Conquest

Hereward had taken the news of Harold’s death with predictable anguish, especially as he had survived while his King had died, but there was no anger in his eyes, only sadness. He spent many hours staring into the distance, gazing at the tall trees of the forest. No one mentioned the Talisman; all assumed it was now a trinket in the horde of a fat Norman lord, or else lost amid the morass of human remains on Senlac Ridge. However, it soon reappeared in the lives of Hereward and Torfida.

But not as they would have wished.

It was the end of a very warm spring day. With the aid of a thick staff, Hereward had started to walk in the meadows on his own, where he would gently swing his sword through the burgeoning greenery of the forest floor. His arms were not yet sturdy enough for the Great Axe of Goteborg, but they were getting stronger by the day.

Torfida still looked worringly thin and tired, and her hair was turning grey. Hereward was concerned about his wife and was determined to find a new life for them that would allow her some rest and peace of mind.

At first, Hereward thought he was witnessing an apparition. He had sat down at the edge of a clearing to watch the approaching sunset when, in the middle distance, striding through the glade in the mist of the early evening was what seemed to be the glistening form of a woman. She was naked, her flowing hair framing her head and shoulders like a cowl; her soft beige skin gleamed with oil, her broad hips and large breasts the focal points of a woman of astounding physical symmetry. She moved slowly, her eyes sharply focused, her jaw set.

Hereward soon knew the figure was not an apparition. It was then that he saw the Talisman cradled between the woman’s breasts.

Edith Swan-Neck had pulled the Talisman from Harold’s severed neck on Senlac Ridge and had vowed to return it to Hereward. She knew it had been important to Harold and that Hereward and Torfida regarded it as something of great spiritual value. Her grief for Harold was deep and genuine and at first she had no intention of seducing Hereward. However, as time passed and news of his survival reached her, her mood changed. Not only was he handsome and strong, he had become England’s only chance. A new army could be built around him.

These thoughts worked on her imagination until the notion of a man formidable enough to save England in its hour of need became irresistible to her. She had found Martin on one of his visits to Glastonbury and persuaded him to take her to their camp. Her good fortune found Torfida out in the forest in search of herbs, and Hereward alone in the meadows.

Hereward swallowed hard. As Edith got closer, he could smell the musk from the oil on her body. It invaded his senses with an aroma that pumped adrenalin through his veins and made him feel that his legendary strength had returned.

Edith did not hesitate. Parting her legs provocatively, she placed her feet either side of Hereward’s prone legs, and sat on his thighs. His eyes were drawn to her pubic hair, which her body oil had coiled into tight ringlets, then to her breasts, which were only inches from his face.

He loved Torfida, but how could a man face such an enticing prospect and reject it?

‘Hereward, you cannot know how much I’ve longed for this moment.’

Hereward did not respond. He was using all his resolve to resist the almost impossible temptation of England’s most beguiling woman.

‘England needs you… I need you. Together, we could raise an army strong enough to break the stranglehold the Normans have on this land. Their grip grows crueller by the day.’

Edith’s quarry was still silent. He had closed his eyes, hoping to blind himself to her charms.

Even so, Edith could feel that he was aroused, and she continued her slow and cunning seduction. ‘With me at your side, we can rule! The Witan would accept you as Regent, until the Atheling is ready. Then you would get an earldom. You could become the Earl of Wessex and Earl Marshal of England.’

Hereward was about to speak, but Edith began now to kiss him fervently, using her tongue to probe deeply into his mouth. She grabbed his head and pulled it to her breasts. It was then that the Talisman, swinging wildly from Edith’s neck, struck him on the temple.

He caught sight of its image of evil, giving him a sobering jolt and breaking the spell woven by the seductress above him. ‘Edith, we must not do this. I would risk almost anything to have you here and now, but I cannot. I love Torfida. Please, stop!’

Edith ignored his plea and continued to caress him, her words calculated to break down his resistance. ‘Hereward, don’t think of Torfida, think of us and England! Torfida can have an estate in the country. She can pursue her destiny and, one day, her dream of designing cathedrals. I’ll even let you go and serve her from time to time.’