which I suspected disguised a secret; one day I would come to know what it was.
The confabulation with the King was tense. He was accompanied by Queen Matilda, Roger of Montgomery, Hugh of Grandmesnil and the ageing Roger of Beaumont. Besides me, Robert chose Robert of Belleme and Ives and Aubrey of Grandmesnil, all sons of the men they were facing.
As I watched the polite formalities and courtesies, I felt uncomfortable — an outsider privy to what was, in truth, a family feud which just happened to be among the most powerful men in northern Europe. I was also ill at ease in being in the confidence of one party to the quarrel. Even these Normans, who had become my friends, were the very same people who had stolen my birthright and were oppressing my kinsmen. I also had the same anxieties that everyone else must feel. The fate of kingdoms often hinges on the outcome of battles, but this time the future of England and Normandy rested on the settlement of a family quarrel. But this was no ordinary family, this was the brood of an extraordinary warlord.
I was deep in those thoughts when the King, who was on his best behaviour, made the same observation that had occurred to me.
‘Why do we have an English prince in our midst, a man who repeatedly bows to me and then chooses to be my enemy?’
‘Father, he is my ally, wise counsel and good friend. He is no enemy of Normandy.’
On any other occasion that would have sent William into a tirade, but the circumstances made him relent and, with a sneer aimed at me and a dismissive grunt, he signalled for the parley to begin.
It did not take long to reach an agreement. Two crucial factors were in play. William’s humiliation at Gerberoi had put Robert in a powerful position, especially because of the support he could now draw on, both inside Normandy and among its enemies. This meant that, if William were to placate his son, he would also placate his enemies, especially Philip of France. Secondly, Robert had saved his father’s life on the battlefield. This meant that not only was the King in his personal debt, but he also had an obligation in the eyes of the entire Norman aristocracy to reward his son for his magnanimity in victory.
‘My son, let our differences stay in the past. Your prowess in the field at Gerberoi and your exemplary behaviour towards me have taught me to understand that my regard for you fell far short of what it should have been and that my deeds and words, and those of your brothers, were ill-judged and hurtful. All that will now be put right and the wrongs of the past will not happen again.’
They were astonishing words, such that I had to pinch myself to be sure I was hearing them, uttered by the same man who in the past had conceded nothing to any man, under any circumstances.
‘Thank you, Father, I am content that you now feel you can give me the respect that I have deserved for a very long time.’
Robert was visibly moved by his father’s contrition. Although he was short-tempered, impetuous and sometimes indolent, Robert was good company and generous and had become a close friend. I was delighted that the burden of half a lifetime of disrespect and bullying by his father appeared to have been lifted from his shoulders.
The King solemnly granted to Robert his succession to the Dukedom of Normandy and made recompense for all his son’s costs during the rebellion, which were substantial. Tactfully, Robert did not raise the subject of the English throne, or the inheritance of his brothers; those quarrelsome subjects would have be resolved, or otherwise, in due course. The Queen sat and beamed, there were comradely hugs all round, and food and drink began to appear for a celebratory feast.
During the merriment, the King delivered a shock. Although William was not as imperious as he had been, he was still capable of flashes of highly astute manoeuvring. It was not a trap for Robert — indeed, for him, it was a generous gesture — but, for me, it was certainly a move that would test my diplomacy and force me to examine my loyalties. The King delivered his surprise with a hint of mischief in his eyes.
‘Robert, I am concerned about our northern borders. As you know, Malcolm of Scotland has flagrantly ridden roughshod over the pact we made at Abernethy. I would like you to lead our army on a campaign to remind him of his manners.’
Robert was beside himself. Not only was it a tangible affirmation of his reconciliation with his father, but it was also a major blow to Rufus, who would read into the mission the suggestion that Robert may well inherit England as well as Normandy.
William delivered his devious ploy with a smile and with cunningly chosen words.
‘Prince Edgar, perhaps you would accompany Robert? You know the Scots well; you can be of great service to us in helping to put them in their place.’
Robert looked concerned for me. I just about mustered a smile in response.
‘My Lord King, I would be honoured to accompany Count Robert. Thank you for entrusting me with the task.’
The King’s request made me wonder whether my friendship with Robert, while I continued to support the cause of my brother-in-law in Scotland, had made me a hypocrite. Here I was, the trusted friend of the Normans — at least, of Robert and his followers — while at the same time sharing my allegiance with King Malcolm and the Scots. While peace reigned the charade seemed inconsequential, but it was always Malcolm’s intention to take advantage of any Norman weakness. Not only had I been complicit in that, I had also aided and abetted Malcolm’s exploitation of the situation, the result of which was great mayhem and carnage on the English-Scottish borders.
I needed to resolve the predicament. My thoughts turned to Harold and Hereward, and the inspiration I had felt while at Harold’s tomb at Waltham Abbey. I knew what they would have done: acted courageously and truthfully.
And thus, I knew what I had to do.
We reported the outcome of the negotiations to King Philip at Melun. He was delighted that he had ensured one of two outcomes: either England and Normandy would be separated and weakened upon William’s death, or his friend Robert would rule both realms, thus bringing peace and harmony to all concerned.
We then returned to Rouen to prepare for our expedition to Scotland. There I decided to confide in Edwin, explain my dilemma and seek his confirmation that my way of resolving it was wise.
‘If we are to support Count Robert’s expedition to challenge King Malcolm, it is likely there will be a fight, where we oppose Malcolm, but I have been in contact with him ever since I left Dunfermline and have frequently sent him intelligence to his advantage. But now, there is a direct conflict of loyalties. I cannot support both sides in a war.’
‘I agree, my Prince, so you must declare yourself to both sides as neutral. I’m sure Count Robert will understand and will respect your candour. Perhaps in that way you can prevent bloodshed.’
‘That is wise counsel; I appreciate it. Will you travel with me on those terms? It means you will no longer be in the Count’s service, but serving me directly. As you know, my retinue is but a few men and I have limited funds — especially as I am likely to lose both my current benefactors.’
‘Sire, I could not think of any other place I would rather be than at your side.’
‘Thank you. We are only two — a small band of English exiles — but perhaps we will grow in number.’
‘My Prince, have you given up all hope of claiming the throne?’
‘Yes, that ambition is a millstone around my neck. If I am to find my path in life, I need to cast that dream into the midden where it belongs.’
‘Sire, if this is the beginnings of a band of brothers-in-arms, may I suggest two more recruits?’
‘Of course. But I am ahead of you. I had already thought that two Englishmen were hardly a formidable posse; Sweyn and Adela would be fine additions to our crew. And I’m sure Adela would be happy to be called our “brother”.’
Edwin and I were eager to tell Sweyn and Adela of our intentions, and we were gratified to see that their elation was almost boundless.
For the first time, the near constant expression of sullen anger on Sweyn’s face lifted, while Adela’s feminine emotions nearly got the better of her. At one point, I thought she was going to kiss me! But her sturdy resolve regained control and she kept command of herself.
I pointed out to her that there could be few concessions to her womanhood while on campaign. Her answer, as always, was forthright.
‘My Lord, with Emma and Edgiva, I was the plaything of nine Norman thugs for nearly a week. Nothing that
