They turned — the one named Radulf somewhat grudgingly — and rode to the back of the column, leaving just one. From his face I judged him to be the youngest of the three, even though he was taller than the rest — taller even than myself, I thought, though I was near six feet in height. He bore a solemn expression, but I sensed an eagerness behind those eyes.
I raised my eyebrows at him, and he understood the question even before it left my tongue. ‘Philippe d’Orbec,’ he replied.
‘You stay with me,’ I said.
A thin rain was beginning to fall, spitting down out of a still-dark sky. I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure that the rest were gathered as they should be. The chaplain was immediately behind me, just in front of the two ladies.
‘We need to go now,’ he said. ‘The ship will be waiting for us.’
Far in the distance I was able to make out the faint beat that was the battle-thunder. I could not yet see them over the palisade, but I hardly needed to, to know that the rebels were on their way.
I kicked my spurs into my mount’s flank, forgetting that it was not Rollo I was riding. The mare reared up, and I tugged hard on the reins to keep her under control as she came down, thrashing her head from side to side. I rubbed her neck in reassurance, then waved for the rest to follow as we rode out through the great oak gates into the city.
We were not the only ones on the streets that morning. It was not yet light, but already there were men everywhere, running with torches and lanterns. Some were Frenchmen like us, but still more of them were English, and they had clearly heard the news of their countrymen’s approach too, for they had come out with all manner of blades: seaxes and meat-cleavers, spears and axes. The air was filled with their cries.
We followed the street as it curved down towards the river, but as the crowds grew thicker, my mount’s steps became shorter and I knew she was growing uneasy. I stroked her side to calm her. She was no warhorse, no destrier; she was not battle-trained, nor used to such crowds. Nor, I was sure, were the horses belonging to the priest and the two ladies.
I waved to the chaplain, who drew up alongside me. ‘Is there another way to the wharves?’ I asked.
‘Up and past the minster, then down the Kopparigat,’ he replied.
That would take us further away from the river. If anything, there was even more chance of being cut off if we went that way. But I guessed from his expression that the priest already knew this.
‘There is no other way around,’ he said.
I cursed under my breath. I could not afford to put the ladies at risk, which they would be if we tried to press on through these crowds, but I also knew that there was no guarantee the streets would be any clearer if we tried to go around.
‘We go on,’ I said to the chaplain. Whether that was a foolish idea or not we would soon see. In any case he did not argue with me, as I half expected he might, but simply nodded.
I took a deep breath and spurred the mare into a trot. She seemed reluctant at first, but I kept a firm hold on the reins with my one free hand, and she obeyed. Rollo would have been far easier to handle, I thought, with not a little regret; I had not even needed reins to control him, though it had taken months of training to master that. I had not been able to spend time with this one, learning her quirks or her strengths, and I didn’t know how she would respond.
I drew my sword from its scabbard. It slid out cleanly, the edge sharp, the lantern-light glinting off its polished surface. It was a heavier blade than I was used to, balanced more towards the point than I would have liked. For now, though, it would do. It would have to.
Men scattered from our path, but the greater part of the crowd lay ahead. These were the same streets where we had fought the day before, but the townsmen’s defeat had clearly not dampened their ardour, for they were out in even greater numbers than before, clamouring to the heavens:
‘Stay together,’ I shouted to the rest of the group over the noise.
?lfwold held a small wooden cross, even as he clung to the reins. Probably the priest had never seen such a rabble before. Behind him, the two ladies looked pale as they struggled to keep their horses under control. It was a mistake to have brought them this way.
A man rushed at me with a spear held before him; I turned just in time to see him coming and bring my sword around, deflecting his blow before cutting down across his arm. He dropped the weapon and staggered back into the crowd as blood streamed from the wound, staining his tunic.
‘Back!’ I roared at them all, hoping that they would understand my meaning if not my words, that they would take the drawing of blood as a warning. Instead they pressed even closer, just out of sword-reach, not understanding that I had only to come forward a little and I could slaughter them all where they stood.
‘Back!’ I shouted again, waving my sword to ward them off.
Behind me a shriek went up from one of the ladies as some of the townsmen surged forwards, grabbing at her arms and at her skirt, trying to pull her from the saddle. Her horse shied away, tossing its head from side to side, and as her hood fell from her face I saw that it was Beatrice. I pulled hard on the reins and turned, spurring the mare on as I raised my sword high, before bringing it down upon the shoulder of one, slicing into the bone, even as Radulf charged forward and plunged his lance into the chest of another. A third Englishman had taken hold of Beatrice’s leg and was tugging hard, but she clung to her mount’s neck, and he saw me only too late as I battered my blade across the back of his head, sending him to the ground.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked Beatrice. Her hair had come loose from beneath her hood, falling across her face, and a fright had taken hold of her, for she did not answer, instead merely staring at me with wide, vacant eyes. I did not know which had given her the greater shock: the men who had tried to take her, or the manner in which I had dispatched them.
The cries around us swelled. I didn’t want to have to kill peasants, but we didn’t have much choice. I had sworn to the vicomte that I would protect his womenfolk, and I would die before I broke that oath. I would not fail him as I had failed Lord Robert.
I placed a hand on Beatrice’s arm, and nodded to Radulf. Blood was spattered across his helmet, beneath which his face was grim and his lips tight. Waving my sword at the crowd, I rode back to the head of the column. Not a hundred paces away I could see the river, though between it and us lay a host of townsmen.
‘We need to turn back,’ said Philippe beside me. ‘We won’t get through this way.’
I glanced back up the road we had come, at the countless dozens of men at our rear. ‘We’ve come too far,’ I said. ‘We have to go on.’
I looked towards the castle, a shadow against the grey skies to the east, where it rose above the houses. That was where Malet would be coming from, if he was still going to meet us at the ship. If, indeed, he could get through. But then I spotted, riding hard from that direction, a conroi of horsemen, at least two score and probably more, with a banner flying high above them. A banner which even in the dim twilight I could make out: a red fox upon a yellow field. The symbol of Gilbert de Gand.
For the first time in my life I had reason to feel relief at the sight of him. He and his men charged into the enemy’s flank, tearing into the crowd with lances and swords alike. Shouts went up from the gathered townsmen, only this time they were shouts of panic rather than anger.
‘For Normandy,’ I heard someone call; it could have been Gilbert himself, although I was not sure. ‘For St Ouen and King Guillaume!’
The enemy were fleeing now — those, at least, who were not being cut down by the swords of Gilbert’s men or trampled under the hooves of their horses. Men ran past us on either side, no longer caring about us, thinking only of escaping with their lives.
‘On,’ I shouted to?lfwold and all the others behind me. I rode through their midst, knee to knee alongside Philippe, sword still in hand to fend off any who came too near, until suddenly we came upon Gilbert and his knights, who were pressing from the other side, and found ourselves in space once more.
‘You again,’ Gilbert said, drawing to a halt as he caught sight of me. ‘I seem to find you everywhere.’ He removed his helmet and wiped his brow with his sleeve. In the half-light of dawn he looked more gaunt than ever. A faint stubble covered his chin, and his mouth as always was drawn in distaste. ‘The enemy are marching,’ he said between breaths. ‘They’ll be at the walls before long.’
‘I know, lord,’ I answered as I sheathed my sword. ‘I’m escorting the ladies Elise and Beatrice to the
