Conquest

‘Well, Hereward of Bourne, there isn’t much of a village left for you to be “Thegn” of.’ He leered cruelly. ‘Except these young wenches, who have been kind enough to keep us entertained.’

The other Normans had roused themselves and were looking around for their weapons. They were not unduly alarmed, as Hereward was but one Englishman in a room of nine, highly trained Norman soldiers.

Hereward remained calm. ‘I would like to have your name, sir.’

One of the Normans peered out of the window to see if more Englishmen lay in wait. He could see no one and turned to his leader with a reassuring shake of his head.

‘I am Ogier the Breton. These are my men and we serve William, King of England and Duke of Normandy. By his authority, I am now Lord of Bourne and all its lands. King William granted me this privilege in recognition of my service to him. Following your repeated attacks on him in the North, about which he is greatly vexed, he told me to punish the entire village and spare no one. I was also to make it abundantly clear to all before they died that it was the treasonable behaviour of Hereward of Bourne that had led to their suffering.’

Again, Hereward chose not to reply. Instead, he drew his sword and pulled the Great Axe of Goteborg from his shoulder.

The Normans scattered in every direction, but Hereward was at them like a whirlwind. He cut two men down to his left with his sword, then with his axe cleaved the Breton almost in two from his left shoulder to his midriff. The girls screamed in horror and hid their eyes while the remaining Normans shouted at one another in blind panic. Two more were dead before either of them could find a weapon, while another one threw a lance that Hereward easily deflected with his shield. He kicked one of the remaining quartet into the corner, while another clambered out of the window, only to be met by Einar’s deadly axe. A third rushed through the door, to be grabbed by Alphonso, who calmly slit his throat from ear to ear. The last Norman offering any resistance was impaled through the midriff by Hereward’s sword and pinned to the wall like a hog on a spit. Finally, he turned and brought his axe down on to the man cowering in the corner, creating a spew of blood and a deafening shriek of agony.

Einar and Alphonso appeared in the doorway to check that Hereward’s vengeance was done.

‘Einar, please go and get Maria, Ingigerd and Cristina; these girls need their help. Nobody else must see this. We leave as soon as we’ve buried the dead. Alphonso, make sure these pigs are dead too.’

Hereward looked around the house and saw no possessions that were important to him. He then went to the Normans’ horses and retrieved his father’s sword and the money and jewellery stolen from his parents. Finally, without hesitating, he set fire to his home with a log from his own hearth and watched it burn to the ground, consuming the Normans within.

A large communal grave was dug next to the church and all the bodies of the villagers were placed in it. Hereward retrieved the three heads and carefully put them in their rightful place with their bodies, a gruesome but necessary task. A simple cross was made and, when all evidence of the terrible carnage that had been visited on this tiny village had been removed, Hereward’s small band of followers joined him in a short ceremony.

In failing light, which added an appropriately sombre pall to the occasion, Hereward pushed the small cross into the ground at the head of the mass grave, stepped back and spoke solemnly. ‘Let us pray for the souls of these people of Bourne, who, like so many throughout England, have done nothing to deserve their cruel fate. May they rest in peace.’

He then closed the door of Bourne church, locked it and put the key on his belt.

He would never return.

Hereward and his extended family, now numbering eighteen with the addition of the four survivors of Bourne, spent the next few weeks well away from conflict of any kind.

They had much to reflect on, especially the young orphans from the village. Hereward spent many hours with Gunnhild and Estrith, talking to them, telling and retelling stories about their mother and teaching them as much as he knew about anything and everything. It became a special time for all of them. Only occasionally were there moments of tension, and always about the same subject: when could they return to St Cirq Lapopie? Hereward was often sorely tempted to agree to go at a day’s notice, but would only ever give the same answer: ‘Soon, one day soon.’

No matter how painful and threatening it was to those closest to him, he had unfinished business in England; the events in Bourne had only added to his resolve.