hesitation, and the rest of us did the same as the king jumped down from the saddle, handed his destrier’s reins to a retainer and strode towards us. Where earlier the yard had been filled with the sounds of timber being chopped and the clash of oak cudgels as men trained at arms, now a hush had fallen, broken only by the lowing of cattle in the fields and the calls of sheep in their pens, the clang of steel from the smith’s workshop some way off and the thumping of my own heart. I breathed deeply, trying to still it.
The king’s shadow fell across me. To begin with he said nothing, and I wondered whether he was expecting one of us to speak first.
Robert must have thought the same, for he began: ‘My lord king-’
‘I gave clear instruction that there were to be no more expeditions against the enemy without my permission,’ the king said, cutting him off. ‘Is that not so?’
‘It is so,’ Robert replied, not daring to meet the king’s eyes, probably wisely.
‘You know full well that we need every man we can muster for this next assault on the Isle, and that we cannot afford to waste good warriors on such reckless adventures. And yet I am told that you saw fit last night to send a raiding-party out into the marshes, almost within arrowshot of the Isle itself. This, too, is true, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, lord, but-’
‘I would have thought that you more than anyone, Robert Malet, would take care to heed my instructions, given your family’s current standing. Instead you choose to defy me. By rights I should order you strung up by the nearest tree, or at the very least have you stripped of your landholdings. Perhaps that would be a suitable punishment. What do you think?’
Robert opened his mouth as if to speak and then promptly closed it again.
‘Yes,’ the king continued. ‘You would be wise to think carefully about your next words, lest they be your last.’
Never before had I seen Robert forced to bend his knee for anyone, and I confess the sight was strange, though there was no reason why it should have been. That was the order of the world, after all: every man, from the poorest swineherd to the most powerful baron, was bound by oaths to someone else, and in the same way the king was bound to God’s service, obligated to govern his subjects well and to uphold the virtues of our faith. This I knew, and yet in spite of that I couldn’t help the anger welling inside me as Robert, the lord whom I respected, was forced to humble himself. Anger, and not a little guilt too, since it was because of me that he found himself in such a position.
‘Have you nothing to say?’ the king asked with a smirk. ‘Well, perhaps that is for the best. Fortunately you find me in good humour this morning, so I am prepared to overlook your misdeed on this occasion, especially since you have brought me this gift.’ He turned his attention upon Godric, whose head was bowed, his whole body trembling. ‘So this is your captive,’ he said. ‘Godric, thegn of Corbei.’
‘He claims to be the son of Morcar’s brother,’ Robert said.
‘I know well who he is,’ the king snapped, his tone as sharp as a butcher’s cleaver. ‘We have met before, although the last time our paths crossed, he was, I believe, still a boy under the fosterage of his uncle, not a man full-grown.’
His voice was thick with scorn, but if he was trying to provoke a response from Godric, he was disappointed.
‘Look at me,’ he said, and when the Englishman did not obey, he repeated more forcefully: ‘Look at me!’
Slowly and with not a little reluctance, Godric raised his head, his gaze eventually coming to rest on his king, and I saw the lump in his throat as he swallowed.
‘Not so long ago you and your uncle gave oaths to be my loyal servants,’ the king said. ‘Now, however, you renounce those oaths and ally yourselves with the rebels upon the Isle. You are a worthless creature, a perjurer and a traitor.’
‘No, lord,’ Godric protested. ‘I will p-pledge my allegiance to you anew, if you will only …’
He didn’t finish, for the king had drawn his sword from its sheath and was turning it over slowly, showing the Englishman the swirling smoke-like pattern embedded in the steel, and the keenness of its point. It was indeed a fine weapon, as one would expect, although clearly meant for display rather than fighting, since there was not a single nick anywhere along the edge, or any other mark to suggest it had ever seen use on the field of battle.
‘By rights I should kill you now and be done with you,’ said King Guillaume, and raised the tip of the blade so that it gently touched against the skin beneath Godric’s chin, not enough to draw blood but enough that a single slip of his hand would spell the Englishman’s death. ‘Perhaps I will send your head back to your uncle Morcar as an example of how I deal with those who dare rise against me.’
‘Please, lord, no,’ said Godric, his eyes closed tight as if expecting the killing cut to come at any moment. ‘Have m-mercy, I beg of you.’
‘If you wish mercy,’ the king said, ‘then first you must earn it.’
‘Whatever you ask, lord, I will do it.’
The king regarded him for long moments. Around us the first few raindrops pattered upon the mud, while the breeze tugged at the scarlet cloaks of the king’s guard and caused the pennons nailed to their lances to flutter. Eventually he withdrew the weapon, returning it to its sheath with a whisper of steel, while with his other hand he gave a signal to one of his retainers. The sun was behind him and so at first I could not make out the man’s features, save that he was dressed in long, black robes, but then he stepped closer and I made out his shining pate and the small, hard eyes squinting out from beneath owlish brows.
Atselin.
I stared at him, and he at me. A quizzical look came across his face as he recognised me, as if he hadn’t been expecting to find me here, but it quickly disappeared as his brows hardened into a frown. In truth I was just as surprised to see him. Although he was chief among the clerks and scribes of the royal household gathered here at Brandune, for some reason I hadn’t thought he would be known to the king himself.
‘Brother Atselin,’ the king said, ‘may I rely on you to bear witness and to write down anything of note that our English friend may say?’
The monk broke off his stare, blinking once as a raindrop struck the end of his prominent nose, and then again as another bounced off his tonsured head.
‘Of course, my king,’ he said stiffly. From somewhere within the folds of his robe he produced a wax writing-tablet, along with a stylus carved from what looked like either bone or ivory. ‘Although perhaps it would be best if we venture inside,’ he added, pointing towards the sky just as the sun disappeared behind the dark cloud. ‘Before we are all drowned.’
Hardly had he finished speaking than the deluge began, so suddenly and with such force that it seemed all the heavens were crashing down upon us. Hard drops bounced upon the yard and lashed my back, plastering my hair against my head and my tunic to my skin. Without delay, the king made for the hall, leaving his retainers to see to their horses, and the rest of us followed him.
Godric alone was reluctant to move, but Eudo and I hauled him to his feet and dragged him inside, where his fate would be decided.
The rain pummelled upon the thatch. From one dark corner of the hall came a steady drip-drip as it seeped through a hole and fell upon the floor, where it formed a pool, in which fragments of rushes floated.
‘Speak, then,’ the king said when we were once more gathered around the hearth-fire. ‘Tell me everything you know about your army.’
Godric sat with hands tied on the stool before the fire, his face lit by its flickering glow. ‘Everything?’
‘Everything,’ the king repeated, his expression hardening. ‘I want you to tell me how many men you have, how well they’re armed, how they’re divided and who commands them. How well is Elyg defended? Are there walls, a stockade and a castle mound? What is the mood within your camp?’
‘What do you wish to know first?’
‘Give me numbers. How many men of fighting age do you have?’
‘A thousand?’ Godric hazarded. ‘Possibly more than that.’
The king snorted, as well he might. ‘A thousand? You expect me to believe that?’
The real number, we suspected, was probably three times that. In the absence of any reliable information, however, it was admittedly something of a guess.
‘How should I know, lord?’ Godric said, a note of despair in his voice. ‘I haven’t counted them myself.’
