seen; strength, which Einar will lead, the strongest man in the armies of the North of England; and skill, which I will oversee personally. We start tomorrow at dawn. The men I spoke to about the King’s hearthtroop, I will see you in two hours. Hail, Macbeth! Hail, the King!’
The men echoed Hereward’s clarion call for several minutes.
Afterwards, Donald of Moray spoke to Hereward. ‘No one has ever addressed them like that before, the men respect you and so do I… sir.’
Hereward shook the Celt firmly by the hand, grateful for his words of support.
He spent the rest of the afternoon talking to his selected band of men for the new hearthtroop. Hereward surprised himself: he was not sure how or why, but he seemed to have an instinctive grasp of military techniques and disciplines.
He was in his element, and he knew this would be his calling for the rest of his life.
When Hereward arrived at the High Steward’s tent just before dusk, he was met by Earl Duncan, who told him that the King demanded his presence in his Great Hall. When they arrived, Macbeth was pacing up and down.
‘I hear you intend to give away my silver?’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Not even Earl Duncan gives away my money without my permission.’
‘Sire, you must allow me to make decisions about military matters.’
‘I must! I must! I must not do anything of the sort! Don’t you dare tell me what I must do!’
‘Sire, I earned the right to perform this role for your army.’
Macbeth rose, puce with anger. ‘By God, I will strike you down myself!’
‘That decision needed to be taken today. I couldn’t send those men home with nothing in their pouches. They have no spoils of victory; they will be destitute.’
‘Let them starve!’ the King bellowed.
‘My Lord King, your army will not serve you if they know that is what you think of them.’
‘They will serve me, whether they like it or not!’
‘Sire, I had heard that you were a wise and good king. Those are not the words of such a king.’
Macbeth jumped up and made towards Hereward with rage in his eyes.
Earl Duncan stepped between them. ‘Kneel before the King, Hereward of Bourne. Beg his forgiveness!’
‘I will not!’
In the few dreadful moments that followed, Hereward’s future — indeed, his life and the lives of his companions — hung by a thread. He thought about the Talisman around his neck. Was it speaking through him, giving him the courage to defy a king? Macbeth glowered at him, poised with his hand grasping his sword, until his fury slowly subsided.
A long silence ensued.
The King’s eyes softened and he began to look vulnerable and sad. ‘I should have you killed.’ Then he paused again and looked down. ‘The truth is, I am a king in name only; in that, you are right. As for the rest of it, we’ll talk again when I am calm. In the meantime, my stewards will issue the men with their silver. Now leave me.’
‘It would be better if you did it, sire.’
Yet again, Hereward had trusted his instincts — but he feared that he may have taken a step too far.
Macbeth resumed his pacing of the length and breadth of his hall, muttering as he did so. Each time he reached his hearth he threw another log on to the fire and peered into its flames. After several minutes of brooding, he returned to stand face-to-face with Hereward.
He adopted a more forthright demeanour. ‘I will give them their silver, thank them for their loyal service and send them home to their families.’ He turned to Earl Duncan. ‘Tell the High Steward to summon the men Hereward has dismissed. Then call my servants; I will go to the river to bathe. Tomorrow, Earl Duncan and I will join the army for training.’
Hereward had gambled that beneath Macbeth’s irascible, disheartened facade was a decent man and a good king.
Macbeth offered Hereward his hand, an honour rarely given to a man of modest birth. ‘It took great courage to speak as you did. Now make my army as strong as you are.’
The training of the army went on through 1056 and into the early months of 1057; only the deepest snows of winter brought a temporary halt.
Macbeth and Earl Duncan did exactly the same training as their men, and word spread throughout Scotland that the army had regained its pride, and that the discipline, though hard, was fair. Men started to arrive almost daily. By the beginning of March 1057, the army numbered six cohorts of highly trained men, plus seventy recent arrivals, who were still undergoing training. There was an entire cohort of cavalry, every soldier had a full complement of weapons and two of the cohorts were trained archers.
But Macbeth’s army was still relatively small. If he was to face Malcolm Canmore in a full-scale battle, he would need several hundred more men. Word arrived that Malcolm Canmore was moving north with a large force. Once again, he had the support of King Edward and the English, this time in the guise of Tostig, the new Earl of Northumbria and the brother of Harold Godwinson.
Hereward advised caution, but Macbeth was impatient to regain the throne.
After many months of peaceful preparation, Macbeth began the march south to meet his enemy.
Events began to take on a sudden momentum when messengers arrived with news that a large force of allies of Malcolm Canmore had sailed up the Firth of Cromarty and landed on the Black Isle, near Dingwall. This was in the heart of Macbeth’s homeland, where his people were largely unprotected. Canmore knew that Macbeth would have to turn back towards the north-east and fight. It was an attempt to outflank Macbeth’s army, which duly turned and began the long march northwards up the Great Glen of Mor.
They made a fine sight: the cavalry rode the flanks with small reconnaissance parties of horsemen peeling off on scouting missions; the infantry marched in closed ranks in double-time, occasionally breaking into a trot when the ground allowed it. The rhythmic din of feet and hooves and the clatter of the baggage train reverberated for miles around the peaks and troughs of the mountains.
After three days of marching, scouts returned with news of the strength of Canmore’s forces. The northern contingent included over 100 English light cavalry, almost 200 housecarls sent by Tostig, an assortment of Celtic archers, mercenaries from Ireland and several squadrons, at least 80 men, from Denmark. Canmore’s main force in the south was a large army of lowland Scots, well in excess of 1,000 men, which was moving north to rendezvous with his allies.
Macbeth knew he could not defeat both armies; his only chance was to strike at the head of the beast and confront Canmore and his main force.
He spent several hours in private, mulling over his strategy, before announcing the audacious plan to turn east, traverse the Mountains of Monadhliath and cross into the Grampians. Canmore would not believe anyone would attempt such a bold move, especially with the remnants of winter still making the mountains treacherous. The baggage train was sent the long way round and told to meet in two weeks’ time at Inverurie on the Don.
As the days passed and Hereward became familiar with the terrain, he realized how daring Macbeth’s route was. Some of the passes were lethal, with progress only possible in single file. There were steep and precarious climbs and descents and exposed crags and ridges where footholds were difficult to find. Nevertheless, late in the afternoon, after five days of hard marching unique in the history of Scottish warfare, they found Canmore’s main army making its way north towards the Howe of Alford along a small tributary of the River Dee near the settlement of Lumphanan.
Macbeth’s army appeared from the mountains, to the amazement of Canmore and his men.
Canmore’s force was stretched out over a wide area and it would take them some time to become organized. Macbeth ordered Hereward and Earl Duncan to lead his cavalry in a lightning attack. The tactic worked: the well- disciplined horsemen, riding in tight formations, inflicted heavy casualties on scattered groups of Lowlanders.
Hereward was at the vanguard, creating a maelstrom with his axe and driving large gaps in Canmore’s infantry. Macbeth looked on in wonder as Hereward’s exploits became more and more prominent. Men were drawn to him like a magnet as he drove deeper into the enemy ranks. His great axe, and the massive arc he could scythe with it, created a devastating killing ground around him.
Eventually, as nightfall approached, Macbeth signalled to his cavalry to disengage. Both armies made camp in
