doorway. At the entrance to the nuns’ quarters, the sight of men surging forward, fighting one another to get in, abruptly reminded Hereward that the Old Man of the Wildwood had sent his daughter to the nuns at Hereford.
He turned to the Captain of his housecarls. ‘Captain, there may be a woman in there I need to find.’
‘Stand aside!’
At the Captain’s bellowed order, the men grudgingly parted, allowing access to the refectory.
The Mother Superior and the older nuns had attempted to form a circle of sanctuary at the high table, protecting the younger women. One of Aelfgar’s Northumbrians reached into the cowering group, dragged out a struggling girl, no more than sixteen years old, and threw her at the Captain. As he did so, he yanked her crude woollen habit, ripping it apart, to render her naked at his feet.
She immediately crawled into a ball to hide herself.
‘This one is yours, Captain! Do you want her?’
The Captain nodded at his sergeant-at-arms, who immediately cut the man down with his sword.
‘Take him out and throw him in the midden! The rest of you, out, now! Mother Superior, my men will escort you as close to Gloucester as is safe for them. Take whatever you need, but you must leave immediately.’
She and the other nuns suppressed their sobs as Hereward called out, ‘Is there a woman here named Torfida?’
‘I am Torfida.’
The voice came from the naked figure still coiled on the floor. Hereward offered her his cloak and, as she wrapped it around herself, he could not fail to notice how beautiful she was. He also saw a large amulet around her neck and assumed it was the object her father had told him about.
Hereward spoke gently to her. ‘Your father told me that I would meet you. He sends you his love.’
Although the young woman was still heaving with the fear and anxiety of what had just happened, she composed herself quickly. ‘He was a great man.’
‘What do you mean by “was”? Have you heard of his death?’
‘No, but I’m sure he’s dead. The forest has taken him; I can feel it.’
She spoke with such conviction, Hereward saw little point in challenging her. ‘He said that I must ask you for a talisman.’
She paused for a few moments and stared at him with a rare intensity. ‘So you are the one.’
With that, Torfida walked towards her Mother Superior and whispered to her for several seconds. Then they kissed and parted and the matriarch ushered her flock away.
‘I must come with you now.’
Hereward was shocked at the firmness of Torfida’s words. ‘You don’t know where I’m going.’
‘Wherever it is, I must come with you.’
Despite her tender years, she had regained her composure remarkably quickly. ‘And what of the amulet?’
‘That comes with us. We will talk about it when I think it is time. Until then, we will not speak of it again.’
They arrived at the King’s camp, some distance from the ravaged burgh, where Gruffydd was celebrating in earnest. He had a drinking horn in his hand and it was obvious that he had been using it liberally.
‘Hereward, I see you have found yourself a beautiful young girl. Bring her to me.’
‘Sire, she is a virgin and a Sister of the Church.’
‘I realize that, boy! I just want to look at her.’
Torfida did not wait for a response from Hereward; she removed the cloak he had given her and let it fall to the ground, not attempting to cover herself. Hereward moved towards her but, with a slight movement of her hand, she gestured to him to stay away. Then, with a jutting of her jaw and a deep intake of breath, she stood proudly in front of Gruffydd and several hundred of his warriors.
Her boldness shocked them into silence.
Torfida was striking: her jet-black hair, dark eyes and olive skin made her resemble a Mediterranean princess more than a fair maid of England. Although not much older than a child, her breasts were full, with nipples firm and dark; her hips were broad and there was a muscular tone to her limbs, a product of a healthy life in the forest. Her sexuality, emanating from her self-confidence and bearing, was arresting and way beyond her years.
The silence lasted for several seconds.
Torfida stared defiantly at the King. He stared back at her, equally resolute. Eventually, the King relented with a shake of his head, as if breaking a spell.
‘Madam, you are beautiful.’ The King spoke for every man there. ‘Hereward of Bourne, cover her. Take her to the women, have them dress her; I place her under your protection.’
Hereward hesitated for a second, feeling the strength of her will, before her smile signalled that he could proceed. As he draped his cloak over her shoulders a second time, for a fleeting moment he enjoyed the excitement of touching her warm skin.
The King spoke again. ‘Hereward of Bourne, I grant you safe passage in your journey to the west. Take young Lightfoot with you and, with Earl Aelfgar’s permission, the big man too.’
Aelfgar nodded his approval.
‘As for the young woman… Before you go, madam, I will see the object you wear around your neck.’
‘My Lord King, it is only a trinket, a gift from my father.’
‘Don’t deny me. I would like to know what object of intrigue adorns such a desirable creature. Step forward.’
Hereward shuddered, fearing that the King’s mood might darken. As Torfida strode the five yards that separated her from Gruffydd, his instincts cried out to him to rush to her aid.
The King stood as she approached; that in itself was unusual, but his whispered question was bizarre. ‘Do you understand the old ways?’
‘Sire?’
The King leaned closer to her. ‘Do you know the ways of the Druids, practised under the moon, and the hidden truths from the time before the new faith came to us?’
He put his hand on her shoulder and gripped her flesh.
Torfida stood firm, but did not respond.
‘Do you understand the lore of the forest, the mythical beasts and the rituals of our ancestors?’ He moved his hand to Torfida’s waist, then towards her buttocks.
She still did not respond.
‘I sense you understand these things.’
‘My father taught me many things, both old and new.’
The King gave her a long, suggestive stare as he slowly moved his hand over the mound of her backside. ‘Did you practise the black arts during the long dark nights alone in your cell?’
‘I practise many things. But when I’m alone, I think only of how to overcome evil and the wicked things that men do.’
‘You talk like a seer.’
‘My father was a seer.’
‘What did he tell you about the amulet you wear?’
‘He told me to respect it, to understand it and to learn from it.’
The King released his grip on Torfida and sat down. ‘My family have lived in the mountains of Gwynedd for centuries. As children we were told a story passed down to us from ancient times. It tells of a great journey, undertaken by a flaxen-haired hero. He was seduced by a dark temptress who held the secret of his destiny. She carried an amulet which was so old that no one could remember its origins, but it was a powerful talisman which entranced all who saw it.’ He paused, peering into Torfida’s eyes, trying to bend her to his will. ‘Show me your amulet.’
Torfida leaned forward so that the amulet swung freely.
Gruffydd could see it clearly, but he could also see her breasts, even her nipples, which she made no attempt to hide. He wallowed in her sexuality and breathed deeply, preparing to devour her, there and then, in front of the entire army. The King’s blood rose as he thought how easy it would be to take her. No one could stop him.
Torfida spoke to Gruffydd in hushed tones, but her gaze was steely; only those close by could hear the
