The Last Conquest (37 page)

‘Aud, I have been a prisoner. I have escaped and travelled far. I am hungry and thirsty. Before we do anything I must eat and drink. Please see to it while I water the horse. The Normans
sit still and wait for news of the King’s army. An hour here more or less will make no difference.’

Aud tightened her lips but made no reply. She took off her cloak and flung it across her travelling bundle. Edwin did not wait to exchange further words. Time enough for that after he had seen
to the horse. He had not bargained with having to deal with Aud on her own; he had relied on Rowena or Gorm being on hand to take the lead.

He held a rein and watched the horse drink. As his eyes wandered round the yard, they fell on a small mound of freshly dug earth to the side of the chicken run. Aud had kept her promise; he was
at least grateful to her for that. Now he felt no tears. Too much had happened. Too much lay ahead.

The reminder served only to make him all the more determined to find the army and fight at the King’s side. True, he would not be among the housecarls, but he had spent many hours hunting
the boar with his king, and his spear arm was as strong and as sure as that of any freeman in the fyrd. Let them only give him an armful of spears, and he would send some Normans to the Hell they
deserved. If God was kind, maybe He would send Berry’s murderer to gallop towards him in the first charge. Already he could see the surprise and horror on the man’s face as the shaft
thudded in and drove the rings of mail into his chest. As the swine fell, Edwin would leap forward to finish him off with his knife. He put his hand to his belt.

His knife! The Normans had not taken it when they bound him. He had left it on the table. God! Was it only the day before yesterday? Well, at least it would be a useful way of starting to talk
with Aud. He tethered the horse again, hitched up his belt, and took a deep breath. He could not talk about knives for long. He would have to tell Aud what he was going to do, and he knew what she
would say, and he knew he would handle it badly.

Aud placed food and drink before him without a word. He consumed it in silence. Gorm had fallen asleep again. Sweyn fidgeted, but Aud stilled him with a gesture.

Edwin wiped the back of his hand across his lips.

‘What happened to my knife?’

‘The minstrel stole it. Or so Edith said.’

Silence fell again. Aud made it worse by putting on her cloak once more.

Edwin clutched at his final straw.

‘Thank you for – for seeing to Berry.’

Aud picked up her bundle and waited by the door.

Edwin glanced at Gorm, and saw no help there. He would have to deal with Aud alone.

Before many minutes, Edwin was in exactly the position he had foreseen, and knew he was powerless to prevent. Aud’s voice had risen so high that her father woke up again.

Edwin was a coward, a cheat, a traitor, a deceiver. When she, Aud, was dishonoured and dead, then perhaps his conscience would strike him, and she hoped it would give him no rest.

She was past reason. Nothing Edwin said was any good.

‘Follow Rowena. Go to the King’s manors.’

‘How do I know which way she went?’

‘Go to any royal manor and say my name in the kennels or stables. They will take you in.’

‘And be killed in open country? With a helpless child to protect?’

A podgy, strident boy had become a helpless child.

‘Why can you not take us with you? There are women with the army.’

‘Have you any idea what sort of women? In any case, you are wrong. The King’s army will be moving too fast. They will have hardly any baggage, never mind women. And I have only one
horse.’

‘Two can ride on one horse.’

‘What about Sweyn? Would you leave a “helpless child” behind?’

‘You could walk. You are still man enough for that.’

‘I have no any idea where the King is. We might be walking for days.’

‘Then hitch up the ox. We all could sleep in the cart if necessary.’

‘Aud, I must get there quickly. The battle must come soon.’

Aud sneered. ‘And you must win your honour and glory while we, your kin, lie dead in this wreckage.’

Edwin passed his hand across his brow. ‘Aud, there is no wreckage here. ‘

‘There will be.’

‘And yours is not my kin.’

‘We were pledged once to each other. It was understood.’

‘The understanding was on your side only.’

‘You never said so.’

‘You were never willing to listen.’

‘It was all right until you came back from Normandy. You were never the same after that.’

Edwin moved in desperation towards the door.

Aud pursued him. ‘There was someone. Admit it. Look me in the face and admit it.’

Edwin could not stand it any more. He rushed towards the horse.

‘She must be Norman,’ Aud shouted after him. ‘Going with the enemy. A fine tale to tell the King; no wonder you do not want to take me to him. And if the Normans catch you they
will punish you as well.’

Edwin took the reins, mounted, and turned his horse up the valley.

‘Follow Rowena!’ he shouted, without looking back. ‘Take Sweyn and follow Rowena.’

‘Adulterer!’ screamed Aud.

Edwin dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and urged it to the gallop. Anything to get away.

Aud returned to the house. Sweyn watched her anxiously, but her anger passed quickly. She was in charge again.

For a moment she stood very still, deep in thought. Then she snapped her fingers.

‘Come, Sweyn. Get your stick.’

‘Father’s stick.’

‘Yours now. Come.’

‘What about Father?’

Aud paused in the doorway. Gorm was barely stirring. She made one last effort.

‘Father. We must go – now. Can you walk? Can you get up?’

He raised his bleary eyes to hers.

Aud slapped him in temper.

‘Father. We are going. We are leaving you if you can not get up.’

A flash of anger appeared. ‘You do not go. I forbid it.’

He looked round vaguely. ‘Where is Rowena?’

‘She has gone and we are following.’

‘Craven flight. Forgotten us. Left us. Wrong to leave the home.’

‘No, Father. Rowena was right. Edwin has been here to warn us. The Normans are near.’

‘I forbid you, forbid you . . .’

‘I am taking Sweyn.’

Alarm followed anger. He reached out to clutch her. Aud stepped back quickly and he fell forward. He raised himself and began crawling across the rushes on all fours. Scraps of straw caught in
the thongs of his shoes; others were stuck in his hair. Sweat stood out on his brow.

Sweyn stood transfixed. Aud thumped him across the shoulders and drove him towards the door. The delay in getting him and his bundle outside enabled Gorm to catch up with her. She felt his hand
drag at her skirt. He clawed his way up her clothing until he was upright. He grabbed both her shoulders.

‘You shall not go. I forbid it.’

She recoiled in loathing from his noxious breath, and struggled to release herself. She heard something rip. Her father was now running out of breath. With a desperate heave she pushed him away.
He fell against the door jamb, and his head whipped back against the wood with a loud thud. Winded and dizzy, he slid down to the ground.

Aud clambered over him, collected her bundle, and skipped quickly outside again. Sweyn was still gazing fascinated at his father. Aud pushed him along.

‘Hurry. We must hurry.’

Sweyn followed, looking often over his shoulder. At the turn of the track he looked back for the last time. His father had fallen out of the doorway.

As they fumbled with the latch of the gate, his voice was carried to them.

‘Here is your home. I forbid you to go. I forbid it!’

They rushed on, gradually slowing to a steady walk. Neither said anything. For once Sweyn did not complain about the effort of carrying a load.

Gorm struggled again to a sitting position. Something was in his hand. He looked down. It was a piece of Aud’s dress. He used it to mop his brow, then stuffed it absently into his
jerkin.

So he was alone again. Well, he had been alone before. Let them go. Let them traipse all over the countryside. They would come crawling back soon enough. They would have to admit he was right.
He was a freeman, and a freeman stood by his property. Besides, Normans needed mills as much as Saxons did. And he would see through their swindling ways, exactly as he saw through those of the
Saxons. He would drive just has hard a bargain, and they would have to pay. He was a good miller, a good miller . . .

If they did not come back? They would have only themselves to blame. He had tried to warn them. And when that lump Godric returned, what would he not say to him! Lusting after Rowena. What
pride, what presumption – a freeman’s daughter!

Gorm gritted his teeth, but after a moment relaxed his jaw. A gleam entered his eye as a thought struck him. After all these years he had a means of getting at Godric. At last – to be able
to shatter that massive stillness!

It never crossed his mind that Godric might not return.

Sir Baldwin de Clair leaned against a tent post and looked at the two bodies stretched out inside. The white of their backs contrasted strongly with the deep tan on the back of
their necks.

‘Jesus of Nazareth, what a handsome pair of lilies,’ he said, pulling off his gloves. ‘Ha!’

Ralph Pomeroy and William Capra looked at each other, but neither moved from their prone position.

Baldwin stepped forward and peered at the livid marks across their shoulders.

‘You will live,’ he said. ‘You will live.’

Capra growled.

Baldwin touched his back very lightly with the end of a glove. Capra cried out.

‘Hurts, does it?’ said Baldwin. ‘Well, that comes from letting prisoners escape.’

He leaned down till his mouth was beside Pomeroy’s ear.

‘Learned our lesson, have we?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes – “Sir Baldwin”.’

‘Yes, Sir Baldwin.’

‘“And thank you, Sir Baldwin, for sending Brother Crispin and the buckets of salt water.”’

‘Thank you, Sir Baldwin, for the salt water.’

‘I trust that Crispin administered the treatment – er – satisfactorily.’

Pomeroy winced. ‘He did it with relish.’

Baldwin smiled in satisfaction, and stood up.

‘I relied on Brother Crispin to show God’s Mercy to the wrongdoer.’

‘Is that what he called it?’ said Capra.

‘Count yourself blessed that I had you whipped only down to your waist, or Jesus and Brother Crispin would not be the only people turning the other cheek.’

William Capra propped himself on his elbows and tried to ease his shoulders.

‘We made a mistake, Sir Baldwin, and we have paid. Is that not enough?’

Baldwin paused on his way out. ‘Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. No, it is not enough. At dawn you will report to Sir William Fitzosbern’s tent and pay the fine that the Duke has
fixed.’

‘What? Ah!’ Capra tried to turn in a hurry, and cried aloud in pain. ‘We have already been punished.’

Baldwin smiled hugely. ‘Ah, no. That was only my punishment, for insubordination and incompetence. The fine is the Duke’s punishment for disobeying the orders of your superiors and
gross dereliction of duty. Allowing two prisoners to escape at this time could have endangered the whole army.’

‘We did not allow them,’ protested Pomeroy. ‘We were deceived.’

‘Clearly a very simple thing to do,’ observed Baldwin.

‘Save your breath, brother,’ said Capra.

Baldwin pulled on his gloves.

‘Report to me for duty – both of you – as soon as you have seen Fitzosbern. You have tonight to rest and meditate on your own stupidity.’

‘How can we get jerkin and mail on to backs like ours?’ complained Pomeroy.

‘Think of something,’ shouted Baldwin over his shoulder. ‘Send for the Turk. He will empty your purse too.’

When he had gone, Pomeroy cursed steadily to himself, until Capra silenced him.

‘Shut your mouth. I have to think.’

Pomeroy blinked, but obeyed. He rested his chin on the backs of his hands, and tried to ease his shoulders into a less agonising position. He was always content to let his brother do complicated
things like thinking.

After a while the silence began to get oppressive. Pomeroy fidgeted.

‘Well?’

‘It is time we moved on, brother.’

Pomeroy frowned. ‘Where? You mean, to Normandy?’

‘I said “on”, not “back”.’

Pomeroy’s frown deepened. ‘How can we escape Fitzosbern and the Duke?’

‘We can not. We pay. But what we do afterwards is our business.’

‘You mean, leave Sir Baldwin?’

‘Do you wish to stay – and risk another beating? I see you are calling him “Sir Baldwin” now.’

‘Well, no. But—’

‘Afraid he will come after us? Bloodeye did not bother.’

‘He probably forgot. They say his illness—’

‘Yes, yes, I know all about that. But de Clair made no effort to go after the prisoners. When the English arrive, he will have no time to go after anybody. The hour can not be far distant.
This camp is buzzing like an angry hive.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘We seek our fortune, brother. We look out for the main chance. I see none of that with de Clair, do you? Nor with his friend, the Bishop of Coutances. We should finish up drilling all day
with those trumpets in our ears.’

‘There are others,’ said Pomeroy.

‘Bah! Giffard would not have the patience, Montgomery does not have the space or the money, and Beaumont does not have the authority.’

‘Where then?’

Capra rubbed his chin. ‘We need a leader who, like us, has an eye to the main chance. He must have authority, status, influence in high places. Ideally he should have a hearty dislike of
Bishop Geoffrey and Bishop Geoffrey’s friend, Sir Baldwin de Clair. You never know when the occasion of revenge will present itself.’

Pomeroy gaped in admiration. ‘You mean, Odo – like you said?’

Capra sucked his teeth. ‘His Grace, the Bishop of Bayeux, no less. Should have done it before.’

Pomeroy looked doubtful. ‘Aiming high.’