Conquest

‘I suppose the answer is both, in equal measure. My father has spent his life campaigning against the many enemies on our borders. When he was not doing that, he was wrestling with our enemies within. He’s weary and now his reward is a slow and painful death. It seems a cruel end. On the other hand, he has had the power to protect our empire and change the lives of his people. He has won their respect and trust, and will be long remembered for it. Like Harold of England, he has done his duty.’ John Comnenus paused and put his arm around his friend.‘That’s my only ambition. With all the excitement and anguish it will bring, I intend to do my duty.’

The two princes smiled at one another and made their way back to Godwin’s eyrie.

The old warrior was waiting for them when they returned. He was already sitting in his chosen spot with Leo of Methone helping him to get comfortable. He seemed refreshed and eager to resume his story.

‘Come, my two lords of Byzantium, I thought you’d lost your way on my mountain. My tale is barely half told.’

18. A Presence in the Mist

For the survivors of Senlac Ridge, the return to Glastonbury was an occasion for tears of joy and sadness. Word had already reached Harold’s stronghold of the approach of Hereward and his companions, so a welcome party was waiting. As the wives and children rushed down the hill shrieking with delight, a few sturdy veterans of Harold’s hearthtroop stood vanguard. News of Hereward’s valour had reached all corners of the land and the men snapped to attention and looked on in awe as he passed. Rumours about his exploits had spread, rapidly escalating into ever more fantastic tales. It was said that it was impossible to kill him and that his immortality was a beacon that would summon men to his side to save England. In truth, his life was still hanging by the slender thread that the care of his followers had spun for him.

Torfida rushed to his side, but he barely recognized her. She could see the poison in his bloodshot eyes and immediately started to plan his recovery. Gunnhild and Estrith were hysterical and had to be comforted by Ingigerd and Maria.

Early the next day, heavily armed and fully provisioned, Einar led the group out of Glastonbury and into the Mendip Hills to find a hiding place deep in the wildwood. Torfida knew Hereward would not survive a winter on the run. She also knew that William’s ample purse would entice countless spies to divulge the whereabouts of any survivors of the English nobility or of Harold’s army, especially one as distinguished as Hereward.

Within forty-eight hours, a suitable camp had been established in the depths of the forest. A harsh winter would soon be upon them. Hereward’s prospects were not auspicious. Injured as he was, movement was difficult, exercise impossible. It would be hard for him to fight the infection, even harder for him to keep his lungs clear of pneumonia.

Under Torfida’s earnest directions, an elaborate programme began. All the adults took it in turns to lift, pull, stretch and bend him to keep his muscles supple, exercise his lungs and improve his circulation. His dressings were changed every day and his wounds cleaned. He had his own latrine next to his bed and a special diet rich in Torfida’s herbal remedies. Hereward began to improve but, as he did so, Torfida began to suffer. She worked endlessly, never seemed to sleep and began to lose weight. No amount of cajoling or berating from the others would make her rest.

By March of 1067, much progress had been made. Hereward’s life was no longer in danger and he was able to walk, even if his movements were laboured and painful. Perversely, to everyone’s dismay, as Hereward regained his vitality, Torfida lost hers. It was as if she were transferring her own lifeblood to him. When the family expressed their concerns, she dismissed them, saying that now Hereward was healing, her own recovery would soon follow.

Martin had been back to Glastonbury several times and news had reached the camp of William’s coronation on Christmas Day 1066, and the subsequent severity of his rule over south-east England. William’s army had marauded across the south, forcing all the burghs to submit. Canterbury, Guildford, Winchester, Wallingford, Bedford, Cambridge, Hertford and, finally, London had all stooped to the new monarch. He had spent the winter at the abbey in Barking, in Essex, but by the time of the first spring sailings in the Channel he felt confident enough to return to Normandy. There, in a celebratory tour of his Duchy with his English hostages in tow, he was feted as the conquering hero.