Conquest

More loud cheers went up as the King entered the tall and elegant interior. The public followed their monarch into the nave, as far as its halfway point, while the monks began the sacred melody of plainchant, sending waves of sound echoing around the massive Romanesque columns and arches. It was the first sight that the King’s subjects had had of the wonder of the age. All stood and marvelled at it, their necks straining as they peered upwards. Torfida had made her way to her designated position, close to the altar. She had several minutes to wait while the King, guided by Teinfrith and his master masons, made his procession. Harold, with Edward’s hearthtroops, stewards and physicians, followed closely behind. The King listened intently to everything that was said to him and took a particular interest in the carving, especially the finely decorated capitals of the arches.

The fine building was a credit to Teinfrith and his masons. The roof was over 150 feet from the ground, a triumph of engineering, and the smooth cream stonework and graceful carving were as well worked as any in Christendom.

King Edward was by now quite near.

As he moved closer, Harold stepped forward. ‘Sire, may I introduce Torfida, a woman in my service. She may interest you.’

Torfida curtsied elegantly, and the King nodded in acknowledgement.

‘She has travelled extensively, including Constantinople and Rome, and has studied the ancient texts in mathematics. One of her many interests is church architecture, sire.’

‘Indeed.’ Edward’s manner was at first dismissive, then, with a jolt, his face contorted into a scowl. ‘Is this the wife of that scoundrel, Hereward?’

Harold was not perturbed by the King’s bluntness. ‘It is, sire, but she is here in her own right. Hereward is with my housecarls at Glastonbury, as I know his presence in London displeases you.’

‘Don’t patronize me, Earl Godwinson. You do as you see fit, whether it displeases me or not.’

Torfida was shocked to hear the King speak to Harold so sharply. Edward made to move on and Harold, his face suffused with anger, stepped aside. Torfida decided to take a risk and speak to the King without being spoken to first. She used her impeccable Norman French.

‘My Lord King, Master Teinfrith is to be congratulated; the great abbey church of Jumieges pales in comparison with your achievement here. I can see the resemblance to the Abbey of Bernay, but you have improved the vaulting in an extraordinary way, and I can see the influence of Philip of Poitiers in the design.’

Torfida gulped a little; Harold stiffened, expecting the worst.

The King looked at his architect.

Teinfrith looked back, his eyebrows slightly raised. ‘Do you know these churches, young woman?’

‘Sire, I know a little of the work of Maitre Thiebault at Jumieges. It is a fine church and will soon be finished.’

‘Indeed it will. But you are not a mason. How do you know so much about the architecture of cathedrals?’

‘I have studied the work of the architect Isidor of Miletus, and the mathematician Arthamius of Thralles; I have seen their magnificent legacy, the Hagia Sofia. Mathematics is one of my specialities.’

Teinfrith was astonished; the King looked at him and he nodded, confirming the accuracy of Torfida’s information.

Edward turned back to Torfida. ‘And your other “specialities”, besides mathematics?’

‘Sire, theology, languages, metaphysics and philosophy, natural sciences and, of course, history, especially English history.’ Torfida looked at the floor uncomfortably, realizing her immodesty.

The King stepped towards her and looked at her with obvious curiosity. ‘What is the Latin genus of the great elm?’

‘ Ulmus, sire.’

The King’s second question was delivered in Latin. ‘Who was Emperor of the Romans after Trajan the Great?’

‘Hadrian, sire.’

The King then asked in Greek. ‘Who wrote the tragedy Prometheus Bound?’

‘Aeschylus, sire, sometime after 460 BC.’

‘Remarkable. There are only a handful of men in England who could answer those questions. Where did you acquire your knowledge?’

‘My father was a very learned man. He was priest to your mother, Queen Emma.’

‘How intriguing. If you are referring to the man I think you are, then I knew your father very well; until, of course, he was excommunicated. You must be his bastard child.’

‘I am, sire. He took me into the forest and raised me there until I was a grown woman. Then he sent me to the nuns at Hereford.’

‘I often wondered what became of Father Waltheof; he was a very good friend. He was fluent in Norman and helped me to improve my English and my Norse. We spoke about many things… until his dalliance with one of the ladies-in-waiting caused a furore at court.’

Torfida was hearing her father’s real name for the first time. ‘Queen Emma was good to my father. She let him have books, and she sent him regular messages.’

The entourage around the King began to shuffle uncomfortably; time was passing and this was an unexpected delay to the schedule.