Sworn Sword (10 page)

For without a lord a man was nothing. There were some who tried to make their way alone, swearing oaths to none but themselves, but they were few and held in ill regard besides. Often they travelled in bands, selling their swords to anyone willing to pay good silver, and often they did well for themselves. They were among the lowest class of men, for most had no honour, no scruple, no loyalty except to their purses. I had no desire to become one of them, but I had been with Robert for so long that I was not sure whether I could bring myself to serve another lord, or at least not so soon.

And at the same time I was confused, for if Guillaume Malet had heard so much about me, he must surely know that I had led my men to their deaths at Dunholm; that I had failed to protect Robert at the one time when it truly mattered. What interest could he have in me?

‘I am sorry,’ the chaplain said, obviously sensing my discomfort. ‘I understand it is yet early to be speaking of such things. I know that you’ve suffered a great deal of late. I ought not to interrupt your rest any further.’ He raised himself from the stool.

‘What of the wound itself?’ I asked him before he could leave. I felt my calf throbbing; it seemed tight, as though there was something resting upon the skin, tied to it, perhaps. Something moist and heavy, weighing my leg down so much that I found it hard to move it.

‘We used the irons on it, of course, and after that applied a poultice of herbs. Again you were fortunate, for the cut, though long, was not deep.’

‘How long before it’s healed?’

‘It’s hard to know for certain,’ he said. ‘But you have shown yourself to be strong so far. Given rest, and provided the wound is kept clean, I should think it will not be long. I imagine you could be walking on it within a week or two. Keep praying and God will see to it; that is the best advice I can offer.’

‘Thank you, father,’ I said.

‘I’ll see that food and drink is brought to you. It is wise to build up your strength, after all.’ The priest made to leave, his long vestments trailing across the floor. He reached the door and paused. ‘There are servants about; if there is anything else you might require, you need only call. I’ll inform my lord that you are awake. I hope that he will see you later.’

I nodded and he smiled again, just briefly, before he left, closing the door behind him.

As promised, a jug of beer was soon brought and placed beside my bed, followed shortly by some bread and cheese, apples and berries. One servant-boy helped me to sit up, placing a straw-filled pillow behind my back, while another brought some wood for the fire, which was beginning to dwindle. I ate as much as I could, but in truth I was not all that hungry, and when the same two returned later to bear away the dishes I had used, there was still most of it left.

I wondered about the chaplain, Ælfwold, and why he would choose to serve a French lord such as Malet. I thought of those English lords who had submitted to King Guillaume in the months after our victory at Hæstinges, many of whom remained in possession of their lands even now. Their oaths, though, had not been willingly given, but rather forced upon them, and more than two years later there remained much mistrust on both sides.

This priest, on the other hand, had said he was proud to serve the vicomte, and when he had spoken about what had taken place at Dunholm, it seemed to me that it was with genuine regret. Since we
had first arrived on these shores, no Englishman I had met had ever regarded us with anything less than enmity. Why he should be any different, I could not understand.

I lay back for a while, listening to the sounds that I could hear beyond the window: the shouts of men practising at arms; the whinnying of horses; further off, the steady hammering of iron upon iron that was surely a blacksmith at work. Though I still felt weak, I was no longer gripped with tiredness as I had been before. As my head cleared, I sat up and spent some time in prayer, giving my thanks to God for having saved me, asking that He save the souls of those I had lost. It was a long while since I had last prayed properly, and I hoped that He would hear me.

It was growing late in the afternoon when I heard a knock upon the door. Even before I could answer, a man entered.

It wasn’t the priest, for this man was lean and tall – as tall as myself, perhaps, although without being able to stand opposite him it was difficult to tell. His hair, cut short in the French fashion, was a dark grey in colour, his face angular, with thick eyebrows and a scar – albeit one long-healed – down his right cheek. He was dressed in a scarlet tunic, embroidered with golden thread around the neck and cuffs. Silver rings adorned two of the fingers on his left hand. He was evidently a man of some wealth, and I wondered if this were in fact the vicomte himself.

‘Tancred a Dinant,’ he said. His voice was deep but not harsh; nevertheless its tone was that of one used to authority.

‘My lord,’ I answered, and lowered my head. It was the closest to a bow that I could manage while seated.

‘My name is Guillaume Malet. I am sure you will have heard of me.’

I couldn’t tell if that last remark was intended to be ironic or not, but there was no sign of humour in his face.

‘I’m honoured to meet you,’ I said. In my time with Lord Robert I had grown well used to dealing with men of standing. As one of the men closest to the king, he was often required at court, and many were the times that either I or Wace had accompanied him with our conrois to Westmynstre.

‘Similarly,’ Malet said. ‘Your reputation as a man of the sword is well known to me.’

He sat down on one of the stools at my bedside and held out a hand. I clasped it in my own. His grip was firm, and I noticed there were calluses on his palm, which struck me as unusual for a man of his status.

‘I knew Robert de Commines,’ he said as he released his hold. ‘I have been praying a great deal for his soul since I heard the news. His loss will be felt most keenly by all of us. He was a good man – something that seems to be increasingly rare these days.’

I felt moisture forming in the corners of my eyes, but fought it back. ‘Yes, lord.’ I did not know what else to say.

‘As I’m sure my chaplain Ælfwold has said, we have heard all about what happened at Dunholm. To lose so many men in one night is without precedent.’

‘The enemy came upon us by surprise, in such numbers that we had no hope of defending the town.’ Though if we had retreated to the fastness and rallied our forces as I had argued, perhaps we could have prevailed.

‘Nevertheless, there are those who would say that the earl should have been better prepared. That he was over-confident. He gave permission for his army to go raiding the town; he let them get drunk even though he suspected the enemy were still about.’

I hesitated, surprised at how much Malet knew about events. But then he would already have heard from all those who had returned – from Eudo and Wace and other knights besides, from all the noblemen who had served under Lord Robert.

‘Everything he did, he did with the counsel and support of the other lords,’ I said. I knew because I had been there with him in the mead-hall as the discussions had taken place. It was shortly after that meeting that I had been sent out with Eudo and the others to scout the hills.

‘Perhaps,’ Malet said, ‘although with Robert dead it has become highly convenient for them to place all the blame on him.’

I remained silent, as his words worked their way through my mind. There were many among those other lords whom I had
disliked, but none I had thought capable of deceit of this kind. It amounted to nothing less than a betrayal of Robert.

‘And then,’ Malet continued, ‘there are others who would question how it came to be that Earl Robert’s two most trusted men managed to survive, when he himself did not.’ He raised an eyebrow.

He was suggesting that Wace and I had deliberately abandoned our lord to save ourselves. I felt a rush of anger such as I had not felt since the battle, but held it back. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper before a man of such influence as the vicomte, especially given the generosity he had shown me by sheltering me in his own house.

‘Do you question it, lord?’ I asked instead, holding his gaze.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a faint smile. ‘Rest assured I do not,’ he said. Then his expression became serious once more, his lips firmly set. ‘Robert trusted few men, but those he did, he always held in high regard. He knew how to win their respect and loyalty, and I have no doubt that you did all you could for him. Nevertheless, there are many who may think otherwise, and who will consider twice before taking you into their employ.’

‘My lord,’ I said. ‘It’s less than a week since his death—’

‘Earl Robert spoke highly of you,’ he cut me off, as if he had not heard me speak. ‘Indeed I have heard much of your prowess, Tancred. I know that you saved his life, and more than once. You gave him your horse at Hæstinges after his was killed beneath him. You were the one who pulled him from the mêlée when he became surrounded.’

Again I was surprised at the extent of Malet’s knowledge. Everything he had said was true: I could see it all in my mind, as clearly as if it had happened only the day before. But none of it changed the fact that, in the end, I had failed in my duty.

‘Why do you mention this, lord?’ I asked, though I sensed that I knew the answer.

‘I have need of good swords, now more than ever,’ the vicomte replied. ‘The enemy have tasted Norman blood; they will soon be wanting more. Dunholm will not be the end of it.’

‘You believe there is more trouble to come in Northumbria?’

Malet studied me for a moment, and then he rose from his stool and made his way to the window. He peered outside; pale sunlight shone upon his face. ‘The Northumbrians are a seditious people,’ he said, ‘proud and disdainful of outsiders. That has ever been the case, and it will not change now. You have seen their savagery with your own eyes.’

‘The enemy have Dunholm,’ I said. ‘How can you be so sure they won’t stop at that?’

He turned back to me, his face in shadow once more. ‘Of course I cannot,’ Malet said. ‘But remember that until now they have known only defeat at our hands. The murder of the earl will have given them confidence such as they have never had. I believe it will not be long before they start to march south.’ He sighed. ‘And you should know that Northumbria is only a part of it.’

‘What do you mean, lord?’

‘Hardly a week goes by without disturbances somewhere in the kingdom. We are constantly hearing tell of Normans being murdered by bands of Englishmen in the shires. On the Welsh borderlands the enemy are becoming bolder, their raids at the same time more penetrative and more destructive. King Guillaume’s forces have never been more thinly spread. And there is worse yet to come.’

‘Lord?’ I asked, frowning.

His eyes were fixed upon me. ‘Invasion.’

‘Invasion?’ It seemed scarcely possible. We ourselves had held England but a couple of years.

‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘It has been known for some time that the Danish king, Sweyn Ulfsson, has laid claim to the English crown, though he has thus far possessed neither the means nor the opportunity to pursue it. However, for some months we have suspected that he has been making plans for the coming summer. This we now know. Already he has begun to gather his ships, and it is believed that by midsummer he will have a fleet to rival our own of two years ago.’

Suddenly I understood Malet’s anxiety. Even if we succeeded in driving off the rebels, there remained still a second enemy, and the Danes were fighters of some renown, feared as much for their barbarity as for their skill at arms. Indeed I remembered it being
said that they had conquered this island once before, though it was many years ago now.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ I asked.

‘It is no more than what will soon be commonly known,’ he replied. ‘But now you see why Robert’s death could not have come at a worse time. You understand why I need the services of men such as yourself. For, sooner or later, the enemy will come, and we must be ready to fight them when they do—’

He was cut off by a sharp knock at the door.

‘One moment,’ Malet told me, as he went to open it.

A boy in a brown tunic stood outside. There was charcoal on his face, his tunic and light hair were unkempt, and I took him for a servant. ‘My lord,’ he said. ‘The castellan Lord Richard is here. He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible.’

‘What does he want?’ Malet asked, and there was a hint of weariness in his tone.

‘He didn’t say, lord. He is waiting for you in your chambers.’

Malet let out a sigh. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Tell him I will be with him shortly.’

The boy gave a cursory bow and hurried away.

‘Forgive me, Tancred,’ Malet said. ‘The castellan is a tiresome man, but if I ignore him, he will only grow more persistent. I trust that you are comfortable here, that you are being brought everything you require.’

‘I am, lord.’

‘Very well.’ He smiled. ‘I do not seek an answer from you now, but I hope that you will consider what I have said over the coming days. No doubt we shall speak again before long.’

He left, and I was alone again. I thought over everything that he had said, about Lord Robert, and about the rebellion that he believed was to come. If it did, then I wanted to be able to fight, even if for nothing else than the opportunity to avenge Robert’s death. Although if Malet spoke truthfully, then there were few lords who would be willing to accept my service.

Few lords except, naturally, for him.

Eight

EUDO AND WACE
came to see me the next morning, and never had I been more glad to see them. We did not talk of the battle or of Lord Robert, for there was little more to say, though I could see from the looks in their eyes that it was in their minds as much as it was in mine.

I learnt from them that Rollo had not survived the journey. They had stopped briefly at dusk to let the horses rest, but when they made to leave, he had not got up.

‘The battle must have all but exhausted him,’ Eudo said. ‘When we saw that he wasn’t going to live, we decided it was better to end his suffering ourselves. I’m sorry.’