Crusade

Adela and Sweyn took everything in, trying to come to terms with their own part in England’s traumas. They practised their weapons routines twice a day, every day — two hours in the morning, two hours in the evening — sword and seax, lance and bow, mounted and on foot. They ran and swam, climbed, crawled and clambered through woods, across heaths and along beaches.

Their routines were like those of the devout monks, performed with the regularity of an hourglass, the dedication of a pilgrim and the intensity of a zealot. It was exhausting to watch.

Edwin and I joined them in many of their exercises and routines, but never with the same ferocity of purpose. Edwin was as fit and strong as any warrior and I maintained good health and followed strict military disciplines, but Sweyn and Adela were relentless. Typically, if I felt sore or feverish, I would take a break, or if I had overindulged in one of the many pleasures of the flesh available to a nobleman, I would let lethargy get the better of me. Not so, Sweyn and Adela. Pain or discomfort seemed to drive them on — and if they were diverted by worldly desires, they kept them well disguised.

As I observed them day after day, my admiration for them grew. They were so agile and strong and their close-quarters skills with a seax or dagger were a sight to behold. They often described how they had watched Alphonso of Granada in training at their home in St Cirq Lapopie. He was Hereward’s friend — the man he had admired more than anybody in single combat — and so they copied all his moves and routines.

Passing in the shadow of the wilderness of Dartmoor, it reminded me of the North. It was a forbidding place, much of it still covered in snow. Its practically impenetrable forests stretched high up, almost to the crests of the moors, where the trees gave way to the bogs and mires that could swallow a horse and rider in minutes.

The further west we went the more Celts we saw, still with their own language and ways, until we found only the occasional Saxon settlement close to the rivers.

The Earl of Cornwall’s Launceston was like the rest of this Norman land. There was a huge wooden keep atop a towering motte, with the stone walls of a new fortress being built around it.

The Earl’s greeting and hospitality were generous. A man in his mid-forties, he was typical of his warrior breed: forthright, strong and disciplined. He appeared to carry more Frankish blood than that of his Viking ancestors, for he was short and dark with a girth that reflected his age.

‘I am sorry to tell you that Gunnhild died two years ago. She developed appalling swellings and became very ill. Estrith nursed her for several weeks but she just wasted away. My physician said she was consumed by black bile, which produced terrible tumours that eventually killed her. Her pain was great, but she bore it with fortitude. When she died, Estrith took her to a secret place where Torfida, her mother, is buried. She then decided to leave Launceston. I had to seek permission from the King, which he granted. She left here about a year ago.’

Adela got the question out just before me.

‘My Lord, may we know where she has gone?’

‘You may not, young lady. First of all, the King forbade the girls any more than passing contact with anybody outside my immediate jurisdiction until they married. And secondly, Estrith left specific instructions that no one was to know her whereabouts.’

‘But, my Lord, we’re her family.’

‘She made no exceptions. Even though her father was a mortal enemy, I was charged with the girls’ care and would not betray Estrith’s trust to anyone.’

‘You were at Ely, Earl Robert?’

‘I was, Prince Edgar.’

‘So, you were a witness to Hereward’s demise?’

‘I was, but the account of the events after the end of the siege is known only to the King and to me. My recollection will go with me to my grave. As for the King — ’ he gave a short laugh ‘- I wouldn’t recommend that you ask him.’

Sweyn then stepped forward.

‘My Lord, did the girls not marry?’

‘They chose not to, although there were many suitors. They were beautiful — indeed, Estrith remains so — and very learned and charming; perfect wives for Norman lords looking for English brides to charm their tenants. But they chose to spend their days helping in the local communities with the sick and the poor; in the evenings they would talk and write, read and draw. Estrith is exceptionally talented with calculation and would seek out any churchwright or mason in the area to talk about the techniques of construction. She said that her mother had seen the great buildings of Rome and Greece and understood how they were built.’

Adela and Sweyn looked at one another warmly, clearly enjoying fond memories from the past. It was obvious that the Earl had become very fond of the girls and remained fiercely loyal to their wishes. It was pointless to press him further.