Conquest

The Old Man of the Wildwood looked towards the east and the encroaching darkness. ‘You will help shape the destiny of many. Hopefully, through you, much we have spoken about will be remembered and will survive. You will see many things, visit many places and live a long life. But I must warn you, you will face great turmoil and despair, with little respite, except in great old age, when you will find solace in a small measure of wisdom, as I do.’

Hereward was shocked. ‘How will all this come to pass, I am an outlaw?’

‘I sense it in you. You must do two things. First, you must find my daughter — ’

Hereward interrupted him. ‘You have a daughter!’

‘Yes, her mother died in childbirth; the child is my illegitimate daughter. Her mother was a lady-in-waiting to Queen Emma at Winchester, the mother of King Edward. I was chaplain to Queen Emma and she took pity on me, despite my failings, and helped me get away with my daughter.’

‘You raised her in these woods?’

‘Until she was fourteen. Then she went to the nuns at Hereford, where I knew she would be safe and could continue her education. I raised her as well as I could. I taught her Greek and Latin, English and French, how to make medicine from the herbs of the forest, and as much of the sciences and philosophies of the ancients as I could remember. She took my books and manuscripts with her; they were her safe passage for the future.’

‘And the second thing I must do?’

‘Ask her to give you the Talisman.’

‘What is the Talisman?’

‘She will tell you.’

‘What is her name?’

‘She is called Torfida.’

‘How will I find her?’

‘You will find her.’

The old man started to chant the plainsong of the great cathedrals, something Hereward had first heard while waiting to be judged by the King at Winchester. Now it signalled his departure from a remarkable man and took on a haunting quality, making him think of the legend of Wodewose and the many other stories he had heard.

The old seer said only one more thing before continuing his mantra long into the night. ‘Go well, young Hereward; give my love to Torfida. You will help her to fulfil her destiny, and she will be your guide in finding yours.’

4. Gruffydd ap Llywelyn

It did not take Hereward long to make a complete reconnaissance of Gloucester. He secreted himself close to its wooden walls and meticulously observed its daily routines until he could remember all the merchants and farmers who used its gates. He learned to recognize each of its men-at-arms, and studied the habits of the gatekeeper who barred the entrance every night.

Hereward soon devised his escape route. The river was wide and navigable, and there was a small harbour to handle the busy trade between the rich hinterland and the sea to the south-west. He knew that Normandy and Brittany lay to the south of England and that a renegade Englishman might find a warm welcome there. He had also heard that the influence of King Edward did not extend to the wild Celtic lands far to the west, nor to the Danish settlement in Ireland. Perhaps now that he had sullied his Anglo-Saxon blood, he could find a new home with his Norse mother’s kith and kin.

The execution of his plan did not take long. There were several small boats on the quayside that had not been used in all the time he had been paying his frequent visits. So he waited until the dark of the moon and the dead of an overcast October night, slipped a boat from its moorings, clambered into it and let it drift downstream. He used a broken branch from the forest as a paddle and, despite the river’s gentle flow, made good progress. It was the next part of the journey that concerned him, when the river became much wider to merge with the open sea.

He was no seafarer, had no cloak to hide his outlaw’s collar, possessed neither weapons nor tools and had the daunting appearance of a wild man of the forest. Soon, the modest waterway became an ever-broadening, faster-running river and its banks receded further into the distance. He decided to stay close to the right bank, the northern side. Although he did not know where the lands of the Celtic people of Wales began, he guessed it must be close to the northern edge of the river. The Welsh had been fighting the English for decades; perhaps they would give him passage to Ireland.

Hereward spent over eighteen hours in the boat, slowly working his way to what he hoped would be another kingdom and the possibility of freedom. It was dusk and high tide when he finally chose his landing ground, a gently sloping sandy bank, surrounded by thick woodland and lacking any sign of habitation. For many days he walked deeper and deeper into the forest. The ground rose before him as he ventured further from the coast, moving with caution, knowing that he was almost certainly treading on foreign soil.