Conquest

Conversely, the Normans had strong leadership and organizational skills in abundance. William had begun to campaign further and further from London, building imposing fortifications at every strategic vantage point, and he now restructured the taxation system so that wealth flowed into Norman coffers in vast quantities. His catechism of rule had only two lines of doctrine: total obedience and the severest punishments for any misdemeanour. The greater part of the English population was terrified, and William did not forego any opportunity to intensify their fear.

He campaigned throughout the autumn and winter and was still on the march in the summer of 1068. Thousands were slaughtered — women and children included — whole towns and villages were made examples of, and the scale of the atrocities cowed the people and shocked the rest of Europe.

The scale of William’s brutality had not been seen since the lawlessness of the Dark Ages.

Hereward knew nothing of this. The remoteness of his idyllic bastide was a particular blessing in that it prevented him from hearing of England’s agonies.

That all changed on a wet and rainy day in November 1068.

The community was preparing for winter, which, with the chilling high ground of the Massif Central only a few miles to the east, could be particularly harsh. Their bastide was high on the limestone crags above the meandering Lot, with an almost impregnable defensive position; anyone approaching on the narrow track could be seen for at least half an hour.

Alphonso saw them first and called to the others. Three of the men wore the unmistakable tunics and armour of English housecarls, a fourth was dressed like an English courtier. Behind them rode an escort of four, two abreast, who were recognizable as men from the private retinue of the Count of Toulouse. By the time the group reached the walls of the bastide, everyone had gathered to greet them. It was a warm welcome, as all were desperate for news from England, if a little apprehensive as to what it might contain.

The young courtier had been sent by Harold’s Constable at Glastonbury. He had much to tell them, but Hereward insisted that his account should wait until all were seated for dinner. However, Edwin, the young envoy, who was no more than eighteen years of age and a second cousin of King Harold, announced that he had something private to share with Hereward.

Einar, sensing what Edwin’s news might convey, ushered the family away.

Edwin handed Hereward a delicate silk handkerchief which carried the unmistakable aroma of Edith Swan-Neck’s perfume. Hereward recognized it immediately and hesitated. He looked at the young man sternly.

The boy nodded meekly. ‘Please, open the handkerchief; I’m afraid it brings bad news.’

Hereward did as he was asked, but as soon as he saw what the handkerchief contained, immediately clenched his fist around it. It was Torfida’s gold ring — the one he had given her as they exchanged their vows in Kiev all those years earlier.

‘How was this found?’

‘Sir, it was found on a body in the forest near Hereford.’

‘My wife’s body?’

‘So it is presumed, sir. I am sorry to be the bearer of such news.’ He paused, looking more and more uncomfortable.

‘Go on, boy. You’ve travelled a long way to bring me this news.’

‘The body was badly decomposed, but the nuns at Hereford recognized it.’

‘When did this take place?’

‘In the spring of this year.’

‘But Torfida disappeared from our camp almost a year before that.’

‘Yes, sir. Sister Magdalena, the Mother Superior at the nunnery of Hereford, wanted you to know the facts as far as she could ascertain them.’

Hereward led Edwin to a bench close to the bastide’s well.

‘Torfida was at Hereford for only a very short time. She had been with the nuns as a girl and arrived very distressed, seeking refuge and a place for contemplation.’

‘But almost the first thing I did was send Martin to the nuns. I felt certain she would go there.’

‘I know… Sister Magdalena sends her deepest regrets, but Torfida insisted that the nuns turn Martin away and deny all knowledge of her arrival.’

Tears welled up in Hereward’s eyes, which he made no attempt to wipe away or hide from the young courtier.

‘Would you like me to go on, sir?’

Hereward nodded.

‘While she was there, her health deteriorated within days. The nuns were very concerned and wanted to send for you, but Torfida would not hear of it.’

Hereward’s chest heaved with a shudder of emotion that he found difficult to control. He let out a great cry of anguish. ‘Torfida! I can’t bear it. Why couldn’t I find you?’

‘She tried to treat herself, but she was very ill. Her body was plagued with swellings and she was in great pain. Mother Superior wanted you to know how brave she was, refusing all help from the nuns, asking only for their prayers. After a while, she said that she had regained some of her strength and left to return to your camp, saying that it was nearby. Mother Superior did not want her to leave, but bowed to the strength of her will.’