The Splintered Kingdom c-2

by James Aitcheson

  As the light began to fade, we headed back. The city and the encampment outside its broken walls had just come into sight when Wace stifled a cry.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  About a quarter of a mile off, on a slight rise to the south of the city and the camp, stood a small clump of trees to which Wace directed my gaze. ‘There,’ he said. ‘One of the enemy’s scouts, do you think?’

  From the branches rose a flock of some dozen or so pigeons, and amidst the trunks and the gently falling orange-gold leaves I caught the faintest trace of movement. The sun was low in the sky and though I thought I could make out the shadowy shapes of a horse and its rider, I was not sure.

  ‘He’s adventurous, I’ll grant him that,’ said Wace. There was precious little cover, and he was so close to our camp that I imagined he must be able to smell the bubbling cooking-pots.

  ‘How long do you think he’s been there?’

  ‘All day, maybe. He could have arrived under cover of darkness. He’s probably waiting for night to fall before leaving again.’

  It didn’t seem that he had spotted us, or if he had he clearly did not consider us a threat, for otherwise he would surely not have risked venturing so close. All the same it made sense not to attract attention if we could avoid it, and so, pretending we hadn’t seen him, we turned around and rode back along the banks of the Use as if we were patrolling according to a determined pattern. But as soon as that clump was out of sight we left the riverbank, circling around until we had found what we reckoned was the path that he would follow away from there.

  There we hid, and waited. Night fell, the stars emerged and still we waited, growing ever more impatient. I was beginning to think this had been a waste of time, that our quarry had somehow slipped away without our noticing, when about an hour past dark I heard the sound of galloping not far away and saw a single horseman, his black cloak flying behind him, riding hard in our direction.

  At either side of the path were low bushes, and Wace and I lay low behind them, keeping as still as possible, having already tethered our horses some way off where they would not be easily spotted. Slowly I drew my blade from its scabbard. I did not dare raise my head in case the rider should see us, but as the sound of hooves grew louder I could imagine him approaching ever closer, oblivious, until he was almost on top of us-

  ‘Now!’ I shouted to Wace. I burst out from the cover of the brambles and swung my sword into the path of the oncoming horse. The rider had no time to swerve or halt; my blade struck the animal high on the foreleg, slicing through sinew and finding bone and bringing it crashing with a shriek to the ground. Its eyes were white as, unable to stand, it writhed upon the dirt, screaming in pain, blood bubbling from the open wound. At the same time Wace dragged the rider from the saddle, drew the man’s knife from its sheath and flung it far into the long grass where he could not reach it. The man gave a shout and tried to struggle, but Wace was much stronger than he, and soon had him pinned with his face against the ground.

  ‘Shut up,’ Wace barked at the man, who was whimpering what sounded like a prayer, or else a plea: he spoke too quietly and too quickly for me to make out the words.

  I crouched down low so that he could see my face and the moonlight glinting upon my sword-edge. His eyes widened and he fell quiet. At a guess I would have said he was around eighteen in years, like Turold, and of a similar stature too.

  ‘Do you speak French?’ I asked him, at the same time trying to work out whether he was one of the?theling’s men or one of King Sweyn’s. The Northumbrians wore their hair long in much the same fashion as the Danes; indeed there was much blood shared between the two peoples, and it was often difficult to tell them apart.

  When he did not respond I tried in English: ‘Whom do you serve?’

  ‘Eadgar,’ he said, trembling slightly. ‘King Eadgar is my lord.’

  At that I recoiled slightly. I knew he had proclaimed himself ruler of this land, but that was the first time I’d actually heard one of his followers refer to him as king.

  ‘What do they call you?’ I asked.

  ‘R-Runstan,’ he said. ‘Runstan, son of Penda.’

  ‘My name is Tancred a Dinant. Does that mean anything to you?’

  At that Runstan fell quiet.

  ‘You’ve heard of me, then,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘They say. .’ he began, and then mumbled something that I could not make out.

  ‘Speak louder,’ I told him, and brought my blade closer to his throat. ‘What do they say?’

  He swallowed. ‘They say King Eadgar is offering a reward to any man who captures you and brings you to him. You were the one who wounded him upon the cheek and gave him his scar.’

  So he knew the tales that had been told about me, and that was a good thing, for he knew then that it would not be wise to cross me.

  ‘Tell me where your lord is now,’ I said. ‘And tell me truthfully, or else I will open your belly, string you up by your guts from the nearest tree and leave you there until you choke to death.’

  He faltered, but fortunately he was not the sort of man who was prepared to die for his oath. ‘King Eadgar is at Beferlic,’ he said at last.

  Beferlic. I had heard of that town in passing before, and knew it lay to the east of here, on the edges of Heldernesse.

  ‘And Sweyn?’

  ‘King Sweyn is with him, together with his two sons, his brother Osbjorn and all his jarls.’

  It took a while to get all the answers I needed, but eventually Runstan explained to me how they had fortified the old monastery that stood there and were now waiting for King Guillaume to come to fight them by the swamps. Clearly the Danes hoped that the opportunity to destroy in one encounter all the leading men of their realm would be too tempting for us to ignore.

  ‘How many men do they have?’

  ‘In and around Beferlic, close to one thousand English and Danes,’ he said. ‘Those are the best warriors, the jarls and the hearth-troops. Another five thousand are waiting by their ships in the marshes by the Humbre.’

  ‘Six thousand in all?’ We could not hope to fight that many, not unless it was in open country where the might of our conrois could be brought to bear, and even then it would not be easy.

  ‘Yes, lord. And there is more.’

  ‘More?’

  ‘News that will interest you, though it may not please you to hear it.’

  I was not in the mood for riddles. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Only if you swear to spare my life.’

  Another time I might have laughed at his gall, but at that moment I was too intrigued by what he thought he might be able to offer me.

  ‘I swear it,’ I said. ‘Now tell me.’

  He hesitated for a moment as if unsure whether my promise was truly meant, but then he must have seen that if it wasn’t then he was a dead man either way.

  ‘When Eoferwic fell there were hostages taken,’ he said.

  ‘I know that. What of them?’

  ‘There were five: the only ones who were allowed to survive the battle. Two of them are with the main part of the fleet by the Humbre.’

  He gave me the names of the castellan Gilbert de Gand, a man with whom I’d had more than my share of quarrels over the years, as well as his mistress Richildis. Then he paused.

  ‘What about the other three?’

  ‘They were taken to Beferlic.’

  With every moment I was growing more impatient. ‘Their names,’ I said. ‘Tell me their names.’

  Something was troubling Runstan, as if he did not want to tell me what was next on his mind, but knew that he had to for his own sake. I saw the lump in his throat as he swallowed, and guessed what he was about to say.

  ‘The other three’, he said, ‘are your lord Robert Malet, his sister Beatrice and their father Guillaume, the vicomte of the shire of Eoferwic.’

  Twenty-seven

  They were alive. In the hands of the enemy and the man I’d sworn to kill, but alive
nonetheless.

  For a few moments I didn’t know what to say, but simply stood rooted to the ground, open-mouthed as thoughts whirled through my head and the faintest glimmer of hope stirred within me, until I heard Wace speaking my name, asking what the Englishman was saying. Somehow I managed to recover my voice enough to tell him.

  ‘We have to take him back with us,’ he said afterwards, meaning Runstan. ‘We need to deliver him to the king and his advisers.’

  ‘What for?’ I asked, glancing at the wide-eyed Englishman, who understood none of what we were saying. Perhaps he guessed that we were discussing his fate, or perhaps not, though he seemed a clever enough lad.

  ‘So he can tell them what he knows,’ Wace replied, looking at me as if I were slow-witted. ‘So we can raise the ransom for the release of Lord Robert.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference. Don’t you see? The king won’t pay the Danes a single penny to leave these shores. He doesn’t want to bargain; he won’t even send envoys to parley with them.’ My ire was rising and I was aware that I was ranting yet could not stop myself. ‘All he wants is to trample their corpses into the earth and let his fuller run with their blood. If he won’t so much as talk to the enemy, do you think he’ll willingly offer up silver for the lives of Gilbert de Gand and his mistress, or for Lord Robert and his kin?’

  Wace did not answer. He knew that I was right. Robert’s fool of a father, Guillaume, had failed the king on two occasions in as many years. For all his shrewd governance of Eoferwic, as vicomte the defence of the city and of the shire rested largely upon him. By allowing them to fall into the enemy’s hands not once but twice he had demonstrated his ineptitude. There would be no ransom for him, and were that the case it seemed unlikely that the freedom of Robert or Beatrice would be purchased either. It was well known that in the king’s eyes the Malet name was tarnished, perhaps irrevocably so. What if he decided it was easier to be rid of them altogether? For if the Danes’ price was not met, there would be no advantage in holding them prisoner, and their lives would then be forfeit.

  I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t risk the lives of my lord and his family by doing nothing and simply hoping that the king would see sense. I owed my lordship, my reputation and, some would say, my life to the Malets. I had sworn solemn oaths not just to Robert but to his sister too, many months ago.

  Beatrice. Despite all our differences I had loved her once, or thought I had. Having already lost Oswynn and Leofrun I was determined not to lose her too.

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’ asked Wace, his tone one of resignation.

  And I told him.

  ‘This is madness,’ said Eudo when we arrived back and Wace told him what I planned. ‘Have you lost your mind?’

  ‘I’ve made my decision,’ I replied. ‘And I’ll do it with or without your help.’

  Eudo made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. ‘And with what army do you propose to do this?’

  ‘With as many as will join me.’

  It wasn’t much of answer, and we both knew it. Still, I’d had enough time to consider it on the journey back to camp, and knew there was no other choice. Whether it was through silver or some other means, I would find the men. I had to.

  ‘This is the worst folly I have ever heard spew from your mouth in all the years I’ve known you,’ Wace said, scratching at his injured eye as he often did when frustrated. He had ever been the most sober and level-headed of the three of us, and I didn’t expect to win him over to my cause now. ‘Talk some sense into him, Eudo.’

  ‘If we believe what he says’ — Eudo gestured at Runstan, who was sitting in silence with?dda watching over him — ‘Eadgar and Sweyn have between them more than ten hundred warriors in and around Beferlic. They have fyrdmen and huscarls, spearmen and axemen and swordsmen, all of whom will have no hesitation in killing you the moment they find you. And find you they will.’

  ‘Listen to us,’ Wace said. He did not often lose his temper, but even in the dim, flickering light of the campfire I could see his face reddening. ‘We both want to see Robert alive as much as you do. But you cannot simply march into the heart of the enemy stronghold and expect to walk out again freely. You would give your life for no reason and at the same time lead every one of your men to their deaths.’

  I gritted my teeth and turned away. My gaze fell upon the others in our small party, and particularly upon the lads Ceawlin, D?gric and Odgar. Laughing amongst themselves, they were taking it in turns to hurl small stones at the exposed head of a pot-bellied baron who was sitting, oblivious, by one of the other fires some forty or so paces away. Fortunately their aim was poor and each one of their stones disappeared into the night, missing by some distance, or else I might have done something. The last thing I wanted was to begin another quarrel and make yet more enemies: I had enough of those as it was.

  ‘You can’t ask them to go with you,’ Wace said, mistaking my thoughts. ‘They’re not much more than pups, barely weaned from their mothers’ teats. They will follow you because you are their lord, and because they don’t know any better.’

  ‘They trust you,’ Eudo added, ‘but that same trust will be the end of them if you take advantage of it in this way.’

  ‘I know that,’ I said, rounding on them. ‘Don’t think that I don’t.’

  ?dda would come with me, and Pons and Serlo, and I would do my best to convince Galfrid too. Apart from those four, who else was there? Five men was no army in anyone’s estimation, and I still wasn’t sure how such a raid could possibly work, only that it must. Of course we would take Runstan with us, so he could show us the paths through the woods and the marshes, but I still did not trust him, and had no doubt he would try to betray us to his countrymen at the first opportunity unless we kept a close watch over him.

  It was more reckless and dangerous than anything I had ever before undertaken, but I didn’t see that we had any other choice. Even if this path led only to failure and to death, still we had to follow it. Still we had to try.

  ‘Tell me what else we can do,’ I said.

  Wace glanced at Eudo, who could only shrug. I had my answer, then.

  I’d already divested myself of the hauberk that I’d taken from the field of battle at St?fford. If we were to cross the marshes into the enemy camp without attracting attention, we would have to travel as lightly and as quietly as possible. The sound of mail was easily heard even at a distance, and besides it was too heavy, too cumbersome. If a man lost his footing and fell into the water it could quickly drag him down beyond the help of his friends. Instead I donned one of the studded leather corselets we had taken from the Welshmen, adjusting the straps so that it fitted me properly, then I buckled my sword-belt and my knife-sheath upon my waist and checked that the blades slid easily out so that I could draw them quickly when needed.

  ‘Will you come with me?’ I said to the others. ‘This is the last time I’ll ask.’

  Wace’s cold gaze met mine. Eudo would not so much as look at me as he muttered a series of curses. This was how it ended, then. This brotherhood that we had long ago forged now divided. From here we would each venture our separate ways, for good or for ill.

  And I would go to Beferlic alone.

  ‘I must be an even greater fool than you,’ said Eudo, shaking his head. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t even entertain the thought-’

  ‘Eudo,’ said Wace in a warning tone, as if sensing what was to come.

  ‘He can’t go and meet the enemy alone. If we let him, we’ll have as good as killed him by our own hands.’

  ‘Let him die if that’s what he wants. What sense is there in giving your life too in pursuit of a hopeless cause?’

  ‘Because it’s the honourable thing. If we do nothing and let Robert and his father die, we will be known for ever as the men who forsook their lord and their sworn oaths so that they could protect their own hides.’

  ‘And if we return with the Malets alive,’ I added, ‘we’ll be remembered fo
r having defied the might of the?theling and the Danes, for risking our necks to fulfil our duty. For doing what other men thought impossible.’

  ‘If we return,’ Wace muttered, but from that simple phrase I knew that I had won him over, and from one word in particular. We.

  Some men fight for silver or gold and other kinds of riches; others for women or land or duty to their oaths and their king. But they are lying if they say that is what they crave most of all. For, as I had found, none of those things have the same enduring worth as reputation. All influence and power in this world stem ultimately not from wealth but from fame, and a man lacking in honour can find himself reduced to nothing but the object of ridicule and contempt among his peers. Only for the sake of reputation will a man risk everything, and so it was then.

  ‘I have with me two men,’ Eudo said, ‘both of them eager for another chance to spill Danish blood after what happened at Noruic.’

  ‘And I bring my two knights,’ put in Wace with a sigh. Despite his words, the lingering doubt was clear in his eyes. ‘They’ll join us, if I so order.’

  ‘Only if they are willing,’ I said. ‘No one has to come who doesn’t wish to.’

  As it was, they all agreed, none being willing to abandon their lords to whom they had pledged their loyal service. Added to them were Serlo, Pons and?dda, and so our number was brought to ten. Galfrid alone would not come, and I did not try to press him, knowing that he was less experienced at arms than the rest of us, but instead left him to take charge of the three lads from Earnford and watch out for them in the shield-wall, if it came to that.

  The hour was late but I knew we could not waste a single moment, and so we made ready to leave without delay. I was on my way to seek out Father Erchembald so that he could absolve me of my sins one final time, knowing that there was every chance I might not return from this particular expedition, when there came from nearby a sudden yelp of pain.