9. Knighthood
While final preparations for the army’s attack on Scotland were made, Robert agreed that Sweyn could undergo the trial of knighthood as practised in Normandy for generations. However, he was adamant that Adela could not be admitted to the Order of Knights. His argument, although a massive disappointment for her, was compelling — even though I told him that she was formally a brother-in-arms to Edwin, Sweyn and myself.
‘That is your choice and has nothing to do with me, but no one has ever heard of a woman being admitted to the knighthood. If I were to be the first to sanction it, I would be ridiculed far and wide. And besides, it’s just wrong — she’s a woman, and women shouldn’t fight on the battlefield, let alone be knights.’
‘Many women have fought in battle and many have died.’
‘I know, and they have died well, but it has usually been in extremis to defend their homes and children. It still doesn’t make it right in my eyes, or in the eyes of God. Let that be my final word on the matter.’
Few men would disagree with Robert and there was little point in pressing him further, so I had to give Adela the bad news. I had one crumb of comfort for her, which was that Robert had agreed that she could undertake the test on the strict understanding that, no matter how well she performed, it would not qualify her to join the Order of Knights.
Edwin helped me break the news to her.
‘I will speak to the Count myself,’ she vowed.
‘You will not, Adela. That would be countermanding my authority and I will not allow it.’
‘I am the equal of all of them — and better than most. It is not just.’
Edwin intervened.
‘Remember who you are speaking to.’
‘My Lord, I’m sorry, but I want to be treated according to my talents, not constrained by traditions that men created to keep women as slaves.’
‘You have my sympathy, but you can’t fight the way the world is.’
‘On the contrary, sire, I can and I will.’
‘I understand but, on this occasion, I can’t help you.’
‘My Lord, I realize how much you have supported Sweyn and myself, and we will always be grateful. So, if I accept this, what will become of me? Will I be able to accompany you on campaigns?’
‘I don’t see why you can’t carry on as page in my retinue — and, indeed, bear arms. Let me talk to the Count after the trial.’
The trial was undertaken with the help of several of Robert’s senior knights, in a series of tests supervised by Hugh Percy. A large crowd gathered when word spread around the camp that Adela had been allowed to take the challenge.
There were many emotions and opinions about Adela within Robert’s army, both among the fighting men and the men and women who made up the baggage train. All assumed she would have preferred to be a man and that her sexual desires favoured women rather than men. That was understandable, given her appearance and demeanour, and most men — and many of the women — were adamant that a long night with a well-endowed, vigorous young man would solve all her problems. A few were more sympathetic, admiring her fortitude as well as her martial skills and courage.
The tests were arduous: target practice with longbow, crossbow and javelin; tilts at dummy targets and personal jousts with some of Robert’s finest horsemen; duels on foot and on horseback with sword, mace and seax; various tests of horsemanship, including a long-distance gallop through the forest and heath; and the final challenge, a foot-race around the camp where, at several points, they had to run a gauntlet of abuse, blows, traps and obstacles.
The test was scored by Hugh Percy and both passed handsomely. Sweyn’s score was one of the highest anyone could remember, while Adela’s would have put her close to the elite bracket of candidates had she not suffered the misfortune of being taken clean out of her saddle in one of her three jousts, which lost her several points. However, accompanied by much cheering, her sheer determination, desperate scrambling and instinctive cunning meant she beat Sweyn by ten yards in the foot-race, even though he had the physique of a hunting dog.
The camp was delighted at the outcome and had been thoroughly entertained for an afternoon.
It was a very special moment for Sweyn when he stood before Count Robert to be dubbed a Knight of Normandy. He bowed to his lord and, with the only blow to which Sweyn was required not to retaliate, Robert struck him hard across the side of his face with the mailed side of his gauntlet, drawing blood from his cheek and nose. He then handed him his pennon, placed his sword in his hand and raised it to the assembled crowd. The army cheered enthusiastically and his fellow knights raised their swords in the time-honoured salute.
Sweyn had got his wish. He was a member of the Order of Knights at the tender age of sixteen, an honour usually bestowed at a boy’s coming of age at twenty-one. Only members of the higher nobility or warriors of exceptional ability were given such an accolade so young.
The most significant gesture, one that I will remember for the rest of my days, was embodied in the colours of Sweyn’s pennon. Robert had sought advice from me and, despite what the three colours represented, was magnanimous enough to grant Sweyn the crimson, gold and black of Hereward’s war banner, the colours chosen to represent the Talisman of Truth by the noble Einar in 1069.
Sweyn tied the pennon to his lance and held it high in the air. It was yet another huge paradox for me to contemplate: it was less than ten years since Ely; we were in the wild and forsaken burgh of Durham, still not recovered from Norman brutality; and once more Hereward’s colours flew proudly over English soil, this time in front of William’s firstborn son and heir and the cream of Normandy’s army.
Robert then addressed Adela directly.
‘Adela of Bourne, you have acquitted yourself with great distinction here today, you have performed as well as the best of my knights. I hope you understand why I cannot dub you as knight today — but rest assured, you have won our respect.’
Robert nodded and a steward brought forward a magnificent black destrier of the size, quality and colour reserved for the elite Matilda Conroi.
‘Please accept this mount. It reflects our regard for you and especially your outstanding skill as a horsewoman.’
Adela, despite the disappointment of being denied knighthood, seemed overawed. She did not curtsy of course, but bowed deeply, smiled broadly and took the reins of the horse. The crowd responded warmly — most seemed won over by her impressive performance in the trial.
‘Count Robert, I am very grateful and appreciate all the support you have given Sweyn and myself. We are in your debt and will serve in whatever capacity you wish. The mount is a fine specimen and a more than generous gift. I will put him to good use, sufficient to be worthy of such largesse. As for convention, I hope to prove to you that although some traditions are worth keeping, many are not.’
Adela’s combative spirit could not be quashed.
I was much relieved that Robert appeared to take it in good part.
Later that night, Robert asked to see me.
‘I have been thinking about Adela. Do you want her to stay with this campaign and any others we go on together?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I think that’s a problem. There is much disquiet among the knights, and innuendo and banter among the men. Many of the women are suspicious or jealous of her. I had not given it a thought but, after the trial, Hugh, Yves and Aubrey came to me with the gossip. They are set against her staying — they say she will cause trouble, and that’s the last thing we want when we’re about to set out for Scotland.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I assume she likes women rather than men?’ Robert asked bluntly.
‘It is never discussed. She has never taken any interest in men — except to be very protective of Sweyn, whom she treats like a younger brother. I know of no evidence to suggest that she’s inclined to either men or women, which must be a consequence of her trauma as a girl.’
I then told Robert what I knew of the events in her village. However, the information, although eliciting much
