I correctly predicted that the Bayeux Tapestry would come home. But is football coming home too?

I correctly predicted that the Bayeux Tapestry would come home. But is football coming home too? David Musgrove has spent nearly two decades following the extraordinary campaign to bring the Bayeux Tapestry to Britain. But now that the moment has finally arrived, could the medieval masterpiece have one last story to tell? So the Bayeux Tapestry has come home. In the quietest point of the night of 9/10 July (and a hot, sweltering night at that), a lorry rolled into the cargo bay of the British Museum. Inside, in its special vibration-damping box, was the Bayeux Tapestry. It had made its journey from Normandy, through the Channel Tunnel, and up into London with a police escort. Now it will be allowed to rest and acclimatise to its new surroundings for a few days before the hard work starts of getting it into its temporary display ready for the start of the exhibition on 10 September. Perhaps this is the first time that the venerable embroidery has been on this side of the Channel since it was created some 950 years ago. The lorry probably passed quite close to where most experts think it was most likely made, in Canterbury in Kent. To mark the moment, the British Museum arranged to have an incredible image of some of the sailing scenes from the Tapestry projected onto the White Cliffs of Dover, with a huge “Merci!” inscribed alongside. Eighteen years in the making I’ve been following the story of the loan of the Tapestry for years, dating back to 2008 when I wrote an article for BBC History Magazine (now HistoryExtra Magazine) interviewing a panel of experts about the theory that the Tapestry was made in England. In that article, I raised the idea that maybe one day the Tapestry could come home. Some of the scholars were against the idea, but one – Michael Lewis – was keen. He told me then: “I think it would be lovely to see it in this country… If the Tapestry was returned, it would be possible to display it along with the works that it was influenced by – that would be a fabulous exhibition – to have the Tapestry displayed with the primary sources as far as we can ascertain them.” Ten years later, in 2018, when President Macron announced that the loan was actually going to happen, I leapt into action and co-wrote a book, with Michael Lewis, all about the Tapestry (it’s called The Story of the Bayeux Tapestry). My co-author is now the curator of the British Museum’s exhibition, and I know he has been working hard over the years to make this amazing moment a reality. From rivals to partners What is striking is the level of cooperation between the French and British conservation and curation teams, typified by that grateful projection on the White Cliffs. Yes, there have been voices raised against the loan, questioning the sense of moving such a fragile object, but it’s clear that the teams involved have been working hand-in-glove to make sure the embroidery was moved safely and securely. This is a contrast to the five previous efforts to get a loan of the Tapestry in the 20th century, when it wasn’t always clear who the UK negotiators should be talking to in order to strike a deal. Earlier this year, I interviewed Britain’s Envoy for the Bayeux Tapestry loan, Lord Peter Ricketts, and he noted that, “Both sides, of course, are equally attached to ensuring the preservation and the protection of this incredibly fragile and precious object.” I’ve spoken to some of the political figures involved in the discussions about the loan and they have been clear that the driving force behind this project was France’s President Macron. UK prime ministers have come and gone, but Macron has been constant ever since 2018. I see that he has written an op-ed in The Times this morning. He says, “This loan from France means much more than simply moving an artwork: it is a gesture of trust, a tangible expression of a long-standing friendship and a sign of our shared desire to see France and the UK build their future together.” So, this is going to be a huge cultural moment for both countries – a generational experience that will cause interest in medieval history to blossom. Tickets have already sold out for the first few months of the exhibition. Excitement is at fever pitch about this most famous of artworks finally coming home. A prophecy in thread? One other item that people in England hope is coming home this summer is the football World Cup. I have mused, in a social media video, that the Tapestry’s narrative mirrors England’s path to soccer glory in the US. Its pointed omission of the battle of Stamford Bridge suggests that England will beat Norway without any fuss on Saturday night, while the Tapestry’s Hand of God ripping through the sky over Westminster Abbey and the funeral of Edward the Confessor surely predicts the righting of the wrong of Maradona’s handball from 1986 in a likely Argentina semi-final. And then of course we come to the battle of Hastings. You might think that the Norman victory over the English suggests a French success in the final, and that would accord with most pundits’ views that France are the team to beat in this World Cup. Yet I simply note that the Tapestry, as we see it today, is unfinished, with the English flight from the field dissolving into a ragged mess. Maybe, just maybe, the Tapestry’s damaged state is a pointer that the story doesn’t end quite as you might expect. Given that in 2008, I predicted that the Tapestry would come home, maybe you should trust me that football is going to follow this year too. That might blow apart the spirit of bonhomie between the Tapestry community on both sides of the Channel, so maybe it’s lucky that the transport has already taken place. It’s coming home, both ways. Authors David Musgrove is the content director at HistoryExtra