wharves, on the orders of the vicomte.’
He glanced up and saw them. Beatrice still looked white — even more so now as the skies grew brighter — though she had recovered enough to draw her hood back over her hair. Elise rode close by her side, one arm around her shoulders. The two were flanked by Radulf and Godefroi.
‘Malet clearly trusts you, though God alone knows why,’ Gilbert said, half muttering, as if he were speaking only to himself. He surveyed our party, and then turned back to me. ‘See them safely there. You will find that the road down to the river is clear.’
‘Thank you, lord,’ I said.
He nodded in acknowledgement, then called out to the rest of his men: ‘With me! Conroi with me!’
He raised his lance with its pennon aloft and set off at a gallop in pursuit of those who had fled, his knights following close behind him. Their shields of yellow and red flashed past and their mounts’ hooves drummed upon the earth, kicking up clods of earth as they went. For a moment I almost contemplated riding with them, even if that meant fighting under Gilbert’s banner. If the enemy were about to attack then I wanted to be there, avenging Robert and Oswynn and all the rest of my comrades. But I knew that was not my task, and it was with heavy heart that I watched them ride away.
‘Follow me,’ I said to the others. Carrying on the breeze came the townsmen’s chanting again; it might not be long before they returned. And there was the battle-thunder, unmistakable now as it rang out from the north: an almost unearthly din. The rebels were marching, the enemy were coming, and we could ill afford to delay.
Workshops and storehouses and wattle-work fences passed by, close on either side: in some places we could barely ride two abreast. Before us now I saw the river, grey and slow-moving beneath the mist, which lay so thick that I could see nothing of the houses on the far shore. Rain continued to spit upon us, and it seemed to me that the clouds were becoming heavier, in spite of the lightening sky to the east. The bodies of Englishmen lay in the mud, on their backs or crumpled on their sides, eyes open as they had been at the moment of their death, and I tried to ride around them.
And then all of a sudden the houses came to an end, and we had the river beside us as we came out on to the quayside. There were ships of all sizes, from simple fishing craft to wide-beamed traders, but then at the far end I spotted the longship I had seen a few days before. She was even more magnificent close at hand: a huge vessel, at least forty paces in length, I reckoned, with a black-and-yellow sail furled upon her yard. This, then, had to be
On the quayside next to her stood the vicomte himself. He was dressed again in his mail, with half a dozen knights, the rest of whom were all still mounted. He said nothing as I approached; his face was solemn, his lips tight, his eyes on his wife and daughter. I swung down from the saddle and went to help the ladies as they too dismounted, signalling for Philippe to go to Elise even as I held out my hand to Beatrice. She took it after a moment’s hesitation, her fingers delicate yet firm in my own, and I saw her confidence returning along with the colour to her cheeks as she brought her leg across and gracefully slid down to the ground.
Elise rushed to her husband and threw her arms around him. ‘Guillaume,’ she said, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
‘Elise,’ the vicomte said as he held her to his chest, and then he opened his arms to receive Beatrice as well. Lord, wife and daughter embraced together.
A shout came from the ship, where a dark-haired man with a full beard was standing. The shipmaster, I guessed. He was directing men as they lifted sacks from the quayside, passing them across the gunwale to others who stowed them beneath the deck-planks.
‘Aubert,’ Malet called, and the man turned. ‘How soon can you sail?’
‘Shortly, my lord,’ he said, stepping up on the side and jumping down on to the wharf. ‘We’re almost finished loading supplies. Is everyone here?’
‘Not yet,’ the vicomte said. ‘We’re waiting for two more to arrive.’
He was right; I had not yet seen Eudo or Wace. I only hoped that they had not been waylaid, for I understood what Malet was thinking. We might have to leave without them if they did not come soon.
Two of the deck-hands came to fetch the bags from the ladies’ mounts, and from those of Radulf, Godefroi and Philippe. I helped them to unfasten the buckles that held them to the saddles, and to carry them, one in each hand, on to the ship. They were not heavy, probably containing little more than a spare set of clothes; they too must have been told to travel light. I climbed up on to the deck. It was some while since I had been aboard a ship; in fact the last time I had done so was during the crossing from Normandy, that autumn of the invasion.
‘Tancred,’ Malet called. His womenfolk stood beside him, speaking with?lfwold, who kept glancing up the road that led to the bridge, an anxious look on his face. Not far off, a war-horn blew; I could hear the clash of steel upon the wind, and I felt myself tense. I left the bags for one of the oarsmen to collect and jumped back down to the quay.
‘My lord,’ I blurted out, ‘this is not my place. I need to be here in Eoferwic, killing the men who murdered my comrades, who murdered Lord Robert-’
‘Tancred, listen to me,’ Malet said. ‘You will have your vengeance in time. But you must understand that my wife and daughter are more important to me than anything else in this world. I am entrusting their safety to your hands. Would you abandon them if they were your own kin?’
‘No, lord-’
‘All I ask is that you take care of them, and extend to them the same respect as you would your own womenfolk. Do you understand?’
‘I understand,’ I said, bowing my head. I knew that he was right: this was the service he had asked of me, and I could not go back on the oath that I had sworn to him. Revenge would have to wait.
‘As for the other matter, it is imperative that?lfwold reaches Wiltune safely. Remain watchful, and have your hand ready at your sword-hilt at all times, for you never know when you might have to use it.’
‘Of course, lord.’ I would hardly be fulfilling my duty otherwise.
‘These are uncertain times,’ Malet said. ‘I am relying on you, Tancred. Do not fail me.’
‘No, lord,’ I said. ‘I will not fail you.’
I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see Eudo and Wace at the far end of the wharves. They rode at a canter towards us, and across the black hawks painted on their shields there were streaks of blood.
‘Are these the last two?’ the man Malet had called Aubert shouted from amidships. Already the oarsmen were taking their places on top of the wooden ship-chests that they used for benches.
‘They are,’ the vicomte said.
The shipmaster fetched a long gangplank from beside the mast, which he laid across the gap between wharf and ship. ‘My ladies,’ he said. ‘If you would come aboard-’
He was cut off as another horn sounded from the city: one short blast quickly followed by a longer one.
‘Lord,’ said one of Malet’s knights. He reined in his mount as, restlessly, it pawed at the ground; behind him his comrades were glancing about nervously. ‘We cannot delay any longer.’
‘No,’ said Malet. ‘No, we cannot.’ He made his way quickly to his horse, a bay with black mane and tail standing by the storehouses that fronted the quay.
‘Be safe,’ Elise called to him as he mounted up. ‘Please be safe.’ Once more she rushed to his side; this time he held out a hand to her and she took it. She seemed to have regained her composure, or else she was simply holding back the tears.
‘I will,’ Malet said as he gazed down upon his wife and Beatrice. ‘God be with you both.’ He withdrew his hand to grip the reins, and gave his horse a kick. It whickered as it started into a trot. ‘Farewell.’
He waved to the half-dozen of his men who were waiting, then dug his spurs into the beast’s flanks and cantered away, past Eudo and Wace who were riding in the other direction. Not once did he look back.
‘The enemy are gathering,’ Aubert said. ‘We must go now if we’re to get away at all.’
The shipmaster was right. Again I could hear men chanting, filling the morning with their battle-cries, and if anything it seemed that they were closer now.
Wace and Eudo drew to a halt and quickly dismounted. Both looked drowsy still, their eyelids heavy; neither had shaven, and light stubble covered their chins. Like myself they had probably been sleeping when word had arrived. It was still not fully light, the river a grey smear broken by faint ripples where the rain fell, more heavily
