‘No, lord,’ I said, relieved that he was coming to the business at hand. He had called me here because he sought an answer from me, though even now I was not sure what I was going to say.
He gestured towards a stool. I sat down as he pulled across another from beside the hearth.
‘You will recall our meeting some days ago,’ he said, seating himself also. ‘No doubt you’ll also recall the proposition that I held out to you then.’
‘I do,’ I replied.
He studied me from beneath his heavy eyebrows. ‘As I am sure you’re aware, events are moving rapidly, and for that reason it is now a different thing that I wish to ask of you, Tancred. I have a task for you.’
‘What is it, lord?’ I asked.
‘It is a task with two parts,’ Malet said, ‘the first of which is this. There is a chance — a small one, to be certain, but a chance nonetheless — that if the rebels march on Eoferwic then both the city and this castle might fall. To prepare for such an eventuality, I would have you escort my wife, Elise, and my daughter, Beatrice, to the safety of my townhouse in Lundene.’
Beatrice. I thought back to the other day, when she had approached me out in the training yard, remembering the way she had kept following me, her ceaseless questions. I didn’t know what to make of her: for all that made her attractive, she still seemed to me rather cold. I wondered whether her mother, Malet’s wife, was anything like her.
‘And the second part?’ I asked. It was a fair distance from Eoferwic to Lundene, but thus far it did not sound like a difficult undertaking.
‘The second part is to help deliver a message for me.’
‘A message?’ I asked, taken aback. I had served Lord Robert for almost twelve years; under his command I had fought more battles than I had ever cared to count. I was a man of the sword, not a mere errand-boy.
Malet looked back at me, his face stern. ‘A message,’ he repeated.
I remembered whom I was speaking to, and tried to hold my temper. ‘Surely, lord,’ I said, choosing my words carefully, ‘you must have other men who are better suited to such a task.’
‘This is no small matter,’ the vicomte said. ‘I will be placing it in the charge of my chaplain,?lfwold, with whom I believe you are already well acquainted. There is no one I trust more than him. But these are unsettled times, and the roads in winter can often prove dangerous. I cannot leave anything to chance with this, which is why I want you to accompany him and ensure that it is de livered safely to the abbey at Wiltune.’
Wiltune was in the very south of the kingdom: a long way indeed from Eoferwic, perhaps as much as two hundred miles, and easily more if we were to stop in Lundene first.
‘I will send with you five of my household knights,’ he went on. ‘They are to go with you the whole way and will follow your orders.’ He paused, and when he spoke again it was with a softer tone to his voice. ‘I’ve heard much about your judgement and your ability, but I know also that you are a man with great experience. For these and other reasons I believe that you are the best person to entrust this task to. I know how faithfully you served Robert de Commines in his time, and I trust that you would do the same for me.’
He was certainly being generous with his praise, considering that he had not met me until just a few days before. And yet somehow I could not help but feel that there was more to his offer than this. For why would he tell me so much, knowing that I might not accept?
I felt the weight of his gaze upon me, but I held it with my own. ‘And what if I decline, lord?’
‘Naturally you have that choice. However, I believe you are an honourable man who pays his debts. Remember that while you have been recovering I have provided you with both shelter and victuals.’
I said nothing, as I realised what he meant. I owed him for the favours he had done me. And I saw that this was no ordinary debt, either: some might have said that I even owed him my life, since had it not been for the healing I had received under his roof, there was every chance that I might now be dead. The thought chilled me, and I did not linger on it. But I knew he was right. I could not ignore this debt.
‘I ask only for this one thing,’ Malet said. ‘Do this for me and you may consider yourself free of any further obligation. Should you decline, on the other hand, I will merely seek repayment by some other means.’
I considered. I had little money left to me, save for what I might gain from selling my mail and the silver cross I carried, neither of which I wanted to part with. My coin-pouch I would never see again, for I had placed it in Oswynn’s hands when I had left her in Dunholm. But I sensed that it was not silver that Malet was concerned with, even if I had enough to pay him. More likely what he meant was that he would demand a longer term of service from me — a year, perhaps, or more — and that I was not ready to give. It seemed, then, that I had no other choice.
‘What of my comrades, Wace and Eudo?’ I said. ‘I owe them a debt too.’
‘They were the two who brought you here?’ But Malet was voicing his thoughts rather than asking me the question, and he didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Their loyalty to you is clear. And I believe I have met Wace de Douvres before, at the king’s council last Easter. He seemed a thoroughly capable man, and Robert spoke well of him, too.’
He sat for a moment, as if considering, then he looked at me. ‘If they are willing to accompany you, then I would gladly have them serve me. I will make sure that they are rewarded well for their troubles. But I must have their answers, and yours, by dusk. I intend for you to leave tomorrow, by noon at the latest.’
I nodded. So I had but a few hours to make my choice; a few hours to speak with the others and then return. I rose from my stool and made towards the door.
‘Tancred,’ Malet said as I placed my hand upon the handle.
I turned. ‘Yes, lord?’
He left his seat and stood facing me, his eyes on a level with my own, his expression solemn. ‘I trust that you’ll come to the right decision.’
Ten
The alehouse where Wace and Eudo were staying was little more than an arrow’s flight from the castle gates, at the top of the street known as the Kopparigat. It meant the street of the cup-makers, or so the chaplain had told me when I had asked him the way there. Their wares were not much in demand that morning, though, since the alehouse was almost empty.
In the far corner sat two young Englishmen. They spoke in half-voices, every so often glancing towards us, as if we might be listening. At the table next to ours an old man had fallen asleep, his white hair straggling across his face where his head rested beside his cup. The place was damp and windowless; the smell of vomit, sour and sharp, hung in the air.
I told both Eudo and Wace everything Malet had said to me, about the task that he had in mind, and his promise of payment if they chose to join me.
‘Did he say how much he was offering?’ Eudo asked.
‘It’ll be more than we could make staying here, however much it is,’ Wace answered sourly as he scratched at his scar, at his disfigured eye. ‘Speak to any lord in Eoferwic and you’ll see how little Lord Robert’s name is worth. They spit at the mere mention of him; they accuse us of being deserters, oath-breakers.’
Malet had been right, then. I remembered seeing Gilbert de Gand among those speaking with him just the other day. I wondered how much he was responsible for blackening Robert’s name, even though he himself had not been at Dunholm.
‘I thought they’d be desperate to take on every man they could,’ I said. ‘Especially with the enemy marching.’
‘Obviously they feel secure enough already,’ Eudo muttered.
On the other side of the common room, a serving-girl refilled the cups of the two young Englishmen, whose expressions lightened straightaway. She was short but well endowed, with full breasts and good hips. Her hair was covered and it was difficult to make out her face in the dim light, but it seemed that she could have been little younger than Oswynn.
Eudo called to her in English. Though both Wace and I knew a few words, he was the only one of us able to speak the tongue properly. His mother, like mine, had died when he was young, and his father had married an
