Conquest

‘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.

Epilogue

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.’