‘Let me help,’ I said, but she did not seem to understand me, for she simply spoke more loudly as she began to sob. I spotted the penny resting next to the leg of the table, and picked it up to offer to her. She shook her head as water began to trickle down her cheeks, and got quickly to her feet.
‘
I stood and turned to the five knights. ‘Have you forgotten yourselves?’ I demanded, snatching up one of the wine-jugs and tipping its contents on to the floor, staining the rushes red.
‘What are you doing?’ Radulf asked, rising.
‘We paid for that!’ said Philippe.
‘You’ve had enough,’ I said, grabbing the next pitcher in line and doing the same. ‘All of you.’
‘Tancred-’ Radulf began.
I thumped the empty vessel down upon the table so hard that it shook, and glared back at him, then turned to Aelfwold. ‘I’m sorry, father,’ I said.
The chaplain’s cheeks were a bright scarlet, his face tight with anger. ‘I’m not the one in need of an apology,’ he said, and he pointed to the innkeeper, who was hustling over. He was a short man, but broad in the chest and well built for his size, with a large forehead and small eyes.
‘
I stared back, uncertain what to do. I looked about for the chaplain, and saw him making his way through the crowd towards the stairs at the far side of the room.
‘Aelfwold!’ I called after him, but either he did not hear me or he chose to ignore me, for he did not turn around.
Hurriedly I reached for the coin-pouch at my belt, tipping a stream of the pennies out into my palm. I held them out towards the innkeeper, hoping it would be enough to placate him.
He looked first at them, then at me, and half spoke, half spat some more words in his tongue. But the sight of so much silver was enough to cool his temper; he snatched at the coins, almost as if he thought I might take them back if he didn’t accept straightaway. He grunted, whether in appreciation or as a warning I was not sure, and after a final glance at me he returned to his wife.
A few of the other Englishmen had turned to watch, but not many — only those who had been closest — and as I looked around at them they one by one returned to their drinks. For that I thanked God, for they looked like strong men, used to working hard in the fields. Full of ale as they were, it would not take much to incite them.
I turned to the rest of the knights. ‘Do you want to get us killed? Because that’s what’ll happen if the rest of this alehouse turns on us.’
‘It was but harmless fun,’ said Wace, who I had thought the most sober of them all.
I stared at him, scarce believing what I heard. ‘You think it amusing to mock an innocent peasant woman?’
‘We meant nothing by it,’ put in Radulf.
I spat on the floor. ‘There’ll be no more drinking tonight,’ I said. ‘I’m going to find the chaplain.’
Aelfwold had gone upstairs to his room. The door stood open, and I found him kneeling on the floor, his eyes closed and hands clasped as he murmured a prayer in Latin. I waited until he had finished, when he looked up and saw me standing beneath the door-frame. He rose as I entered.
‘Father,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry-’
‘You must keep better control of your men.’ His voice was surprisingly calm; his anger, it seemed, already diminished.
‘They are not my men,’ I said. Wace and Eudo were my comrades, it was true, but only Eudo had ever ridden in my conroi before. I thought of Dunholm and faces rose up like spectres in my mind: Gerard, Fulcher, Ivo, Ernost and Mauger. Those were my men — not this group that Malet had burdened me with.
‘Lord Guillaume has placed them under your command,’ the priest said simply. ‘Hence they are yours.’
‘They don’t respect me,’ I said.
‘Then you must make them respect you. Otherwise, sooner or later they will do someone real harm. The English are my people, Tancred. I will not stand them being treated in this way.’
‘What about the Aetheling and the Northumbrians in Eoferwic?’ I countered. ‘Are they not English too?’
‘They are rebels against the lawfully crowned king, and so enemies of our Lord.’ He spoke slowly, as if trying to contain his anger. ‘But this is Wessex; this is different. You cannot just allow your men to do what they will.’
‘What do you expect of me?’ I asked. ‘I can’t govern everything they do.’
What he must have thought of me then, I didn’t know. Doubtless he was coming to resent the way I was always challenging him. Perhaps he was even regretting Malet’s decision to put me in charge of this party in the first place.
‘You can teach them to restrain themselves,’ said Aelfwold.
‘They are trained warriors,’ I retorted, ‘not boys but men fully grown.’
‘Then perhaps they need reminding of that!’
So surprised was I by the force of his voice that I took a step back. And in any case, why was I defending the others? What they had done was wrong; I knew that and I had told them so. But I also saw that it was borne not out of malice or lack of respect, as the chaplain seemed to assume, but rather out of frustration. And I remembered what Eudo had said to me only a little earlier, and suddenly I understood.
Like myself, these were indeed trained warriors. Their role on this earth was to fight, and if they could not do that, then they grew restless. Because instead of being where they felt they ought to be, on the march to Eoferwic, they found themselves deep in the English countryside, far from anywhere, without any real notion of what they were doing, let alone why. Like me, except that I alone had some idea, for I had the name that Malet’s son had given me-
‘Who is Eadgyth?’ I asked.
I hadn’t intended to mention her then, but I realised I would get no better opportunity than this.
The priest stopped still. Outside, the wind buffeted against the thatch; above our heads, the roof-timbers creaked. The sound of men laughing sounded through from the common room below.
‘How do you know that name?’ Aelfwold asked.
‘Who is she?’
‘It’s none of your concern.’
‘I know that she’s the one you’re meeting in Wiltune,’ I said, feeling my heart begin to pound. It was more a guess than a lie: despite what Robert had said, I could not know for sure, though the chaplain’s reaction suggested that I was right.
He stared at me, blinking, but said nothing.
‘Do you deny it?’ I asked.
‘Who told you that name?’
I thought it unwise to mention Robert, and so changed tack. ‘Is she a lover of Malet’s?’ I demanded. I was on unsteadier ground now, but my blood was rising and I wanted to press the advantage as long as I held it. Had she fled to the nunnery to escape him, perhaps?
‘You dare to insult my lord?’ he shouted. ‘The man to whom you swore an oath of service?’
I had half expected him to say something like that, and was not about to be deflected. ‘Is she?’ I said again.
‘Of course not!’
‘Then who is she?’
‘She used to be wife to the king,’ Aelfwold said, with some impatience.
‘To King Guillaume?’ I asked, confused. As far as I knew, he had only ever been married to his present wife, Mathilda.
‘To the usurper,’ the priest said, his cheeks flushing red. ‘Harold Godwineson.’
This was not at all what I had expected. ‘And what business does Malet have with the usurper’s wife?’
‘What concern is it of yours?’ he said, his voice rising to a screech. ‘It is the vicomte’s private business, which
