been killed in a skirmish and his men had gone home to Wales in mourning. Nevertheless, despite the absence of Rhiwallon’s men, the combined force now under Hereward’s command was over 700, a sufficient number to ruffle the feathers of a few Normans.
Hereward planned to attack Shrewsbury before turning east to challenge Stafford and Nottingham. By then, he hoped William would be well to the north, busily engaging Edgar’s force and Osbjorn’s Danes, and effectively cut off from his stronghold in the South. That would be the time for Harold’s sons to march on Winchester, leading to a general rising in the South and leaving William outflanked and isolated.
As they made camp outside Shrewsbury, Hereward consulted his astrolabe. The date was 24 August 1069, one month short of the third anniversary of the eve of the Battle of Stamford Bridge, a coincidence he thought very auspicious.
The Norman fortification at Shrewsbury was formidable. The perimeter of the bailey was protected by a ditch, overlooked by a tall wooden palisade, and the motte was a mound of earth of considerable height, topped by a tall wooden tower. No such structures had been seen in England prior to William’s conquest and the English had no strategy for dealing with them. Hereward knew that, short of a prolonged siege for which he had neither the time nor the resources, a costly full-scale frontal assault was the only option. The Norman lord of Shrewsbury was Roger of Montgomery, an experienced soldier who had prepared well and whose initial defensive position was drawn up at the walls of his outer bailey.
Hereward’s and Eadric’s men suffered many casualties in more than half a dozen assaults before retreating to regroup. Norman casualties were only light, but they used a pause in the English attack to abandon their bailey and move into the even more secure tower on top of the motte. To mount an attack on this stronghold involved crossing the open ground of the bailey before clambering up the steep slope. Only then would they reach the fortification itself, an edifice nearly seventy feet high.
Nevertheless, the rebels launched three ferocious attacks, but failed to weaken the Norman position. As the English casualty toll mounted from the arrows, stones, hot oil and spears cascading from the battlements, they shot burning arrows to try to ignite the wooden structure and hurled bales of blazing straw in an attempt to set fire to its base, but the defenders were able to extinguish the flames before they caught hold. Then, as Hereward led a testudo of housecarls towards the base of the Norman motte, parts of the burgh of Shrewsbury caught light from incendiary arrows deliberately aimed at the houses by the Norman archers. Hereward called an immediate halt to the assault. The Normans cared nothing for the local population. If the fires were not put out quickly, Shrewsbury would be lost — and with it the support of the local people, many of whom were of Celtic descent. His men helped the populace douse the flames that threatened their homes before a general withdrawal was ordered.
Hereward decided to move on to Stafford, having prepared all kinds of subversive techniques, but the local Norman warlord had taken hostages into his bailey and threatened to burn them alive if the attacks continued. They made one more attempt at Tutbury, almost halfway to Nottingham, but, once again, their attacks could not breach the Norman defences without endangering the local population. They were left with no choice but to slip away to lick their wounds in the safe haven of the lower Pennines.
Once encamped, Eadric could offer little consolation for Hereward. ‘I’m afraid that we have no answer to these Norman towers.’
‘My good friend, there is always an answer. If we had ballista or siege engines, we could pound them into submission or we could starve them out. We don’t have the time or the resources to organize and protect the local people, and our numbers have fallen to a little more than five hundred. We need a new plan. Take the remainder of your men and go with Bleddyn and his Welshmen. I will give you four squadrons of mine. Retrace our route; keep the Normans locked in their towers, while I go north to see what is happening in York. Let’s hope that ours is the only part of the strategy that has not gone well. Our main hope now is the Danes.’
By the time Hereward’s force reached Tadcaster, they had received news that lifted their spirits once more. It was brought by Edwin, who, breathless with excitement, blurted out the details. When Edgar and the Danes attacked in overwhelming numbers, they had been able to scale the tower at York and achieve total success. The only Norman survivors were William Malet and Gilbert of Ghent and their families. It had been a fierce and bloody battle. Earl Waltheof had distinguished himself by killing dozens of Normans single-handedly, beheading them as they tried to escape through the gate of their tower.
However, there was one significant and disturbing piece of news, which Edwin saved for the end. ‘I’m afraid the city is in ruins, burned to the ground. The Normans torched everything before they scurried to their tower.’
‘So the city is ours, but nothing remains!’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘And what of the Norman tower?’
‘Gone, sir. We burned that down.’
‘Where are Malet and Gilbert of Ghent?’
‘With the Danes — they have taken them to their ships on the Humber. They intend to ransom them.’
‘And Edgar and his forces?’
‘Outside York, waiting for a response from you.’
Hereward shook off his despondency and replaced it with a look of defiance.
‘Then let’s give them one. Martin, send a messenger to the Atheling. Tell him to wait outside York; we will arrive as quickly as we can. We will then go to the Danes to prepare for a major battle with William on ground of our choosing. Edwin, who is Bishop of Durham?’
‘Aethelwine, sir.’
‘Is he loyal?’
‘Yes, sir, he is now. Initially, after the coronation, he spoke for William, saying that he was the anointed King. However, he changed his view because of the behaviour of the Normans, especially when Robert de Commines threw him out of the Bishop’s Palace!’
‘Send word to him; he will anoint Edgar as King. If York Minster is in ashes, we can take Edgar to Durham. It is an important enough bishopric to persuade Rome that the hand of God is supporting Edgar’s crown.’
Hereward and his force hurried to meet the triumphant Prince Edgar at Selby on the Ouse, a few miles south of York. It was a joyous meeting and Hereward reserved a particularly warm welcome for Waltheof to acknowledge his heroic deeds at the Norman tower. Edgar declared that a great banquet should be held and hunters were sent out to provide the fare. It mattered little that their dining hall was a clearing beside the old road to York; a grand celebratory feast was enjoyed that very evening. Later that night, in the midst of the gorging, more news came to gladden their hearts.
Hereward stood to make the formal announcement. ‘Men of England, following your great victory at York, the heroics of the sons of King Harold in the South West and the courageous stand of Eadric the Wild and his Welsh allies in Mercia, Aethelwine, Bishop of Durham, has agreed to crown Prince Edgar in what remains of York as the rightful and proper King of England. He has already left Durham for the coronation and will be here in a couple of days.’
A cry of joy rose from everyone assembled.
‘Tomorrow, we will travel to meet Prince Osbjorn, commander of the Danish army, to plan our attack on the Normans.’
Another, even louder cry echoed around the clearing.
‘Eat and drink your fill. Enjoy your great and noble victory!’
At noon the next day, Hereward and a small group were ready to leave the camp to meet the Danes on the Humber.
Suddenly, the calm was disturbed by the noise of sentries announcing that a messenger approached. The herald, a boy of only nineteen who had the physique of a hunting dog, jumped from his horse gasping for air.
Sir…’ He could not speak.
‘Get him water. Take your time…’
Einar came to Hereward’s aid. ‘It’s Uhtred, sir.’
‘Uhtred, compose yourself. Your message can wait until you get your breath.’
After a few moments, the messenger was able to deliver his report. ‘Sir, it’s not good news. Duke William is at Tadcaster. Arkil the Fair has stayed behind to keep watch, but he told me to come here as quickly as possible.’
‘He is almost on top of us; how can this be? How can he have got here so quickly?’
