rim of his helmet, the great sweeps of his war axe cleared wide arcs of ground around him. The Normans suffered few casualties, but many in the Greek ranks were cut down, as the Norman horsemen ploughed through them.
It was Hereward himself who reached the Byzantine General first. He and a few of his bodyguards had become detached from the bulk of his theme. On seeing this, Hereward pulled up his mount and signalled his companions to halt. Faced with the choice between a valiant but futile fight, and a less than glorious surrender, the General chose the noble death of a warrior.
He summoned his guards to his side, perhaps fifteen men, and with the cry, ‘For the Emperor!’ kicked his horse into a gallop towards the Normans. Hereward immediately ordered a charge in response. As the General closed, he saw him nod to his men on either side to acknowledge their comradeship and bravery. They had attacked an overwhelming force without hesitation, just as they had been ordered to do.
Hereward felt enormous admiration for his foes. Beneath the face-guard of the General’s ornate plumed helmet, a full grey beard was plain to see. He was a soldier of many years’ experience. He would have fought many battles and killed many men; now it was his turn to die. The brutal truth was that these would be his final moments on earth. He made straight for Hereward, his eyes fixed on the Englishman.
He was dead before he hit the ground. Hereward caught him full in the chest with his great axe, catapulting him out of his saddle and over the back of his horse, leaving him spreadeagled on the ground. The weapon protruded from where it had been plunged: clean through the General’s armour and deep in the breast of a noble soldier of Byzantium.
Only four men survived the courageous charge, and they were soon rounded up. Hereward learned from the Byzantine prisoners that his foe was General Michael Andronicus from Rhodes, a man with nearly thirty years’ service, who had risen from the junior ranks of an army he had joined as a boy of fifteen. He was given an interment worthy of his rank and distinguished service, in a ceremony that Hereward supervised personally and with all the respect due to a fellow warrior.
Calabria was cleared of the Byzantine army by the end of the year; Roger Guiscard returned to Melfi a hero, and southern Italy became a Norman stronghold. Duchess Adela was determined that Norman rule would be at least palatable to the local Italian population, if not embraced by them. She worked tirelessly to ameliorate the usual Norman brutalities, and life in Apulia became peaceful and prosperous.
Hereward and his loyal group, flourishing in the warm Mediterranean climate, became assimilated into the Norman community, speaking their language and enjoying their zest for life. There was much for Torfida to do and, while Ingigerd and Maria looked after the farmhouse that the three couples shared, she became, in essence, the steward of Adela’s domain. She learned much from the locals about Greek and Arab healing and had already acquired a good grounding in the Arabic language.
Hereward’s military knowledge was expanding at a pace, as was his understanding of the strengths and frailties of men in battle. Being at war suited him; he needed to fight, to satisfy his martial instincts. But he needed a reason to fight — not just wantonly and savagely, as most men did, but for a purpose that he felt was just.
Even though Robert Guiscard was a tyrant whose family ethic was founded on aggression and conquest, the Normans had brought much to their previously troubled domain. Hereward had a love of tolerance and justice that was shared by Roger Guiscard and the Duchess Adela, and thus found moral justification for fighting on behalf of his hosts.
The campaigns in Calabria and Sicily were a new kind of warfare for Hereward. This involved much more mobile battles than were usual in northern Europe. The rapid deployment of cavalry was vital, as was the need to move supplies at great speed. Naval warfare was also on a larger scale than in northern Europe. Hereward encountered ‘Greek fire’, spewed forth from the telltale dragon’s mouth mounted on the bow of Byzantine triremes. It was said that only the Emperor of Byzantium himself knew the secret ingredients of ‘the fire’. Once ignited in wooden cylinders lined with lead and catapulted into the opposing fleet, it would spew its deadly contents everywhere. Its main ingredient was pitch, which meant it adhered to anything it hit, including sails, ships’ timbers and, of course, men. It would even continue to burn on and under water.
The Normans recruited many mercenaries from North Africa, Spain and the Adriatic, men whose families had fought Saracens for generations. From them Hereward learned of warfare by stealth — techniques little known in the north — where men stood and faced one another in open conflict. He was fascinated by the tactics of infiltration, disruption and deception. He learned how, under cover of darkness or by the use of camouflage, a small group of men, or even a single man, could burn tents, poison wells, scatter horses, steal weapons, or assassinate leaders.
During the Sicilian campaigns, Hereward would often lead incursions into Saracen camps to create havoc. One of his companions, Alphonso of Granada, a man with a good deal of Arab blood in him, became Hereward’s most trusted accomplice and a close friend. Eventually, the small but immensely agile and robust young man became accepted by Martin and Einar as the fourth member of their brotherhood-in-arms.
Hereward became the most respected man in Roger’s army. He was a trusted knight and friend to his Norman employer, who was himself a noble warrior. There was even a reconciliation of sorts between Hereward and Duke Robert.
After a particularly gruelling but successful campaign in Sicily, the Duke invested Hereward into the chivalrous Order of the Knights of the Cotentin, an honour normally given only to Normans.
As 1062 turned into 1063, Hereward began to sense that Norman success in Sicily was only a matter of time; although a vast and mountainous island, the Saracens were being rooted out of its rugged terrain village by village, and their total expulsion was inevitable.
As winter set in, Torfida noticed Hereward increasingly looking north. He could see the dark, brooding clouds over the high Apennines, imagery which reminded him of home. She knew that it was time for their journey to resume.
Throughout the previous two years, they had heard many reports from the Norman heartland in northern France and, in particular, tales of the exploits of William the Bastard, Duke of that land. Almost six feet tall, and distinctive by his bright red hair, he was several years older than Hereward, with an impressive reputation. He had inherited his dukedom at the age of eight, and had held on to it, despite the attentions of many who plotted to wrest it from him. He had a wily grasp of European affairs and an eye for new territorial opportunities.
Early in 1063, news reached Melfi that William had invaded the neighbouring state of Maine, following the death of its ruler. Hereward’s focus was now increasingly fixed on the northern horizon. It was becoming apparent that the great territorial prize to be had in northern Europe was England. Great warriors watched it like hawks: not only Duke William in Normandy, but also the equally ferocious Harald Hardrada, King of Norway, and Svein Estrithson, King of the Danes.
As Hereward speculated about the future of his homeland, Torfida’s love for him deepened. He had become the pride of the Norman army of Apulia but, more importantly, had found a measure of humility to diminish his conceit. He now used judgement to control his instincts and had developed a thoughtfulness to counterbalance his volatility.
Torfida knew that the north beckoned, and it was not lost on her that their journey was beginning to scribe the arc of a great circle, leading Hereward back towards England.
10. The Omen
Everyone was saddened to leave Melfi. Roger granted Hereward his heavy Norman horse, complete with armour, and from the Duke there was a parchment describing his valour in the service of Apulia and Christendom. Lord Roger had asked Hereward to take the title ‘Sir Hereward Great Axe’, as this was how the men of the army referred to him, but he declined, saying that he had been christened Hereward of Bourne and that he would prefer to keep his unadorned family title.
They had all earned considerable sums in the service of Apulia, especially Hereward in his capacity as a knight. For their journey north, they were able to hire six retainers. They were all Normans who had welcomed the opportunity to return home: a sturdy sergeant and two crossbowmen, a groom, and two servant girls. Hereward and Torfida had risen in the world and now had the distinctive bearing of the sophisticated nobility of Europe.
They stayed a week in Rome. However, the Papal See was rife with intrigue and plots and not a place in
