Lionheart

by a drunken stupor that lasted until very early the next morning.

I awoke to the sensation of my shoulders being shaken.

‘Wake up, Sir Ranulf, wake up!’

It was too dark to recognize who was shaking me until he held a candle in front of his face. It was Godric.

‘Godric! What do you want? It’s the middle of the night—’

‘Not quite, Sir Ranulf, but it is very early, the cock hasn’t crowed yet. The Earl is up and dressed, he wants us ready to ride in ten minutes.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, sir, he didn’t say.’

I threw some water on my face and got my weapons and armour ready as quickly as I could. When I arrived at the stables, the Earl and Father Alun were already in their saddles, and Godric and his men were in the process of mounting. The Earl had a lantern in his hand, which he held high to light our way. I looked towards the east, where there was no hint of dawn. Nothing stirred in Bordeaux; it felt like the middle of the night.

‘I should have warned you about drinking with Father Alun. He has hollow legs, and always has a clear head the next day.’

The Earl laughed as he kicked on. Jumping on to my horse, which did little to improve the painful consequences of my night of indulgence, I called after him.

‘May I ask where we are going, my Lord?’

‘We are going to teach the Duke some manners.’

I looked at Father Alun.

‘Is he serious?’

‘Oh yes, he’s serious!’

We were soon at Duke Richard’s camp and rode through the perimeter of his picket lines unchallenged. Earl Harold beckoned to us to dismount about fifty yards from the Duke’s tent, where we left our horses with Modig.

The Earl extinguished his lantern, drew his sword and marched onwards with purposeful strides. We approached our quarry’s tent from the rear, and the Earl signalled to Godric to take Rodor and deal with the two men guarding the entrance. Shortly afterwards, and following some muffled blows, two limp shapes, gagged and bound hand and foot, were dragged towards us and deposited in a heap at our feet. The Earl then relit his lantern from the guards’ brazier before whispering to Godric and his men to stand guard.

With Father Alun and myself in his wake, Earl Harold marched into Duke Richard’s tent.

There was now a less sweet but equally pungent aroma inside the tent, a heady mix of sour alcohol and stale bodies, the aura of which was of no benefit to my fragile condition. A large butt stood to one side, still full of water for bathing, but its contents now more closely resembled a greasy broth than fresh water. There were two prone knights next to the butt, each entwined with a female companion. All began to stir. The two girls began to shriek as the knights got to their feet and made a grab for their swords. Earl Harold kicked one in his midriff with a ferocious blow and hit the second one on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword.

Without hesitation, the Earl then threw back the curtain to the Duke’s chamber and strode in. All was still inside. A pert female backside was partly exposed beneath several layers of rugs and bedding. It moved a little, but only to emit an audible fart. Earl Harold grimaced, his contemptuous countenance only made more scornful by the young woman’s prosaic bodily functions.

Duke Richard’s outline was difficult to discern, but eventually a slight movement next to the girl revealed his presence. He pushed the young woman, a tiny creature not much older than a child, to one side and sat upright. He rubbed his eyes, his vision blurred by the bright lantern.

‘Who is in my tent? Show yourself.’

Earl Harold answered with an austere tone I had not heard before.

‘It is the Earl of Huntingdon.’

‘What do you want at this ungodly hour?’

The Earl turned to Father Alun.

‘Get the girl out. Give her a shilling and send her on her way.’

The Duke was not best pleased that his plaything was being sent away.

‘I haven’t finished with her. She’s got the body of a snake and the temperament of a whore.’

‘That’s because she is a whore!’

With a heavy thump to her backside, the Earl lent his boot to her momentum as she rushed towards the entrance of the tent. Despite his nakedness, Duke Richard immediately moved towards us threateningly. I steadied myself, ready to make sure he did not lay hands on Earl Harold, but there was no need. The Earl took a huge swipe with the back of his gauntlet and caught Duke Richard across the side of the face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Before the stricken man could move, Earl Harold was above him. He placed a boot on the Duke’s throat and held the point of his sword under his chin. The two knights behind us had stirred by now and were looking for their weapons, but a gesture from Duke Richard told them to stay their hands.

Earl Harold looked at the young man at his feet with a flash of anger that I had rarely seen from anyone.

‘I don’t mind you drinking and whoring – we’ve all done plenty of that in our time – but I’m here to tell you about two things that are unforgivable.’

The Duke, embarrassed and angry, tried to respond in kind.

‘Who are you to tell me anything?’

‘I am your great-uncle – in name, at least. I was “uncle” to your father and his brothers, and I was your grandmother’s most trusted friend. She was very fond of you and was particularly keen that your future be safeguarded. She entrusted me with your safety when you came of age. Now that you are marauding around Aquitaine with an army, I think it is time. Your father, King Henry, agrees and has given me his blessing.’

The Duke’s anger subsided, but not his discomfort.

‘Let me get up; you have made your point.’

The Earl removed his foot from Duke Richard’s throat and threw a pile of discarded clothes at him.

‘Get dressed and we’ll talk.’ Earl Harold then barked an order at me. ‘Tell Godric to rouse the Duke’s stewards; he needs some breakfast.’

The idea of breakfast seemed odd – not only to my delicate stomach, but also because it still seemed like the middle of the night.

Twenty minutes later, the tent had been put back into reasonable order and the stewards were serving food and fresh beer. The Earl had found himself a chair and seemed more relaxed. I looked at him closely. The disdainful demeanour had gone, and he looked more exhausted than scornful. I suddenly remembered his age. What he had just done was remarkable: he had chastised a man who was half a foot taller than him and a quarter of his age. My respect for him grew even more.

The Duke had dismissed several knights who, somewhat belatedly, had rushed to his aid. He had made himself look presentable and now sat down next to Earl Harold. The young man took several swigs of beer and fiddled with his jaw, which was obviously sore from the blow Earl Harold had inflicted on him. He then spat a mixture of blood and beer into a cuspidor at his feet.

‘Did you reprimand my father like this when he was a boy?’

‘No, I would never strike a child like that – only a grown man who was acting like one!’

The Duke took another quaff of beer and smiled humbly.

‘So, “Uncle”, I suppose I am well and truly struck down, body and soul.’

‘Yes, but you will recover quickly.’

‘You said there were two things I had done that were unforgivable?’

‘I did. Let me address them. First of all, you insulted the Empress Matilda. Apart from being your grandmother and largely responsible for your father becoming King, thus securing your inheritance, she was one of the finest women in Europe. You were only a boy when she died, but she was brave, kind and dignified; she loved her family, her kith and kin in Normandy and England, and believed passionately in the future of your father’s