Crusade

‘My Lord Duke, I have thought about those moments in St Etheldreda’s Chapel every day of my life and I still can’t decide what happened. Was the blinding light an act of God, created by Him through St Etheldreda on behalf of the worthy cause of the Brotherhood? Was it the power of the Talisman of Truth, the ancient pagan amulet my father always wore? Or was it simply a coincidence, when the sun suddenly appeared from behind a cloud? My soul tells me it was an act of God, my heart says it was the Talisman, and my head says it was a coincidence. My mother spent her life wrestling with conundrums such as these.’

‘Whatever it was, it affected my father very much and brought on a spasm of pain that put him on his back for over a week. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what happened when he finally returned to the Chapel — but, whatever it was, it made Hereward into England’s hero and confirmed my father’s reputation as the most ruthless man in Europe.’

I had always thought that Robert secretly admired Hereward — as he would anyone brave enough to challenge his father.

Then, quite suddenly, Estrith walked up to the Duke and touched his hand, something that protocol did not allow, even for a sister of the Church.

‘Sire, please understand, I don’t have any ill will towards you or any other Norman. King William is dead, my father is almost certainly dead, the past is the past — it is over.’

Robert was not offended, nor did he pull away. He placed his hand over hers, and the son of England’s conqueror and the daughter of his nemesis embraced. It was as if they were playing out the final act in the drama that was Ely. Tears ran down Estrith’s cheeks and Adela put her hand to her face to hold back her sobs; all of us had tears in our eyes and lumps in our throats.

Robert took a deep breath and, with a fidget of mild embarrassment, changed the subject.

‘What are your plans?’

‘Estrith would like to go south to St Cirq Lapopie. She hasn’t seen her surrogate aunts, Ingigerd and Maria, in over twenty years.’

‘Do you think I could come with you?’

Robert’s response was like a bolt from the blue, leaving all of us shocked — not unpleasantly so, but certainly surprised that a sovereign duke would want to travel with a small and insignificant band such as ours.

‘But what about your dukedom and your quarrelsome brothers?’

‘Normandy more or less runs itself these days, and I’ve got the powerful barons nicely balanced in a kind of harmony, which they accept through gritted teeth. Most of them dislike Odo so much, they are mainly preoccupied with keeping him at bay. As for my brothers, Rufus needs Henry if he’s to be strong enough to unseat me in Rouen, but Henry is content building his strength in the Cotentin. He may ultimately have eyes for Normandy, but he’ll want England first, so Rufus is the one in his way, not me — at least, not yet.’

We all looked at one another and nodded our approval and, as head of the St Cirq Lapopie household, Edwin made the formal response.

‘My Lord, it would be our honour to receive you at our humble home on the Lot. But, sire, it is only a modest farmhouse.’

‘That is of no consequence, I will bring only a small retinue and we will make camp in your fields. Perhaps I’ll go and see that firebrand Raymond of Toulouse, who has been causing turmoil among the knights of Europe with his campaign to free the Holy Land from Islam.’

While Duke Robert made his plans to join us on our journey, we brooded on the news about Raymond of Toulouse’s cause.

We all thought back to the words of Themistius, the Thracian strategoi we had listened to in Sicily, when he talked about a looming holy war between Christians and Muslims. It was a worrying prospect for all of us and particularly unedifying for Sweyn, who had fallen in love with a Muslim girl only for her to be slaughtered by a fanatical father. The fact that we were about to depart for St Cirq Lapopie, the site of her grave, only added to his dismay.

That night, over dinner, he made his feelings clear.

‘I would like to visit the Holy Land, but I don’t want to fight the Muslims; some of them are brother knights and began our code of chivalry, the Mos Militum.’

Adela was also troubled.

‘As far as I know, the Muslim lords of the Holy Land allow pilgrims to visit the sacred sites freely and permit freedom of worship for Christians and Jews. Why would we want to fight them?’

Edwin, as always, was happy to do what Sweyn and Adela wanted to do, and his view was measured and wise.

‘I have no quarrel with the Muslims. We were well treated by Ibn Hamed and his knights, and I have great respect for their culture and learning. To provoke a holy war, just because the lords of the Holy Places are Muslims, is dangerous talk. Isn’t the Holy Land sacred to Muslims too?’

I was also concerned, but tried to allay their fears.