Crusade

Beneath a heavy ruby-red cloak fastened by an intricate bronze clasp, Hereward wore the blood-red tunic, trimmed with gold embroidery, of a Captain of the Varangian Guard. Over one shoulder, held by a finely tooled leather strap, he carried a large circular shield adorned with the motif of the winged lion of the Guard. Slung over the other shoulder was a heavy battle sword with a fine gilt handle and delicately worked sheath. Along his belt were leather pouches for two shorter stabbing swords, a small close-quarters axe and a jewelled dagger.

But there was something missing, the most fearsome weapon I had ever seen — the Great Axe of Goteborg.

‘Where is your axe?’

‘It’s over there, in the corner; I’m getting a bit old to carry it around all day.’

He beckoned to one of the Varangians to get it for him. Even though the soldier was a large man himself, he struggled to carry it, holding it with reverence, as if it had magical powers. When he handed it to Hereward, he grasped it easily in one hand and lifted it at arm’s length. It seemed even bigger than I remembered; the shaft was the diameter of a man’s wrist and its head stood almost at shoulder height. The two huge, crescent-shaped blades still shone as brightly as when they had first been made.

‘Do you remember this?’

Sweyn went up to him and asked to hold the Great Axe.

‘I remember it well…’

He did not continue his sentence; dealing with the weight of the weapon took all his concentration and breath.

Several hours of fascinating conversation followed, as we told our stories and Hereward told his. Although he had obviously told Estrith a more intimate version during their private meeting together, he did share with us a brief account of what happened between him and the King in St Etheldreda’s Chapel at Ely.

Estrith held him around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder as he described the bitter-sweet paradox of William finally acknowledging the courage and worthiness of the cause of the Brotherhood, and deciding to spare Gunnhild and Estrith, but demanding that a dreadful price be paid. The King insisted that Hereward was never to see his daughters again, who would be put in the care of Robert of Mortain. He must agree to leave England in secret, never to return.

The King had devised an infernal pact between them, a perfect example of William’s fiendish cunning. Hereward had no choice but to agree — it did represent an acknowledgement of sorts that the sacrifices of the Brotherhood had not been in vain — so the pact with the Devil was done.

He created a new identity for himself — Godwin of Ely, soldier of fortune — cut off his distinctive blond locks and, after a few years’ service in the bodyguard of a German prince, slowly made his way to Constantinople. He enlisted in the imperial army of Byzantium, which already included several of King Harold’s housecarls who had survived Senlac Ridge. A handful of them recognized him, but never revealed his identity, following the strict code of honour practised by the Emperor’s soldiers.

When Alexius became Emperor in 1081, Hereward joined the elite Varangian Guard. He soon rose rapidly through the ranks and won universal acclaim as its most formidable warrior. The new Emperor, a 24-year-old seasoned soldier himself who had first gone to war as a boy of fourteen, soon picked out Hereward to be the man around whom to rebuild Byzantium’s shattered army and appointed him Captain of the Varangians.

He became close to Alexius, for whom he had immense respect, both as a man and a soldier. He revealed to him his real identity and the truth about his life before his arrival Constantinople.

Hereward led the Guard in the great victory against the Pechenegs at Levunium in 1091, after which he was paraded, garlanded, through the streets of Constantinople. He was fifty-five years old by then and his many injuries, scars and broken bones were getting the better of his ageing body. His eyesight was not as keen as it once was, and his reactions were slowing. He decided to retire and entrust Alexius with the Talisman in recognition of his great achievement in neutralizing an enemy of the Empire that had been plaguing its northern border for years.

Alexius wanted to award Hereward a huge pension and vast estates in gratitude for his faithful service. Hereward refused the offer, content with a modest casket of silver and a small plot of land in the western Peloponnese. It was one of the most remote places in the empire, and the grant of land was entirely virgin territory — almost all of it comprised Mount Foloi, a heavily wooded, rugged mountain with commanding views to the west and out to sea. Hereward had seen it many years earlier and decided it would be the ideal place to retire to.