20. The Cid
By the time Hereward and Alphonso left Urgel, they were both impatient to meet Rodrigo Diaz. They talked about him constantly as they journeyed across ancient lands and saw places Hereward had heard of from Alphonso’s stories: San Juan de la Pena with its imposing monastery, Pamplona, home to the fiercely proud Basque peoples, and Burgos and Leon, capital cities of the noble lands of Castile and Leon. Hereward liked what he saw, but the land was demanding of its inhabitants — bitingly cold in winter and searingly hot in summer. Its peoples needed to be rugged and independent. He decided there were many similarities between Spain and his own land. Just as its many kingdoms had buried their differences to fight the Moors, perhaps the Celts, Danes and Saxons would unite to defeat William.
The Bishop of Urgel’s stories about The Cid had been a rude reminder of the passage of time: Hereward was now approaching his thirty-fourth birthday, whereas Bishop Pedro estimated that The Cid was only about twenty- five. Perhaps the younger man could offer Hereward some insight that would be the vital key to oust William from his palace at Westminster.
Oviedo was an impressive fortified town with an imposing cathedral. Count Diego, a rotund, jovial man with long grey whiskers, had been a staunch ally and good friend to Sancho’s father, Ferdinand, and had fought many battles with him. As a pragmatic ruler and a firm believer in order and discipline, he approved of Sancho enforcing his authority over his two brothers, believing it preferable that the Christians of the north be united against the threat from the Muslims of the south. He was also blunt about the Moors. Although he thought them keenly intelligent and in possession of a wealth of knowledge from antiquity, they were not Christians. Moreover, even though he had fought both with them and against them and knew they were brave and honourable, they nevertheless worshipped a different God. For him it was straightforward: they had brought their heresy to Spain many years ago and it was time for them to go back to where they belonged.
Hereward and Alphonso arrived in the Great Hall of Count Diego in some style. They had cleaned their tunics, weapons and armour and Hereward’s unmistakable hallmark, the Great Axe of Goteborg, shone like a newly forged weapon.
With Alphonso acting as translator, the Count’s Chamberlain introduced the guests. ‘Lord Diego, I present Hereward of Bourne, formerly in the service of Harold I, King of England. With him is his sergeant-at-arms, Alphonso of Granada.’
‘Welcome to Oviedo, Hereward of Bourne.’ Count Diego was polite but perplexed.
This Englishman had made a grand entrance and had the bearing and weapons of a lord, but without the title. Fearing that he had been deceived into welcoming a mercenary, he cast a look of annoyance at his Chamberlain, but the man to the Count’s right, who Hereward immediately sensed must be The Cid, intervened.
‘I have heard of this man, my Lord Diego. Fear not, you are right to offer him a welcome worthy of a nobleman, for that, beyond any doubt, is what he is.’ The Cid looked directly at Hereward. ‘Forgive me for talking across you, Hereward of Bourne, but your admirable modesty has put my good friend Count Diego at a disadvantage. May I introduce myself? I am Rodrigo Diaz of Bivar, Armiger to Sancho of Castile.’
‘Alphonso and I are honoured to be given an audience by the Count of Oviedo and to meet Rodrigo of Bivar.’
Rodrigo addressed Diego, who was now looking much more relaxed. ‘I hear that Hereward of Bourne has been offered many titles and refused them all. There are myriad legends that pass from traveller to traveller about his exploits.’ He turned to Hereward. ‘Tell me, noble Englishman, are they all true?’
‘My Lord Rodrigo, I’m certain they’ve become embellished in the telling — ’
The Count interrupted. ‘You two have something in common. Rodrigo accepts no title either, so you can call one another by whatever names you choose. But may I remind you that, until I deem it otherwise, I am your Lord, Count Diego.’
Everyone laughed.
Hereward looked at Rodrigo and saw much in him that he recognized. The Castilian was not as tall, and had olive skin and hair the colour of chestnuts, but he was powerfully built and his hands were gnarled and calloused from many blows and long hours of weapons training. He wore a long ruby-coloured smock, fastened with a broad leather belt, and across his shoulders was draped a magnificent bearskin cloak fastened by a finely tooled bronze clasp. His leggings were winter riding breeches, and he had boots of the finest leather. Rodrigo’s armour, which adorned a mannequin behind the high table, was comprised of a small circular shield like those of the Saracens, a straight thrusting sword, a style preferred by northern Europeans, and a small axe with a crescent-shaped blade. He also had a long lance for use in jousts and cavalry charges, and a smaller javelin, a weapon to be hurled at the enemy in an infantry encounter. His weapons were in beautiful condition, but it was obvious they had been used frequently; his mail coat, though finely worked, bore the cuts and gouges of many blows.
‘May I see your axe? I have heard about this weapon. Some of my men have served the Normans in Italy and say that you are the only man alive who can wield it to any effect.’
Hereward pulled the axe from his shoulder and handed it to The Cid with one hand.
As soon as he felt its weight, Rodrigo had to use both his hands to support it. ‘This is a mighty axe. I hear that you can use it with one hand?’
‘I can.’ Hereward hesitated. ‘May I call you Rodrigo?’
‘You may, if I may call you Hereward.’
‘Yes, of course. This axe was made for me by a weapons-master of great skill in Goteborg in the land of the Norse. I am lucky; my arms are strong and I have learned to use either hand. In a challenge, the key is to use both hands at the beginning, as any man would, then at the vital moment revert to one hand; it surprises the opponent!’
Rodrigo tried to swing the axe with one hand but could not maintain momentum.
‘Rodrigo, you are very strong. It would not take you long to acquire the technique.’
‘I am not sure. We also have craftsmen skilled in the art of making weapons of war. The best of them are in the city of Toledo, a Taifa kingdom in the land of the Moors. But their speciality is the sword; they can hone an edge so fine you can trim your beard with it, yet the blade is powerful enough to split a man in two if delivered accurately.’
He handed the Great Axe back to Hereward and offered him his sword. The Englishman had heard about Toledo swords, but had never seen one. It was surprisingly light, but felt strong and well balanced. Intricate patterns and scrolls were chased in fine detail to the top of the blade, the handle and the pommel, patterns that Hereward thought were Moorish. He glanced at Rodrigo quizzically.
‘Yes, the designs are Islamic. All the great swordsmiths are Moors; we learn from them all the time. Scholars, monks and apothecaries travel here from all over Europe to cross into the south in search of knowledge. There is a border area between the two parts of Spain, where both Christians and Moors mingle freely. It can be a little lawless at times, but it allows passage into Muslim Spain, the empire we call The Almoravide Dominion.’
Hereward was intrigued. He had fought Muslims in Sicily and had been close to their lands in Byzantium, but had never set foot on their soil. ‘Have you been to the Dominion?’
‘Yes, many times, I have good friends there. The climate is warm and their cities are splendid. Cordoba, Seville, Granada, Valencia are all wonderful places to visit.’ Rodrigo stopped himself from becoming too carried away about the attractions of his homeland. ‘Hereward of Bourne, famous warrior and survivor of many battles, why have you come to Castile?’
‘How much do you know of the events in England?’
‘A little. I know of Hardrada and Harold, and of the Duke of Normandy’s victory in the great battle for the throne. Now he is King, and I presume that makes you two renegades. I see you travel with a man from Granada. A good choice; Andalucians fight well.’
Alphonso, a little shy about translating such glowing praise about himself, responded to Rodrigo in his own language, Castilian. ‘Thank you, my Lord Cid. It is an honour to meet the most feared warrior in Spain.’
‘The honour is mine, Alphonso of Granada. Your noble service with Hereward fills everyone in Spain with pride. We are honoured that you have travelled to the court of my Lord, Diego, but I trust you do not seek our support to win back the English throne? We have no interests beyond the Pyrenees, let alone in England.’
