Since then, we’ve prospered.’
‘I’m glad you found some comfort after all your trials in England.’
Sweyn spoke up again.
‘When we returned from England, the first few months were awful. The girls had lost mothers and fathers and the women had lost their husbands. Alphonso’s wife, Cristina, couldn’t get over his death and soon returned to her home in Oviedo. After a while, the anguish subsided a little and life became more settled. Martin and Einar’s daughters, Gwyneth and Wulfhild, married local men and both have children of their own now, as have Emma and Edgiva, two of the three girls from Bourne.
‘Now that Edwin and I have left, there are just three members of the family still there: Martin’s wife, Ingigerd, and Einar’s wife, Maria — who run the estate between them — and Adela, the third girl from Bourne.’
‘She has not found a husband?’
‘No, sire. There are not many men worthy enough. She is full of passions and causes. She fights like a housecarl and doesn’t suffer fools. It was a mighty struggle to persuade her to stay in the Lot. She begged Edwin to be allowed to come with us, but he forbade it.’
‘Interesting; there must be something in the soil of Bourne. Three fearsome warriors from one village.’ I decided that one day I would travel there to see what had become of Hereward’s village. ‘Let us eat, you must be famished. It doesn’t look like the Count will be back tonight.’
After dinner, when Sweyn had gone to his bed, Edwin and I talked.
‘I’m glad you are here. It is good to have an English knight among all these Normans.’
‘What are they like?’
‘Good soldiers, strong-willed; some can be ruthless, even vicious. But that’s true of all people. I like your young protege; he seems to be a fine young man.’
‘He’s a very special boy. But I am desperate for him to make the step to manhood and to become a warrior in the right place with the right people. He wouldn’t be happy with Count Geoffrey in Toulouse. He’s a good man, but his men are ill-disciplined and lazy.’
‘Training with the English housecarls is no longer possible, but the Normans are the next best thing. And, most importantly, you’re here. He wants to finish what Hereward started and put you on the throne of England.’
‘The boy needs a lesson in harsh reality. Sometimes caution can be more effective than haste.’
‘I know, but he’s young. I am trying hard with him, but he is so determined. I hope you will help me.’
‘Of course.’ I reassured Edwin. ‘But harsh reality may be here sooner than you think. Robert has gone hunting to calm down. He and the King have been at loggerheads for years, and it’s getting worse. Robert now thinks his father favours his younger brother, William Rufus, who he dislikes intensely…’
I paused before voicing for the first time the conclusion to which I was inevitably drawn.
‘I think Robert will rebel and bring us civil war.’
I was right. Events moved quickly in the next few weeks. William had already been annoyed by a revolt by several of his Breton earls in his kingdom in England. Even the Danes had stirred again. The old King, Svein Estrithson, who had abandoned Hereward to his fate at Ely, had died, but his son, Cnut, had sailed with a fleet of 200 warships and plundered York and the east coast. William’s dukedom in Normandy was also under threat, surrounded by increasingly powerful and fractious neighbours. None of this did much good for William’s temper, an ire that usually found a victim in Count Robert.
In the autumn of 1076, William had suffered his first military setback in twenty years when he was forced to retreat from an attack on Dol on Normandy’s western frontier. He had been besieging two of his
enemies, Geoffrey Granon, Count of Brittany, and Ralph de Gael, the rebel Earl of Norfolk, in their castle at Dol, the same fortress that he had taken so memorably with Harold Godwinson at his side in 1064.
This time, the defenders were more resolute and the castle held.
Significantly, it was young Philip, King of France, who came to the aid of the Bretons. William tried to stand his ground, but Philip’s military prowess was becoming more and more pronounced, and he deployed his large army to good effect.
William, the mighty warrior, victor of many battles, had been complacent. He had left a significant part of his elite cavalry behind and had not roused his men quite as vigorously as usual. Philip, on the other hand, was young and dynamic and had something to prove.
When Philip’s force appeared to the Normans’ rear, instead of turning his entire force to meet the threat, William split his corps of archers in two, leaving half to carry on the assault on the city, while the other half tried to halt the French attack. But Philip’s cavalry were too numerous and disciplined to be blunted by a small force of archers. William delayed committing his cavalry, thinking that their role would be to cut into the French horsemen after his archers had inflicted heavy losses on them. As a consequence, his infantry was overrun and his cavalry had no time to form up properly for a counter-attack.
From the Norman perspective, it was a shambles. William had made the sort of mistake one might expect from a novice on the battlefield.
When I heard the details, I could not stop myself from thinking how different history would have been had William made the same errors of judgement at Senlac Ridge.
William lost many of his finest men and suffered a massive dent to his pride. It was a crucial turning point for him; his aura of invincibility had been shattered. Normandy suddenly looked vulnerable. Its powerful neighbours began to grow in confidence and act in concert: in the west, Geoffrey Granon, Count of Brittany; in the south-west, Fulk le Rechin, Count of Anjou; in the south-east, Philip, King of France; and in the east, Robert, Count of Flanders.
Not surprisingly, these developments were also followed with great interest by the Danish King, Cnut, sniffing the chance of more Danegeld, and by my former protector in Scotland, Malcolm Canmore.
However, the next challenge came not from William’s circle of enemies or his neighbours, but from his own son.
It was February 1078 and winter still held its grip on Normandy. However, William, as usual, had little regard for the hardships of the season and had billeted us in L’Aigle on Normandy’s southern border to begin the strengthening of the defences of the dukedom against the many threats it faced.
For the first time in a long while, William and his three sons were together. Young Henry, still only ten, was precocious and clever and relentlessly pestered his father to be allowed to travel with him. As usual, Rufus was loud and obnoxious and constantly aimed insults at Robert.
I had appointed Edwin to my hearthtroop as a knight and made young Sweyn my page. Robert liked them both, but on this expedition he was not particularly pleasant to anyone.
‘I am going to see my father. Enough is enough; I am going to demand that he grants me the dukedom in my own right. He’s got his own bloody kingdom in England, which should be enough for the old bastard!’
‘Don’t you think you should request rather than demand?’
‘No, I don’t! I’m tired of his bullying. I’m going to stand up to him. When I’m Duke, I’ll send that arsehole Rufus off to England, and his insufferable little brother will go with him. And if I hear of anyone calling me “Shortboots”, I’ll have his tongue out at its root.’
No amount of persuasion could stop him, and he duly confronted the King. It did not go well. It was unwise and ill-timed, with several courtiers within earshot.
William looked at his son impassively at first, and answered calmly.
‘I suppose you would want me to include Maine as well? It would be of no use to me in England.’
‘Of course.’
William’s volcanic temper began to growl.
‘And how do you propose to deal with our Breton friends and the Angevins? And that French upstart, Philip?’
‘Better than you did at Dol.’
That caused the volcano to erupt.
‘Do you know how long it took me to quell our troublesome neighbours? How many campaigns I had to fight? And now you want me to give it all to you so that you can call it yours! You snivelling little bastard!’
‘You’re the bastard, remember. Your mother was the whore, Herleve. My mother is a queen, a descendant of
