ‘And you?’

‘No, I was building churches in Normandy at the time.’

‘Like mother, like daughter. Well, fate would have dealt me a strange blow if it had been me at Mazara – killed in battle against my old friend, Count Roger, with my own family serving in his army. Fortunately for me, the Emperor did not send me on the campaigns against the Normans in Italy and the Balkans because of my previous service with the Guiscards and my close bond with Roger. The man who was killed that day was my deputy, another Englishman, John of Worcester, a fine man and a great soldier. He took an arrow which pierced his armour, broke his ribs and ruptured his heart. He was dead in moments.’

Sweyn then continued the reminiscing.

‘There are so many stories about you and Ely! You must have been tempted to come back to England, especially after you retired from the army and William died.’

‘I was very tempted – but William kept his side of the bargain, and I kept mine. I paid a high price, but not as high as the one paid by the rest of the Brotherhood.’

Adela then spoke.

‘So, you have become like the Old Man of the Wildwood?’

‘I certainly live like him, but without his knowledge and wisdom. I am no seer, just an ancient soldier.’

‘Did you never find a woman to spend your retirement with?’

‘No woman would be mad enough to spend her days with an old man in a thatched lean-to at the top of a mountain.’

Then Hereward got to his feet. Suddenly, it was as if we were back in 1069; he had that fiery look in his eye.