The Bloodstained Throne

under.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Magnus. ‘But I know these marshes like the back of my hand. If the sailors gain on us, we shall hide in a channel. Of course, that might be a mistake if the tide comes in. .’

‘Then we should stay well ahead,’ said Geoffrey, breaking into the steady trot that he could maintain for hours, even in full armour. ‘Although they have no reason to attack us.’

The others seemed to think differently, but they were struggling to keep up and made no reply. Roger was breathing hard under the weight of his possessions, while Juhel’s chicken cackled her displeasure at the way she was being jostled. Bale began to lag behind, and Ulfrith was obliged to mutter encouragement to keep him going. Magnus was the only one who seemed happy running, and Geoffrey wondered how much of it the Saxon pretender had done in his life.

‘So,’ said Magnus, using the opportunity to talk, ‘you do not believe I have a right to my throne?’

‘I do not believe you can take it from Henry,’ corrected Geoffrey. ‘Belleme tried it last summer and failed — and he had troops and castles.’

‘I do not intend to fight him in open warfare,’ said Magnus contemptuously. ‘There are other ways to topple a tyrant. I shall-’

‘No,’ interrupted Geoffrey. ‘I do not want to know. And you can leave Roger out of it, too. I will not allow him to become embroiled in something so dangerous. We will travel with you to the abbey, but after that you are on your own.’

Magnus smiled under his silver moustache. ‘We shall see. But let us talk of other matters, since we are the only ones with the breath to do so. You have not said who you think killed Vitalis.’

‘That is because I do not know.’

‘Well, he was an aggressive Norman fool, and you should not waste your time. He had the temerity to say that I look nothing like my father.’

‘Did he?’ asked Geoffrey, uninterested.

‘He said he fought at Hastinges. So did I — well, perhaps I did not fight exactly, but I was there, at my mother’s side. However, I know what my father looked like, and I am his very image.’

‘My father said he was sturdy and strong,’ said Geoffrey pointedly.

‘Quite,’ said Magnus, preening. ‘And he had thick yellow hair, just like me.’

‘Yours is grey.’

Magnus sighed impatiently. ‘Yes, but it was yellow once. It is the sign of a true Saxon.’

He glanced behind and increased his pace when he saw one of the sailors had gained ground. Then he ducked down a smaller path, muttering something about a shortcut. Bale blundered after him, too winded to care what he was doing, and Ulfrith followed Bale. Juhel slogged along behind them, short legs pumping furiously. Geoffrey waited for Roger.

‘Magnus seems very eager to avoid meeting Fingar,’ he said. ‘Should we be suspicious?’

Roger shrugged, one hand to his side to ease a stitch. ‘God knows. But I do not want to be out here when the storm comes. He seems to know this area, so I am willing to stay with him for now.’

‘I am not sure it is wise to keep company with a man who claims to be England’s rightful heir. Henry has spies everywhere, and it will not be long before Magnus’s presence is discovered. Anyone who has consorted with him may be considered a traitor.’

‘Even Henry cannot blame us for taking the same road away from a shipwreck,’ said Roger. He shot a furtive glance behind. ‘I do not like those pirates being behind us. They may blame us for their ship sinking, and I am not in the mood for a brawl.’

‘Why would they think that? And why are you not in the mood for a brawl? Are you ill?’

‘I do not want my good looks marred by cuts and bruises,’ retorted Roger curtly. ‘It does not go down well with the ladies.’

‘What ladies? We left Philippa and Edith behind.’

‘Philippa,’ growled Roger in distaste, changing the subject. ‘Is she the reason Ulfrith hit you? Because you accused her of murder?’

‘You know?’ Geoffrey was astonished. Roger was not normally astute.

‘I can tell by his sheepish manner. He has gone for me in the past, too, although I did not come off as badly as you seem to have done.’

‘And I thought I was the one with the dangerous squire!’

Roger grinned. ‘I do not mind him displaying the odd flare of temper. Indeed, I encourage it, because otherwise he is too gentle for his own good. But he should not have tried it on you.’

‘No, and he only got away with it because of my promise to Joan.’

Roger began running to catch up with the others. Before he followed, Geoffrey glanced back to see the seamen streaming along in their wake. Then he saw Fingar point directly at him. Several whoops sounded as the crew put on a spurt of speed.

Magnus’s shortcut led in an almost straight line across the marshes, but it was sodden from recent storms. In places it had sunk below the surrounding land and was virtually indistinguishable from the matted, boggy vegetation that lay in all directions. Progress was agonizingly slow, and the only consolation was that it was slow for their pursuers, too.

‘This is near where the Conqueror’s first troops landed,’ Ulfrith announced brightly. He either did not see or did not understand Magnus’s malevolent glare — he was trying to inveigle his way back into the knights’ good graces and was oblivious to the reactions of everyone except them.

‘Is it?’ asked Roger keenly. ‘I would like to see the place where the battle was fought.’

‘You will,’ said Ulfrith, transparently obsequious. ‘Because the abbey we are heading for is La Batailge — Battle Abbey. The Conqueror built it on the exact spot to atone for all the slaughter.’

‘I hope the buildings have not obscured the site, then,’ said Roger disapprovingly. ‘Or we shall never understand and appreciate the Conqueror’s tactics.’

Ulfrith shrugged. ‘Apparently, he thought founding an abbey would save him doing penance for starting a war — he was not thinking about preserving the field in its original condition.’

‘I do not need to do penance for starting fights or for my sins,’ declared Roger grandly. ‘I am a Jerosolimitanus, which means all that sort of thing is taken care of.’

‘All the abbeys in the world will not atone for what happened that day,’ said Magnus in a cold voice. ‘Saxon blood still screams out for vengeance. And I shall see it done.’

‘How?’ asked Roger curiously. ‘By raising an army? By shooting Henry when he is off guard? By urging Belleme or the Duke of Normandy to invade and help you?’

‘I have not decided yet,’ said Magnus.

Roger laughed, then began a lively debate with Ulfrith about the best way to topple a king. Bale and Juhel were lagging behind, gasping like old nags, although Bale was not so breathless that he could not speak: he was regaling Juhel with a bloody account of the battle that he had heard from Geoffrey’s father. Godric Mappestone had often entertained his villagers with tales of his military prowess, and Bale had been one of the few who had actually listened.

‘I thought King Harold’s sons were named Harold and Ulf,’ Geoffrey said to Magnus, noting that the sailors, unused to travelling long distances on foot, were falling behind.

At his side, the dog growled, so he slipped his belt around its neck. He knew from the wild look in its eyes that it did not like Magnus, and it would only be a matter of time before blood was spilled. As the dog was cowardly and never attacked unless it was sure of success, the spillage was unlikely to be canine.

‘They were the offspring of his union with Queen Ealdgyth,’ explained Magnus. ‘Twins, born after he died. But my mother was his handfast wife, Edith Swannehals.’

‘You are illegitimate?’ asked Geoffrey, realizing as he spoke that it was not a question to pose to such a proud man. He was right. Magnus stopped abruptly to glare at him.

‘You impertinent dog! Still, I expect no better from Norman scum. They are incapable of decency, and having been on the Crusade makes you even more of a villain.’

Geoffrey blinked, unused to men insulting him quite so brazenly. Most took one look at his surcoat and weapons and opted for politeness. He could only suppose that Magnus was more of a lunatic than he had