Conquest

Over the next few weeks, Rodrigo put his men through a gruelling regime, in which Hereward and Alphonso participated with enthusiasm. Rodrigo was a master of covert tactics. He could take fifty men through the forest and move them into position without making any sound, or giving a single spoken order. He did it with elaborate hand signals and a technique he passed on to Hereward called the ‘Tally’. Every manoeuvre had a calculated distance and timescale and his men were taught to move at a constant pace and keep two counts: one of time lapsed, the other of distance travelled. The ratio between the two could put a group of men within close proximity of their objective with remarkable accuracy. Rodrigo used anything to gain an advantage in battle — fire, noise, camouflage, disguise, smoke, water, decoys — but only in addition to a foundation of basic military technique and discipline.

One evening, after a good meal and some wine, with the campfire warming them, Hereward asked a crucial question. ‘In all your manoeuvres, I’ve noticed that you always seem to know how to give accurate directions and know where you are at all times. How do you know so accurately? I can navigate by the stars, but I’ve watched you move without hesitation on a cloudy day and in the middle of a black night, with neither the stars nor the moon for guidance.’

‘You are very observant, my friend. The answer is simple, but also remarkable.’

Rodrigo reached into his leather bag and removed a slim circular object, wrapped in a piece of red silk, and handed it to Hereward. He had never seen anything like it before. About the size of the span of a man’s outstretched hand, it was made of bronze and riveted in the middle so that its several ‘retes’ (plates) sat in a ‘mater’ (mother case) with an ‘alidade’ (pointer) that could be rotated around a central pivot. The whole thing was covered in Arabic numbers and inscriptions, highly polished and lightly oiled.

Hereward was fascinated. ‘It is amazing, Rodrigo. But what is it?’

‘It is a Moorish astrolabe, my friend — a gift to you. I will teach you how to use it and you can take it on your campaigns against Duke William.’

‘I cannot accept, Rodrigo; it is far too valuable.’

‘Yes, they are rare, especially in Christendom, but your mission is worthy of it. Let me show you the things it can do.’

By deftly moving its retes and alidade around its face, Rodrigo began a detailed illustration of the intricacies of the astrolabe. ‘It can plot the sun, the moon and the stars, give an accurate reading of time and the calendar, and measure height and distance — if you can read the Arabic symbols.’

Hereward was intrigued, but bemused. ‘I didn’t follow what you did and I can’t read the signs, but it looks impressive.’

‘You will soon learn. Originally, they were made for astronomers and learned men, but now soldiers are using them on campaigns and they are spreading throughout Europe. I am told that a monk in Barcelona has made one with inscriptions in Latin.’

‘Alphonso can read Arabic; he can help me. You are too kind. How can I thank you?’

‘We have become good friends, Hereward. My life has been rewarding and successful because I am stronger than other men in battle. War is the only way someone like me can rise from being the son of a small landowner to sit at the right hand of a king. Now I have met you, whose life has been lived in parallel; such a man is worthy of sharing everything I have.’

The two men grasped each other in a warrior’s embrace.

Hereward had found the inspiration he was looking for to answer the call to return to England.

The year had turned while they were in the hills above Oviedo, and their rendezvous with Edwin at St Cirq Lapopie in March was looming. Despite the chill of winter and the arduous training, they had lived well and become fit and strong. Hereward knew that it would soon be time to return to England to confront the menace of William and his Norman henchmen.

Hereward had given several displays with his Great Axe and Rodrigo was not far off mastering it himself, even one-handed. Each had shared the other’s experiences, tactics and strategies and it was time for Rodrigo to return his men to King Sancho. Enthused by Rodrigo, Hereward had regained his fitness and skills — and, most importantly, his self-belief.

The day before Rodrigo’s elite troops were due to return to Oviedo, a menacing group of men arrived at his camp. They were unmistakably warriors; their sinister arsenal of weapons gave testament to that. They carried an astonishing array of war clubs, daggers, lances and Moorish scimitars and looked more like brigands who prey on pilgrims crossing the wastes of the Levant than professional soldiers.