Conquest

The first of the victors poured into Hereford at dusk and the mayhem of war continued as the rape and murder of the innocent began.

Hereward and the leaders arrived in the burgh shortly after the advanced guard. Houses were being torched and male inhabitants were being put to the sword; booty was being loaded into carts; larders and grain stores were being emptied and the screams of women and children could be heard everywhere.

As Hereward, Martin Lightfoot, Einar and the Captain of the King’s housecarls arrived at the nunnery of Hereford, the great wooden cathedral, adjacent to the nunnery, was already in flames. Warriors were stacking books, church plate, altar crosses and tapestries on to carts, while several clerics lay in pools of blood in the doorway. At the entrance to the nuns’ quarters, the sight of men surging forward, fighting one another to get in, abruptly reminded Hereward that the Old Man of the Wildwood had sent his daughter to the nuns at Hereford.

He turned to the Captain of his housecarls. ‘Captain, there may be a woman in there I need to find.’

‘Stand aside!’

At the Captain’s bellowed order, the men grudgingly parted, allowing access to the refectory.

The Mother Superior and the older nuns had attempted to form a circle of sanctuary at the high table, protecting the younger women. One of Aelfgar’s Northumbrians reached into the cowering group, dragged out a struggling girl, no more than sixteen years old, and threw her at the Captain. As he did so, he yanked her crude woollen habit, ripping it apart, to render her naked at his feet.

She immediately crawled into a ball to hide herself.

‘This one is yours, Captain! Do you want her?’

The Captain nodded at his sergeant-at-arms, who immediately cut the man down with his sword.

‘Take him out and throw him in the midden! The rest of you, out, now! Mother Superior, my men will escort you as close to Gloucester as is safe for them. Take whatever you need, but you must leave immediately.’

She and the other nuns suppressed their sobs as Hereward called out, ‘Is there a woman here named Torfida?’

‘I am Torfida.’

The voice came from the naked figure still coiled on the floor. Hereward offered her his cloak and, as she wrapped it around herself, he could not fail to notice how beautiful she was. He also saw a large amulet around her neck and assumed it was the object her father had told him about.

Hereward spoke gently to her. ‘Your father told me that I would meet you. He sends you his love.’

Although the young woman was still heaving with the fear and anxiety of what had just happened, she composed herself quickly. ‘He was a great man.’

‘What do you mean by “was”? Have you heard of his death?’

‘No, but I’m sure he’s dead. The forest has taken him; I can feel it.’

She spoke with such conviction, Hereward saw little point in challenging her. ‘He said that I must ask you for a talisman.’

She paused for a few moments and stared at him with a rare intensity. ‘So you are the one.’

With that, Torfida walked towards her Mother Superior and whispered to her for several seconds. Then they kissed and parted and the matriarch ushered her flock away.

‘I must come with you now.’

Hereward was shocked at the firmness of Torfida’s words. ‘You don’t know where I’m going.’

‘Wherever it is, I must come with you.’

Despite her tender years, she had regained her composure remarkably quickly. ‘And what of the amulet?’

‘That comes with us. We will talk about it when I think it is time. Until then, we will not speak of it again.’

They arrived at the King’s camp, some distance from the ravaged burgh, where Gruffydd was celebrating in earnest. He had a drinking horn in his hand and it was obvious that he had been using it liberally.

‘Hereward, I see you have found yourself a beautiful young girl. Bring her to me.’

‘Sire, she is a virgin and a Sister of the Church.’

‘I realize that, boy! I just want to look at her.’

Torfida did not wait for a response from Hereward; she removed the cloak he had given her and let it fall to the ground, not attempting to cover herself. Hereward moved towards her but, with a slight movement of her hand, she gestured to him to stay away. Then, with a jutting of her jaw and a deep intake of breath, she stood proudly in front of Gruffydd and several hundred of his warriors.

Her boldness shocked them into silence.

Torfida was striking: her jet-black hair, dark eyes and olive skin made her resemble a Mediterranean princess more than a fair maid of England. Although not much older than a child, her breasts were full, with nipples firm and dark; her hips were broad and there was a muscular tone to her limbs, a product of a healthy life in the forest. Her sexuality, emanating from her self-confidence and bearing, was arresting and way beyond her years.

The silence lasted for several seconds.

Torfida stared defiantly at the King. He stared back at her, equally resolute. Eventually, the King relented with a shake of his head, as if breaking a spell.