Crusade (10 page)

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
could happen to me, now or in the future, would come close to the horrors and indignities of that.’

Sweyn put his arm around her.

‘Nothing like that will ever happen to you again. I will make sure of it.’

‘We both will,’ she said resolutely.

Edwin was smiling broadly at the pair of them.

‘Does this remind you of anything?’

‘Of course,’ said Sweyn in an almost blasé way, ‘the beginnings of Hereward’s family.’

I often think back to the moment Edwin and I began our band of followers – brothers-in-arms, as he liked to call us. I was in my twenty-ninth year, Edwin was thirty-one, Adela twenty-six and Sweyn about sixteen – or so he claimed. Our pedigrees were so different: Edwin was a second cousin of King Harold of Wessex and England and carried the same Cerdician royal blood as I did, while Adela and Sweyn were the children of peasants. But I had little doubt, even then, that circumstances had made them of sterner stuff than Edwin or myself.

We were hardly an intimidating group, but we had something in common that would lend us great strength: the legacy of Hereward of Bourne. As I steeled myself for my difficult conversation with Robert, I wondered, as I did almost every day, where England’s great hero might lie and what he would think of us now, trying to cast ourselves in his image.

Robert was, as usual, generous when I explained my dilemma. I asked him if he would like me to withdraw from the expedition.

‘I will not hear of it. In the affairs of kings and princes, loyalty often changes like the wind. One day, I am confronting my father on the battlefield, the next day I am reconciled with him and leading his army into battle. But our friendship is one between men and goes deeper than treaties and alliances. Let us keep it that way.’

I then suggested to Robert the role I could play in Scotland.

‘King Malcolm is an opportunist, like all leaders of men. When we cross Scotland’s border, I will go on ahead to Malcolm’s court and talk to him, tell him of our friendship and see if we can reason with him without bloodshed.’

Robert happily agreed to my plan.

‘You have never deceived me and, like the man you are, have chosen not to hide your relationship with Malcolm. Let’s turn it to our advantage and make our journey to Scotland a successful one.’

With a substantial force drawn from Normandy, we set sail for England in late summer 1080. More men would be gathered in England from William’s Norman landlords and his permanent garrisons. Robert was hugely excited about the journey; not only was he to lead his father’s army in a major campaign, but it was his first visit to England, a realm he had heard so much about. He was like a child with a new toy from the moment we made landfall at Dover, gawping at every landmark and building we passed and greeting everyone we met enthusiastically. The Normans were effusive towards him and even the English – or, at least, most of them – were polite and friendly.

We spent more time than was scheduled in London, a place that particularly fascinated Robert. Its buildings were
not as grand as those in Normandy’s cities, but it was changing rapidly and the amount of building work being done was astonishing. He was particularly taken by old King Edward’s beautiful cathedral at Westminster, completed just before his death. It was modelled on the great cathedrals of Normandy and France and reminded him of home.

But it was what was being built on the eastern side of London that made us all gaze in wonder. Close to the edge of the Thames and bound on two sides by the old Roman city walls, William was building a huge tower, the scale of which I had never seen before.

Robert had heard his father talk about it and showed it to us with a sense of self-satisfaction which said, ‘See what miracles we Normans can work!’

It was almost complete; its walls, dazzling white limestone, were forty paces long and it was almost as tall. It could be seen from every part of the burgh and for miles around, a reminder – visible at every turn and each minute of the day – of who ruled this land, and a statement, etched permanently into the skyline, which said that they intended to do so for a very long time. If I had not realized it before, the sight of this mighty fortress was confirmation that abandoning any hope of regaining my kingdom was a wise judgement.

Inside the great tower was an elegant chapel which had been completed and consecrated to St John the Evangelist only a few weeks earlier. We stayed for a while and prayed for our safe return from Scotland.

With the great oak door closed and the din of the masons’ mallets and chisels all but stifled, it was a place of
immense charm and serenity. The chapel’s sturdy columns, plain Roman arches and solid, unadorned stonework spoke volumes about its builders: powerful, determined and austere, this was indeed a Norman place of worship. Our footsteps echoed and we hushed our voices to a whisper, making the place resonate with its symbolic power.

I watched Edwin, Adela and Sweyn, English kinsmen and now brothers-in-arms, to see if they too admired the handiwork of their Norman lords. If they did, they did not show it. Edwin was too chivalrous to disclose any disdain, Adela, as always, was impassive, while Sweyn looked stern, as a young knight should.

There we were, four progeny of England, in the company of Normandy’s military elite, admiring their icon of the oppression of our homeland. It was a perplexing experience.

Sweyn spoke to me as we left the great tower.

‘Sire, they do things on a massive scale. No army, no matter how big, could breach these walls.’

‘Never underestimate them, Sweyn. You don’t have to like them, but you must respect them and learn from them.’

‘Should we not also fear them, my Lord Prince?’

‘Yes, we should fear them; they are capable of inflicting terrible retribution on those who cross them.’

‘I can’t see how we can ever loosen their grip on England.’

‘Neither can I. They are here to stay, and we have to come to terms with that.’

Adela had been listening and reacted angrily. ‘I will never accept that.’

I tried to mollify her forceful stance. ‘One day you will.
Eventually, the whole of these islands will belong to them. There is no one to stop them.’

‘That’s not true. I, for one, will never give up!’

‘Adela, it’s now more than ten years since Senlac Ridge; there are tens of thousands of Normans here. Look at this fortress, this beautiful chapel. We can’t make the sand in an hourglass fall upwards.’

‘But what will become of us, if we don’t fight?’

‘England will evolve. It is already changing, and what was fought for at Ely is vital. Everyone deserves to be treated according to the law and with respect; that is something I hope the four of us can strive for.’