of the siege, anyway.’
At the mention of the siege I felt my chest tighten. The tale was five years old, and had been related to me long before. I’d heard how Conan, the Breton count, had refused to swear fealty to Normandy; how Duke Guillaume had invaded that summer and forced him back to the castle at Dinant; how the castle had been besieged and destruction wrought everywhere, until at last he submitted. But never before had I spoken to anyone who had seen it with his own eyes.
‘You were there?’
‘I was serving as steersman in Conan’s household. It was after the siege that I left his employ and Malet took me on.’
‘What was it like?’
‘Houses raided, half the town razed to the ground,’ Aubert said, his eyes vacant, staring off into the mist. ‘Women raped, men and children murdered in the streets. The stench of death everywhere: in the castle, in the streets. It was like nothing you have ever seen.’
‘I was at H?stinges,’ I said, suddenly provoked. ‘I have seen thousands of men lose their lives in a single day, run through with sword and spear, trampled under the weight of the charge. You think I don’t know slaughter?’
I remembered my ears filling with the screams of my comrades. I remembered seeing the whole hillside awash with blood, and whether it was the enemy’s or whether it was ours, after a whole day of fighting it no longer mattered.
The shipmaster turned away. ‘You live by the sword,’ he said. ‘That’s different.’
A sense of guilt came over me, for I hadn’t meant to be harsh. It was more than any man should have to witness — any man, at least, whose living was not made as mine was.
‘He should have surrendered sooner,’ I said. Even in those days Guillaume of Normandy had a reputation as a fierce warlord, loyal to his allies but merciless against those he considered his enemies. Conan had been foolish to think that he could challenge him.
Aubert shook his head. ‘By then the war had sent him mad,’ he said. ‘Some days he did not even come out of his chambers. He refused to speak with anyone, and he hardly ate, though he certainly drank.’ The shipmaster spat over the side into the river. ‘When he finally came to his senses, it was too late for the town.’
I shook my head. Even when I’d first heard the news, it was not the Normans I had been angry at — that, after all, was how wars were fought — but our own count, for inviting it upon Dinant, for betraying his people.
‘Still, the tides come and the tides go,’ said Aubert. ‘Five years is a long time. And we all fight for the same side now, don’t we?’
‘We do,’ I said quietly. Conan was dead — had been for some time — and any animosity there once might have been between Breton and Norman was long buried.
A drop of rain struck my cheek, heavy and cold. The last light of day was fading and already it felt colder as the river-mist closed in around us. The drops grew more frequent and I drew up the hood of my cloak to keep them out. Dark spots began to appear on the deck.
‘When do we put in for the night?’ I asked.
‘We’ll sail until dawn if we can. With luck we’ll have reached the Humbre by then, as long as there’s some moonlight and we can see our way. The river’s wide and deep enough here — not so many mudbanks to watch out for. Besides, I’ve travelled this river many times this past year. I know her curves like I do my wife’s.’ He flashed me a grin, and I saw that he was missing several of his top teeth. I tried to smile back, though in truth I did not feel at all cheered.
‘Row!’ Aubert barked at his oarsmen, for they had relaxed their pace while we had been talking. He picked up his drum once more and began to beat the time he wanted. ‘Stop slacking, you bastard Devil-sons! Row!’
I looked up as?lfwold approached and sat down on a bundle of fleeces next to me.
‘How are the ladies faring?’ I asked him, glancing up towards the bows where Elise and her daughter stood watching the waters slide past.
‘As well as might be expected,’ the chaplain said, his tone somewhat subdued. ‘Our prayers are naturally all for the safe keeping of the vicomte.’
He withdrew a small loaf from inside his cloak and broke it in two, pieces of crust flaking off to settle on the wooden timbers, then he offered me one half. I took it with thanks and bit into it, feeling its coarse texture between my teeth. A piece of grit scraped the inside of my cheek and I used my tongue to work it towards the front of my mouth, before picking it out and flicking it overboard.
‘How long have you served him?’ I asked.
‘Many years,’?lfwold said, his brow wrinkling. ‘Thirteen, perhaps fourteen, or even more — I’ve long since lost count. Since he first came over from Normandy, at least.’
‘You mean he was in England before the invasion?’ Of course I remembered Wace telling me about Malet’s English mother, but I also knew he had fought at H?stinges and so had assumed that he’d come over at the same time as the rest of us.
?lfwold swallowed his mouthful, nodding.
One question had been on my mind all day; there would not be a better time to ask it than now. I lowered my voice. ‘What did Eadgar mean when he said that Malet used to be a friend of Harold Godwineson?’
The chaplain went pale as he cast his gaze down towards the deck.
‘It’s true, then?’ I asked, frowning. ‘He knew the usurper?’
Malet had been careful to keep that fact hidden. But then there were few men these days, English or French, who would readily admit to being close to the man who had stolen the crown. That the king held him in such regard in spite of it certainly marked him out.
‘Knew him, yes,’?lfwold said, speaking more solemnly now. ‘Even when I entered his employ I believe they were already well acquainted. Often they hunted together; as I remember, one summer he even accompanied Harold on pilgrimage to Rome-’
He broke off as a troubled expression came across his face. ‘You should know, though, that all that came to an end three years ago. For years he used to travel back and forth between Graville and his English estates. But when King Eadward died and Harold assumed the crown, he returned to Normandy to join the invasion.’
That two men who had been such great friends should so quickly have become enemies was strange. ‘What made Malet turn against Harold?’ I asked.
‘I confess there have been many occasions when I have been unable to understand my lord’s mind,’ the chaplain said. ‘This, I am afraid, was one of those. For certain he was opposed to Harold’s seizure of the crown, which he saw as both illegitimate and perfidious. All this happened, you understand, after Harold had sworn his oath to be Duke Guillaume’s vassal. But already before then their friendship was wearing thin. I remember them meeting many times in those years, and each time I recall a deepening frustration, perhaps even resentment, in my lord’s manner. To this day I have never found out what happened to cause such ill will.’
‘Did you go with him when he returned?’
‘To Normandy?’ Aelfwold asked, as if it were an absurd question, and I was taken aback by his tone. ‘No, I stayed on, helping to manage his estates this side of the sea.’
‘They weren’t confiscated by the usurper, then?’
‘No,’ the chaplain said. ‘Even then I think Harold still hoped the two of them could be reconciled, but for my lord it was too late.’ A note of regret seemed to enter his voice. ‘The damage had been wrought, and it could not be repaired.’
I fell silent. Harold had been an oath-breaker, a perjurer, an enemy of God; he’d had no right to the kingdom of England. But even so I couldn’t help but think: how hard must it have been to go back on so many years of friendship, as Malet had done?
‘He is a good lord,’ Aelfwold said, glancing back across the ship’s stern, and I imagined he was looking back towards Eoferwic, though it was of course many miles behind us now.
A loud groan came from the wooden platform at the bow of the ship; Eudo’s head was buried in his hands as the rest burst out laughing.
Wace cupped his hands around the pile of pebbles that lay in the middle of their circle and drew them towards his own. ‘Just be glad we’re not playing for silver,’ he said as he gave Eudo a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
