Knights of the Hawk

night. I saw his purple-and-yellow banner.’

‘I’m not denying that Eadgar was there, but he wasn’t the one who broke down the gates of the stronghold and torched the mead-hall. That was Haakon’s doing.’

I stared at him, confused. ‘No,’ I said, surprised that Magnus could have heard it so wrong. ‘It was Eadgar who stormed the gates. He burnt the mead-hall.’

With Robert de Commines, my lord, inside. Had I not, weeks later, stood face to face with the ætheling whilst he bragged of how he had murdered him? Had all that been but a dream?

‘So Eadgar would have everyone believe. He wanted to be the one to kill Earl Robert, but Haakon desired the glory for himself. What I’ve been told is that while the aetheling was occupied elsewhere in the town, he took it upon himself to storm the stronghold.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘If that’s true, then why haven’t I learnt of this before now?’

‘Because Eadgar paid Haakon and all his followers to keep their mouths shut, and paid them very generously at that.’

My mind was reeling. None of this was making sense. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘At the time he was seeking the support of a number of the great Northumbrian lords, many of whom still doubted Eadgar’s stomach for a fight, and didn’t believe in his conviction or his ability to mount a full campaign. The ætheling needed them to believe he was the one, and he alone, who burnt Dunholm, who killed Earl Robert and destroyed his army, if he was to bring their spears under his banner.’

‘But why should the truth only come out now?’

The Englishman shrugged. ‘Now that Eadgar’s rebellion has been crushed and he’s fled to the protection of the King of Alba, most of those supporters have deserted him. I suppose Haakon thought there was no need to hide it any longer. Probably he was tired of keeping it a secret and wanted, finally, to boast of his triumph. I only heard this from someone who learnt it from a passing trader, so how much of it’s true, I can’t say. Still, it would explain how your woman came to be with him.’

It was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes. At a single stroke most of what I thought I knew about what had happened that night was swept away, revealed for the lie it was.

How many times had I played over those events in my mind, trying to think of some way that it could have been different, something I could have done to turn the battle and save my lord? How many times had I dreamt of exacting my revenge upon Eadgar for what he’d done, for all of my sword-brothers he had slain, for all the Norman blood he had spilt?

All this while I had been swearing vengeance upon the wrong man. It wasn’t Eadgar I needed to kill, after all. It was Haakon Thorolfsson.

Until now, though I would never have admitted it to Magnus, I’d been wondering whether it would even be necessary to mount an attack on the Dane’s fortress if I could negotiate with him a price for Oswynn’s release. Now, however, I realised that nothing less than his blood would satisfy me.

And I, not Harold’s son, would take his life. My hand would deal the telling blow. I would do it slowly, and make him suffer as he had made my lord suffer. I’d do to him all the things that, long ago, I’d sworn to do to Eadgar. I would put out his eyes and sever his balls, cut out his tongue so that he could not scream, and only then would I kill him, slicing open his belly and burying my sword-point deep in his chest, in his heart, and when I was done I would leave his broken corpse for the carrion birds to feast upon.

Even then it wouldn’t be justice. Not after what he had done. Nothing could be.

But it would be enough.

The following day we saw the ship again, only this time she was a little closer than before. Close enough, at least, that we could make out the black and yellow stripes of her sail.

Wyvern.

She must have seen us, for she stayed on our tail for more than an hour that afternoon, gradually overhauling us, until a sudden squall blew in, lashing us with rain and hail and churning the waves into a foaming tumult that harried Nihtegesa’s hull and splintered into trails of froth that cascaded up and over the gunwale and soaked us to our skin. The timbers creaked and shudders ran along the whole length of the ship. We shipped the oars so that they did not shear, and had to bail water out of the bilges just to stay afloat, but one good thing came of it, for amidst the low clouds and the heaving waves we managed to lose Wyvern. When finally the rain ceased and the clouds passed over and we saw the evening sun disappearing over the thickly wooded lands that lay to larboard, there was no sign of her.

‘Your friends are certainly determined,’ Magnus said that night when we lay at anchor. He’d brought us into a narrow cove, which was difficult for anyone who wasn’t familiar with the land and its rivers to spot from out at sea, but which offered good shelter from the wind. ‘It’s lucky for you I know these coasts, or else there’s a good chance they’d have caught us already.’

I couldn’t argue with him on that, although admittedly there’d been a moment earlier that day, before the squall, when I had doubted him. In an effort to maintain some distance between us and our pursuers, he had ordered Uhtferth to steer us hard by a headland, too close for my liking to the looming crags and sharp rock stacks that jutted proud of the waves. The wind had gusted in Nihtegesa’s sail and more than once I’d murmured a prayer to God, thinking it was about take her and dash us against those cliffs in a tangle of broken timbers, but fortunately Uhtferth and his crew had a good feeling for the currents and the swell, and we’d raced swiftly past without coming to harm.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said.

‘About what?’

‘About how much easier it would be next time not to try to evade these friends of yours, but to hand you over to them instead. How much do you think they’ll offer in return?’

‘They won’t give you anything,’ I said. ‘You’ll be fortunate if you manage to escape with your life, once they learn who you are. And you can be sure that I’ll tell them, if you dare betray me.’

He contemplated that for a moment, unspeaking, as Nihtegesa bobbed on the tide.

‘That’s why you wanted to flee Dyflin that night, isn’t it?’ I asked. ‘Not for my sake, but because, even now, you fear what they would do to you if they ever caught up with you.’

Again he didn’t answer me, and I took that as a sign I was right. Water slapped against the hull and the anchor chain grazed the timbers. Some of the crew were still awake, but most had fallen asleep, huddled beneath blankets next to their sea chests, while Godric, Eithne, Serlo and Pons had bedded down on the bow platform. Even after spending two days at sea in close quarters, my band and Magnus’s tended to keep themselves apart as much as possible, with at least one man from each party staying awake at all times to keep lookout during the night. Tonight, partly to ease the lingering hostility between English and Normans, among whom Magnus’s men counted Godric for having thrown in his lot with me, we had each nominated ourselves to take the first watch.

‘I should have left you there,’ Magnus said ruefully after a while.

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Because …’ he began, and then hesitated. ‘Because I have few enough allies left these days. I knew that if I was to do this, I’d need all the men I could muster, and another four swords could prove useful. You seemed every bit as desperate as myself, and for that reason I felt I could trust you.’

How flimsy were the bonds that held us together. Perhaps that had always been so. Alliances were rarely forged through mere friendship, after all, but out of convenience, in the hope of mutual gain, and because both parties shared a common interest. He owed me nothing; he didn’t even like me, not really, despite the many ways in which we were similar. For the time being we were useful to each other, and that was all that mattered.

For two more days we ran north with a swift following breeze, and saw no more sign of Wyvern, but on the third day the wind dropped and there was barely enough to make the sailcloth flap, which meant we were forced to go under oar alone. Each of us, even Magnus, took our turn to sit upon the sea chests and bend our backs to the waves. It was hard work, even for one like myself who was well used to long days of exertion, spending almost every day practising at arms or in the saddle. When my stint had finished and it was time for someone else to take my place, my hands were raw, my forearms glistening with sweat, my bones aching and my throat parched. I was searching for some water with which to moisten my lips and tongue, for they had grown dry with the salt air, when Ælfhelm, who was keeping watch on the steering platform, gave a sharp shout.