Crusade (29 page)

Most charming of all was her intellect and aura of mystique. A woman of mature years, she had been raised by a
mother with remarkable gifts, who had passed on to her as many of them as possible, and an equally extraordinary father. They must have been an amazing inspiration through astonishing and traumatic times.

Since childhood, she had continued to learn. She had devoted her life to acquiring knowledge and ideas, enjoying nothing more than sharing her wisdom with others.

I watched her with growing wonder – a vision of beauty and someone I hoped would become a permanent fixture in our lives.

22. The Twenty-third Psalm

After much discussion and soul-searching, Estrith decided to relinquish her opportunity to help bring to life William of Calais’s dream for Durham Cathedral and instead travel to London with us. From there, assuming that King Rufus did not have an unpleasant surprise in store for us, we would go to Normandy to resume our service with Duke Robert.

Our somewhat unusual quartet of brothers-in-arms had become a yet more peculiar quintet that now included two women, one of whom was a churchwright disguised as a nun. Nevertheless, I was delighted that Estrith had joined us. She was an intimate link to Hereward and Torfida, the only blood relative still alive. She carried their wisdom – and, indeed, their mystique.

For our meeting with King Rufus, I persuaded Estrith to change her allegiance from sister of Whalley Abbey to a Scottish foundation, where there were unlikely to be any Norman links. She decided that St Andrews in Fife had a reputation worthy of her, and thus she became a holy sister of St Andrews, Scotland.

When we arrived in Westminster, the head of our escort went to the King’s palace to announce our arrival, only to be told that he was too busy with affairs of state to see us and that we were free to return to Normandy at our leisure. Relieved not to be cross-examined by an irate
King, we continued on to Normandy as quickly as we could.

Once in Normandy, we agreed we would make a plan for the future. We were getting older. I was over forty, Edwin three years older; neither of us had wives or children, and the shallow pleasures of casual sex had become less and less appealing. Adela was in her fortieth year and still searching for some kind of fulfilment. Only Sweyn was in his prime, but since the death of Mahnoor he lacked the energy he had shown before and hardly ever glanced at a woman.

When we reached Rouen, we realized why Rufus had been too busy to see us. Yet again, he was fomenting trouble with Duke Robert, but this time without any real success. Robert’s patient tolerance of his brother’s aggression had won him many admirers, while his astute governance and restrained rule of the dukedom had brought it growing prosperity. Once again, he let his brother’s bravado wash over him and calmly carried on being Duke. A very frustrated King Rufus eventually returned his attention to England, where he continued to fester and plot new acts of devilment.

When we introduced Estrith to Duke Robert, he was intrigued by her and fascinated to hear the detailed account of his father’s famous encounter with Hereward at Ely. The siege was still a popular subject with the storytellers, both Norman and English, even though almost fifteen years had passed.

There was an ever-growing number of different versions of what had happened in the denouement of the
siege, some highly fanciful. The Norman accounts tended to take the view that William had meted out due justice to a troublesome outlaw by killing Hereward with his own hand, while the English liked to think that somehow or other the great English hero had escaped and was still living an idyllic existence with his family deep in England’s Bruneswald.

Duke Robert was ignorant of the true events that had unfolded.

‘I had heard that my father had collapsed at Ely, but he would never talk about it, or mention what happened to your father.’

‘My Lord Duke, I have thought about those moments in St Etheldreda’s Chapel every day of my life and I still can’t decide what happened. Was the blinding light an act of God, created by Him through St Etheldreda on behalf of the worthy cause of the Brotherhood? Was it the power of the Talisman of Truth, the ancient pagan amulet my father always wore? Or was it simply a coincidence, when the sun suddenly appeared from behind a cloud? My soul tells me it was an act of God, my heart says it was the Talisman, and my head says it was a coincidence. My mother spent her life wrestling with conundrums such as these.’

‘Whatever it was, it affected my father very much and brought on a spasm of pain that put him on his back for over a week. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what happened when he finally returned to the Chapel – but, whatever it was, it made Hereward into England’s hero and confirmed my father’s reputation as the most ruthless man in Europe.’

I had always thought that Robert secretly admired Hereward – as he would anyone brave enough to challenge his father.

Then, quite suddenly, Estrith walked up to the Duke and touched his hand, something that protocol did not allow, even for a sister of the Church.

‘Sire, please understand, I don’t have any ill will towards you or any other Norman. King William is dead, my father is almost certainly dead, the past is the past – it is over.’

Robert was not offended, nor did he pull away. He placed his hand over hers, and the son of England’s conqueror and the daughter of his nemesis embraced. It was as if they were playing out the final act in the drama that was Ely. Tears ran down Estrith’s cheeks and Adela put her hand to her face to hold back her sobs; all of us had tears in our eyes and lumps in our throats.

Robert took a deep breath and, with a fidget of mild embarrassment, changed the subject.

‘What are your plans?’

‘Estrith would like to go south to St Cirq Lapopie. She hasn’t seen her surrogate aunts, Ingigerd and Maria, in over twenty years.’

‘Do you think I could come with you?’

Robert’s response was like a bolt from the blue, leaving all of us shocked – not unpleasantly so, but certainly surprised that a sovereign duke would want to travel with a small and insignificant band such as ours.

‘But what about your dukedom and your quarrelsome brothers?’

‘Normandy more or less runs itself these days, and I’ve got the powerful barons nicely balanced in a kind of
harmony, which they accept through gritted teeth. Most of them dislike Odo so much, they are mainly preoccupied with keeping him at bay. As for my brothers, Rufus needs Henry if he’s to be strong enough to unseat me in Rouen, but Henry is content building his strength in the Cotentin. He may ultimately have eyes for Normandy, but he’ll want England first, so Rufus is the one in his way, not me – at least, not yet.’

We all looked at one another and nodded our approval and, as head of the St Cirq Lapopie household, Edwin made the formal response.

‘My Lord, it would be our honour to receive you at our humble home on the Lot. But, sire, it is only a modest farmhouse.’

‘That is of no consequence, I will bring only a small retinue and we will make camp in your fields. Perhaps I’ll go and see that firebrand Raymond of Toulouse, who has been causing turmoil among the knights of Europe with his campaign to free the Holy Land from Islam.’

While Duke Robert made his plans to join us on our journey, we brooded on the news about Raymond of Toulouse’s cause.

We all thought back to the words of Themistius, the Thracian strategoi we had listened to in Sicily, when he talked about a looming holy war between Christians and Muslims. It was a worrying prospect for all of us and particularly unedifying for Sweyn, who had fallen in love with a Muslim girl only for her to be slaughtered by a fanatical father. The fact that we were about to depart for St Cirq Lapopie, the site of her grave, only added to his dismay.

That night, over dinner, he made his feelings clear.

‘I would like to visit the Holy Land, but I don’t want to fight the Muslims; some of them are brother knights and began our code of chivalry, the Mos Militum.’

Adela was also troubled.

‘As far as I know, the Muslim lords of the Holy Land allow pilgrims to visit the sacred sites freely and permit freedom of worship for Christians and Jews. Why would we want to fight them?’

Edwin, as always, was happy to do what Sweyn and Adela wanted to do, and his view was measured and wise.

‘I have no quarrel with the Muslims. We were well treated by Ibn Hamed and his knights, and I have great respect for their culture and learning. To provoke a holy war, just because the lords of the Holy Places are Muslims, is dangerous talk. Isn’t the Holy Land sacred to Muslims too?’

I was also concerned, but tried to allay their fears.

‘Let’s make the journey to St Cirq Lapopie – and, if Duke Robert wants to go and see the Count of Toulouse, then we’ll hear from the horse’s mouth what his campaign is trying to achieve.’

The journey south was as enjoyable as ever. It was the height of spring and nature was at her most fecund. We travelled well; Duke Robert was not only good company, he brought a small retinue of soldiers and a vast corps of cooks, stewards and butlers with enough provisions to feed a glut of dukes. We progressed like the grand entourage of a Byzantine emperor with all the trappings of a papal convoy.

The huntsmen went out every day to kill fresh meat, and the stewards bought local vegetables along the way. The butts of wine never seemed to empty, no matter how hard we tried to drain them, and the minstrels sang us to sleep every night.

It was on one such typically blissful evening that we discovered that Estrith had the most stunning singing voice. Duke Robert was spellbound.

‘Where did you learn to sing?’

‘My father’s oldest companion was Martin Lightfoot, a man from the land of the Welsh princes. He had a fine voice and would sing to us all the time. He taught me the songs of his homeland and how to sing lullabies. During my novitiate, I learned plainchant and the music of the mass.’

‘You have a beautiful voice.’

‘Thank you, my Lord.’

Every night thereafter, at Robert’s insistence, Estrith became the highlight of the post-prandial entertainment; she always sang unaccompanied and brought a heavenly calm to the entire camp. Even the cooks and stewards stopped what they were doing and sat on the ground to listen. Her songs about the delights of young love and the chivalrous deeds of heroes brought moments of dewy-eyed reflection to even the most redoubtable of Robert’s soldiers. Only the sentries on watch kept their backs to her, but they smiled to themselves as they stood sentinel.

My thoughts during those precious moments were always of Hereward and Torfida. Their lives were the perfect inspiration for a songwriter, and I felt sure that in the villages of England, far away from Norman ears, songs were being sung that very night about the noble deeds of
Hereward of Bourne and his beguiling bride, Torfida of the Wildwood.

Robert’s fascination for Estrith was all too obvious to everyone – but, like most besotted men, he was sure his feelings had gone unnoticed. At the end of one of her most charming performances, he confided in me.

‘Edgar, I want to tell you something in confidence.’

‘Of course, I shall be the soul of discretion.’

‘I am very fond of Estrith.’

‘We all are; she is wonderful.’

‘No, I mean, I’m very fond of her! I have been ever since you introduced her to me in Rouen.’

I decided to stop teasing him.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Well, the clues are well hidden, of course, but there are some small hints: hanging on her every word; staring at her like a lovesick boy; beaming at her with your head tilted to one side like an imbecile whenever she appears; and generally following her around like an unweaned pup would follow its mother … And these are just some of the less noticeable ones!’

‘Oh … is it that bad?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid it is.’

‘I make no excuses; I can’t get her out of my mind.’

‘Robert, she’s a nun.’

‘I know, but will you speak to her for me?’

‘No, I will not, she’s a nun and that’s all there is to it.’

‘But she only became a nun so that she could be accepted by the masons.’

‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that.’

‘Please speak to her for me. If she’s a committed bride of Christ, then so be it, but I have a feeling she isn’t … I can hear it in her voice.’

‘The answer is still no.’

‘I can’t sleep at night!’

‘Robert, you’re the Duke of Normandy and she’s a nun. You could be excommunicated!’

Robert was in no mood to listen to my objections, and continued to press his cause.

‘Just ask her about her feelings for me! That’s what friends are for.’

I tried to think of a way to distract him from his feelings for Estrith,

‘Look, when we get to Cahors, we’ll spend a few days whoring. They’ve got dusky beauties from the south there, and big, blonde, Germans – you can fill several beds with a selection of them.’

‘I don’t want an assortment of whores, I want Estrith.’

As one of the most powerful men in Europe, Robert was used to getting what he wanted. Despite his easy-going manner, it was obvious that he would not be denied.

I decided to capitulate.

‘Very well, I’ll speak to her.’

‘Tonight?’

‘No, it’s late, and she’s asleep.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Good, it’s agreed. Tomorrow it is.’

Robert, Duke of Normandy and lord of all he surveyed, walked off with a spring in his step like a love-struck adolescent.

I smiled as he went. I also felt like a boy again, charged to be a go-between for a pair of novice lovers.

The next day, during one of our stops to rest the horses, I took Estrith to one side.

‘I have to broach a somewhat delicate subject with you.’

‘That means it’s about sex.’

‘That’s an unusually frank response for a nun.’

‘Do I shock you?’

‘No … well, yes.’

Estrith’s candour was a revelation. She had never given the slightest hint of being anything other than a pious nun. I pressed on, searching for the right words.