Sworn Sword

said. ‘You’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.’

I waved my thanks to the shipmaster, and then called to the rest of the knights. We put on our hauberks and helms, slinging our shields over our backs. Again we left behind our chausses; they would only slow us down over the marshes. Besides, they were more useful when mounted, when blows would naturally come from below. On foot, however, opponents tended to aim their strikes more towards one’s chest and head. In such situations speed was all-important; the extra weight of mail would be a burden if we needed to fight.

‘I should come with you,’ Aelfwold called. ‘If there are any dead in the village it’s only right that they be accorded a proper burial.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Stay with the ladies. The enemy could still be about. If so, it’s better that you stay away from danger.’ I still had to make sure he reached Wiltune to deliver Malet’s message; I could not have him at risk. Besides, it was not the dead that I was concerned with, but rather the living: if there were any Normans still left alive in Alchebarge, it was important that we found them.

‘You’re leaving us?’ Elise asked. She strode towards me, her cloak swirling behind her.

‘We’ll be back before long,’ I said. ‘We have to know if there is anyone left on your husband’s manor. It’ll be safer for both you and your daughter if you stay here on the ship.’

‘And what if the enemy find us while you are gone?’

‘If they were to come upon us in numbers,’ I said, and I spoke honestly, ‘it would make little difference whether or not the six of us were here to help protect you.’

She didn’t look comforted by that, nor had I expected her to, but she said nothing more. And in truth I could not help but feel a little uneasy, even though we had seen no sign of the enemy since the previous night.

‘My men will be here with you,’ Aubert assured her.

‘Can they fight?’ she asked.

‘Well enough, my lady. What they lack in skill they make up for in strength. There are more than fifty of them on the Wyvern; that ought to be sufficient.’

‘And what of yourself?’

‘I’ll be going with Tancred.’ He saw my glance but he cut me off even before I could open my mouth. ‘If you’re to take anyone it should be me. You’ll need someone who knows the village well.’

‘We also need the ship prepared,’ I pointed out. ‘We might need to leave suddenly.’

‘That’s easily done without me.’ He turned to one of his men, older than the rest, and I noticed that it was the same grizzled face who had challenged Aubert the night before. ‘Oylard,’ he said. ‘I leave you in charge of Wyvern until we return.’

‘Yes, Aubert,’ he replied, with a slight bow of his head.

‘Keep her out of sight from the river if you can, hidden amongst the reeds, but at the same time ready to sail in case you see us running down that hill with the enemy behind us.’

‘I’ll make sure of it,’ Oylard said.

Of course, if more rebel ships were to come, there would be little chance of us making a quick escape, but I kept that thought to myself.

‘Are you ready, then?’ I asked the shipmaster. ‘I don’t want to spend any longer here than we have to.’

‘Let me fetch my sword,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll be ready.’

I waited while he did so, and while he donned a leather jerkin, then I jumped down from the ship’s prow. Straightaway my shoes sank into the mud, and already I was beginning to wonder whether this was so wise after all. But I found firmer footing along the top of the bank, and I waved to Aubert and the other knights to follow. Once the seven of us had climbed down the shipmaster waved to Oylard, who shouted to the oarsmen to push Wyvern off.

‘Don’t take her too far,’ Aubert warned him. ‘We have to be able to find our way back to you.’

Oylard waved back in acknowledgement and then we set off, trudging on through the reeds and over the mudbanks, splashing through the pools that remained where the tide had gone out. Water seeped into my shoes and with every step I felt a fresh bite of cold at my toes. Wading birds flocked down upon the flats, digging in the bare mud for worms and whatever else they might find. They scattered as we approached, lifting up into the sky as if with one mind, and I shivered at the sight, for if we had not been spotted before, we almost certainly would have been now. The hairs on my neck stood on end; I had the feeling that we were being watched. I kept glancing up at the buildings upon the ridge, and once or twice I thought I saw a shadow moving in between them, but I could not be sure. I did not want to mention it, in case the others took it wrongly for a sign that I was growing nervous.

The footing became easier the further we went on, as the land became firmer and the waters receded yet more, until at what I guessed would have been the line of the high tide we came upon a wooden landing stage. To its timbers were roped a collection of rowboats and small punts, with poles for pushing them across the flats, and fine nets for catching eels. Beyond it the hill itself rose steeply, affording little by way of cover, apart from the occasional bush. At its crest stood the remains of what was once a large building, around the same length as Wyvern’s hull.

‘Lord Guillaume had that hall built last summer,’ Aubert said, shaking his head. ‘Not that he came here much; I don’t believe his womenfolk ever did. Since he was made vicomte he’s rarely been away from Eoferwic.’

We continued up the hillside, hands ready at our hilts in case we should find any of the rebels waiting to ambush us when we arrived at the top. But the air had gone still and, save for the cawing of the carrion birds circling above the village, the day was quiet. Nor was there any sign of the shadows that I thought I had seen earlier, but even so we trod carefully, taking care not to let our mail make too much sound.

At last the ground began to grow less steep and we could see the whole of Alchebarge before us. It didn’t look as though it had been a large village — perhaps a dozen families at most — and there was even less of it now. Where houses and workshops had once stood, all that now remained were piles of quietly smoking timbers and ash. There were bodies everywhere: men, women and children, oxen and cattle all lying together in death. The stench of burnt flesh wafted on the wind.

‘They didn’t leave anything,’ Wace said as we walked amidst the corpses. Crows picked at them with black beaks, tearing skin from bone, flapping their wings angrily at any others of their kind who tried to come near. They watched us closely as we approached, hopping aside grudgingly before flocking back as soon as they thought we were far enough away.

Many of the bodies were hacked to pieces, missing arms and even heads. Several of them were Normans; indeed some were still in their mail, with shields lying by their sides. Most, however, seemed to be English, and from their dress I took them mostly for the villagers of Alchebarge rather than the ones who had wrought this destruction.

‘They killed even their own kinsmen,’ I said, scarce believing what I saw, before I recalled that they had done the same to Oswynn. I imagined her body lying unburied at Dunholm, just as these did here, and hoped that if we met again at the end of days she would forgive me.

Eudo spat upon the ground. ‘They’re no better than animals,’ he said.

‘Why would they do this?’ Wace asked.

‘Perhaps the villagers tried to fight them,’ Aubert suggested. ‘Or perhaps there was no reason.’

I wondered how long Oswynn had been able to fight. Before our march to Dunholm I had gifted her with a knife, and had spent many hours showing her how to use it: how to thrust and how to slice; the places to aim for; how to twist it in a man’s belly to kill him quickly. I hoped she had remembered. I hoped she had sent many Northumbrians to their deaths that night.

We walked on in silence, up towards Malet’s hall. The only parts still standing were the posts which supported the roof, and those only up to waist height. The roof-beams themselves, along with the walls, had all collapsed, and in most places there was nothing more than a thick pile of grey ash. Beneath some of the broken timbers, huddled together in the middle of the hall, lay several blackened corpses, burnt away so that only their bones and teeth were left.

‘A hall-burning,’ Radulf muttered.

I nodded grimly. ‘They would have trapped them in here before setting the torch to the whole building.’ It would have taken mere heartbeats for the flames to sweep through the thatch, and hardly much longer to spread downwards and engulf the rest of the hall. The terror those inside must have felt as the blaze surrounded them, growing ever closer, ever hotter-

‘Just as they killed Lord Robert,’ Eudo said. He glanced first at Wace, then at me, long enough that I could