‘But, my Lord, we’re her family.’
‘She made no exceptions. Even though her father was a mortal enemy, I was charged with the girls’ care and would not betray Estrith’s trust to anyone.’
‘You were at Ely, Earl Robert?’
‘I was, Prince Edgar.’
‘So, you were a witness to Hereward’s demise?’
‘I was, but the account of the events after the end of the siege is known only to the King and to me. My recollection will go with me to my grave. As for the King — ’ he gave a short laugh ‘- I wouldn’t recommend that you ask him.’
Sweyn then stepped forward.
‘My Lord, did the girls not marry?’
‘They chose not to, although there were many suitors. They were beautiful — indeed, Estrith remains so — and very learned and charming; perfect wives for Norman lords looking for English brides to charm their tenants. But they chose to spend their days helping in the local communities with the sick and the poor; in the evenings they would talk and write, read and draw. Estrith is exceptionally talented with calculation and would seek out any churchwright or mason in the area to talk about the techniques of construction. She said that her mother had seen the great buildings of Rome and Greece and understood how they were built.’
Adela and Sweyn looked at one another warmly, clearly enjoying fond memories from the past. It was obvious that the Earl had become very fond of the girls and remained fiercely loyal to their wishes. It was pointless to press him further.
We made a detour during our return to London in order to visit the nuns at Hereford, feeling certain that that was where we would find Estrith. Hereward had first met Torfida there, and that was where she had gone shortly before her tragic death.
To our surprise and disappointment, Estrith was not there, nor had she been there.
Our trail had gone cold.
Short of visiting every ecclesiastical house in the country, we had no choice but to return to London, leaving me saddened to think that our hopes of ever finding her had all but gone.
11. This Turbulent Priest
We spent the next few months on a grand tour of England as Robert undertook an inspection of the rapidly growing Norman fortifications which seemed to loom over every burgh in the realm. The monotony was broken only in the spring of 1082, when Robert asked me to take my conroi and four of his own to Rochester on a mission of some delicacy.
Odo of Bayeux, apart from being Earl of Kent and a bishop of Normandy, was King William’s half-brother and closest confidant. He was also unrelentingly ambitious and had his eyes set on the papacy itself. He had begun to recruit supporters from the Norman hierarchy for an expedition to Rome to press his claim to be Pontiff by force of arms. It was a naive plan at best; the last thing the King wanted was for England and Normandy to become embroiled in the politics of Rome and in military campaigns in southern Europe, where other powerful Normans with friends and allies in Normandy ruled most of the Italian peninsula.
Odo had committed a cardinal sin — he had begun to act in a way that threatened the authority of the King. William ordered his immediate arrest. Robert gave me the task, thinking that it would only add to the ignominy of Odo’s seizure that his captor should be an English prince.
Even though my escort of 120 men was significantly outnumbered by Odo’s garrison, he rode out to meet us with a small group of knights. Most of the population of Rochester had gathered to watch the confrontation.
I asked Sweyn to read out the charges.
‘Sweyn of Bourne, read the King’s warrant!’
He delivered it in perfect Norman French.
‘Odo of Bayeux, you have plotted sedition against the throne and impugned the King’s honour in the eyes of his lords. William, King of England and Duke of Normandy, commands that you be taken under arrest to his donjon in Rouen, where you will be held at the King’s pleasure. Your lands and titles are forfeited to the King forthwith.’
Sweyn then took the bridle of Odo’s horse and made to lead him away.
‘Take your hands off my horse, boy.’
Sweyn’s response was immediate and authoritative.
‘You are in no position to issue orders to me.’
He then pulled hard on the horse, making Odo jolt back in his saddle.
‘What is your name? You disgrace a fellow Norman in front of these English peasants?’
I could see that Sweyn was seething at Odo’s contemptuous attitude towards his English subjects. I glanced at Edwin to be sure he was aware of the potential flashpoint.
‘I am not Norman, I am English; these “peasants” are my people and yours. You are under arrest by royal warrant of the King of England.’
Sweyn tugged once more on the horse and made to lead the once mighty lord away in disgrace, at which point Odo’s knights drew their swords. My men reciprocated immediately and a vicious melee ensued with men hacking at one another in a frenzy.
Sweyn had the eminent good sense to pull Odo and his mount away, with Edwin and Adela protecting his rear. Odo seized the opportunity to dismount, and ran for the protection of his keep. A large man, he was no match for Sweyn, who jumped from his horse and ran him down within ten yards.
As Sweyn closed in on Odo, the cleric drew his seax and lunged at his young pursuer. But Sweyn was too quick for him and kicked the blade from his hand with a deft swing of his boot. At the same time, he smashed his mailed glove into Odo’s face, inflicting considerable damage to the Bishop’s noble features. His nose was broken and blood poured from his mouth. He staggered backwards before Sweyn put him on his back with another heavy blow, dislodging several of his teeth.
As Sweyn stepped over him, sword in hand ready to strike, Odo raised his hand in meek submission, wiping the blood from his mouth as he did so.
I had stayed with the melee to make sure it could be contained, but as soon as Odo raised his hand his men relented.
Edwin and Adela helped Odo to his feet and led him to his keep to get help for his battered face. He said nothing, but he stared long and hard at Sweyn with a look that was a blend of fear and respect.
We gave Odo time to gather some belongings and bid farewell to his family before Sweyn led my conroi and escorted Odo’s to Rouen. As the disgraced Bishop left for Dover, he gave me a gift for Robert. Looking like a butt of wine wrapped in cloth, it was put into one of the carts in my baggage train.
‘Give it to the young Count. It is embroidery, the finest you will ever see, a record of his father’s great victory at Senlac Ridge. It has taken the fine seamsters of Kent over a year to make. I was going to present it to the King myself, but that is no longer possible. When Robert is King of England, he should hang it around his hall at Westminster to remind him of what our generation did to win this kingdom for him. You can also tell that young knight of yours that when I have settled my differences with the King, he will face me again in very different circumstances.’
‘My Lord Bishop, he was only doing his duty.’
‘Perhaps so, but not with any measure of respect.’
Despite the rebuke from Odo, I was proud of Sweyn. He was now eighteen and no longer looked like a callow youth, but had the bearing of a mature knight and nobleman. He had acted firmly, as he was required to do, and had not been intimidated by the second most important man in the kingdom. Odo was in disgrace and could expect no courtesies — thus, none had been given. The swift and ruthless way in which Sweyn had dealt with Odo’s physical challenge impressed all who witnessed it and word spread quickly about his adroitness at close quarters and the power of his punch.
Bishop Odo, imposing warrior of Normandy, one of the most fearsome of William’s supporters, left England
