Lionheart

Father Alun admonished them.

‘Let Sir Ranulf go, his challenge is over. He is free to leave.’

Maedoc rounded on the monk and struck him across the face with the back of his hand.

‘No one gives orders to my men, except me.’

With blood spewing from his mouth and splattering the floor, Father Alun landed on the ground with a heavy thump. Maedoc’s men still blocked the doorway. With a leer on his face, Mochan glanced down at the monk. As he did so, I seized the opportunity to pull his seax from his belt and thrust it hard under his chin. He froze, as did his two companions.

I looked Mochan in the eye.

‘Walk backwards through the door and tell your two friends to step aside.’

I saw Mochan’s eyes turn towards Maedoc, who must have nodded his assent, because he began to move through the doorway as I had asked. It was excruciating for me to walk, and I stumbled several times. But I made sure to keep the blade firmly embedded in the soft skin of Mochan’s throat. Then I saw my hostage’s expression change and heard Father Alun caution me with a gurgled cry that he managed to spit from his blood-filled mouth.

‘Sir Ranulf!’

I knew what the warning meant and quickly swayed to one side. As I did so, Maedoc’s sword passed within a hair’s breadth of my ribs and impaled Mochan through his belly. Without uttering a sound, he fell backwards and landed in a heap on the floor. Maedoc, shocked at realizing that he had killed his companion, let go of his weapon, which remained deeply embedded in Mochan’s stomach.

I seized my moment and sank my seax into the lumbering Celt’s throat until it exited at the other side. The giant man stood motionless for several moments as blood gushed from his neck like a stream of piss and ran down the wall next to him. Unable to say anything, he just stared at me incredulously. Eventually, his eyes lost all ability to focus; he took one faltering step forwards and fell over like a massive oak tree succumbing to the woodsman. The spew of his blood tracked his fall, leaving an arc of crimson on the wall and a rapidly growing puddle under his head.

Oengus and Faelan looked at one another. They both drew their swords.

Father Alun, despite his prone position and the blood pouring from his mouth, was quick to remind them that killing me would also require them to kill him. And should they do so, the Earl would be certain to hunt them down without mercy. The monk had made a crucial intervention for, with only a seax in my hand and almost no agility at my disposal, my prospects were miserable.

The two Irishmen quickly realized the realities of their situation. They took one look at their stricken companions and sheathed their swords. Moments later, with neither a glance nor a word in my direction, they were gone.

I thanked the good monk profusely before the pain and exertion got the better of me and I fell to my knees.

3. Ghosts of Bosham Manor

The next morning, despite Father Alun’s exhortations, I was on my horse and making slow progress towards London and the comforts of the garrison physicians at Westminster. Sitting was one of the few positions that was relatively painless; as long as I kept my horse at a steady pace, my progress was not too uncomfortable.

When I reached Farnham, I decided to rest with the monks at Waverley Abbey. It sits in an idyllic position by the River Wey and was an ideal place for me to recuperate and reflect on my recent misfortune.

It was early on the morning of the fourth day at Waverley when my life changed irrevocably. I was feeling much better. My feet and legs were still raw but, with the judicious use of a couple of sticks, they could bear my weight with only moderate discomfort. I was using the abbey cloisters to attempt some exercise while several Cistercian brothers, looking resplendent in their pristine white habits and black scapulars, were sitting in devout prayer and contemplation.

All was quiet, save for the gentle clack of my sticks and the soft shuffle of my bandaged feet – until, that is, heavy footsteps made a purposeful approach from behind me. With a wince of sudden pain, I made a slow turn just as my visitor spoke in his loud and distinctive voice.

‘Ranulf of Lancaster, is that you?’

The unmistakeable voice belonged to the last man I wanted to see: the Earl of Huntingdon, the instigator of the torture I had been subjected to in Winchester. Scurrying in his wake were Abbot Henry, the head of the Waverley community, Father Alun and a sergeant-at-arms with a small retinue of men. It looked like a posse seeking my arrest, but I was in no position to resist.

Rather than looking stern, the Earl smiled warmly as he neared.

‘I am so relieved that you appear to be recovering. What a dreadful ordeal you were put through. Please accept my apologies.’

Despite the warmth of the Earl’s greeting and his expression of regret, I was still wary of his motives.

‘My Lord, I accepted the challenge in good faith. But you left me at the mercy of a madman.’

‘I know, Father Alun has told me. I am very sorry. I wanted the challenge to be stern, but not an opportunity for brutality. We have tracked down Maedoc’s two accomplices. They are simple souls, but they will spend a year in Winchester’s dungeons before they are shipped back to Ireland in chains. They admitted that Maedoc was a malevolent soul, and they also explained that he wanted the opportunity for himself. He was determined to make sure that no one came through the ordeal until, eventually, he planned to offer himself for the role.’

‘Did he know what the opportunity was, my Lord?’

‘No, but he assumed it would be lucrative in some way.’

‘If I may ask, sire, is it a challenge where success will be rewarded?’

‘It may be, but there is no guarantee of that. More importantly though, it will add greatly to the vigour of a man’s soul.’

‘Then, my Lord, I am sorry I failed the examination.’

‘But you did not fail, Sir Ranulf. I want to offer you the role that so many have striven for.’

‘My Lord, I withdrew – Father Alun will attest to that.’

‘I know, but you withdrew from a test that could not have been passed. More importantly, you stood up to a thug and put an end to a reign of terror carried out in my name. For that I am eternally grateful.’

‘Sire, given my recent experience, I’m afraid I am not able to accept the challenge until I know what it involves.’

‘Under the circumstances, that is reasonable. However, I will need some time to explain what the task is. Father Alun will help me with this, because he has a particular interest in ensuring that whoever carries this responsibility is the right man. Not only that, but should you choose to undertake the responsibility, he will be your companion and wise counsel for its duration.’

‘I understand, my Lord.’

‘You must also understand this: if, after hearing what the task involves, you choose not to accept the calling, you must never repeat any of the information you are given. Never. Not to anyone. Do you understand?’

‘I do, sire.’

‘Do you follow a code of knightly chivalry?’

‘I do, my Lord, the Mos Militum, the code of the English heroes during the Great Crusade.’

‘That is good to know. Then I need your solemn oath as a knight of the realm that what you hear from me and Father Alun will be known only by you.’

‘You have my word, Earl Harold.’

‘I have an estate at Bosham. I think you will enjoy the surroundings. Many years ago, the land was held by Godwin, Earl of Wessex, the father of King Harold. Godwin is buried in the chapel there, as is the little daughter of King Cnut, who was drowned in Bosham Creek. So you see, I have leased the manor for nostalgic reasons. I thought that the old kings of England would appreciate knowing that the home of the Godwins was back in English hands.’