Godric. They had followed me this far, across marsh and moor, hills and hollows, and were prepared to follow me even into exile, beyond King Guillaume’s realm entirely, across the grey and stormy seas to parts unknown. They needed food and rest, as I did. I owed them that much, and if I could not grant it then I was a poor lord indeed.
‘One night,’ I agreed. ‘But tomorrow, we go.’
‘I’ll post Odgar, Ceawlin and a couple of the other lads on watch along each of the tracks leading to the manor,’ Galfrid said. ‘If they spot anyone coming, they’ll come running straightaway to give us warning.’
I smiled in thanks, at the same time wishing that there was some way I could repay the loyalty and kindness they had shown me. For all too soon I would be forced to leave this place behind me, and I had no way of knowing when or even if I would return.
Galfrid was as good as his word, and better. I didn’t think anyone would try to come by dark, when the paths through the woods could prove treacherous to those who didn’t know them well, but he sent those lads nevertheless, and bade a handful of the older ones sleep that night in the hall as added protection for us. He armed them with spears and knives so that if it came to a fight they could defend themselves, though thankfully it never came to that. This business was entirely of my own making, this quarrel with Robert mine and mine alone. While I was grateful to have others on my side, I didn’t want to see anyone else killed or hurt because of it.
Sleep did not come easily that night, and when it did come it was broken by swirling, confused dreams, in which I found myself travelling through places both familiar and strange, from Commines in distant Flanders to the fastness on the promontory at Dunholm, where my first lord had met his end, across barren wildernesses, through forests so dense that the sun’s light could not penetrate them, on high mountain paths and ancient roads that stretched as far as I could see in either direction. Everywhere I saw the faces of sword-brothers long dead, whose names I couldn’t remember, but who at one time had been good friends of mine. By the roadside stood men unknown to me, with scarred cheeks, broken noses and blood-encrusted hollows where their eyes had once been. They shouted at me, accusing me of being the one who had sent them to their graves, and tried to crowd around me, to drag me from my horse. Wildly I struck out with my blade, hoping to dispatch them back to the earth where they belonged, but the moment its edge found flesh they began to flee, running faster than I could pursue them, in every direction, through twisting alleyways and streets thick with mud, between collapsing houses and writhing towers of flame. And then I heard a woman’s voice calling my name.
Oswynn.
I glanced about, searching for her face, but could not find her whichever direction I looked in. And then I turned once more and saw his face. The face of the man I had been seeking: the Danish jarl, Haakon Thorolfsson, with his wiry, greying hair trailing down his back, riding a white horse whose eyes burnt bright orange and whose nostrils spouted clouds of smoke, like the dragon that decorated his banner.
He saw me then, but no words came from his lips. Instead he began to laugh: a great thunderous sound that seemed to echo through the very ground and which caused flaming brands to topple from the nearest building, showering me with sparks, blinding me with their light, and my cloak and tunic and hair were suddenly ablaze, and my mount was rearing up and I was thrashing around, trying at one and the same time to tear the clothes from my back and to put out the flames before they consumed me too-
And that was when I awoke, breathless, my brow running with sweat, the linen bedsheets and woollen blanket that covered them wound about me, the chamber spinning. I blinked, trying to clear the image of the blaze from my mind. The hall was dark, although I could see a glimmer of grey light breaking in through the crack under the door, while from outside came the chirruping of thrushes, heralding the dawn.
A few strands of straw from the mattress had become stuck to my tunic, and I brushed them off as I rose and made my way towards the door, stepping lightly between the sleeping forms of the rest of my party, trying not to rouse them.
Out in the yard all was quiet save for a few chickens scratching at the dirt, but I noticed that the door to the stables lay open, which suggested Ædda was already about. I had seen him the previous night, although the last light was fast fading when he returned, having spent the day taking one of the palfreys to be reshod, which meant a journey of ten miles each way to the nearest manor with a farrier. One of my closest friends among the English, he was a quiet man, who kept largely to his own company, and I was pleased to see he hadn’t changed since I’d last seen him, except in one respect.
‘I have a wife, lord,’ he’d said.
‘A wife?’ I asked, overjoyed though at the same time more than a little surprised. We’d been gone a matter of months, after all. ‘Who is she? When did this happen?’
‘I first met her at the market in Leomynstre, about a week after you left for the Fens. Sannan, her name is. A tanner’s daughter, and a widow at twenty-three.’
‘Twenty-three?’ I repeated.
He gave a boyish grin, and there was a glint in his one remaining eye, which was a rare thing from someone who was usually so sombre. Ædda had long ago lost count of how many summers he had seen, although to judge by his weathered appearance I reckoned he was probably a good ten years older than myself.
‘She met my eye, and I met hers, and for both of us it was love in that moment,’ he said. ‘I’ve never known a creature so beautiful. I saw her again the next week and the one after that, and then the one after that I went to her father with the bride-price and we were wed two days later.’
I was glad for him. Men, women and children alike often feared him on account of his disfigured face, partly the result of an enemy spear that had put out one of his eyes as a youth, leaving only an ugly black scar, and partly due to the burns he’d received in an incident he’d never wished to discuss, which had left the skin across one cheek white and raw and painful to look at, though undoubtedly not as painful as it was to bear. Ædda Aneage, he was sometimes called, which meant Ædda the One-eyed, though people were careful not to speak that byname in his presence lest he became roused to anger. He was, at heart, a gentle soul, as any who knew him well would confirm, and it pleased me that he had found someone who could see past his appearance to the person within.
‘Do you want to meet her, lord?’ he asked. ‘Her mother was Welsh, but her father is English, and she speaks both tongues. She’ll be glad to meet you at last. I’ve told her all about you.’
He’d led me to his small cottage next to the sheepfolds, where Sannan was building up the fire with twigs and broken branches gathered from the woods. Truly Ædda had been blessed, for she was a fine girl, red- haired and slender, who blushed as she smiled and who was at every moment attentive to her man. Though it does me ill to admit it, I was a little jealous of him. They invited me to stay and sup with them, there being just enough food to make a meal for three, and I accepted. We filled our bellies with boiled mutton, beans and fresh- baked bread, and though the fare was simple, I was content to be there and to enjoy their company.
All this I would miss.
Now, though it was barely first light, the stableman was already at work, placing feedbags on the doors to each of the stalls.
‘Lord,’ he said with some surprise when he saw me. ‘You’re risen early.’
‘For the first time in weeks I find myself with a comfortable mattress to lie down on and I can’t even sleep the whole night through,’ I said ruefully.
Ædda did not join me in a smile. The mischievousness he’d shown yesterday was gone, and his usual sombreness had returned. Last night it had been possible to pretend that all was well, but now the day had come when I would leave Earnford behind, and we both knew it.
‘I took a stone from the hind hoof of the girl’s palfrey,’ he said. ‘He’ll need to rest that foot for a day or two, but she can take one of the others.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t mean to pry but I was wondering, lord. That girl, Eithne. Is she your-?’
‘No,’ I said, laughing, before he could finish that thought. ‘Too quarrelsome for my liking. But she’s going to help me find the one who is.’
He nodded. ‘The rest of the horses are groomed and fed. They’ll carry you as far as you need to go to.’
‘I’m going to leave Fyrheard,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if I can take him where we’re going, and I couldn’t bear to sell him to another master. But I don’t want whoever happens to be lord here after me to have him either.’
‘I’ll see that he’s well taken care of, lord, and the other destriers too. I have a friend at Clune who owes me a favour. He’ll gladly keep them for you, make sure they’re well exercised and given the finest grazing, at least
