Conquest

‘Spoken like a sage, young Hereward! But you are right; if our legacy is wholesome and true, we can face death with equanimity.’

There was a long silence as both men contemplated the forbidding prospect of death without the comfort of God and his Heaven.

The old man broke the silence. ‘It takes a brave man to consider a world without God to relieve its burdens, and an even braver one to contemplate eternity without Him.’

‘I don’t know that it’s brave; I think it’s got more to do with the way a man feels about his own frailties and those of his fellow men.’ Hereward paused and looked at the old man for some time before continuing. ‘Why do you choose to be a hermit when you could have found a woman and raised a family, or joined a band of forest people?’

‘I don’t have much time for other people; they were the source of my problems. I found the frivolities of women too superficial and the friendship of men too unreliable.’

Over the coming days, the two men talked for many hours. As time passed, Hereward realized that the old man’s cynicism disguised a highly intelligent mind that had discovered profound contentment through an ascetic existence.

Late one night, as their fire subsided and the first chill wind of autumn rushed through their clearing, the Old Man of the Wildwood seemed reluctant to sleep and sat staring into the distance for some time before speaking. ‘I fear for this land, it is very precious to me.’

‘But Edward is a good king and people prosper. Harold of Wessex leads his armies and there is peace.’

‘Yes, I know. It is the future I worry about. Edward has no heir and England is the greatest prize in northern Europe; it is rich, its people industrious, its land bountiful. There are many envious eyes: the Scandinavians, of course, but it is the Normans who concern me most. Edward is fond of them, but I know them only too well. They are ruthless and will bring the avarice and deceit of Europe with them.’

‘Surely the English thegns and their housecarls would never let that happen?’

‘Perhaps not, but there would be great bloodshed in the reckoning of it. England could be overrun, our way of life destroyed. I see it in my dreams: burning, rape, death. An everlasting hell where England and the English are cleansed from their homeland like lice from a dog.’

‘Those are the visions of a seer. Is that what you are, old man?’

‘Perhaps that’s what I’ve become, Hereward. It is of no importance; what matters is the future, and our destiny as a people. In my many years here, deep in the forest, I have come to understand the importance of our way of life and our traditions. We have to preserve them. They are what makes us who we are. Our ancestors have lived in the forests and heathlands of England for generations. They have crossed its downs and hills and built their temples and shrines there.’

‘But there are many peoples on this island. There are many tribes of Celts, and the Danish clans — including my own ancestors through my mother.’

‘Yes, but they share the traditions. We all know the legend of Wodewose; he sees only men, not their language nor their race. He lives here, in these woods; he lives throughout our ancient land. He is the Green Man of our childhood and reminds us of the eternal cycle of life and death and the need to live with nature, not to fight it. These Normans, with their homage to the sophistry of the Church of Rome, dismiss our ways as pagan and destroy them. We must never let that happen.’

‘But Wodewose is a mythical creature to frighten children.’

‘Not so, my young friend. He is deep in our memories. The Celts call him Myrddin Wyllt — the sire of Mother Earth. Don’t ever forget him.’

Their conversations about the ancient ways of England continued over many days.

The Old Man of the Wildwood told Hereward many stories that he had never heard before. He talked about the old ways of the Saxons; the Norse sagas of gods and heroes; the ancient beliefs of the Romans and the cults of pagan Rome; and the rituals of the Druids, who believed in the power of the sun, the moon and the earth itself.

After a while, Hereward came to realize that it mattered little whether these stories were true or simply myths. What was more important was that England’s heritage should survive the trauma it was soon to endure.

Then, one evening without warning, the old man brought their time together to a sudden close. ‘You should leave in the morning and go to Gloucester. It is only three days’ walk. You will find a new path there. Follow it to your destiny, which lies far from here.’

‘Is that the seer speaking?’

‘Yes it is. You should listen.’

‘What will you do?’

‘If you are asking whether I will miss you, the answer is, yes, I will miss you. I have come to like you, Hereward of Bourne. But I am not sad, for I now know what my legacy will be.’

‘Will you share it with me?’

‘It is you.’

‘Me? I don’t understand; I have no future.’

‘You are mistaken.’