Conquest

Hereward paused and, instead of pressing home his advantage, watched Hamilcar circle him, crouched ready to strike. The Moor, although a man of obvious malevolence, had made his challenge according to the Arab code of chivalry, a tradition that was beginning to be adopted by knights throughout Europe. Hereward decided to respect this noble tradition and, despite Rodrigo’s warning to avoid a knife fight with Hamilcar at all costs, cast aside his shield and sword and drew his seax.

The Moor smiled. ‘Very gracious of you, Englishman. As a reward, I will make your end quick.’

Another battle ensued, but this was much more a sparring of lunges, feints and postures than their previous brutal combat with lances and swords. Hereward knew that a knife fight was like a sword fight; the key was to avoid focusing solely on the eyes of one’s opponent but also to concentrate on his weapon and his body movement. He soon realized that Hamilcar often used a rapid gesture of his right hand just before he thrust with his left. Hereward decided to gamble that the Moor would not know that, because of injuries sustained during his encounter with Thurstan’s assassins many years previously, he had trained himself to be equally proficient with both his left and right hand.

He chose his moment carefully.

As Hamilcar launched another attack, he threw his seax from his right hand to his left. The Moor was surprised and distracted, giving Hereward the opportunity to grasp his adversary’s wrist. At the same time, he plunged forcefully with his weapon — a mortal blow that Hamilcar only avoided at the last moment by a desperate clasp of Hereward’s forearm. The two men fell backwards as Hamilcar lost his balance in defending Hereward’s strike.

Now the two men were face to face, feeling one another’s breath, smelling each other’s sweat, sensing every strain of muscle and sinew; they were as close as two lovers in a tryst.

Hereward had the advantage; his grip was firmer than his opponent’s tenuous hold on his forearm, and it was only a matter of time before he was able to wrestle free his seax. However, instead of inflicting the coup de grace, he delivered a mighty blow to the side of Hamilcar’s jaw with his fist and the pommel of his seax, followed by a second equally thunderous swipe.

Hereward sheathed his seax, stood up and walked towards Rodrigo’s tent, leaving the Moor dazed and motionless on the ground. He had taken only five yards when a shriek from Dona Jimena made him turn round. The saifani jambiya was only inches from his throat; he could see in detail the rubies and sapphires of its decorated hilt and the distinctive pale yellow hue of its handle. He immediately fell backwards, rolling with Hamilcar’s momentum and using it to his advantage.

In their fall to the ground, Hereward was able to get both his hands around the wrist of his foe. He turned the jambiya 180 degrees, so that it now pointed directly away from him and towards the man who had come to Rodrigo’s camp to kill him.

As Hamilcar fell on top of Hereward, the jambiya sank deep into his chest. He did not feel anything for a moment as the razor-sharp blade made a smooth, painless entry. It was only when the steel tip of the blade lodged between the vertebrae of his spine that he began to feel convulsions of unbearable agony. He lost all feeling in his legs, but could taste cold metal on his tongue and a searing pain. They were the last sensations he felt; within moments, he was dead.

Hereward looked at his vanquished opponent and remembered his own search for vengeance all those years earlier in Ely.

He already knew how dangerous the desire for revenge could be; this encounter with Hamilcar of Tunis was further proof that it is a craving so powerful, it can make a man as demented as a rabid dog.

22. England Beckons

It had been obvious for some time that Alphonso and the maid Cristina had become close. They were often together with Rodrigo, Jimena and Hereward — and it was evident that the two of them had found more than friendship.

As they prepared to break camp, Dona Jimena gave Cristina the evening off to spend time with Alphonso and, summoning the finest fare their winter quarters allowed, organized a final dinner for Rodrigo and Hereward.

After an excellent meal and much good humour, Rodrigo attempted to usher Jimena away to her bed. ‘We are going to talk of war and the deeds of violent men, Jimena. You should go to bed.’

‘Am I not betrothed to you, Rodrigo Diaz, the greatest warrior in Spain? Should I not know about war and the deeds of violent men?’

Rodrigo relented. Spending time with Jimena away from court had perhaps convinced him that she did not always want to be treated like a genteel noblewoman.

He turned to Hereward. ‘When we talked in the cathedral all those weeks ago, you told me about your own personal relic. I said that one day we would talk about it.’