‘I’m sorry, I have to be so careful… It’s Adela, isn’t it?’
Both in a deluge of tears, the two women fell into each other’s arms.
‘I recognized you and Edwin; Sweyn I didn’t recognize, he was so young when I saw him last. And you, sir, should I recognize you?’
‘I am Edgar — we have met before, but it was a long time ago.’
Edwin helped the nun with more details as Adela added Sweyn to their embrace.
‘This is Edgar, Prince of this realm.’
‘My apologies, my Lord, I intended no disrespect.’
‘Don’t apologize. I am just Edgar. These are my good friends — like your father was and, I hope, you will be too.’
‘Thank you. Yes, I am Hereward’s daughter, Estrith of Melfi, not Adeliza of Whalley. I travel incognito; the Normans have forgotten who I am, but I don’t want anything to remind them.’
Adela launched into all sorts of reminiscences. Realizing that there was a lot to talk about, I suggested we ride out into the woods beyond the River Wear so that we could relax and exchange our stories at leisure, well away from the din of the masons’ labours. Our escort came with us but respectfully kept its distance.
Adela soon resumed the eager questioning.
‘We went to Launceston and heard the terrible news about Gunnhild. It must be hard for you not to have your sister with you.’
‘It is, but her suffering was so great, her passing was a mercy. I have tried to make my own way ever since. Our guardian, Robert of Mortain, was a good man, a typical Norman — uncompromising and strong-willed — but he was kind to us and we grew to like him. When Gunnhild died, he let me leave, which I appreciated greatly.’
Adela explained that, although we had pleaded with him, he refused to tell us where she was.
‘I’m not surprised. That was his way; he’d made me a promise and that was the end of it. He’s dead now; I heard he was banished to Normandy after his support for Odo’s rebellion in 1088 and died there a couple of years ago.’
‘We searched high and low for you, but could never find you.’
‘I would have been in Normandy at that time. I did take Holy Orders and I am an ordained nun, but my skill is masonry.’
Although we were all intrigued to know how a nun became a mason, Sweyn was the first to voice the other question we all wanted to ask.
‘Forgive me for asking you something that may be painful for you to answer, but we all think about him every day. What can you tell us about what happened to your father?’
‘Don’t be afraid to ask, he was like a father to you as well. Sadly, I can’t give you an answer. I wish I could. What happened in St Etheldreda’s Chapel will haunt me to my dying day, as it did Gunnhild, even in the agony of her death throes.’
We had found a place to sit in a beautiful glade. Even though it was late February, the bright sun of a crisp, clear day had dried the grass. Estrith got up and started to pace around, probably so that she could turn away from us should she want to hide the anguish on her face.
‘At the end of the siege and the awful carnage, William had my father flayed close to death. We were dragged into the Chapel, where a terrible confrontation began. William demanded that our father renounce the Oath of the Brotherhood of St Etheldreda, the solemn vow that all the defenders of Ely had taken. When he refused, the King was on the verge of striking him down with our father’s own weapon, the Great Axe of Goteborg, when there was a blinding burst of sunlight. The King was transfixed for a moment, then he staggered from the Chapel and suddenly collapsed, clutching his chest. He was carried away and we were locked in, alone with our father, who was on the brink of death. It was pitiful… he was in such pain and we were just girls with no idea what to do… but he survived… he was so strong. We nursed him as best we could, until he regained some strength…’
She turned away for a while, fighting back the tears. The glade fell still, with only the faint babble of the distant Wear breaking the silence.
‘The King didn’t return for several days. When he did, he brought Robert of Mortain with him. He dragged us out of the Chapel, slamming the door behind us, leaving the two of them alone. What happened then is known only to the King and my father, and anyone they chose to confide in. Earl Robert put us in a cart and we were heading to Cornwall within minutes. Ely was soon lost in the distance, but the air was still ringing with our howls and screams.’
Estrith resumed her seat next to us, more composed now that she had recounted the worst part of her story.
‘Although there are all sorts of stories and rumours, most people think William had my father executed and buried in secret, just like King Harold. He must have assumed that if his martyrdom could never be verified, nor his grave identified, it would make his memory less potent for the English. Earl Robert would never confirm or deny anything — except to say that the King had made one concession, which is that Gunnhild and I would be spared and placed under his care.’
Sweyn then made clear his unshakeable belief about Hereward’s fate.
‘He is alive, and one day we’ll find him.’
Estrith looked at him with a kindly, almost motherly expression.
‘He would be almost sixty years old by now. It is hard to imagine he’s still alive, given all that he suffered in his life. But I admire your faith, Sweyn. If he is to be found, then I’m sure you’re the man to do it.’
She started to sob and Adela put her arms around her. After a while, she continued her tale.
‘At first, life in Cornwall was a living hell. We hated all Normans, especially William and his henchmen such as Earl Robert, and refused to speak to him or anybody in his household. He lost patience with us and locked us in a cell, feeding us through a hole in the door. After several months and a harsh winter, Gunnhild became delirious with fever and I decided to compromise. I don’t think she ever fully recovered from that ordeal and feel certain it hastened her untimely death. We were released from the cell, given a guarded chamber, and life slowly became more tolerable. As we conceded more, Robert gradually allowed us more comforts until eventually we became part of his household. Strange as it may seem, we grew to respect him; we could have had a much worse jailer.’
I looked at Adela, sitting side by side with Estrith. They were two remarkably strong women who, by sheer willpower, had succeeded against huge odds — one terribly traumatized who became a knight in all but name, the other similarly damaged, who, behind the facade of a learned nun, became a churchwright. Both had embraced professions that I thought were the exclusive preserve of men. I could not resist the obvious question, at the same time changing the subject to a less emotional one.
‘How did you learn the skills of masonry?’
‘Well, I’m not exactly a mason. I don’t have the skills — I’m not very good with my hands — but I help the master masons with their calculations. My mother was fascinated by architecture and mathematics, and I have inherited her passion. She and Hereward travelled all over the world and she saw all the great buildings of Byzantium, Greece and Italy and learned their secrets — except, they’re not secrets. They are strict formulae which determine how buildings are constructed.’
Adela was hanging on her every word.
‘And the masons accept you?’
‘A little. All the churchwrights are men, so I have to be careful not to claim to be one. I go by reputation and recommendation, which is why I started in Normandy, where all the great churches are being built. Some of the old masons there remembered my mother, which helped me at first. Because of my nun’s habit they see me as a well- educated sister of the Church who has a gift for calculating, rather than as a churchwright. But, without thinking about it, they do let me help with the design.’
‘So, why are you here?’
‘This new church is going to be very special. William of Calais wants it to be the finest building in England. When I heard about it, I came to help.’
‘And you were welcomed?’
‘Yes, I was lucky to be recommended by Walkelin, Bishop of Winchester; his church has just been completed, and I did a lot of work on the vaulting for the roof. I specialize in the calculations to make the roof strong. Although I work with the master mason, I spend most of my time with the carpenters, because they make the timber frames that support the roof. Winchester has a big roof, and the beautiful stone vaulting above the nave is only decorative;
