blessed the huge cornerstone as it hung over its position in the south-east corner of what would be the nave of the new church. The remains of the old Saxon minster had been cleared away and a deep trench for the footings of the new nave had been dug. The trench seemed to go on for ever, suggesting a building of huge proportions. The cornerstone was a cube, half the height and width of a man, and had to be lowered into position by block and tackle and a team of oxen. Before it was set down, Robert placed a pouch of silver and a small crucifix in the trench beneath the stone. When it was in place, the masons backfilled the trench with rubble and the first of the thousands of pieces of finely dressed limestone that would be fashioned into the new church was laid.
Robert turned to us and smiled.
‘The silver is from my own mint in Rouen; the coins have my head on them. When they were clearing the site, they found coins minted with the head of Alfred the Great. I had them melted down; I think my image will last a lot longer.’
We all smiled at Robert. He was not being arrogant; he meant what he said. Such was the bravado of the Normans, he knew that the churches his countrymen were building would be substantial enough to stand much longer than those of the Saxons.
York also brought the final additions to our army. The contingents from William’s northern magnates joined usthere, giving us a formidable force over 5,000 strong. As usual it was a highly disciplined, well-provisioned professional army capable of putting the fear of God into its enemies and able to deliver a mighty blow should the intimidation not work.
Like his father, Robert had created four conroi of elite cavalry, 100 horsemen in total, as his own hearthtroop. I had the honour of commanding the second of those, composed largely of men from my own retinue. It was named the Cerdician Conroi in honour of my royal lineage – a great irony, under the circumstances, but only one of many anomalies, oddities and absurdities in England in those early days of Norman rule.
Edwin continued to be my standard-bearer, and Sweyn and Adela rode behind me as page knights-in-waiting.
As soon as we left York, I unfurled my war banner and the Wyvern of Wessex flew over English soil once more, another incongruity in bewildering times. Robert did not mind in the slightest. In fact, he said he was proud to have King Harold’s famous ensign in his ranks.
We reached Durham in the second week of September. It was a bleak and desolate place. The iron fist of the Normans did not rule as firmly that far north, and in the spring there had been a gruesome massacre.
Walchere of Liège, both Bishop of Durham and Earl of Northumbria, had become yet another victim of the lawlessness of the far reaches of England’s northern wilderness. Many of the Northumbrian nobles and thegns had found refuge in Scotland or escaped to the high fells during William’s onslaught of the winter of 1069. Now they were returning to their estates and villages andattempting to rebuild them. It did not take long for tensions to surface with the new Norman rulers.
In trying to settle a dispute between his Norman retinue and the local Northumbrian knights, Walchere had agreed to travel to Gateshead with a large force of his household knights to meet the local aristocratic families. Old enmities arose at the meeting and boiled over into violence. Walchere and his men were overpowered and locked in the church, which was then torched. Many died in the flames and any who escaped were butchered as they left. Over a hundred men were killed, almost all of them Normans.
When Robert heard the details of the slaughter, he acted with the ruthless efficiency that was the hallmark of Norman rule. Like the Roman disciplines of the past, the tenet was simple: work hard, pay your tithes, stay on the right side of the law and you will prosper; become idle, avoid your taxes or break the law and you will be punished with a
Robert turned to us and smiled.
‘The silver is from my own mint in Rouen; the coins have my head on them. When they were clearing the site, they found coins minted with the head of Alfred the Great. I had them melted down; I think my image will last a lot longer.’
We all smiled at Robert. He was not being arrogant; he meant what he said. Such was the bravado of the Normans, he knew that the churches his countrymen were building would be substantial enough to stand much longer than those of the Saxons.
York also brought the final additions to our army. The contingents from William’s northern magnates joined usthere, giving us a formidable force over 5,000 strong. As usual it was a highly disciplined, well-provisioned professional army capable of putting the fear of God into its enemies and able to deliver a mighty blow should the intimidation not work.
Like his father, Robert had created four conroi of elite cavalry, 100 horsemen in total, as his own hearthtroop. I had the honour of commanding the second of those, composed largely of men from my own retinue. It was named the Cerdician Conroi in honour of my royal lineage – a great irony, under the circumstances, but only one of many anomalies, oddities and absurdities in England in those early days of Norman rule.
Edwin continued to be my standard-bearer, and Sweyn and Adela rode behind me as page knights-in-waiting.
As soon as we left York, I unfurled my war banner and the Wyvern of Wessex flew over English soil once more, another incongruity in bewildering times. Robert did not mind in the slightest. In fact, he said he was proud to have King Harold’s famous ensign in his ranks.
We reached Durham in the second week of September. It was a bleak and desolate place. The iron fist of the Normans did not rule as firmly that far north, and in the spring there had been a gruesome massacre.
Walchere of Liège, both Bishop of Durham and Earl of Northumbria, had become yet another victim of the lawlessness of the far reaches of England’s northern wilderness. Many of the Northumbrian nobles and thegns had found refuge in Scotland or escaped to the high fells during William’s onslaught of the winter of 1069. Now they were returning to their estates and villages andattempting to rebuild them. It did not take long for tensions to surface with the new Norman rulers.
In trying to settle a dispute between his Norman retinue and the local Northumbrian knights, Walchere had agreed to travel to Gateshead with a large force of his household knights to meet the local aristocratic families. Old enmities arose at the meeting and boiled over into violence. Walchere and his men were overpowered and locked in the church, which was then torched. Many died in the flames and any who escaped were butchered as they left. Over a hundred men were killed, almost all of them Normans.
When Robert heard the details of the slaughter, he acted with the ruthless efficiency that was the hallmark of Norman rule. Like the Roman disciplines of the past, the tenet was simple: work hard, pay your tithes, stay on the right side of the law and you will prosper; become idle, avoid your taxes or break the law and you will be punished with a
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