Crusade

‘You must forgive my furtiveness when you appeared. I like to remain as anonymous as possible up here. I have chosen a quiet and contemplative end to my life. As a monk, I’m sure you will understand that.’

‘Indeed, although life at Malmesbury can sometimes be far more hectic than I would wish.’

‘How did you know where to find me?’

‘A Norseman. He came to the abbey to sell linen.’

Edgar smiles ruefully.

‘I thought as much. I recall he just appeared one day. He recognized me at Durham and must have followed me here. I don’t know how he avoided the Gul; perhaps he paid them off. I suppose you made it worth his while to tell you where I lived?’

‘Well, we did buy rather a lot of linen from him.’

‘Yes, he was a good salesman — very persuasive; he carried some excellent Norse mead. He probably got me drunk. Anyway, he had already guessed my identity, so there was no point in denying it.’

Edgar shrugs his shoulders, sits himself down by the fire and changes the subject.

‘You are a Norman, young Roger. I know Caen; it is a fine city. And I know the Normans well — especially a very noble one called Robert.’

After a pause, Edgar turns to William and stares at him pointedly.

‘Are you here to hear my confession?’

‘Not exactly, but I would like to hear the account of your many trials and tribulations. My life is devoted to the chronicles of the past.’

‘I know your work and that you have just completed your Deeds of the Kings of the English. The monks at Durham have a copy, which they are very proud of.’

‘You flatter me. How often do you visit the cathedral?’

‘I used to go occasionally, but now the stiffness of old age prevents any travel beyond my weekly trip to Alston, an old Norse settlement nearby. Like so much of the North, it’s not much more than a ruin where the few locals who survive hold a weekly market.’

‘Does that include the mysterious Owain Rheged and his band of Celts?’

‘No, indeed. No one ever sees them. They live deep in the forest — high up, near the open fells. Owain comes here from time to time. I like to drink, he likes to talk; he tells me endless stories about his ancestors and the great Urien Rheged.’

‘He killed two of my men; beheaded one and hanged his head from a tree like an animal. The other he butchered in front of us like a deer in the forest.’

‘I’m surprised he didn’t do that to all of you; he is guarding the safety of his tribe. He still holds human sacrifices, or so I am told. He’s getting old, though, so perhaps he was curious about you. Maybe he was tempted to tell you his story? He must know the end is close for his people. It’s one thing keeping superstitious Saxons and Danes at bay with his sorcery, but quite another to resist the Normans. He knows their brutal reputation.’

‘I don’t suppose there is any point in trying to seek redress for what he has done?’

‘No, he is the law here. The Earl doesn’t venture up here; no one in their right mind does — except you, of course.’

Recalling the Druid’s account of his early life, William asks, ‘Where did he learn English?’

‘From me, although I suspect I wasn’t the first to teach him. I came here nearly fifteen years ago; I chose this place to be close to my friends in Scotland and because Ashgyll Force cleanses me. I like to wash away the dust of Palestine and the memory of Jerusalem every day. I also came here because I once had a very traumatic experience high in the fells of the Pennines. It changed my life.’

‘May I ask about the circumstances?’

‘You may. My life was saved by a man called Hereward of Bourne. You know of him?’

‘I do. He has become a legend, but I would like to hear about him from you.’

Edgar appears to ignore William’s request.

‘Let me tell you about Owain Rheged. He is a remarkable man and his people are a lost tribe, full of strange rituals. He started to appear in the distance after I had been here for about a year and we had finished building our home. Then one day, as I was admiring the endless cascade of the Force, he appeared behind me, shouting and cursing in his language and pointing his ram’s-head staff at me. Eventually, I realized he was telling me the ground was sacred, so I fell to my knees and bowed my head. I felt certain I would be struck down, but he saw my gold ring and seal and relented. He just stared at me, then walked away.

‘I didn’t cast eyes on him again for several months. Then, one bright spring morning, he appeared with an oak sapling, their sacred tree. It stands over there, taller than my hall now. We have been friends ever since. I am very meek with him; he is a king, after all, and I’m only a prince.’

William observes Edgar intently as he speaks about Owain, King of Rheged, and of the land of Hen Ogledd.