‘He came to these parts only a week ago, they say,’ Eithne told me. ‘They all started running as soon as they saw the crimson sails of his ship appearing from the mist, but it turned out he hadn’t come with any intention of raiding.’
These people had precious little that was worth stealing, so that was no great surprise. ‘What did he want?’
‘He was looking for men who could hold a spear. He offered to give two sheep and five geese to every man who would go with him for the winter, although naturally they were all suspicious of him, and so none accepted.’
‘Why would he be looking to hire spearmen?’ Magnus wondered aloud. ‘He can’t be planning on going foraging at this time of year, surely?’
‘Maybe he’s looking to bolster his defences,’ I said.
‘But why?’ The Englishman hesitated. ‘Unless-’
‘Unless he knows we’re coming,’ I finished for him.
And I could explain, too, how he knew. Only one person who wasn’t a part of our expedition was aware that we were seeking out Jarl Haakon, and why. I wondered how much he’d been paid for his information, and felt embarrassed at having only the other evening been concerned for him out there on the wild and open ocean. Now I hoped that he choked on his next meal.
Old Snorri, who had deceived us with his friendly manner, had betrayed us to our enemy.
Haakon knew, then, that Magnus was coming for him, and that was why he was looking to purchase the services of fighting men, to help guard the walls of his stronghold. But I hadn’t revealed my real name to the trader, so Haakon couldn’t yet know that accompanying Harold’s son was the knight Tancred, nor that he brought with him a second shipload of warriors, allies from England. He remained ignorant of exactly how many we numbered, and that was one advantage we still held over him.
Events in England had been moving apace in the short time that I’d been away. During those days as we crept up the coast of northern Britain, Wace and Eudo related how King Guillaume had accepted the submission of the principal leaders of the Elyg rebels, granting forgiveness and receiving them at court. No sooner had they dismissed their armies and sent all their followers home in time for the ploughing season, however, than he cast them all in chains and confined them to the castle dungeon at Cantebrigia until he decided what to do with them.
‘He did that?’ I asked, having joined my countrymen on
‘That’s what we’ve been hearing,’ Eudo said. He turned to Godric. ‘It means there’ll be no earldom for your uncle. All Morcar’s estates and those of his vassals have been confiscated.’
Godric grunted. His lips were set firm, his expression unfeeling. ‘It’s no more than he deserves.’
Wace grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s lucky that you’re with Tancred now, isn’t it, whelp?’
‘Otherwise you’d be rotting away along with Morcar in whatever dank prison the king finds for him,’ Eudo added.
Godric said nothing, and I wondered if he wasn’t perhaps feeling a little guilty at having evaded such a fate, at having turned his back upon his uncle, who had, after all, sheltered him for so many years. Yet he had nothing to feel ashamed of. Morcar had broken promise after promise, first to the king and then to the rebels, committing one betrayal after another, playing both sides to his advantage. In hindsight he’d been foolish to think that the king would act any more honourably towards him. He had brought about his own ruin.
‘They’re still looking for Hereward, you know,’ Wace said.
‘Still?’ I asked. ‘They haven’t given up?’
‘The king is convinced he’s out there somewhere, hiding, plotting. Several bodies were pulled from the marsh in the week or so after the battle, we’re told, one of which was supposedly about the same size and build as Hereward, but his flesh was too bloated and his skin was peeling away, so no one could tell for sure. Most people seem to think he’s fled England altogether. In the meantime the king’s keeping up the search, and will probably do so all winter.’
King Guillaume was well known for his bullheadedness, as we had seen for ourselves during the campaign in the fenlands. If he had decided that Hereward remained alive and a threat, then he would do everything he could to hunt him down, even if that meant scorching the Fens to draw him out, in the same way that he’d ravaged the north during his campaign last winter.
News wasn’t the only thing they’d brought from England, either. ‘We have something else for you,’ Eudo said.
Beckoning me to follow him, he made his way to the hatch that led to the hold space beneath the steering platform, from which, with my help, he hauled out a small chest about half as long as a man was high, with iron handles mounted on either end.
‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘A gift?’
He didn’t answer, but untied the leather thong that was attached to his belt and held out the key that had been hanging from it. Not quite sure what to expect, I took it from him, eyeing him suspiciously, then knelt down, placed it in the lock, twisted until I felt it click, then lifted open the lid-
To find my packs, just as I had left them at Heia, as well as a sword in its scabbard, wrapped in a bundle of white cloth. And not just any sword. Its hilt was decorated with a single turquoise stone, set into the centre of the disc pommel.
A turquoise stone that I recognised at once.
‘We both reckoned that if you were to go back to face Robert, it would be better if you didn’t arrive looking like a flea-ridden beggar, but had your blade and all your other belongings,’ Eudo said with a grin.
I was too surprised and overjoyed even to think, let alone find the words to thank him. Laughing in delight, I lifted the scabbard, still shrouded in its cloth, out from the chest, laying it on the deck beside me, and drew the blade from the sheath. The steel had been recently polished so that, even in the small light of that dull day, it gleamed like silver.
‘Open out the cloth,’ Wace said, having come to join us.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘Why?’
‘Unfurl it, and you’ll see.’
Carefully I unwound the thick bolt of linen from around the scabbard, wondering if perhaps there was something else wrapped inside, although I couldn’t think what. It only took me a moment to realise what I was holding, as I glimpsed first a wing and then the head with its short, curved beak, the bird emblazoned in black upon a white field, in flight with talons extended as if stooping for the kill. The hawk of Earnford — and of Commines, too, for it had also been the symbol of our former lord. When the time had come for me to choose a banner of my own, I’d adopted the device as a mark of respect, thinking that I would thereby serve his memory in the same way that I had served the man himself.
‘I almost forgot,’ I heard Eudo call, as he disappeared back into the hold space. ‘There’s one more thing.’
He emerged a moment later holding a shield, which like my banner bore the symbol of the hawk, although rather more crudely depicted, since whereas I’d entrusted the task of making the banner to the women of Earnford, I’d insisted on painting all my shields myself, and had spent long hours working under the sun and by the light of the hearth-fire daubing white and black on to the hide that faced the limewood boards until they appeared how I wanted them, or close enough to the image I held in my head as to satisfy me. Some laughed when they saw my efforts, reckoning that my hawks looked more like magpies or moorhens, but I didn’t care.
For a shield is not only a knight’s protection, it is also his pride, and any warrior who values his life knows to pay as much attention to his shield as to his mail and his blades. That said, even the sturdiest of them rarely lasts long in the hands of one who lives his life by the sword, and this one had seen happier days. The boss was scuffed and dented, and there were grimy marks upon the paintwork, which might have been mud or blood or a combination of both. How much longer this one would last until the iron rim cracked and the limewood began to splinter, I couldn’t say with any certainty, but none of that mattered right now. Eudo held it out to me and I took it gratefully, passing the long guige strap over my head and then working my forearm through the brases, adjusting
