Crusade

‘Give it to the young Count. It is embroidery, the finest you will ever see, a record of his father’s great victory at Senlac Ridge. It has taken the fine seamsters of Kent over a year to make. I was going to present it to the King myself, but that is no longer possible. When Robert is King of England, he should hang it around his hall at Westminster to remind him of what our generation did to win this kingdom for him. You can also tell that young knight of yours that when I have settled my differences with the King, he will face me again in very different circumstances.’

‘My Lord Bishop, he was only doing his duty.’

‘Perhaps so, but not with any measure of respect.’

Despite the rebuke from Odo, I was proud of Sweyn. He was now eighteen and no longer looked like a callow youth, but had the bearing of a mature knight and nobleman. He had acted firmly, as he was required to do, and had not been intimidated by the second most important man in the kingdom. Odo was in disgrace and could expect no courtesies — thus, none had been given. The swift and ruthless way in which Sweyn had dealt with Odo’s physical challenge impressed all who witnessed it and word spread quickly about his adroitness at close quarters and the power of his punch.

Bishop Odo, imposing warrior of Normandy, one of the most fearsome of William’s supporters, left England for seclusion in Normandy. He would not be released from captivity during the King’s lifetime. William had acted decisively against his closest ally — but it was the act of a king whose power was in rapid decline and who feared everyone around him.

‘Our boy did well, did he not, Edwin?’

‘He did, sire.’

‘Adela, you must be proud of your husband?’

‘I am, my Lord. It is a shame the King had not ordered his execution; if he had, I could have been the one to deliver the fatal blow!’

Our tour of duty of the King’s fortifications continued throughout the spring. England, as always at that time of year, was resplendent. We travelled to the south-west, to Montacute in Somerset and on to Exeter, Wells and Glastonbury. As we progressed, at every turn we witnessed a land beginning to prosper. Fields which the farmers had brought under their care were full of wheat and barley, and meadows that remained untamed were carpeted with wild flowers. There was game aplenty in the forests and the rivers teemed with fish.

It felt good to be alive.

Sweyn returned from Rouen in the summer and we continued our duties with Robert and his inspections around his father’s realm. As time went by, Robert took more and more opportunities to go hunting, taking time to explore each new forest, saying that England had the finest hunting he had ever encountered.

I was left to undertake the detail of the assessments and make regular reports to him. It was an ideal opportunity for me and for my companions to understand the meticulous attention to detail of Norman architecture and military planning, and we thus became absorbed by our work for many months.

Another major setback befell King William in November of 1083. His beloved wife, the diminutive yet formidable Matilda, died in Caen.

The King was inconsolable; he had been faithful to her throughout the entire thirty years of their marriage, while she had borne him ten children. It was Matilda who had held the family together, especially the ever-fractious Robert and Rufus.

We escorted Robert to the interment at his mother’s convent in Caen. The epitaph on her tomb was a perfect summary of what she meant to William and to Normandy:

The lofty structure of this splendid tomb

Hides great Matilda, sprung from royal stem.

Child of a Flemish duke, her mother was

Adela, a daughter of a King of France,

Sister of Henry, Robert’s royal son.

Married to William, most illustrious King,

She gave this site and raised this noble house,

With many hands and many goods endowed,

Given by her, or by her toil procured.

Comforter of the needy, duty’s friend,

Her wealth enriched the poor, left in her need.

At daybreak on November’s second day

She won her share of everlasting joy.

Throughout the entire service, William’s head remained bowed, his shoulders hunched. When he looked up, his eyes had the haunted look of a broken man.

There was much irony in the setting: where once William had towered over his acolytes, he now seemed to exist in their shadow. Their once doting eyes were insincere and, behind them, their machinations to bring about his imminent downfall and likely successor were almost palpable.

At the end, he had to be led away.

Robert announced that he would stay with his father in Rouen for the time being, so we decided that now was the time for us to undertake our journey to southern Italy.

We had become close friends — but while it was important for Robert to stay in Normandy, it was equally vital for me to seek a new challenge.

We parted like brothers.