But unbeknown to William
His schemes were soon made known,
He’d set a guard around the marsh,
To catch Sir Hereward as he passed,
But they were caught, indeed outclassed,
And ambushed with a groan.
The Earl’s trap is disarmed.
(10.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Luke Hodde on Unsplash
The Earl of Warenne stewed in horror
Haunted by the death
Of his brother Frederic recently slain,
Now under the earth forever to stay,
A cold oak coffin his lonely domain,
No light, no hope, no breath.
This ghost grew large in his fevered state
And called for his revenge,
‘My brother rise be still no more,
Go bring him down with fist and claw,
Come strike him down unto the floor
To satisfy my end!’
William, Earl of Warenne (pronounced Warren) is driven to seek revenge upon Hereward.
(08.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Seven Colors on Unsplash
Now at this time one Frederic
Searched high and low and far,
Enquiring of our Hereward’s presence,
With plans to seize him with mighty menace,
To hand him over to pay his penance,
Or lift his head upon a high fence,
Thus demonstrate his deeds as offence,
The motive of his heart.
His plan? To earn King William’s favour,
Secure himself a seat,
Within the Conqueror’s noble court,
Thinking that he surely ought,
Be found therein and highly thought of
By surf and lord apiece.
But Hereward heard of this attempt
Upon his life and freedom,
And so he raised a warrior band,
And with them searched throughout the land,
Until he found him plotting plans,
To work out how to seize him.
And so he turned things upside down
And jumped on Frederic
And before he had the chance to fight,
He swung his sword with all his might,
And caused his head to swift alight,
With only one fast flick!
Time to get back to The Ballad of the Wake. Settling down tonight, I realised I’d jumped a key scene that is referred back to later when William de Warenne seeks revenge for his brother, Frederic’s, death.
(06.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Henry Hustava on Unsplash
Knights lift their lances and charge enlivened by
the fight for fame or chance of lady’s favour.
At the heft of hooves pounding so heavily,
the crowds start crying, eager to crown a champion.
Baying for blood, like hounds they bite and snarl
at one and will the other to win with ease,
but, fickle friends, they switch to favour those
they believe most likely to end up leaving king!
We visited Warwick Castle today and enjoyed the dramatic sights and sounds of their jousting knights. A quick poem at the end of a long hot day.
(29.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Art deco lines, once crisp, now stand invaded,
their borders crossed by roots and softened by
the wind that blows through blown out windows panes.
Inside the only queues are distant echoes,
first dates of yesteryear and giddy children
grasping parent’s hands and bags of sweets.
An organ plays before the ghostly reels
begin to turn and greyscale images
flicker upon the absent silver screen.
Somewhere a forgotten steward points to seats
as ancestors laugh and point and scream with joy
ignorant that their far-flung families walk by.
The shell is all we see; a failing
memory beneath a fading dome,
doors sealed and windows boarded in defiant hope.
Just down the road from where we’re staying is The Royalty, Harbone’s once resplendent art deco cinema, but now a shell despised by fire and time. Despite appearances, it somehow seems alive.
(28.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Far away from home
Odysseus lies dreaming
Trapped in past failings
Went to see Christopher Nolan’s Odysseus tonight.
(23.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by MIGUEL BAIXAULI on Unsplash
The news of Hereward’s return soon spread
And reached the Abbot Thurstan,
Who wrote from Ely deep in the Fen,
Where he and other most resolute men,
Were set upon a brave defence,
Against King William and contend,
His stubborn decision to impose a French monk
Over every one of them,
Down to the very last person.
O Ely, island of the marsh,
Beloved by Mother Fen,
Whose towers stand above its mists,
And tenderly its wetlands kiss,
Concealing paths and trails that twist,
From eyes of devious men.
Word of Hereward’s return reaches the Isle of Ely.
(22.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo Bob Jones / Ely Cathedral / CC BY-SA 2.0
Now fresh returned to England’s shores,
He set at once to home,
To see how fared his father’s lands,
And to gather up a noble band,
Of men still faithful to his commands,
And happy to with him roam.
Great joy! His home had been left alone!
No man had dared to tread,
Within its grounds or tear it down,
And friends of old were scattered around,
Who swiftly gathered when they found out
What he had dared to pledge:
‘I have returned to stand against
The foe that’s stormed our land,
I will not sleep until they’re sent
From hill and moor and sand.’
Will you brave knights join in my fight
For faith and freedom stand?
Together we can spread the light,
A courageous merry band!
The short in stature but strong Wynter,
Robust in every way,
His nephews also, brave Godwin,
With Outi and Doti the famous twins,
And many others from across the kingdom,
Gathered without delay.
‘We’ll fight with you!’ they boasted, proud,
‘Defend our fathers’ realms,
And tear that William’s throne right down,
The Normans overwhelm.’
The list of men was far too long
For me to fully number,
But know for now that many hold,
These knights as the best in all the world,
Of their bold exploits such tales were told,
That will never be outdone.
Taking advantage of a Saturday with a bit of time to get Hereward’s band of outlaws together. Once again I’m reminded of how Hereward has always seemed like a prototype for Robin Hood.
(18.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Now one year on it’s time to turn
To Flanders for his wife,
Who he’d left there with his nephews,
Siward the Red and White, these two
The noblest of his men both true
In caring for her life.
Oh what a joyful reunion!
Two lovers at last combined!
Their separation was so hard,
By circumstances kept apart,
But now true love’s restored at last,
Their lives as one aligned.
United in each others arms,
Eyes locked together fast,
Two lives entwined like ivy vines,
They celebrate, two glasses of wine,
A couplet, lines that are perfectly rhymed,
Two hands so tightly clasped.
And here they would have happily stayed
But alas it wasn’t to be,
Outside these walls the world span on,
And trouble brewed that impinged upon,
Their peace and joy so freshly won,
That longed to blossom free.
Expanding and placing in context the reunion of Hereward and Turfrida in yesterday’s poem.
(17.07.36)
United in each others arms,
Eyes locked together fast,
Two lives entwined like ivy vines,
They celebrate, two glasses of wine,
A couplet, lines that are perfectly rhymed,
Two hands so tightly clasped.
A quick stanza tonight for when Hereward and Turfrida were reunited.
(16.07.36)
Ode for the Day 