‘It’s hard to know for certain,’ he said. ‘But you have shown yourself to be strong so far. Given rest, and provided the wound is kept clean, I should think it will not be long. I imagine you could be walking on it within a week or two. Keep praying and God will see to it; that is the best advice I can offer.’
‘Thank you, father,’ I said.
‘I’ll see that food and drink is brought to you. It is wise to build up your strength, after all.’ The priest made to leave, his long vestments trailing across the floor. He reached the door and paused. ‘There are servants about; if there is anything else you might require, you need only call. I’ll inform my lord that you are awake. I hope that he will see you later.’
I nodded and he smiled again, just briefly, before he left, closing the door behind him.
As promised, a jug of beer was soon brought and placed beside my bed, followed shortly by some bread and cheese, apples and berries. One servant-boy helped me to sit up, placing a straw-filled pillow behind my back, while another brought some wood for the fire, which was beginning to dwindle. I ate as much as I could, but in truth I was not all that hungry, and when the same two returned later to bear away the dishes I had used, there was still most of it left.
I wondered about the chaplain,?lfwold, and why he would choose to serve a French lord such as Malet. I thought of those English lords who had submitted to King Guillaume in the months after our victory at H?stinges, many of whom remained in possession of their lands even now. Their oaths, though, had not been willingly given, but rather forced upon them, and more than two years later there remained much mistrust on both sides.
This priest, on the other hand, had said he was proud to serve the vicomte, and when he had spoken about what had taken place at Dunholm, it seemed to me that it was with genuine regret. Since we had first arrived on these shores, no Englishman I had met had ever regarded us with anything less than enmity. Why he should be any different, I could not understand.
I lay back for a while, listening to the sounds that I could hear beyond the window: the shouts of men practising at arms; the whinnying of horses; further off, the steady hammering of iron upon iron that was surely a blacksmith at work. Though I still felt weak, I was no longer gripped with tiredness as I had been before. As my head cleared, I sat up and spent some time in prayer, giving my thanks to God for having saved me, asking that He save the souls of those I had lost. It was a long while since I had last prayed properly, and I hoped that He would hear me.
It was growing late in the afternoon when I heard a knock upon the door. Even before I could answer, a man entered.
It wasn’t the priest, for this man was lean and tall — as tall as myself, perhaps, although without being able to stand opposite him it was difficult to tell. His hair, cut short in the French fashion, was a dark grey in colour, his face angular, with thick eyebrows and a scar — albeit one long-healed — down his right cheek. He was dressed in a scarlet tunic, embroidered with golden thread around the neck and cuffs. Silver rings adorned two of the fingers on his left hand. He was evidently a man of some wealth, and I wondered if this were in fact the vicomte himself.
‘Tancred a Dinant,’ he said. His voice was deep but not harsh; nevertheless its tone was that of one used to authority.
‘My lord,’ I answered, and lowered my head. It was the closest to a bow that I could manage while seated.
‘My name is Guillaume Malet. I am sure you will have heard of me.’
I couldn’t tell if that last remark was intended to be ironic or not, but there was no sign of humour in his face.
‘I’m honoured to meet you,’ I said. In my time with Lord Robert I had grown well used to dealing with men of standing. As one of the men closest to the king, he was often required at court, and many were the times that either I or Wace had accompanied him with our conrois to Westmynstre.
‘Similarly,’ Malet said. ‘Your reputation as a man of the sword is well known to me.’
He sat down on one of the stools at my bedside and held out a hand. I clasped it in my own. His grip was firm, and I noticed there were calluses on his palm, which struck me as unusual for a man of his status.
‘I knew Robert de Commines,’ he said as he released his hold. ‘I have been praying a great deal for his soul since I heard the news. His loss will be felt most keenly by all of us. He was a good man — something that seems to be increasingly rare these days.’
I felt moisture forming in the corners of my eyes, but fought it back. ‘Yes, lord.’ I did not know what else to say.
‘As I’m sure my chaplain?lfwold has said, we have heard all about what happened at Dunholm. To lose so many men in one night is without precedent.’
‘The enemy came upon us by surprise, in such numbers that we had no hope of defending the town.’ Though if we had retreated to the fastness and rallied our forces as I had argued, perhaps we could have prevailed.
‘Nevertheless, there are those who would say that the earl should have been better prepared. That he was over-confident. He gave permission for his army to go raiding the town; he let them get drunk even though he suspected the enemy were still about.’
I hesitated, surprised at how much Malet knew about events. But then he would already have heard from all those who had returned — from Eudo and Wace and other knights besides, from all the noblemen who had served under Lord Robert.
‘Everything he did, he did with the counsel and support of the other lords,’ I said. I knew because I had been there with him in the mead-hall as the discussions had taken place. It was shortly after that meeting that I had been sent out with Eudo and the others to scout the hills.
‘Perhaps,’ Malet said, ‘although with Robert dead it has become highly convenient for them to place all the blame on him.’
I remained silent, as his words worked their way through my mind. There were many among those other lords whom I had disliked, but none I had thought capable of deceit of this kind. It amounted to nothing less than a betrayal of Robert.
‘And then,’ Malet continued, ‘there are others who would question how it came to be that Earl Robert’s two most trusted men managed to survive, when he himself did not.’ He raised an eyebrow.
He was suggesting that Wace and I had deliberately abandoned our lord to save ourselves. I felt a rush of anger such as I had not felt since the battle, but held it back. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper before a man of such influence as the vicomte, especially given the generosity he had shown me by sheltering me in his own house.
‘Do you question it, lord?’ I asked instead, holding his gaze.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a faint smile. ‘Rest assured I do not,’ he said. Then his expression became serious once more, his lips firmly set. ‘Robert trusted few men, but those he did, he always held in high regard. He knew how to win their respect and loyalty, and I have no doubt that you did all you could for him. Nevertheless, there are many who may think otherwise, and who will consider twice before taking you into their employ.’
‘My lord,’ I said. ‘It’s less than a week since his death-’
‘Earl Robert spoke highly of you,’ he cut me off, as if he had not heard me speak. ‘Indeed I have heard much of your prowess, Tancred. I know that you saved his life, and more than once. You gave him your horse at H? stinges after his was killed beneath him. You were the one who pulled him from the melee when he became surrounded.’
Again I was surprised at the extent of Malet’s knowledge. Everything he had said was true: I could see it all in my mind, as clearly as if it had happened only the day before. But none of it changed the fact that, in the end, I had failed in my duty.
‘Why do you mention this, lord?’ I asked, though I sensed that I knew the answer.
‘I have need of good swords, now more than ever,’ the vicomte replied. ‘The enemy have tasted Norman blood; they will soon be wanting more. Dunholm will not be the end of it.’
‘You believe there is more trouble to come in Northumbria?’
Malet studied me for a moment, and then he rose from his stool and made his way to the window. He peered outside; pale sunlight shone upon his face. ‘The Northumbrians are a seditious people,’ he said, ‘proud and disdainful of outsiders. That has ever been the case, and it will not change now. You have seen their savagery with your own eyes.’
