Hereward was ready to leave for Wessex early the next morning. Torfida would stay with Edith in London, to be ready for her meeting with the King. After Hereward had kissed Torfida goodbye and mounted his horse, Harold took leave of him.
‘This is our final throw of the dice. Torfida is a brilliant and striking woman, but I’m afraid the chances of the King agreeing to talk to her are slim. Then, even if she gets beyond that obstacle, there is little chance that he will hear ill of his chosen successor, especially from a woman.’
‘But Torfida is remarkable, my Lord. Let us not give up hope just yet. The Talisman could be the key.’
‘I do not give up hope, Hereward, but I must prepare for the inevitability that William will still be the named successor upon the King’s death. Then, to have any chance of defeating the Duke, I will have to seize power before he arrives on these shores; and I will need the whole of England behind me. Although the main army is mine, I need the housecarls of all the earls and the support of the Fyrd. The Godwin family has many enemies in England and it is a far from foregone conclusion that all the earls and thegns will support me.’
Hereward was encouraged by the direction of Harold’s thinking. ‘So you will take the throne if Edward does not bestow it upon you or nominate Edgar?’
‘Edgar the Atheling remains the right choice; I still hope for that. In the meantime, Hereward, you can be of great service to me. Go to Glastonbury with this parchment. It is for my brother Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia. He is there in training with a large force of my housecarls. It tells him you are a most trusted knight and that you are to have the freedom to inspect my men, wherever they might be. Go to Salisbury, Exeter, Gloucester and Oxford, where I also have men in training. I am strengthening the army as quickly as I can and I want your opinion of them. You know how good William’s men are. I need to know how my men compare with Europe’s finest, especially Hardrada’s and William’s. Be totally frank; if it comes to a fight, as it almost certainly will, I need to know what our chances are.’
‘By the time we meet again, my Lord, I will know your men and their talents like the back of my hand.’ Hereward paused and looked at Harold with firm resolve. ‘My Lord, I want you to know that in this fight I will always be at your side. If you fall, I fall; if you triumph, I will be the first to lift you on to my shoulders as the rightful King of England.’
‘Thank you, Hereward of Bourne. Go well, my friend.’
As Hereward rode off, Harold’s horse was brought to him. His Captain and his personal guards were already mounted as he bade farewell to Edith.
‘There are many important men in London and along the Thames that I must talk to. I will leave four of my best men here; I don’t want any of the King’s eavesdroppers hiding in dark corners. The King will be given the key to his abbey and take communion there on Sunday next. I will be back no later than twilight on Saturday.’
He kissed Edith fondly. ‘Take good care of Torfida; she has a miracle to perform on the Sabbath hence.’
‘I will, my darling. We have much idle women’s talk to keep us occupied.’
Edith’s words reflected the two women’s firm friendship, grounded in a shared commitment to finding a solution for England’s predicament.
As Harold rode off to canvas opinion about the dark days ahead, he knew that whatever Edith and Torfida talked of, it would not be ‘idle’.
13. Revolt in the North
Many hundreds of people were waiting outside the King’s new abbey church at Westminster for the ceremony of the keys. People had been streaming across the meadows of Chelsea and Holborn all morning. Ludgate was a sight to behold, as the wealthy city burghers, merchants and guilds-men, resplendent in their livery, filed across the old Roman bridge over the River Fleet and made their way through the thriving settlements of the Strand towards the lush green fields of Westminster. There, gleaming in the sun, was the King’s symbol of a new England, the finest church in northern Europe.
Edith and Torfida had met Harold earlier and he had described precisely the route Edward would take that day. As Earl Marshal, Harold was responsible for all of the King’s public appearances, his itinerary and when and where he would meet people. Harold and Torfida had chosen the exact place within the abbey where she would stand, waiting for the King to pass. Edith would stay hidden among the King’s retinue. He was not in favour of Harold displaying his mistress at court, especially since his recent political marriage to Ealdgyth, widow of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn.
There were loud cheers when the King arrived, but Torfida was shocked to see how old and frail he was. He walked with a stoop, his gait more of a shuffle than a stride, his beard and hair silver grey and his eyes red-rimmed and sunken.
With a deep bow, Teinfrith the Churchwright handed the King the huge key to the heavy oak door. This ceremony was intended merely to mark the passing of the keys, as King Edward planned to have the ceremony of consecration at Christmas. The key, the length of a man’s arm from fingertip to elbow, was so cumbersome the King had to use both hands to insert it into the lock. When he turned it, a distinctive clang could be heard as the mechanism opened.
More loud cheers went up as the King entered the tall and elegant interior. The public followed their monarch into the nave, as far as its halfway point, while the monks began the sacred melody of plainchant, sending waves of sound echoing around the massive Romanesque columns and arches. It was the first sight that the King’s subjects had had of the wonder of the age. All stood and marvelled at it, their necks straining as they peered upwards. Torfida had made her way to her designated position, close to the altar. She had several minutes to wait while the King, guided by Teinfrith and his master masons, made his procession. Harold, with Edward’s hearthtroops, stewards and physicians, followed closely behind. The King listened intently to everything that was said to him and took a particular interest in the carving, especially the finely decorated capitals of the arches.
The fine building was a credit to Teinfrith and his masons. The roof was over 150 feet from the ground, a triumph of engineering, and the smooth cream stonework and graceful carving were as well worked as any in Christendom.
King Edward was by now quite near.
As he moved closer, Harold stepped forward. ‘Sire, may I introduce Torfida, a woman in my service. She may interest you.’
Torfida curtsied elegantly, and the King nodded in acknowledgement.
‘She has travelled extensively, including Constantinople and Rome, and has studied the ancient texts in mathematics. One of her many interests is church architecture, sire.’
‘Indeed.’ Edward’s manner was at first dismissive, then, with a jolt, his face contorted into a scowl. ‘Is this the wife of that scoundrel, Hereward?’
Harold was not perturbed by the King’s bluntness. ‘It is, sire, but she is here in her own right. Hereward is with my housecarls at Glastonbury, as I know his presence in London displeases you.’
‘Don’t patronize me, Earl Godwinson. You do as you see fit, whether it displeases me or not.’
Torfida was shocked to hear the King speak to Harold so sharply. Edward made to move on and Harold, his face suffused with anger, stepped aside. Torfida decided to take a risk and speak to the King without being spoken to first. She used her impeccable Norman French.
‘My Lord King, Master Teinfrith is to be congratulated; the great abbey church of Jumieges pales in comparison with your achievement here. I can see the resemblance to the Abbey of Bernay, but you have improved the vaulting in an extraordinary way, and I can see the influence of Philip of Poitiers in the design.’
Torfida gulped a little; Harold stiffened, expecting the worst.
The King looked at his architect.
Teinfrith looked back, his eyebrows slightly raised. ‘Do you know these churches, young woman?’
‘Sire, I know a little of the work of Maitre Thiebault at Jumieges. It is a fine church and will soon be finished.’
‘Indeed it will. But you are not a mason. How do you know so much about the architecture of cathedrals?’
‘I have studied the work of the architect Isidor of Miletus, and the mathematician Arthamius of Thralles; I
