‘Pray, Dada, tell us why you came,
With sword across the Fen?
What have we done to earn your blame,
Why come with armoured men?’

‘It is not you,’ the knight replied,
‘I see you not with ire,
The King promised the first to find
Their way across the mire,

And boldly land a blow upon
The rebels without care,
Could name a prize, some gift among
The treasures lying there.

And so I sought to prove myself
And demonstrate my courage,
By striving to achieve this wealth,
And never be discouraged.’

Dada explains his motivation for striving to Ely.
(11.10.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Image by Poliphilo, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

One knight there was who made the Isle
Leading the Norman charge,
An eminent soldier of some fame,
Taking him prisoner they asked his name,
He responded boldly showing no shame,
My captors, I am Dada.

Before Chesney there was Dada…
(10.10.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Mario Gogh on Unsplash

Once in her clutch there’s no escape
For those she woos and grasps,
The reeds entwine around their waists,
Her weeds contain them in her place,
As bubbles cease without a trace,
Held there, their lives soon pass.

And of that throng that charged ahead
Great numbers lost their lives,
Only the last, abandoning arms,
Alert to dying colleagues’ alarms,
Evaded her eternal ‘charms’,
And made it out alive.

And of the few that made it through
To reach the other side,
No hope awaited there for them,
For lurking hidden were Hereward’s men,
And ambush sprung their screams were lent
To join the drowning cries.

With the help of Mother Fen, Hereward is able to totally thwart the Conqueror’s men.
(02.10.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash

With gleeful mirth, our Mother Fen
Embraced with open arms,
The soldiers thrown into the air,
And dragged them screaming to her lair,
Drawing them deep into her care,
And murky, muddy, charms.

Once off the causeway, the invaders stood no chance.
(30.09.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash

And so he moved his army to
The village of Alrehede,
And had them bring there logs and beams,
All tied together, rows of trees,
Held up by balloons of sheep skin fleece
Positioned underneath.

And so a causeway soon was born
Across the watery peat,
Upon this men could safely march –
Lured on by greed they did too fast,
Called on by treasure from the past,
A rumoured concealed treat.

Under the beat of running feet
The bridge began to shake,
At first a creak and then a crack,
A shudder shock the Conqueror’s track,
Until it split apart, was wracked,
Hurling bodies in its wake.

(Alrehede, pronounced Al-re-heath, modern day Aldreth in Cambridgeshire)

William’s plan is pulled apart by haste and greed.
(29.09.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash

With fury flaming in his gut
He hatched an urgent plan,
To build a path across the marsh,
Erect a causeway strong and fast,
Across which Norman men could march,
Urged on by his angry hand.

Hearing of the rebels in Ely, William plans a way across the fen.
(23.09.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lydia Lögga on Unsplash

When news from Ely found its way
From Fenland isle to crown,
A fury filled King William,
Blowing aside the protective dam,
Loosing an angry, raging ram,
Furious waters that rampant slammed,
At all that would against him stand,
Seeking to bring them down.

The news of the rebels massing in Ely reaches William.
(22.09.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lukas Hron on Unsplash

Now at these words Warenne gave groan,
And stamped his thwarted feet,
And going puce began to moan,
With growing anger in his bones,
His longed for vengeance now postponed,
In light of this defeat.

‘If your master were in my hands,
I promise he’d taste death,
But know I’ll chase him through this land,
Until my final breath!

His curse was met with laughter by
Our Hereward who reached out,
And took his bow and drew its string,
An arrow true and sharp gave wing,
The Earl upon his breast did sting,
Causing his men great doubt.

Although it glided from his chest
Without a mortal wound,
His men, alarmed, ran up to him,
Most frantic at the clanging din,
And how the impact did fling him,
Down to the wretched ground.

Will Warenne ever get his man? Not for now at least…
(13.09.36)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Alireza Sahebi on Unsplash