Conquest 03 - Knights of the Hawk

by James Aitcheson

  ‘The wife of one of the rebel leaders killed in the battle, maybe? Who knows? If she weren’t so richly dressed, and she hadn’t mentioned your name, we might have left her for the men to fight over.’

  I stood over her and she dragged her gaze upwards to meet mine. Even if one ignored the bruises and grazes that decorated her cheeks, one would find it difficult to call hers a pretty face, composed as it was all of sharp angles. Still, she was generously endowed and I imagined that, if she smiled rather than scowled, she would not look unattractive.

  ‘I’m told you wanted to speak with me,’ I said in English.

  ‘You are Tancred of Earnford?’

  ‘I am,’ I said. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Someone with knowledge that I think you would be interested in.’

  ‘So I’ve heard. How do you know my name?’

  ‘Who hasn’t heard of the great Tancred of Earnford?’ she asked with more than a hint of mockery. ‘Across the north men fear you, from the mead-halls of the Northumbrian thegns to the household of Eadgar Ætheling and even the court of the Scots’ king, Mael Coluim. All know of your deeds and quiver at the mere mention of your name.’

  ‘You flatter me,’ I said, without sincerity. I was fairly sure that King Mael Coluim had more pressing things to worry about than me. And while it was true that nothing had been heard recently of the ætheling, I doubted very much whether fear of me had anything to do with his hiding away in the north. ‘What is this knowledge you have for me, then?’

  ‘I will tell you, but first I want something in return.’

  ‘If I don’t know what it is I’m paying for, I’m hardly going to waste my silver, am I?’

  ‘You didn’t seem to mind when you gave your coin to those so-called spies of yours last winter.’

  That took me aback. ‘You know about them?’

  ‘One of them stayed a night at our hall,’ she said. ‘He told us all about what you’d charged him with finding out, and asked us what we knew, but mainly he was interested in bragging about how rich you’d made him.’

  My blood boiled in my veins. I wondered which of my informants that had been, and resolved to break his legs if our paths ever crossed again.

  ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘your silver isn’t what I’m interested in. All I want is your assurance that if I pass on this knowledge to you, you will let me go free.’

  ‘That isn’t my decision to make.’

  ‘You could ask.’

  She had the arrogance of youth, this one. Her husband had clearly allowed her too much rein, and that had made her overly haughty. Nevertheless, I turned to the guardsman. ‘She wants to know whether or not she’ll be allowed to go free, if she tells me what I want to know.’

  ‘She’s worth nothing to us,’ he answered. ‘Since she won’t so much as tell us her name, there’s no possibility of her kin paying ransom for her. She can go into a nunnery, or take ship back to wherever it is she came from, for all I care.’

  I nodded, and faced the girl, who could have understood none of our conversation since we had spoken in French. ‘Whether we decide to let you go depends on what you have to tell me.’

  She considered for a moment, then said, ‘I know that you seek the banner that bears the dragon and axe. I know you’re looking for your woman, Oswynn.’

  My heart was pounding. I had never told those men the reason why I’d wanted them to fetch this information for me. I had never told them who it was I was really searching for.

  ‘Oswynn,’ I breathed. ‘Do you know if she still lives?’

  ‘I cannot say, but I know the name of the man who has her, and I know where you can find him.’

  ‘Tell me,’ I said, and took a step closer, so that I was looking down upon her.

  She did not avert her gaze, or flinch at all. For one so young, she seemed very confident of herself. ‘First, give me your promise.’

  ‘You have it,’ I said. ‘Now tell me.’

  ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  ‘Don’t try my patience, girl,’ I said, and rested my hand upon the hilt of the knife at my waist. ‘I’ve said that you have my promise, and I do not make oaths lightly, so speak. What’s this man’s name?’

  She did not flinch, but merely regarded me for a moment. Without taking her eyes off me, she said: ‘The man you’re looking for is Jarl Haakon Thorolfsson. The word I have is that he was last seen in Dyflin.’

  Haakon Thorolfsson. A Danish name, and a Danish title, too. Finally I had something more to pursue than simply the face that burnt in my memory and in my nightmares.

  ‘You’re sure?’ I asked.

  ‘As sure as anyone can be of anything. Although whether he’s still there, I don’t know. He moves around. I don’t know where he has his hall, or even if he has one.’

  Dyflin. The favoured haven of outlaws and sellswords everywhere. I’d never been there but I knew it by its ill repute. A port town, it lay across the sea to the west of Britain, a day’s sail with a good wind from Ceastre, in a violent land of squabbling princelings.

  ‘How long ago did you hear this?’ I asked.

  ‘Back in the spring. Four months ago, perhaps. I don’t remember exactly. It was before we came here to Elyg, at any rate.’

  Four months ago. My spirits fell. The Danes were well known for their restless spirits, which had seen them settling all across these isles of Britain and far beyond. They were always travelling, rarely staying in one place for very long but moving wherever the winds and the scent of gold took them. This Haakon could be anywhere by now.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell the man who came to your hall about him?’ I asked.

  ‘You already know why, lord. Knowledge costs and, as I said, he wasn’t interested in paying. He was content enough to brag about his success and how he’d managed to cheat you. Next time, lord, you should find spies you can trust.’

  That was easier said than done. There was no point in telling her that such a man used to visit my manor from time to time. His name had been Byrhtwald, and as well as a reliable bearer of news had also been a good friend for the time that I knew him. He had met his end because of me, and even after a year the guilt for his death still haunted me.

  ‘How did you come to hear my woman’s name?’

  ‘My husband served with King Sweyn last year when he came across from Denmark. He was there at Beferlic, as was I. We crossed paths with Haakon a few times while the two armies were quartered together, although he and my husband were not exactly friends. That’s how I came to meet her.’

  ‘So you’ve seen her?’

  ‘Only the once, lord. But I can understand why you’re so eager to have her back, and why Haakon was so keen to show her off, too. She’s a rare beauty. Many men would kill to have a woman like her by their side, or in their bed.’

  She smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile, and again I sensed mockery in her tone, as if, even at her young age, she knew only too well the desires of men.

  ‘Where is this husband of yours now?’ I asked, feeling the need to change the subject suddenly. I didn’t like the thought of this girl speaking so of my Oswynn, when she hardly even knew her.

  ‘Dead, I suppose,’ she replied. ‘The last I saw of him was yesterday morning, when he went to fight against your king in the battle. Since he hasn’t returned yet, I’m guessing he won’t be returning at all.’

  Clearly there had been little love in that marriage. What their story was, I could only guess. At that moment, however, I had more pressing concerns.

  ‘Tell me more about this Haakon,’ I said. ‘Did he also serve Sweyn?’

  ‘No, he was sworn to the ætheling.’

  ‘Was?’

  ‘He isn’t any more.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They met at the court of King Mael Coluim three winters ago. He supported both Eadgar’s rebellions, but there was some disagreement between him and the ætheling after the failure of last year’s campaign. He took his leav
e by ship shortly afterwards. We didn’t hear of him after that, until a passing trader happened to mention him, and that’s how we learnt he was in Dyflin.’

  I was beginning to form an opinion of this Haakon. Like many Danes, he probably made his living by selling his sword and his loyalty to anyone who would offer him sufficient reward. When Eadgar’s efforts to wrest the crown of England from King Guillaume had ended in humiliation, he must have decided he would do better searching for employment or riches elsewhere.

  I only hoped I could catch up with him. Eudo might be right, I thought, and Oswynn could be many hundreds of leagues from here, but at least now I had a trail to follow, and a place to begin my search.

  ‘How would you like to go to Dyflin?’ I asked the girl.

  At once the defiance drained from her face. She paled and cast her gaze down. ‘I’ve been there before,’ she said. ‘I have no wish to go back.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, but she didn’t answer. ‘You’ve met Jarl Haakon before. Your knowledge could be useful to me. You could help me find him. And if you know the city, then all the better.’

  ‘All I want is to find passage back home, to my kin, if they still live,’ she said. ‘I’ve given you what you asked for. Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘You can either come with me, or else I can leave you here to the mercy of the king’s men. It is your choice.’

  ‘You promised, lord! You said I’d be allowed to go free!’

  ‘And you will,’ I said mildly, ‘after you’ve helped me. Then I’ll take you wherever you wish, but not before.’

  A glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes. ‘You’ll take me home?’

  That had been a rash thing to say, in hindsight. But if it would convince her, then perhaps it was worth it.

  ‘Not straightaway,’ I said. ‘First we go where I say. But as soon as my business is finished, I’ll do what I can. You have my oath.’

  She did not look at me for a long while, and I thought she might still refuse. What reason, after all, did she have to trust me?

  Eventually she gave a sigh. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, and smiled, but she did not return it. ‘One last thing. What do I call you?’

  ‘Eithne.’

  It sounded like no name I had ever heard. It was neither French nor Breton, nor, from what I could tell, Danish or English.

  ‘Eithne?’ I repeated, and she nodded.

  I called to the guardsman, who was sitting on an ironbound chest with his back to me, polishing his helmet with an oilcloth.

  ‘I’ll take her with me now, with your permission,’ I said.

  ‘You’re welcome to her,’ he said. ‘Just watch that she doesn’t gouge out your eyes, or slide a knife between your ribs while you’re not watching her.’

  ‘Have no fear for my sake,’ I said, and jerked my head in Eithne’s direction as a signal that she should follow me. The scowl was once again upon her face as she rose from her stool. I gave a nod of thanks to the guardsman as we left the tent and emerged into the sunshine.

  A new sense of purpose filled me. At last I knew what it was I had to do, and where I needed to go. To the city across the sea, that ill-famed den of villainy and treachery.

  To Dyflin.

  Fifteen

  FIVE DAYS LATER, Malet was laid to rest beneath the chancel arch in the small stone church at Heia, with all the ceremony befitting a lord of his standing. Rushlights lit the nave and candles stood upon the altar, while a thurifer spread incense to mask the smell and also remind those gathered of the ever-presence of the Holy Spirit. Prayers were said and hymns sung as Malet’s body, embalmed with cinnamon and salt, clad in a fine crimson tunic and shrouded in plain black cloth, was carried in upon a bier by Robert and five of his household knights, all dressed in white, one of the traditional mourning colours. The coffin was lowered into the hollow space beneath the stone floor, Mass was said, and afterwards alms were distributed to the men and women who worked Heia’s lands, while the church’s bell rang for nearly an hour, so that long after the procession had left and made its way across the crumbling stone bridge, beneath the browning leaves of the orchard and up the winding path that led to the castle, we could still hear its plangent notes sounding out across the manor.

  I was in the training yard with Pons and Serlo, teaching Godric some simple thrusts and parries, and how and where to move in order to outflank an opponent in single combat, when Robert called me to see him. I found him in his solar, on the up-floor of the hall in the castle, kneeling in prayer in front of the slit of scraped horn that served as a window. Ashes smouldered in the stone hearth, candles stood in the corners of the room, and tapestries covered the walls, though they weren’t enough to keep out the draughts. He was still dressed in the same white tunic and breeches, which was strange to see, given his fondness for black clothing. He looked up as the wan light of late afternoon flooded in, and rose to greet me. His eyes were red from weeping, or tiredness, or a combination of the two, and he looked suddenly much older than his twenty-eight years.

  ‘It was as my father would have wished it,’ he said.

  ‘I’m glad, lord.’

  ‘As am I,’ he said. ‘Glad, that is, that you had the chance to speak with him before he passed away.’

  ‘I’m not sure that your mother was so pleased. Nor the priest, for that matter.’

  ‘Dudo has been his most devoted servant these past couple of years. All he wanted was to ensure that my father suffered as little as possible in his final hours. As for my mother’ – Robert gave a deep sigh – ‘she still holds to the belief that you betrayed his faith in you during the business with Ælfwold, as you saw. For that she will not forgive you.’

  I stiffened. All that was more than two years in the past. How was it that talk of such things continued to plague me, after so long?

  ‘Do you hold to the same belief, lord?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘And if my father ever truly believed that you’d wronged him, don’t you think he might have discouraged me from accepting you as my man?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Not once. At heart he knew that you did the right thing, hard though that was for him to admit openly. I think in truth he always appreciated what you and your companions did for him.’

  I wasn’t entirely convinced by that, remembering all too clearly the venom with which he had spoken to me but a couple of weeks ago. The memory of that still stung, despite the kindness he’d shown on his deathbed. He would not be the first to have felt a desire for reconciliation once he realised his time was short.

  ‘In any case,’ Robert went on, ‘what has passed, has passed. Regardless of what once happened between you and my father, and regardless of whether or not he recognised your good service, you have more than proven your worth to me, and that is all that matters in my eyes.’

  ‘Yes, lord.’

  He looked troubled for a moment, but I did not press him. A draught blew in and caused the candles on the altar to gutter, and one of them to go out. There was a chill to the air, and a dampness too. Truly summer had departed.

  Using a taper, Robert relit the candle that had been extinguished. ‘I realise that I am already in your debt, Tancred. Yet there is something more that I would ask of you.’

  ‘What might that be?’

  ‘I have received a message from the king. There is trouble in Flanders.’

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘As you’ll no doubt have heard, the rightful heir to the province was killed in an ambush earlier this year at Cassel. The new count, who has no love for Normandy, is said to be gathering his barons to his banner in readiness for a campaign.’

  I knew very well about what had taken place at Cassel. Guillaume fitz Osbern, one of the king’s closest and longest-serving companions and advisers, and by most people’s reckoning the second most powerful man in England, had been sent across the Narrow Sea at the behest of Queen Mathilda, the king’s wife, to aid the
young heir, a relation of hers by the name of Arnulf, in his struggles against his enemies. He had been at the boy’s side when the attack came, and he met his end there too, which was hardly surprising given that he’d seen fit to take with him a mere ten of his household knights for protection. I couldn’t say that I was altogether sad to hear of his demise, as embarrassing a fate as it was for one so formidable. I had met him on more than one occasion and felt him to be among the most arrogant of men, with an exaggerated sense of his own importance that perhaps stemmed from his many years of friendship with the king.

  ‘A campaign against Normandy?’ I asked. ‘At this time of year? The leaves are already falling. In a couple more months it will be winter. What does the Flemish count think he can possibly achieve in so short a space of time?’

  ‘I don’t know. Nevertheless he presents enough of a threat that the king has felt the need to act. He is determined to strike against the Flemings before they have a chance to do the same to us. He wishes to remind them of their place, and to avenge Fitz Osbern’s death.’

  ‘Why should that be of any concern to us?’ I asked, though I was starting to suspect what the answer would be, and didn’t like it. ‘That is the king’s business, surely, not ours.’

  ‘He plans to sail as soon as possible, and has requested that I join him. I have sent a letter to him this afternoon with affirmation of my intention to do so.’

  ‘We’ve just spent close to three months in the field,’ I said. ‘You have fulfilled your duties to him, and more besides.’

  ‘Would that were so. But there is the small matter of the relief that I owe him, if I am to succeed to my father’s barony.’

  ‘I thought that had already been agreed, lord, when he came to pay his respects.’

  ‘It has,’ he said. ‘And, given the emptiness of our house’s treasury, and in recognition of the good service I have given him so far this year, the king has generously agreed to waive the requirement for a monetary payment, or renders in kind, if I will join him on this latest campaign.’