as the ship rounded the first of those ridges, those aboard would see the light from the campfire, and when they did, all would be lost.
‘The fire,’ I shouted to Wace and Eudo. ‘Put it out! Put it out!’
My attention was elsewhere, as I had seen Aelfwold on the barge. He stared at me, his eyes wide, his face pale in the firelight, his countenance one of desperation. No longer was this the generous, kind-hearted man I had first met in Eoferwic, nor would he ever be again. Behind those eyes, I now knew, lay a mind capable of deceit and treachery of the highest order. An enemy of my lord.
I left my horse and ran towards him, vaulting over the side of the barge and on to the deck. The Englishman stood on the other side of a great iron-bound chest, more than six feet in length, and two in both width and depth.
A coffin, I realised, and not merely any coffin, but that of the usurper himself. Of Harold Godwineson, breaker of oaths and enemy of God. There was no inscription that I could see, but that was only to be expected, if he had been buried in secret, with the knowledge of just a few men.
‘It’s over, Aelfwold,’ I said. ‘We know all about your plan.’
He did not speak, nor take his eyes from me. With hardly a murmur of steel he drew a seax from a scabbard beneath his cloak, holding it before him in both hands, as if warning me not to come any closer.
‘You would fight me?’ I asked, more in surprise than in scorn. I had never seen the Englishman so much as handle a blade, let alone use one in anger, yet here he was, unafraid to stand before me.
The edge of his seax, polished and sharp, gleamed in what remained of the firelight. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eudo and Wace stamping down on the flames, which were dwindling rapidly.
‘You will not have him,’ Aelfwold said, and there was hatred in his eyes. ‘He is my king!’
‘Harold was no king,’ I said as I began to advance, one step at a time, towards him. ‘He was a usurper and an oath-breaker.’
‘It is your bastard duke, Guillaume, who is the usurper,’ he spat back. He stepped away, keeping his distance, circling about the coffin. ‘He stole this realm by fire and sword, by murder and rape and pillage.’
‘That’s a lie-’ I began, my blood rising.
‘He wears the crown and sits upon the royal throne,’ Aelfwold went on, shouting me down, ‘but as long as the English refuse to submit to him — as long as we continue to fight — he shall never be king.’
‘Liar!’ I said as I leapt up on top of the coffin and lunged towards him.
Aelfwold swung his seax, but it was with the clumsiness of one unused to arms, and he succeeded only in cutting my cloak. My shield slammed into his chest, and the blade tumbled from his grasp as he fell on to his back.
Straightaway he was trying to get up, reaching out for his seax, which lay just beyond his fingers, but I was quicker, kicking it away before he could get hold of it. I levelled my sword at his throat.
He gazed up at me and swallowed, eyes flicking between me and the point of my blade just beyond his chin. ‘You wouldn’t dare kill me.’
‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.’
‘I am a priest,’ he said. ‘A man of God.’
Not so long ago I had spoken similar words in his defence. Yet now he threw them back at me, mocking me. My hand tightened around my sword-hilt, but somehow I managed to restrain myself.
‘You are no man of God,’ I said. ‘You are a traitor to your lord, to your king.’
‘My king is Harold-’
I kicked him hard in the side and he broke off. I didn’t have to listen to this. After everything, it seemed he was little different from all the other Englishmen we had been fighting since first we arrived upon these shores.
‘Malet trusted you,’ I said. ‘You betrayed him.’
‘No,’ he replied, almost spitting the words. ‘For two years and more I have stood by and done nothing while my kinsmen have suffered at your hands, been slaughtered on your swords. That was my only betrayal. All I wanted was to make that right.’
‘You broke your oath to him.’
‘Do you think I did so lightly?’ he countered. ‘Do you think it is so easy? Yes, I swore myself to him, and I gave him and his family my loyal service for as long as I was able. He is a good lord, a good man. But I have a duty more sacred than any oath, and that is to my people.’
He was trying to confuse me with his words, but I was not to be moved. ‘You are a traitor,’ I repeated, and pressed my blade closer to his neck, almost touching the skin.
Aelfwold stared at me, and I at him. ‘Kill me, then, if that’s what you’re here to do,’ he said.
‘Don’t tempt me.’ My skull was pounding, almost drowning out my thoughts. Of course Malet wanted him brought back to Eoferwic alive, but at the same time I realised how easy it would be for my sword to slip, for me to pierce the Englishman’s throat and leave him here to die. I could tell the vicomte that he had fought on to the last, that we had had no choice but to kill him, and he would have to accept our word, never knowing the truth.
All around us lay in darkness. The skies were black, lit only by a few stars, the moon hidden behind the cloud. The fire was out; across the ashes were laid two cloaks, dripping with water, and Wace and Eudo were stamping down upon them, stifling the last tendrils of smoke. And just in time, for as I glanced out upon the black reaches of the Temes, there, edging past the first of the two ridges of land, a shadow amongst shadows, came the high prow, the tall mast, the long hull of the ship.
The point of my blade quivered as I held it before Aefwold’s neck, held his fate in my own sword-hand.
‘That boat,’ I said. ‘It was supposed to meet with you, to take Harold’s body away, wasn’t it?’
He did not answer, but I knew from his silence that I was right. He was shivering, though whether from the cold or out of fear I could not tell. His eyes were wide, and I thought I saw tears forming in their corners.
And all of a sudden I realised that I could not do it. Despite his lies, despite his treachery, I could not bring myself to kill such a wretch of a man. I was holding my breath, I realised, and I let it out, at the same time sliding my bloodied sword back into its scabbard.
‘Tancred,’ Eudo said. He was pointing out into the river, towards the vessel. A point of orange light shone across the water, like the flame from a lantern. It lasted but a few heartbeats, and then was gone. A signal, I thought.
I turned back to face Aelfwold, about to open my mouth to speak, but at that moment he sprung at me, his face red and full of anger. He crashed into my middle, pressing at me with all his weight. Almost before I knew what was happening my feet were slipping on the wet deck, my ankle twisting, and I was falling. My back slammed into the wooden planks, the breath knocked from my chest.
But Aelfwold had no intention of finishing me, for already he was jumping down from the barge, running across the stones, making for higher ground. I rose to my feet, struggling under the weight of my mail. I loosened my arm from the straps of the shield, letting it fall to the deck as I leapt down and gave chase. Gravel crunched beneath my shoes, digging through the leather, into my soles. I heard Wace and Eudo shouting, but I did not know if they were behind me; all I cared about was catching the Englishman.
Already he had a start of some thirty paces and more as he scrambled up the grassy slope, through bushes, over outcrops of rock. Branches clattered against my helmet as I followed; thorns scratched my face and my hands. For a moment I lost him amidst a clump of trees, but I kept on going, and as I came out the other side I saw his cloak whipping in the wind.
He was running along the top of the ridge, towards the Temes, waving his arms at the same time as he yelled out in English — trying to catch the attention of those on the ship, I realised. Again the orange light came, glinting off the water, and again it disappeared, the signal unanswered.
‘
I was gaining on him with every stride now, despite my mail and the scabbard hanging from my sword-belt. Not much further ahead, the ridge came to a sudden end; instead of a steady slope down to the river, there was a steep drop on to the rocks where the land had fallen away. The priest was trapped, and he knew it too as he came to a halt.
‘It’s finished,’ I said again, having to shout to make myself heard above the wind. ‘There’s no sense in fighting any longer.’