Read Crusade for Free Online

she died in strange circumstances a few months after Senlac Ridge.
    I hope that one day, despite what the Norman scribes may write, the heroism of Hereward and all those who fought for freedom and justice with him at Ely will be remembered for generations to come.
    I spent the years after the fall of Ely at the court of Malcolm Canmore in Scotland with my sisters Margaret and Christina, feeling sorry for myself and for England. Canmore was good to me but he could be a brute. He had little learning of any kind – he was a thug, on a par with the harshest of his housecarls. He sent Christina to the nuns in England and demanded that my beloved sister Margaret marry him. She was not only beautiful and kind, she also carried the bloodline of England’s kings stretching back to Alfred the Great, which was very appealing to Canmore. The poor woman had no choice if we were to have the safety of his kingdom.
    She, on the other hand, was a saint. She produced a large brood of children for him, brought culture and sophistication to the court and worked tirelessly for the poor and the Church. She was everything he was not, and much loved for it. Happily, she was a good influence on him and he began to moderate his ways. Eventually, she became fond of him – perhaps she felt it was her duty to bring a woeful sinner back into God’s fold.
    In many ways, Malcolm and Margaret became my surrogate parents – he the powerful, domineering father, but one to be respected and admired, and she the kindly and confiding mother every boy should have.
    King William loomed prominently in my life throughout the years I spent at the Scottish court. I loathed him for many reasons, not the least of which was that he wore the crown that rightly belonged to me. He was also a brute, not like Canmore – who was a simple soul with some redeeming features – but a brilliant, remorseless monster of a man. The time Margaret and I were held hostage byhim after Senlac Ridge was a terrifying experience that I would never want to repeat. It was during this ordeal that I learned how to deal with my anger, how to deal with the Normans and how to survive.
    As he had shown in his conquest of England, William lacked neither audacious ambition nor astonishing military aptitude. In 1072, he launched a brilliant attack on Scotland with both a large army and a huge fleet.
    He marched more than 3,000 of his finest cavalry from Durham, crossed the Forth at Stirling and met with his fleet on the banks of the Tay. He had assembled 200 ships carrying 3,000 infantry and butescarls up the east coast. It was a mighty invasion force, not quite on the scale of the host that had crossed the Channel in 1066, but large enough to put the fear of God into Canmore.
    While William sat and waited by the Tay, Canmore pondered his response. Not the most intelligent of men, he nevertheless had the cunning of a warrior and carefully weighed his options.
    ‘I will go to him and negotiate. I have no choice. Edgar, you will come with me.’
    His judicious decision was applauded by my dear sister.
    ‘That is a wise choice, my husband. Let Edgar help you; he will give you good advice. Do what is best for Scotland and don’t let your pride get in the way. I will pray for your safe return.’
    I was overawed by the sight of William’s army. He was camped around the old Pictish tower at the settlement of Abernethy, his tents in neat rows, his destriers tethered on ordered picket lines in the meadows. His massive fleet was in sight to the north, the ships lashed together in long rowsby the banks of the Tay. This was the work of a leader of armies second to none. When he greeted Canmore he was at the head of his Matilda Conroi, the finest cavalry in Europe. He was a large, imposing man with a considerable girth and a deep, growling voice.
    Canmore also looked impressive at the head of his hearthtroop. I was to his left, his son Duncan, a boy of twelve, to his right. He tried to remain calm as he