Free Conquest by Stewart Binns Page B

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 theriver’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.
    The many Celtic tribes of western Britain had lived there since the beginning of time. Through centuries of bitter struggle, they had fought the Romans and prevented them from settling the west and the far north. Later, when the Saxon tribes came, they resisted them too, so that they were able to settle only in the former Roman provinces in the south and east. Many Celts were thought to retain theirpagan beliefs or, if they professed to be Christian, still practised the secret ways of their old religion under the veneer of the Church of Rome. When the storytellers came to Bourne, they told gruesome tales of Celtic warriors painted in woad and of their princes, who decapitated their conquered victims and ate their children. From childhood Hereward had been taught to avoid the Celts at all costs.
    As he moved further inland the ground became very different from the English territory with which he was familiar. This new ground was much more rugged and seemed greener and wetter than his homeland. The scattered human settlements were fewer in number and further apart, and the wildlife was far more abundant. He had heard that at the end of the earth there was a great wilderness; perhaps this was it, a place capable of consuming men without trace.
    Eventually, Hereward’s progress was halted by the wide bend of a fast-flowing river.