Conquest

Hereward wrenched the Great Axe from the table and held it out in front of him. He glared at Cospatrick, willing him to challenge him there and then, but the Earl turned and left. The Council emptied slowly and in silence. Hereward grasped the Talisman and sighed.

He tried to summon up Torfida’s image; he needed her blessing if he was to face what lay ahead.

The council gathered again at midday the next day and, to everyone’s relief, all were present, including Cospatrick and Waltheof.

Hereward stood and addressed the Council once more. ‘Prince Edgar, with your permission.’

The Aetheling signalled his approval.

‘My Lords, I thank you all for returning here today. Edmund of Kent, standard-bearer of my hearthtroop, has some news that will gladden your hearts and quicken your pulses. My Lords, news has arrived from Martin Lightfoot’s corps of messengers. Eadric the Wild sends his greetings to all here and lends his unqualified support to me as leader of England’s vanguard. His attacks continue throughout Mercia and will go on until our objective is achieved. He has over a thousand men under his command, including five hundred Welsh supporters from the Princes of Powys and Gwynedd, and he looks forward to joining us whenever we choose. Prince Godwin, son of King Harold, will set sail for the South West from Dublin within the week. He promises sixty ships and three thousand men.

‘Finally, Edwin has returned from Denmark. We have an answer from Svein Estrithson, King of the Danes: he will set sail as soon as his fleet can be assembled, probably by August. Led by his brother, Osbjorn, a fine warrior of great repute, he will send two hundred and fifty ships and seven thousand men.’

There was an astonished silence around the room as men looked at one another in disbelief at so much good news from all quarters. Hereward had known since dawn, when Edmund and Edwin had woken him with the reports. His fury at the discord of the night before had had its effect. Now, all factions listened intently, waiting to hear what his next move would be.

Suddenly, without warning, the door of the hall was thrown open.

A breathless sergeant-at-arms called out to Hereward. ‘Forgive me, sir, a messenger has just arrived at the gates of the city. Duke William is on the march and has been for three days. He moves with great speed and is already at Nottingham with three thousand cavalry.’

‘Thank you, Sergeant.’ Hereward was impressed at the speed of William’s response, and had to think quickly. ‘Gentlemen, we are not in a position to stand against the Normans. We need more men and more time. We must conserve our strength. Martin, send for your messengers. Thank everyone for their noble support and summon all forces loyal to Edgar to assemble in the Forest of Arden on Midsummer’s Day for an attack on Nottingham. There we will wait for the Danes before we advance on London and the South. Until the agreed rendezvous, we will become like the men of the forest: unseen and unheard to all but ourselves.’

It was Edgar the Atheling who asked the obvious question. ‘But what of William’s advancing army?’

‘Let him advance; we will be long gone by the time he gets here.’

Unable to contain himself, Cospatrick bellowed at Hereward. ‘Gone! But what of the people of York?’

‘I am sorry, my Lord Cospatrick, but we have no choice. If we face William and three thousand of his heavy cavalry, he will destroy us. It will be the end for our cause.’

‘But left to the Bastard’s mercy, it could mean death for thousands in York.’

‘What else would you have me do, my Lord?’

Cospatrick stared at Hereward forlornly, reluctant to accept his decision, but knowing that he was right.

‘I suggest that we are all gone by midday tomorrow. The people of the city and its surroundings must be warned and all who can leave should do so; for the rest, we can only pray for them. Return to your strongholds. I will send regular messages to all of you.

‘Until we meet again in Mercia on Midsummer’s Day, have faith in our cause, stay strong and keep your resolve.’

24. Midsummer Madness

Led by William himself and several of his most able lieutenants, including William Fitzbern, Gilbert of Ghent and William Malet, the Norman army arrived in York only forty-eight hours after the English rebels had dispersed. Furious to find that his opponents had vanished, he immediately sent out squadrons to hunt them down and began to build a towering motte to impose his will on the population. However, on this occasion, he refrained from meting out his usual draconian punishments to the people of the city.

Cospatrick was not so fortunate. Having not met anyone as rapacious as William before, his force dawdled on its route back to Durham and was caught in the open near Thirsk by several Norman squadrons. Cospatrick got away, but most of his men were ruthlessly cut down, their heads brought back to York in baskets and hurled into the streets as a warning to the inhabitants.