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

‘The Conqueror has it surrounded,
This dreary isle of Ely,
His men have marched around its bounds,
No one is free to flee here.

Before too long they will drawn in
And squeeze this human noose,
Be wise your fools and join with us,
Or gasping you will lose!’

At this the Wake’s men laughed aloud
At Warenne’s men’s attemps,
To lure them from their loyalty
To Hereward, to across the sea,
An impotent act of conspiracy,
That inevitably failed to ferment.

‘How long, you wretch, will you moan on,
And try to turn our heads,
We won’t betray our Lord, be gone,
And whine at him instead.

Withdraw in haste and tell your man
The one he seeks is here,
Now run away as fast as you can,
Or our javelins you’ll fear!’

Hereward’s men are not for turning!
(21.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Bohdan Hyrovych on Unsplash

‘If only one who stands with him,
Would willingly betray,
That rascal deep in bog and sin,
Before late in the day.’

‘We do not wish to dwell in marsh,
Amongst the dismal reeds,
The penalty will be too harsh,
If we are forced to seek.’

‘His foolish men should have no doubt,
We’ll have to kill the lot,
If we are forced to seek him out,
And leave their limbs to rot!’

The Earl of Warenne’s men seek to persuade Hereward’s to betray him.
(17.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

Soon the Earl and his men arrived
Upon the opposing bank.
One of them drew close and called,
Enquiring if they were with that appalling
Hereward, who’d caused the fall
Of many within their ranks.

Keeping things ticking over with another stanza.
(15.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash