She followed us as far as the gates. Outside the palisade, on the slopes that led up to the hall, some of the villagers had risen and were waiting. A few bowed their heads as we approached; others stared back at me with plaintive eyes, unspeaking; others still could not fight back the tears. Children clung to their fathers’ trews or to their mothers’ skirts, confused and frightened at the sight of so large a conroi. We rode past them, crossing the ford, turning to follow the winding river eastwards. The wind was at our backs, the sun rising over the hills, casting its warmth upon the new day, but it did little to cheer me, for inside I felt numb and cold. On the opposite bank rose the mound, ringed by the tall wooden stakes of the palisade, with the hall standing proudly atop it, though from below all I could see was the gable and the thatch. Too soon we were past it, past the woods where the pigs were often taken to forage, past the meadows where the cattle grazed, past the mill with its slowly turning wheel, which marked the edge of my manor. Earnford was behind us.
A sick feeling rose in my stomach and my gut, but I did not pause or even slow. And not once did I look back.
We struck out north, following the rutted and uneven track towards the town of Stratune, which lay on the road to Scrobbesburh. The sun rose above the trees lining the eastern hills, and as it did so the mist lifted from the valleys and the day’s heat grew. There was no breeze to speak of, nor any cloud to offer shelter from the sun; before long my brow was running with sweat and I had to remove my helmet and coif. Most Norman men had their hair cut in the French style, short on top and shaved at the back, but in the last year I’d found it easier to let mine grow. It fell in ragged fashion almost to my nape, just past my ears: not as long as many Englishmen wore it, but then I had no wish to be confused for one of them. Now, though, it was matted to my head, and when I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck it came away slick with moisture.
I rode with Robert at the head of the column, with our conroi strung out in pairs, threes and fours some distance behind us. Down in the valleys we had kept formation in case of ambush, but after an hour or so we found ourselves in open country, with wheatfields on one flank and open pastures on the other. If anyone were to try to attack us here, it would be easy to see them coming.
Behind me Serlo laughed: a throaty guffaw that I knew well. He and the others seemed to be enjoying the company of Robert’s men: a good thing, for these could well be the same men who before too long would be riding beside them in the charge.
‘Fitz Osbern will be glad to have your services again,’ Robert said.
It took me a moment to realise that he was speaking to me. He had not said a word since we had left Earnford, though the manor was several miles behind us now.
‘Fitz Osbern, lord?’
‘Of course.’ Grinning, he clapped a hand upon my shoulder. ‘You are the man, after all, who captured the gates at Eoferwic and opened the city to King Guillaume’s army. You’re the one who made that victory possible.’
Byrhtwald had said much the same thing. Nonetheless I found it hard to believe that my deeds, such as they were, were spoken of so highly.
‘Is that what Fitz Osbern thinks?’ I asked, casting Robert a sardonic look.
‘Probably not,’ he replied. ‘But it’s what many men have been saying. Your reputation grows, Tancred.’
At that I couldn’t help but laugh. Many knights dream of plunder, of silver and gold and sword-hilts inlaid with precious stones, but most of all they want reputation and fame — for when we die and our souls flee this world, that is the only thing that remains of us on earth. We aspire for songs to be written about us: songs of the battles we have fought, of the men we’ve slain and the things we have achieved; songs that will be sung around campfires and in the halls and palaces of Christendom for years to come; songs that will live on through the ages, like that of the knight Rollant and his ill-fated stand at Rencesvals.
I was no different. But at the same time I knew full well that on the field of battle a man’s reputation counted for nothing; the only thing that mattered was the strength of his sword-arm. I supposed if tales of my efforts won me respect from those who before had offered me none, then it could only be a good thing, but that was as much as I was prepared to admit.
‘I’m sure Beatrice will be glad to see you, too,’ said Robert. ‘It must be some while since you last saw her.’
At the mention of his sister I turned in surprise. ‘Beatrice?’
I had not thought about her in longer than I cared to remember. Last year I had been charged by their father with her protection, and had escorted her to the safety of Lundene. It was there that we had shared a kiss: the first touch of a woman that I had known since Oswynn’s death. If truth be told, she was part of the reason I had sworn my oath to Robert rather than take my sword elsewhere, as I clung to the foolish hope of somehow seeing her again.
Since the end of the rebellion last year, however, she had returned to Normandy, and I had been in Earnford, and slowly, almost without my realising it, the memory had faded from my mind. I had found Leofrun, and in so doing had forgotten about Beatrice. Forgotten, that was, until now.
Of course Robert knew none of this. No one did, except his sister and myself, and I trusted that she would not have mentioned our tryst to anyone.
‘She’s travelling with Fitz Osbern’s conroi,’ Robert said. ‘They were due to leave yesterday morning. She’s probably waiting for us in Scrobbesburh even now. I meant to tell you sooner, but with everything that happened there wasn’t the time. Why did you think I was the one who brought you the summons, rather than one of Fitz Osbern’s messengers? She’s the reason I’m here in the Marches.’
I’d assumed he had been visiting relations or some of his vassals who lived in these parts: private business, at any rate, which it was not my place to know.
‘What do you mean, lord?’
‘She’s to be married again, or so we hope.’
At those words I felt a pang in my heart of something unexpected, that I could neither account for nor quite describe. Not love or jealousy, but something else that had no name.
‘Married?’ I asked. ‘To whom?’
Robert was looking straight ahead and so did not seem to notice my disquiet, for which I thanked God.
‘To Fitz Osbern’s son,’ he said. ‘I accompanied Beatrice to Hereford so that I could propose the union in person, to strengthen the bond between our two houses.’
Fitz Osbern had several sons, not that I could at that time recall their faces, even though I must have crossed paths with them. Nevertheless, I could see that such a marriage would make for a powerful alliance. Just as Fitz Osbern held sway over much of the south and west of the kingdom, so the Malets were one of the most powerful noble families in the north and the east.
‘When?’
‘Not for some time,’ Robert said. ‘Barely had we arrived when the word came that the enemy were gathering their host beyond the dyke. I have spoken privately with Fitz Osbern and he has given his approval to the match, although as yet no formal arrangements have been made. As long as the Welsh continue to threaten the kingdom, I suppose talk of marriage will have to wait.’
I did not know what to say to that, or even what to feel. The thought that she was to be wed was like a weight upon my heart, and that surprised me. I hadn’t so much as seen her in over a year, nor at the time had she given any clue as to the depth of her own feelings. And I remembered all too well the instant when her lips had left mine and she had twisted away from my embrace: as if she were somehow ashamed. In the months that followed I’d often dwelt upon that moment, and the more I did so, the easier it had been to put her out of my mind.
‘What about you?’ Robert said, breaking me out of my thoughts. ‘You must have considered taking a wife, fathering sons to continue your line.’
‘I have Leofrun.’
‘That’s not what I mean,’ he said. ‘We all have needs, and there is no shame in fulfilling them. However much you enjoy her company, though, she’s hardly of noble stock.’
‘She is my woman.’ For some reason I felt defensive, even though there was truth in what he said. Even if the child Leofrun carried turned out to be a boy, he would not necessarily be able to inherit, being bastard- born.
Robert shrugged as if indifferent. ‘It’s none of my business, I’m certain.’
‘I’m married to my sword,’ I said. ‘For now that’s enough for me.’
