grasped it easily in one hand and lifted it at arm’s length. It seemed even bigger than I remembered; the shaft was the diameter of a man’s wrist and its head stood almost at shoulder height. The two huge, crescent-shaped blades still shone as brightly as when they had first been made.
‘Do you remember this?’
Sweyn went up to him and asked to hold the Great Axe.
‘I remember it well…’
He did not continue his sentence; dealing with the weight of the weapon took all his concentration and breath.
Several hours of fascinating conversation followed, as we told our stories and Hereward told his. Although he had obviously told Estrith a more intimate version during their private meeting together, he did share with us a brief account of what happened between him and the King in St Etheldreda’s Chapel at Ely.
Estrith held him around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder as he described the bitter-sweet paradox of William finally acknowledging the courage and worthiness of the cause of the Brotherhood, and deciding to spare Gunnhild and Estrith, but demanding that a dreadful price be paid. The King insisted that Hereward was never to see his daughters again, who would be put in the care of Robert of Mortain. He must agree to leave England in secret, never to return.
The King had devised an infernal pact between them, a perfect example of William’s fiendish cunning. Hereward had no choice but to agree — it did represent an acknowledgement of sorts that the sacrifices of the Brotherhood had not been in vain — so the pact with the Devil was done.
He created a new identity for himself — Godwin of Ely, soldier of fortune — cut off his distinctive blond locks and, after a few years’ service in the bodyguard of a German prince, slowly made his way to Constantinople. He enlisted in the imperial army of Byzantium, which already included several of King Harold’s housecarls who had survived Senlac Ridge. A handful of them recognized him, but never revealed his identity, following the strict code of honour practised by the Emperor’s soldiers.
When Alexius became Emperor in 1081, Hereward joined the elite Varangian Guard. He soon rose rapidly through the ranks and won universal acclaim as its most formidable warrior. The new Emperor, a 24-year-old seasoned soldier himself who had first gone to war as a boy of fourteen, soon picked out Hereward to be the man around whom to rebuild Byzantium’s shattered army and appointed him Captain of the Varangians.
He became close to Alexius, for whom he had immense respect, both as a man and a soldier. He revealed to him his real identity and the truth about his life before his arrival Constantinople.
Hereward led the Guard in the great victory against the Pechenegs at Levunium in 1091, after which he was paraded, garlanded, through the streets of Constantinople. He was fifty-five years old by then and his many injuries, scars and broken bones were getting the better of his ageing body. His eyesight was not as keen as it once was, and his reactions were slowing. He decided to retire and entrust Alexius with the Talisman in recognition of his great achievement in neutralizing an enemy of the Empire that had been plaguing its northern border for years.
Alexius wanted to award Hereward a huge pension and vast estates in gratitude for his faithful service. Hereward refused the offer, content with a modest casket of silver and a small plot of land in the western Peloponnese. It was one of the most remote places in the empire, and the grant of land was entirely virgin territory — almost all of it comprised Mount Foloi, a heavily wooded, rugged mountain with commanding views to the west and out to sea. Hereward had seen it many years earlier and decided it would be the ideal place to retire to.
He built his own shelter above the oaks and pines, just beneath the top of the mountain, where the chill and the winds of winter would remind him of England. He hunted, foraged and farmed just as he had done as a young man in England’s wildwood after he had been banished by King Edward at Winchester.
He said he never got lonely; he had so much to reflect on. And so many memories to keep him company, he added poignantly, with a tear in his eye and a kiss for Estrith.
‘And I had Torfida for company. She said she would always be with me. She has kept her promise and she still is.’
I suddenly remembered the giant blond Varangian on the prow of the Byzantine ship at the Battle of Mazara, whom Ibn Hamed had said was the Captain of the Guard.
Adela had remembered too and got the question out before me.
‘Surely it cannot have been you leading the attack on Mazara in Sicily? It was in the autumn of the year 1084, I think… but we believed the Captain had been killed?’
‘Were you there?’
‘Yes, we were in the service of Roger of Sicily.’
Hereward looked at Estrith. ‘And you?’
‘No, I was building churches in Normandy at the time.’
‘Like mother, like daughter. Well, fate would have dealt me a strange blow if it had been me at Mazara — killed in battle against my old friend, Count Roger, with my own family serving in his army. Fortunately for me, the Emperor did not send me on the campaigns against the Normans in Italy and the Balkans because of my previous service with the Guiscards and my close bond with Roger. The man who was killed that day was my deputy, another Englishman, John of Worcester, a fine man and a great soldier. He took an arrow which pierced his armour, broke his ribs and ruptured his heart. He was dead in moments.’
Sweyn then continued the reminiscing.
‘There are so many stories about you and Ely! You must have been tempted to come back to England, especially after you retired from the army and William died.’
‘I was very tempted — but William kept his side of the bargain, and I kept mine. I paid a high price, but not as high as the one paid by the rest of the Brotherhood.’
Adela then spoke.
‘So, you have become like the Old Man of the Wildwood?’
‘I certainly live like him, but without his knowledge and wisdom. I am no seer, just an ancient soldier.’
‘Did you never find a woman to spend your retirement with?’
‘No woman would be mad enough to spend her days with an old man in a thatched lean-to at the top of a mountain.’
Then Hereward got to his feet. Suddenly, it was as if we were back in 1069; he had that fiery look in his eye.
‘I go the coast three or four times a year and enjoy the hospitality of the local governor at Messene. I’ve been following the Emperor’s plans with great interest. With the northern border secure, his dilemma now is the world of Islam, especially the Seljuk Turks, who pose an even more formidable threat than the Pechenegs.’
Sweyn was spurred on by Hereward’s enthusiasm.
‘I always knew you were alive. And I often thought about the Varangians, because I knew that many of King Harold’s housecarls came here to enlist.’
‘All those Englishmen are gone now, either perished in battle or retired to live out their days in peace. When Alexius called for help from the Latin Princes, I thought it might lead to one last adventure in my life — during which there was even the vague possibility of hearing a little of what became of all of you.’
Adela sprang to her feet.
‘Does that mean you are coming with us?’
‘Of course, let me repeat what the Emperor’s messenger read out when he appeared with his escort through the mist of my mountain home early one morning: “A brethren of Latins, led by a Norman duke named Robert and an English prince named Edgar, is at the court of His Majesty, the Emperor Alexius. One of the brethren, the Abbess of Fecamp, is called Estrith of Melfi. They have asked about an amulet called the Talisman of Truth.” He then looked at me and said that the Emperor thought I would like to return to Constantinople immediately and that they would escort me to a ship waiting in the harbour at Messene. As you might imagine, I was gathering my things before the messenger had finished speaking. It was the longest journey of my life, but now I’m here.’
Estrith brought us all together in a circle, while Hereward took the oath of the Brethren of the Blood. She then spoke for all of us.
‘Now we are seven and united as a family at last. Let us pray for those no longer with us: Torfida, who met her end in the wildwood from whence she came; Martin, Einar and Alphonso in the heroic struggle at Ely; Gunnhild in the terrible pain she bore so bravely; and, in the tragedy of the putrid fever, our beloved sisters, Emma and
