Crusade

‘She did, and especially what Adela did for her in Palestine. I have been to her grave in Bourne to thank her, my other “mother”. I hope that the order of knights I have joined will be able to emulate the traditions begun at Ely and continued by our Brethren in Palestine.’

‘It was my honour to know them all; now I am privileged to meet another knight of Bourne. I wish you well.’

‘I will try to live my life as they lived theirs.’

‘I have no doubt you will. Go carefully, Harold of Hereford.’

He was a very earnest young man, but I readily gave him my blessing and as much wisdom about Palestine as I could. I think I must have sounded like Torfida’s father in the wildwood, and Hereward atop his mountain — full of talk of truth, virtue and destiny. I suppose I had become a sage. I did give him one piece of firm advice.

‘Wherever your destiny takes you and whatever it leads you to do, always remember your past and the legacy you have inherited. It will not only be your guide, it will also bring meaning to your life and to the lives of those who follow you. Your grandfather once told me that that was the message he had learned from the Talisman of Truth. When the Emperor, John Comnenus, passes it on to you, he will help you understand the wisdom of that message.’

I asked Harry to stay so that I could get to know him better, but he insisted that he had to go and, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. He did promise to come back with the Talisman one day and to bring news of Hereward’s resting place.

Perhaps he will.

When Harry had left, I felt a profound sense of relief. My mission in life had been fulfilled.

A fine young knight was about to embark on his own story, and he carried with him everything that Hereward, the Brotherhood and our Brethren had striven for.

Not only that, I had fulfilled my promise to Hereward to take care of his grandson.

When my time came to join him in the earth, I felt sure that the Wodewose would welcome me, just as he had welcomed my mentor, Hereward, and his own guide, the Old Man of the Wildwood.

Epilogue

Testament

William of Malmesbury, the renowned scribe of England’s history, breathes a long, deep breath and adjusts his position to find a more comfortable posture, as he has many times during the long days he has sat listening to the story of the life of Edgar the Atheling, Prince of England. His young cleric, Roger of Caen, yawns; he is overwhelmed by what he has heard in the modest hall of Ashgyll Force and terrified about how much he has to remember.

Twenty years on from the Battle of Tinchebrai, despite the unseemly haste and connivance of his ascendancy, and his subsequent avarice in snatching Normandy from his brother, Henry’s reign is largely peaceful and prosperous. Some of the wounds between Englishman and Norman are healing — even so, Prince Edgar is cautious about raking over ashes that are still warm.

‘So, there you have it, William of Malmesbury. Do with it as you see fit, but treat us kindly. Perhaps the story is best told after the King is dead. He rules England well, but he still has a vindictive streak, which is never far from the surface.’

William agrees with Edgar; the story is so intimate, it should not be told while the King is alive.

‘Your story will stay within the walls of Malmesbury until the time is right, when the King has been laid to rest. He is nearly sixty now and has not been in good health since the death of his son, William the Atheling.’

‘I heard that he drowned off the Normandy coast.’

‘He perished on the White Ship, dashed on the rocks off Barfleur. They say that he and the crew had been drinking and racing another ship to see which could reach the open sea first.’

‘I hear Robert’s son, William Clito, is now Count of Flanders and is still harassing the King.’

‘Indeed, he is. And to Henry’s credit, he does not take any revenge on Robert, who is still alive in Cardiff, or use him as a pawn to persuade Clito to submit.’

‘It is astonishing, Robert is seventy-five now. I hope he is as well as I am and not missing Sybilla too much. I wish I could see him; we would have a lot to talk about.’

‘I am told that the King used to let him hunt once a week, but he is too old now. His allowance from the King is thirty-five pounds of silver a year — a meagre amount for a royal duke — but he doesn’t starve or go about in rags.’

‘He deserves better than that.’

To Roger’s horror — he had thought their long and exhausting inquisition of Edgar was over — William resumes his questioning.

‘What of Estrith, did she ever build that roof?’

‘I heard from one of the nuns at Durham that Estrith died a few years ago, during an outbreak of the scarlet fever that killed half the population of Norwich. I don’t know about her roof; perhaps they are working on it now.’

‘Her father must also be dead. No one can live for ever — not even Hereward.’

‘He would be almost ninety, but bear in mind, Robert and I are both in our mid-seventies and still going strong.’